Yesterday, the Washington post published a blessedly logical and unemotional call for better gun control by Fareed Zakaria. Its clear organization of the facts leaves little room for doubt as to the cause of America's gun violence epidemic. He points out that while American rates of non-gun related crimes are comparable to those of other wealthy, developed nations, our rates of gun violence are 12-30 times higher than those countries. The difference cannot be culture. The difference cannot be the media. The difference cannot be video games. The difference cannot be higher rates of mental illness. Other countries have violent cultures, media complexes that present violent crimes with sensationalized language and obsessive detail, are far more involved in video games than ours, and have comparable rates of mental illness. The major, glaring difference is our permissive gun laws, originally written and passed to promote the ability of American citizens to defend themselves; laws which now make it a necessity that Americans defend themselves. It is not healthy. It is not safe. I am not willing to risk my life on a daily basis simply so those around me can exercise their government (not God) granted right to carry tools of despair, nor am I willing to join them in their insanity to protect myself.
Read Zakaria's editorial here.
(Sorry for the political digression, I'll be back to posting music videos and boring stories soon, I promise.)
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Monday, December 17, 2012
STUFF
You may not know this about me (but, let's face it, if you're reading this, you probably know me pretty well, and consequently you probably DO know this about me) but I am monumentally bad at waiting. Waiting for things. Waiting for people. Waiting for the weather to change. Every time I think I've learned how to be oh-so-patient, something happens that is completely and absurdly out of my control and teaches me that I know nothing at all. Even if it's a good thing that I'm waiting on...it kills me. It also consumes my brain so I have little room to think of anything else. Things are hard you guys. I know this is really vague. I'm sorry for that. I just thought you might sympathize :)
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Friday, November 9, 2012
A wintry death
You guys. Snow + my car + my absolute inability to force myself to replace my sad old tires with anything even slightly more snow appropriate = all of these things will lead me to ruin before this winter is over. I love this canyon. I wish I could squash it into a tiny package, wrap it in sunshine and that wonderful smell it has after rain and then stuff it away in a little corner of my heart FOR ALL TIME, but the winter commute INTO the canyon is a completely different story. It's like running down a trail, coming face to face with a bear, the bear seeing you, running towards you, swiping at your face with its massive claws and missing by millimeters. That feeling you would have in your heart? That's how I feel when it's snowing and I somehow make it to work safely.
Off to ponder what other folksy nature-related metaphors I can share with you this morning.....
In the meantime, listen to this:
And then read the famously snarky A.O. Scott's review of Lincoln. It's not unusual for him to be so eloquent, but this kind of commendation and reverence is incredibly unusual coming from him. It is a wonderfully well-written review (I love and appreciate a good movie review), and I'm incredibly excited to watch this movie.
Off to ponder what other folksy nature-related metaphors I can share with you this morning.....
In the meantime, listen to this:
And then read the famously snarky A.O. Scott's review of Lincoln. It's not unusual for him to be so eloquent, but this kind of commendation and reverence is incredibly unusual coming from him. It is a wonderfully well-written review (I love and appreciate a good movie review), and I'm incredibly excited to watch this movie.
Friday, October 26, 2012
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Quotes
“In the process of life, we are not always the already-tempered and helpful hammer; shaping and pounding another. Sometimes we are merely the anvil.”
George MacDonald
George MacDonald
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Monday, August 20, 2012
I can't help it.
That awkward moment when your boss asks what you're listening to, and you answer "Karmin", because you've been mindlessly listening to "Brokenhearted" on repeat for an hour, and he says "oh Carmen! Oh that's wonderful, good for you!", and then you don't correct him, and you're not sure if it's because you're embarrassed to be listening to such ridiculous music at work, or because you know he'll never understand what you're talking about if you tell him that Carmen was SO eighth grade for you and that if you're going to listen to opera at work, you'd really rather just listen to the last 3 minutes or so of Wagner's masterwork over and over again these days.
And then you remember that OTHER awkward moment when you entered one of the cave chambers singing opera style at the top of your lungs- because you thought it was empty and also because you're RIDICULOUS- and then saw him turn a corner at the back of the chamber and start walking your way, and you know, in that moment of remembering, that you'll be that crazy opera obsessed employee in his brain for the rest of your days, just as you were, inexplicably, a Disneyland geek in the brain of your last boss.
But there are worse things, right?
And then you remember that OTHER awkward moment when you entered one of the cave chambers singing opera style at the top of your lungs- because you thought it was empty and also because you're RIDICULOUS- and then saw him turn a corner at the back of the chamber and start walking your way, and you know, in that moment of remembering, that you'll be that crazy opera obsessed employee in his brain for the rest of your days, just as you were, inexplicably, a Disneyland geek in the brain of your last boss.
But there are worse things, right?
Friday, August 17, 2012
This I Believe
"The hunt I'll never forget was after I'd moved away. Dad was almost seventy, and I was home for a few days. I had a cast on my leg and couldn't get it wet. Dad carried me--all 195 pounds, plus cast, guns, and plenty of shells--all the way to the blind. "You're not too heavy, Jim," he said.
"I believe that I am the man I am today because of that relationship. I learned to do things simply, to stay with the things that work, to be patient, to appreciate silence. I learned that discomfort is transient. I learned that I was a welcome burden to my dad, that life without burden is a life without weight, a shallow life. I believe we need the encumbrance of challenge. As dad plodded along through the water and over the levee, he occasionally stumbled, but never fell.
"I learned to love my children in this same way. I have created my own refuge with each. Their weight is never too heavy. It is welcome. Sometimes I stumble, make mistakes, but I never fall." (emphasis added, please listen to the entire essay here)
Last Sunday, a man was speaking in church and for whatever reason, mentioned a question that he likes to ask on first dates- "what defines you?" I turned to my friend and whispered "dealbreaker". She laughed. Then I thought, whatamIdoingbeseriousthisischurch. THEN I thought, what would I say if someone asked me that question? What DO I say? Usually something about my hobbies. Something about my education. Something about my army-brat rearing. Something about my religion. Something about my family. But none of those things alone describe nearly who I am or who I hope to be.
Last night, a friend was jokingly talking about her life's mantra- something about ice cream and dessert and if it makes you happy then that's good for your heart so then it's good for you. I don't even know. But in the middle of this silly conversation, I started thinking- if I had to condense my approach to life into just a few words, something snappily quotable, what would it be?
Whenever I think about things like this, I inevitably come back to this essay by James Johnson, a professor at Smith College, for "This I Believe". I know I've shared it here before, but it's been on my mind again lately. Maybe I put too much weight on this gem by one man about whom I know next to nothing? I don't know. But I do know that right now, at this exact moment, if someone asked me what defined me, what my "mantra" is, I would tell them that, more than anything, I want to create a life for myself that is substantial. I would tell them that I believe a "life without burden is a life without weight, a shallow life". I would try to tell them something that embodies my belief that a necessary and considerable part of life should be confronting, bearing, and overcoming challenges; whether these are challenges I face alone, on behalf of or with someone I care about, or challenges facing my community. Obviously, I have a long way to go, but I hope through this to become someone worth knowing. I hope that, eventually, I can be the one to say "sometimes I stumble, make mistakes, but I never fall."
"I believe that I am the man I am today because of that relationship. I learned to do things simply, to stay with the things that work, to be patient, to appreciate silence. I learned that discomfort is transient. I learned that I was a welcome burden to my dad, that life without burden is a life without weight, a shallow life. I believe we need the encumbrance of challenge. As dad plodded along through the water and over the levee, he occasionally stumbled, but never fell.
"I learned to love my children in this same way. I have created my own refuge with each. Their weight is never too heavy. It is welcome. Sometimes I stumble, make mistakes, but I never fall." (emphasis added, please listen to the entire essay here)
Last Sunday, a man was speaking in church and for whatever reason, mentioned a question that he likes to ask on first dates- "what defines you?" I turned to my friend and whispered "dealbreaker". She laughed. Then I thought, whatamIdoingbeseriousthisischurch. THEN I thought, what would I say if someone asked me that question? What DO I say? Usually something about my hobbies. Something about my education. Something about my army-brat rearing. Something about my religion. Something about my family. But none of those things alone describe nearly who I am or who I hope to be.
Last night, a friend was jokingly talking about her life's mantra- something about ice cream and dessert and if it makes you happy then that's good for your heart so then it's good for you. I don't even know. But in the middle of this silly conversation, I started thinking- if I had to condense my approach to life into just a few words, something snappily quotable, what would it be?
Whenever I think about things like this, I inevitably come back to this essay by James Johnson, a professor at Smith College, for "This I Believe". I know I've shared it here before, but it's been on my mind again lately. Maybe I put too much weight on this gem by one man about whom I know next to nothing? I don't know. But I do know that right now, at this exact moment, if someone asked me what defined me, what my "mantra" is, I would tell them that, more than anything, I want to create a life for myself that is substantial. I would tell them that I believe a "life without burden is a life without weight, a shallow life". I would try to tell them something that embodies my belief that a necessary and considerable part of life should be confronting, bearing, and overcoming challenges; whether these are challenges I face alone, on behalf of or with someone I care about, or challenges facing my community. Obviously, I have a long way to go, but I hope through this to become someone worth knowing. I hope that, eventually, I can be the one to say "sometimes I stumble, make mistakes, but I never fall."
Thursday, August 16, 2012
"Raw experience is empty, just as empty as the forecastle of a whaler, as in the chamber of a counting house; it is not what one does, but in a manifold sense, what one realizes that keeps existence from being vain and trivial. Mankind moves about in worlds not realized... It is the artist, the knower, the sayer, who realizes human experience, who takes the raw lump of ore we find in nature, smelts it, refines it, assays it, and stamps it into coins that can pass from hand to hand and make every man who touches them the richer." -Lewis Mumford
Friday, July 27, 2012
Don't mind me, I'm just feeling pretentious...
Have you ever read The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran? I first came across it years ago (and it's funny reading up about it now, apparently it was quite popular in the 60s, and supposedly he's among the top three best-selling poets of all time, but guess what folks, I was born in the 80s and I had never even heard Gibran's name until I found this tiny book on a friend's shelf), and every once in a while it forces itself back to the front of my mind.
I'm baffled by it. I never quite know whether it's sublime or overwrought. A little of both, I think. Maybe that's one reason why I love it- the sheer beauty of some sections, and the forced, sometimes awkward drama of others is an interesting reflection of the idea of duality that is woven through the entire book. There are some things that ring so true and others that strike me as completely bogus. I don't know. I like it. Look it up.
And until you do that, here are some of my favorite passages (under their respective section titles):
The Coming of the Ship (i.e. the Prophet gets ready to blow this joint)(my words, not Gibran's)
"...He descended the hill, a sadness came upon him, and he thought in his heart: How shall I go in peace and without sorrow? Nay, not without a wound in the spirit shall I leave this city.
Long were the days of pain I have spent within its walls, and long were the nights of aloneness; and who can depart from his pain and his aloneness without regret?
Too many fragments of the spirit have I scattered in these streets...and I cannot withdraw from them without a burden and an ache.
It is not a garment I cast off this day, but a skin that I tear with my own hands. Nor is it a thought I leave behind me, but a heart made sweet with hunger and with thirst."
On Love (don't judge me for loving this passage, I know it's terribly Marianne Dashwood of me)
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you. And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden....
The Coming of the Ship (i.e. the Prophet gets ready to blow this joint)(my words, not Gibran's)
"...He descended the hill, a sadness came upon him, and he thought in his heart: How shall I go in peace and without sorrow? Nay, not without a wound in the spirit shall I leave this city.
Long were the days of pain I have spent within its walls, and long were the nights of aloneness; and who can depart from his pain and his aloneness without regret?
Too many fragments of the spirit have I scattered in these streets...and I cannot withdraw from them without a burden and an ache.
It is not a garment I cast off this day, but a skin that I tear with my own hands. Nor is it a thought I leave behind me, but a heart made sweet with hunger and with thirst."
On Love (don't judge me for loving this passage, I know it's terribly Marianne Dashwood of me)
"When love beckons to you follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep. And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you. And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden....
But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips. "
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips. "
On Children (probably my favorite section, especially those last two lines)
"You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable."
On Friendship
"When you part from your friend, you grieve not;
For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence, as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain.
And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit."
"You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable."
On Friendship
"When you part from your friend, you grieve not;
For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence, as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain.
And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit."
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Also,
As I told my friend today, crushes are HARD. Having them, I mean. Not being crushed by a boulder. That is all.
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
On happiness
Last night, for about 20 minutes, I was the happiest I've felt in a long time. I'm not saying that I haven't been happy. Last night was just different. I just...things just felt right. Every single thing felt like it was exactly as it should be. I returned the day before from my first camping trip in years (I've had some truly terrible camping experiences in the past- they generally scare me away from woodsy jaunts). Even though I barely slept the entire trip (I don't do so well in the outdoors), even though I felt disgusting by the time I got back, even though some of the fellow campers were slightly crazier than normal, even though I'm absurdly out of shape and hiking kills me, even though a million things, it was a perfect trip. The setting was divine- Grand Teton National Park and Yellowstone. My car mates were wonderful- even though I barely knew half of them before leaving (and one kept calling me the wrong name...I don't think I look like a Becky or a Holly, but apparently I do), and even though we spent dozens of hours riding in a cramped car together over a four day period, there was rarely any tension- any of that "if I have to spend one more second in the car with you people I'll [insert drastic action here]". Well, there was rarely any of that for me, I guess I can't vouch for the others :)
I was able to just enjoy the surroundings, spend some time in silence even though there were so many of us, (I'm a solitary hiker- I have to say I prefer it best when I'm alone and can obsess over small things like flowers and unusual rocks- it's the simple things, right? :), spend lots of time having some ridiculous conversations, some serious conversations, and just enjoy discovering new people and new places.
The day after we returned was a state holiday (thank Heaven for Utah and its made-up holidays). I: slept in (wonderful), washed and vacuumed my car (I had forgotten what a pretty deep red it is- I guess colors don't show that well under layers of dirt? Weird how that happens :), spent some time with extended family down South- visiting with cousins I rarely see (one for the first time in 10 years), marveling at the silliness of their kids, eating hot dogs and enjoying the weather. Then I came home to review my notes from ALA for a presentation at work today, but rather than doing it at home, I decided I needed to get out of the house and wander in the mountains. I packed up my notes and some water and hiked the peak behind Ensign, which I've been wanting to do for a long time now.
I'm so glad I decided to check that off my list last night. As soon as I made it to the top, I was overwhelmed with gratitude and deep contentment. I can do hard things. I guess that's the lesson of everything I've been trying to share. If I want to scale a mountain- I can. If I want to have a pleasant time getting to know new people and not make it awkward, I can do that too. If I want to have a charming and delightful visit with relatives with whom there has traditionally been a bit of conflict, I can set that aside and make a conscious choice to improve those relationships. All of that, and in connection, I should stop underestimating my own abilities and set high expectations for myself, having the confidence that I can meet those expectations. Because I can.
And that's the best feeling I've had in a very long time.
I was able to just enjoy the surroundings, spend some time in silence even though there were so many of us, (I'm a solitary hiker- I have to say I prefer it best when I'm alone and can obsess over small things like flowers and unusual rocks- it's the simple things, right? :), spend lots of time having some ridiculous conversations, some serious conversations, and just enjoy discovering new people and new places.
(Grand Teton, taken from here)
The day after we returned was a state holiday (thank Heaven for Utah and its made-up holidays). I: slept in (wonderful), washed and vacuumed my car (I had forgotten what a pretty deep red it is- I guess colors don't show that well under layers of dirt? Weird how that happens :), spent some time with extended family down South- visiting with cousins I rarely see (one for the first time in 10 years), marveling at the silliness of their kids, eating hot dogs and enjoying the weather. Then I came home to review my notes from ALA for a presentation at work today, but rather than doing it at home, I decided I needed to get out of the house and wander in the mountains. I packed up my notes and some water and hiked the peak behind Ensign, which I've been wanting to do for a long time now.
I'm so glad I decided to check that off my list last night. As soon as I made it to the top, I was overwhelmed with gratitude and deep contentment. I can do hard things. I guess that's the lesson of everything I've been trying to share. If I want to scale a mountain- I can. If I want to have a pleasant time getting to know new people and not make it awkward, I can do that too. If I want to have a charming and delightful visit with relatives with whom there has traditionally been a bit of conflict, I can set that aside and make a conscious choice to improve those relationships. All of that, and in connection, I should stop underestimating my own abilities and set high expectations for myself, having the confidence that I can meet those expectations. Because I can.
And that's the best feeling I've had in a very long time.
Monday, June 18, 2012
Thursday, June 14, 2012
A blog I love
Have you ever looked at the blog "the wild and wily ways of a brunette bombshell"?
I'm slightly obsessed and ohsoimpressed. She combines snapshots of life in New York with wonderful, thoughtful, natural writing. The photo posts satisfy my need for adventure, and the written snippets are almost embarrassingly romantic (embarrassing for me to read I mean, because I feel like an interloper- not in any way because of the writing), but still chill-makingly wonderful. Read this, or this, or this series of "letters to the man who'll make me an honest woman". Everything about this blog feels fresh and honest and wonderful.
Remember that one winter when it snowed like madness in Chattanooga? I do. It was heavenly..
I'm slightly obsessed and ohsoimpressed. She combines snapshots of life in New York with wonderful, thoughtful, natural writing. The photo posts satisfy my need for adventure, and the written snippets are almost embarrassingly romantic (embarrassing for me to read I mean, because I feel like an interloper- not in any way because of the writing), but still chill-makingly wonderful. Read this, or this, or this series of "letters to the man who'll make me an honest woman". Everything about this blog feels fresh and honest and wonderful.
Remember that one winter when it snowed like madness in Chattanooga? I do. It was heavenly..
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