I've been traveling a lot lately, and I'm finding that in each new place there is something I covet, something that seems just a little better than what I have at home. In some places it's the beauty of mountains or the coastline. In others, it's a more progressive mindset among the people who live there.
In Minneapolis, where I've spent the past five days, it's the food. I established a new tradition of trying, wherever and whenever possible, at least one restaurant that uses local foods. It's not always easy to find such places, but I hit the information jackpot when I walked into my hotel here. A monthly publication for tourists prominently displayed at the registration desk showed reviews of "green" restaurants. When I turned to the article, I discovered a listing of three places within easy driving distance of the area of town where the Festival of Homiletics was held this year. I carefully planned my schedule to allow time to slip out to each of these places.
The first, Cafe Brenda, was about as close to perfection as I've ever found in food. I had a dinner salad with my meal that consisted of fresh lettuce, carrots, red onion so sweet it tasted like apple, spiced pumpkin seeds, and watermelon radish. It was very gently tossed with a vinaigrette dressing that added a hint of flavor while allowing the vegetables in the salad to take center stage. Each bite was perfect, and I after two, I became firmly convinced that local, fresh, and organic is definitely better. Accompanying the salad was a plate of grilled walleye, seasoned with a blackberry ginger teriyaki glaze, and crusted with sesame seeds and almonds. The fish had light flavor that was amazing. Green beans, braised greens, and wild rice complimented the fish. I left the restaurant certain that I'd had one of the best meals of my life. I really can't explain it.
Subsequent days included trips to Red Stag Supper Club and Wilde Roast Cafe. The food at Red Stag was good, but did not compare to Cafe Brenda. The service, however, was fabulous. I sat at the bar and enjoyed the company of the bartender for the duration of my lunch. It was a slow day. I got a lot of attention, and our conversation proved to be the only truly meaningful one I've had since Tuesday. It's odd how that happens to me. I blame myself. I don't mix well in large groups, so I kept to myself a lot at the FoH.
There was much about the Festival that I enjoyed and will take back with me. I found a panel discussion with several writers to be the most helpful and challenging time of the Festival for me. Singer/songwriter Beth Nielsen Chapman was first to speak (and sing!). She used a computer/internet metaphor to talk about the creative process. I was annoyed by it. She talked about songs being in the ether and that all she had to do was download them. This struck me as extremely reductionistic. If this is how the creative process works, then why don't I have access to those songs she downloads. I still think it's too simplistic, and I suspect is an attempt at trying to explain something that seems impossible to describe. But what struck me is how quickly the others followed suit in describing their own creative processes. I expected at least one to disagree with her, but instead, they all described something similar.
I still think the metaphor and the descriptions are too simplistic. But, what I realized upon further reflection about my annoyance is that my problem isn't that I don't have access to that creativity. My problem is the I fear the process. I fear it so much that I can't sit still long enough to be inspired, to tap in and wait for the words to come, to keep wrestling with them until I understand. It's a fear of my own power, I think. There's something easy and comforting in assuming that I'm just meant to live day to day, happy and content with what I have, never wanting more.
The coveting, I believe, is an indication that I'm not nearly as content as I think I am. It's a holy discontent, I believe, and the covetousness is an expression of my laziness. I want what's out there, but I often lack the will and drive to do the hard work necessary to get it. The trick is to learn to embrace the discontent without spending too much time entertaining the self-pity coveting encourages.
I have a good life. When I think back to what I had two years ago, I can't complain about where I am now. But, I'd be lying if I said I'm satisfied. I want to be happy with what I have, but I realize now that being happy with what I have means accepting that the discontent I feel deep in my bones is part of that too. It needs to be embraced and understood and welcomed as an ally, a guide ready to show me that there is more for me than what I have now. I get trapped feeling guilty for wanting more. I have good friends who love me and accept me for who I am, who share their good fortune with me with such generosity that I'm often overwhelmed, yet at the end of the day, I go home to my quiet apartment alone. I travel to places where I know no one and a ten minute phone call to this friend or that back home helps me feel the connections I know there and seem to lose when I'm not there to be a part of the day-to-day activities we share, but it's never the voice of someone who wants to know the details of my day, who cherishes the small things I see and experience. It's not the sound of a voice I hear every night before I fall asleep that makes me long for the feel of her warmth in the bed next to me. I love my friends, but I want more. And that desire scares me.
I have a job that provides for my needs. I have opportunities to do some amazing things, but it doesn't fulfill my desire to make a meaningful, lasting difference in the world. It's important work, but it's not what I want for my life long term. I feel guilty about that too. There are people who don't have jobs. My own parents did work that neither found all that meaningful, yet they were able to grasp a deeper meaning in the way they provided for their families and worked toward providing us with opportunities for something more in our lives.
That too is a holy discontent. I am not doing what I'm called to do. The job I have now may be a means to an end. It may help keep me financially stable while I do what I need to do to be ready for that which I'm called to do. I find meaning in that, but I'm also grateful for the restlessness I feel. I can't be content with this job. The restlessness causes me to listen to the constant woos of a quiet voice inside of me that says there's more for me to do.
So I leave this place today, returning home to a life I love, but also grateful that I'm not fully satisfied. As hard as it is for me to admit, I want more for my life than what I have now. That may sound like a lack of gratitude, but I think, for me, it's an important step. I don't think I'm meant to be satisfied. Grateful, yes, but not satisfied.
Friday, May 23, 2008
Wednesday, May 07, 2008
Mary Oliver believes the fox has something to say
And I couldn't agree more!
Concretegodmother sent this poem to me last night. It's given me a lot to think about. It's from Mary Oliver's latest collection, Red Bird:
Concretegodmother sent this poem to me last night. It's given me a lot to think about. It's from Mary Oliver's latest collection, Red Bird:
Straight Talk from the Fox
Listen says fox it is music to run
over the hills to lick
dew from the leaves to nose along
the edges of the ponds to smell the fat
ducks in their bright feathers but
far out, safe in their rafts of
sleep. It is like
music to visit the orchard, to find
the vole sucking the sweet of the apple, or the
rabbit with his fast-beating heart. Death itself
is a music. Nobody has ever come close to
writing it down, awake or in a dream. It cannot
be told. It is flesh and bones
changing shape and with good cause, mercy
is a little child beside such an invention. It is
music to wander the black back roads
outside of town no one awake or wondering
if anything miraculous is ever going to
happen, totally dumb to the fact of every
moment's miracle. Don't think I haven't
peeked into windows. I see you in all your seasons
making love, arguing, talking about God
as if he were an idea instead of the grass,
instead of the stars, the rabbit caught
in one good teeth-whacking hit and brought
home to the den. What I am, and I know it, is
responsible, joyful, thankful. I would not
give my life for a thousand of yours.
Saturday, May 03, 2008
Fabulous day!
This day has been positively magical. It started with grilled pork chops for dinner last night and a chance to sleep in the fresh air on the sun porch at the new house some friends just bought. The house is on the river, so this morning I awoke to the sounds of birds too numerous to count.
The plan was to fish, but the river swelled after a storm on Thursday, making it impossible, so we sat and watched birds. The river right now is a stopping place for white pelicans returning to the Dakotas after a winter in Texas. Numerous other birds circled above and darted over the water in the beautiful morning sun.
But I was completely captivated by a Baltimore Oriole that must be nesting in their yard. I don't think that I've ever seen a more beautiful bird. The brilliant orange color is so striking I couldn't take my eyes off of it. I stood outside and watched it until he finally flew away.
I left around noon and returned home, eager to read about some of the things I saw. The night was busy and sleep interrupted by the dogs' fascination with the activity outside. I took a long nap this afternoon, a deep sleep that comes to me only when I'm totally relaxed. I did a few things around the house and then decided the new fishing pole had to be used. Today.
I drove out to the lake and fished for an hour and a half without a single bite, but while I was there, I saw a couple of bluebirds, the brilliance of their color matched only by a perfectly clear blue sky. At one point, I looked up and saw six vultures circling overhead. I decided not to take that as a sign of my impending doom, and chose instead to assume they had great confidence in my fishing skills. Alas, they were wrong, as I left the lake without so much as a hint that there were fish in it.
On the way home, a friend called. I was expecting her to call to tell me the homemade potato bread she was making was ready for me to taste, so it took me a minute to catch what she really said, "We have an owl on our front porch." She went on to explain that she thought, "This is the sort of thing Linda would like," but she delayed calling me thinking that by the time I got there it would have flown away. After about forty-five minutes of it sitting and staring at her, she decided to give it a try. I'm glad she did. When I arrived 15 minutes later, the owl was still there. I stayed for about 45 minutes more and there was no sign of it budging. You can see some of the pictures she got of it here and here. Don't hesitate to check out these links. You will not be sorry. The close up pictures of the owl are amazing!
Now, I'm home, relaxing while I eat a piece of still warm potato bread. The cat, not to be outdone by the rest of nature, is insisting on getting between me and the computer, trying to rest on my stomach and sleep.
It has been a most fabulous day!
The plan was to fish, but the river swelled after a storm on Thursday, making it impossible, so we sat and watched birds. The river right now is a stopping place for white pelicans returning to the Dakotas after a winter in Texas. Numerous other birds circled above and darted over the water in the beautiful morning sun.
But I was completely captivated by a Baltimore Oriole that must be nesting in their yard. I don't think that I've ever seen a more beautiful bird. The brilliant orange color is so striking I couldn't take my eyes off of it. I stood outside and watched it until he finally flew away.
I left around noon and returned home, eager to read about some of the things I saw. The night was busy and sleep interrupted by the dogs' fascination with the activity outside. I took a long nap this afternoon, a deep sleep that comes to me only when I'm totally relaxed. I did a few things around the house and then decided the new fishing pole had to be used. Today.
I drove out to the lake and fished for an hour and a half without a single bite, but while I was there, I saw a couple of bluebirds, the brilliance of their color matched only by a perfectly clear blue sky. At one point, I looked up and saw six vultures circling overhead. I decided not to take that as a sign of my impending doom, and chose instead to assume they had great confidence in my fishing skills. Alas, they were wrong, as I left the lake without so much as a hint that there were fish in it.
On the way home, a friend called. I was expecting her to call to tell me the homemade potato bread she was making was ready for me to taste, so it took me a minute to catch what she really said, "We have an owl on our front porch." She went on to explain that she thought, "This is the sort of thing Linda would like," but she delayed calling me thinking that by the time I got there it would have flown away. After about forty-five minutes of it sitting and staring at her, she decided to give it a try. I'm glad she did. When I arrived 15 minutes later, the owl was still there. I stayed for about 45 minutes more and there was no sign of it budging. You can see some of the pictures she got of it here and here. Don't hesitate to check out these links. You will not be sorry. The close up pictures of the owl are amazing!
Now, I'm home, relaxing while I eat a piece of still warm potato bread. The cat, not to be outdone by the rest of nature, is insisting on getting between me and the computer, trying to rest on my stomach and sleep.
It has been a most fabulous day!
Thursday, May 01, 2008
The gift of a mantra
I belong to a group that meets a couple of times a month. The facilitator of the group gave each of us mantras today, ones that she spoke to her about us. She chose them from the shakti mantras. Here's mine:
Om Akulayei Namaha [Om Ah-koo-lah-yei Nahm-ah-hah]
Translation: "Om and salutations to She who, having risen to the thousand-petaled lotus at the top of the head, is referred to as 'akula', having no perceivable genesis, lineage, or qualities whatsoever."
Receiving this from her and hearing the group's feedback was a powerful experience for me. I'm anxious to see what comes of using it in my meditation.
Om Akulayei Namaha [Om Ah-koo-lah-yei Nahm-ah-hah]
Translation: "Om and salutations to She who, having risen to the thousand-petaled lotus at the top of the head, is referred to as 'akula', having no perceivable genesis, lineage, or qualities whatsoever."
Receiving this from her and hearing the group's feedback was a powerful experience for me. I'm anxious to see what comes of using it in my meditation.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
A walk in the woods
I took a long walk in the woods today. 9-10 miles. About 4 of which were on top of snow pack deep enough that when I occasionally fell through, I sunk up to my knees. 1375' elevation change.
It's very tiring to hike like that.
It was a wonderful day. Tomorrow I head home. There will be a more substantial post in a few days, and some pictures. Now I will sleep. Very peacefully.
It's very tiring to hike like that.
It was a wonderful day. Tomorrow I head home. There will be a more substantial post in a few days, and some pictures. Now I will sleep. Very peacefully.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Why I love where I live
If someone were to ask me today why I love where I live, I'd tell them this....
I love that I can pull up to a friend's house at 5:30 in the morning, a dog whom I love peering out the window at me, and load up my luggage in the friend's car to head to the airport, where I will catch a flight that leaves at the ungodly early hour of 6:45. Then, walking in to the airport ticket counter, I walk immediately to the front of the line, check my luggage and proceed to security. Having nearly an hour before my flight leaves, I decide to enjoy a little coffee before I endure the long winding line at security. My mocha consumed, I walk up to the security checkpoint and take my place at the end of the line and start slowly moving forward.
A couple of minutes later, I look up to see two familiar faces coming toward me in the line that has doubled-back. It's a retired pastor from the area and her husband. I had lunch with her on Wednesday. They're headed to Germany for two weeks. We chat until the line separates. I continue moving slowly forward, winding my way back and forth a couple of times more when I hear my name in a familiar tenor voice to my right. I don't even have to look. I know it's Mike from church. He's going to New York for a few days of fun. We chat a couple of times when the line's winding brings us together. In between visits with Mike, I meet a couple from church who are headed...um...I can't remember where.
I've never lived anyplace where I regularly meet people I know at the airport. I do love this place!
I'm in Colorado for a couple of days of work and one big day of hiking! Woo Hoo! There's much to think about while I traverse the trails in Rocky Mountain National Park. I met with a minister at my church yesterday to talk about my application for the credentialing process. I don't know what I expected, but he was far more affirming and much less cautious in his enthusiasm about the possibilities than I imagined.
Could it be that ordination will actually happen this time? You'll understand if I'm not quite ready to believe it will just yet.
I love that I can pull up to a friend's house at 5:30 in the morning, a dog whom I love peering out the window at me, and load up my luggage in the friend's car to head to the airport, where I will catch a flight that leaves at the ungodly early hour of 6:45. Then, walking in to the airport ticket counter, I walk immediately to the front of the line, check my luggage and proceed to security. Having nearly an hour before my flight leaves, I decide to enjoy a little coffee before I endure the long winding line at security. My mocha consumed, I walk up to the security checkpoint and take my place at the end of the line and start slowly moving forward.
A couple of minutes later, I look up to see two familiar faces coming toward me in the line that has doubled-back. It's a retired pastor from the area and her husband. I had lunch with her on Wednesday. They're headed to Germany for two weeks. We chat until the line separates. I continue moving slowly forward, winding my way back and forth a couple of times more when I hear my name in a familiar tenor voice to my right. I don't even have to look. I know it's Mike from church. He's going to New York for a few days of fun. We chat a couple of times when the line's winding brings us together. In between visits with Mike, I meet a couple from church who are headed...um...I can't remember where.
I've never lived anyplace where I regularly meet people I know at the airport. I do love this place!
I'm in Colorado for a couple of days of work and one big day of hiking! Woo Hoo! There's much to think about while I traverse the trails in Rocky Mountain National Park. I met with a minister at my church yesterday to talk about my application for the credentialing process. I don't know what I expected, but he was far more affirming and much less cautious in his enthusiasm about the possibilities than I imagined.
Could it be that ordination will actually happen this time? You'll understand if I'm not quite ready to believe it will just yet.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Re-posting just for the heck of it
This memory has been on my mind for several days now, namely because some friends of mine and I have been talking about a quality of mine some of them find weird...the ability to sit with someone in silence and believe that it is a powerful and moving experience. This post from Father's Day 2005 speaks volumes about why that is the case for me:
Yesterday was Father's Day. My dad passed away two and a half years ago. He was actually my step-dad, the only father I knew well. I still miss him, especially this time of year.
Father's Day falls at the point in June when the summer in Missouri starts to grow hot and dry. For years I sneaked away for the weekend, carrying little more than a couple of pairs of ratty jeans, old t-shirts, and my fishing pole, to spend time with him silently casting lures and bait out into ponds where fish might or might not show interest in what we had to offer.
We would wake up early, stop by the grocery store to buy chicken livers for the catfish, and make our way to one of several family farm ponds in the area around his hometown in southwest Missouri. Many of the ponds were in fields where cattle grazed. We would drive his truck as far out as possible and trek the rest of the way on foot, carefully passing under electric fences and around the curious glances of bored cows. Words were few. Our ears were tuned to the droning of locusts and grasshoppers and the lonely calls of red-winged blackbirds and quail.
Conversations consisted of "what are you using?" and "have you gotten a bite yet?" My dad was not given to deep conversation. He would never have thought it necessary to talk about the meaning of life, but I never doubted he considered it, and I was always certain that his understanding of it was worked out while standing on the edge of a pond, rhythmically casting his fishing pole. God was there in those moments with him. With no words to put distance between us, we understood each other.
If heaven is a physical place that in any way resembles this earth, my dad is standing on the edge of a pond, silently whispering gratitude for a life filled with fun, family, and friends. The fish aren't in much danger because he's never been that concerned about catching them. He stands there knowing that he lived his life well, loving his family, showing care and concern for others in ways both big and small.
And in some way, I'm there with him, silently content to bask in the warmth of his love and acceptance, knowing that if I never did another thing of worth or value in this world, he would still be proud of me.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Teenagers and ministry as vocation
I have to speak to a group of teens about ministry and vocation soon. I've been given a 30-minute slot of time during which to talk. While they eat.
This kind of scheduling is not my idea of a good plan.
Any thoughts on how to make ministry as a vocation as engaging (or more so) as pizza and the banter to be enjoyed with dozens of others their own age? I need help, you all! I know I'm in trouble. I think pizza and teenage banter is going to be way more interesting that what I have to say!
This kind of scheduling is not my idea of a good plan.
Any thoughts on how to make ministry as a vocation as engaging (or more so) as pizza and the banter to be enjoyed with dozens of others their own age? I need help, you all! I know I'm in trouble. I think pizza and teenage banter is going to be way more interesting that what I have to say!
Friday, April 11, 2008
Friday Five: Makin' a Move
This week's Friday Five is about making a move. I don't think I've ever done a Friday Five. The topic this week though really grabbed my attention, and I haven't had much blogging mojo lately anyway. So here goes....
1.How many times have you moved? When was the last time?
As a kid, I lived in four homes in the same small town of 15,000, so while I had the experience of packing up and moving, I never experienced leaving behind friends and family until I went to college. My life since then has been different. I've had six major moves in the 22 years since I graduated from college, and several smaller moves within the towns I've lived in each of those six locations. My last move was 18 months ago, to where I live now. I hope to stay here for a good long while. No place has felt more like home than this. But, I have been here long enough to become reacquainted with some of my less than stellar personal qualities that have often led to my decisions to move in the past. I was full of adventure and wanderlust in my early adulthood, an independent spirit, afraid of bothering people, and of getting too close. I still love to travel, but I also love to come home, to a familiar place where I have a routine and where there are people who know me, but love me anyway.
2. What do you love and hate about moving?
Each of my moves have been to places where either work/ministry or school offered a chance to learn and explore things that were new and exotic to me. I love that about moving, but I hate the inevitable loneliness of being in a new place. I don't make friends easily, so a new place means a lot of work to get to know people and build relationships that are supportive. I also hate packing and unpacking!!
3. Do you do it yourself or hire movers?
I've always done my own moving, with little help even from friends - because I hate bothering people. This last move, however, my new employer paid my moving expenses. I still did all of the packing, though. I just didn't have to carry the boxes or furniture up the two flights of stairs to my apartment. In 100+ weather.
4. Advice for surviving and thriving during a move?
This last move forced me to do things differently and as a result, my advice is very different than it would have been two years ago. I arrived in my new town two weeks ahead of the moving truck, so I didn't have boxes to unpack for awhile. In the absence of stuff, I got out to explore my new surroundings everyday and was more intentional about going to events and places where I could meet people. I think that approach really helped me settle in to the new place more quickly. Of course, I still have only one picture on the walls, and there are boxes that have yet to be unpacked, an odd little thing left over from living with the ex who never made room for me and my things in her house, leaving me to store my things in a shed behind her house for the five+ years I lived with her. It was a ridiculous thing to put up with and I regret that I didn't care more for myself more than that, but it did shift my relationship to things.
So, I say, use a move to simplify your life and get down to just the basics, and be intentional about making relationships and connection to the landscape of the new place a higher priority.
5. Are you in the middle of any inner moves, if not outer ones?
I'm learning to be more tolerant of discomfort in my life, an inner move that is needed, but not especially easy, and contemplating a suggestion that I could take more risk in relationships as an invitation to an inner move that is both terrifying and exciting.
1.How many times have you moved? When was the last time?
As a kid, I lived in four homes in the same small town of 15,000, so while I had the experience of packing up and moving, I never experienced leaving behind friends and family until I went to college. My life since then has been different. I've had six major moves in the 22 years since I graduated from college, and several smaller moves within the towns I've lived in each of those six locations. My last move was 18 months ago, to where I live now. I hope to stay here for a good long while. No place has felt more like home than this. But, I have been here long enough to become reacquainted with some of my less than stellar personal qualities that have often led to my decisions to move in the past. I was full of adventure and wanderlust in my early adulthood, an independent spirit, afraid of bothering people, and of getting too close. I still love to travel, but I also love to come home, to a familiar place where I have a routine and where there are people who know me, but love me anyway.
2. What do you love and hate about moving?
Each of my moves have been to places where either work/ministry or school offered a chance to learn and explore things that were new and exotic to me. I love that about moving, but I hate the inevitable loneliness of being in a new place. I don't make friends easily, so a new place means a lot of work to get to know people and build relationships that are supportive. I also hate packing and unpacking!!
3. Do you do it yourself or hire movers?
I've always done my own moving, with little help even from friends - because I hate bothering people. This last move, however, my new employer paid my moving expenses. I still did all of the packing, though. I just didn't have to carry the boxes or furniture up the two flights of stairs to my apartment. In 100+ weather.
4. Advice for surviving and thriving during a move?
This last move forced me to do things differently and as a result, my advice is very different than it would have been two years ago. I arrived in my new town two weeks ahead of the moving truck, so I didn't have boxes to unpack for awhile. In the absence of stuff, I got out to explore my new surroundings everyday and was more intentional about going to events and places where I could meet people. I think that approach really helped me settle in to the new place more quickly. Of course, I still have only one picture on the walls, and there are boxes that have yet to be unpacked, an odd little thing left over from living with the ex who never made room for me and my things in her house, leaving me to store my things in a shed behind her house for the five+ years I lived with her. It was a ridiculous thing to put up with and I regret that I didn't care more for myself more than that, but it did shift my relationship to things.
So, I say, use a move to simplify your life and get down to just the basics, and be intentional about making relationships and connection to the landscape of the new place a higher priority.
5. Are you in the middle of any inner moves, if not outer ones?
I'm learning to be more tolerant of discomfort in my life, an inner move that is needed, but not especially easy, and contemplating a suggestion that I could take more risk in relationships as an invitation to an inner move that is both terrifying and exciting.
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
What would you do?
I've been mulling over a situation that, as it turns, isn't a situation after all, but could have been. While glancing at profiles on an online dating site, I came across a picture that looked just like a friend of mine. A friend who is in a committed relationship. Fortunately, I was able to get access to additional pictures associated with that profile, so I was able to verify that it is not my friend, but it's left me wondering. The primary picture on the profile looked just like her!!!!
What would you do if you found a friend on an online dating site, one whose relationship status would make looking for a date seem a bit shady?
What would you do if you found a friend on an online dating site, one whose relationship status would make looking for a date seem a bit shady?
Monday, April 07, 2008
FINALLY!
Rock! Chalk! Jayhawk! KU!
2008 NCAA Champions in Men's Basketball!It seems like I've been waiting my whole life* for this: 75 to 68 in overtime!
Unfortunately, since Memphis beat UCLA to make it to the final, I didn't win the coveted banana bread prize for the Chalice Lighters pool I was in. I can live with that.
________
*It's only been 20 years since their last title, but that's long enough.
Unfortunately, since Memphis beat UCLA to make it to the final, I didn't win the coveted banana bread prize for the Chalice Lighters pool I was in. I can live with that.
________
*It's only been 20 years since their last title, but that's long enough.
Thursday, April 03, 2008
The shy person's guide to solving problems at work
53 easy steps to solving a problem at work:
- Go to church.
- On Wednesday night.
- In time to eat dinner.
- Forget to pick up name tag when you walk in to the church.
- Sit at a table full of people you know.
- Leave an empty seat next to you at the dinner table.
- Wait for gregarious church member to sit next to you.
- Visit with gregarious church member.
- Be appropriately impressed when he knows your full name without the aid of a name tag.
- Tell the truth when he asks what kind of work you do.
- Learn that he has a client with a business near yours.
- Learn surprising information about business owner's business.
- Realize that business owner might have a solution for a big problem at work.
- Tell gregarious church member about the need at work.
- Watch the wheels spin in gregarious church member's head.
- Notice that it's time for chapel to start and say goodbye.
- Forget to get gregarious church member's contact info.
- Forget to give gregarious church member your contact info.
- Go to chapel.
- Go to class.
- Go home.
- Sleep.
- Get up.
- Get ready for work.
- Start e-mail to boss at work about possible solution.
- Realize boss will think you're crazy for e-mailing at 6:00 a.m. when you will be at work that day.
- Delete e-mail.
- Have long phone conversation with friend before work.
- Go to work.
- Meet with boss.
- Forget to tell boss about conversation with gregarious church member.
- Remember to tell boss about conversation during meeting at work.
- Go to boss's office after meeting.
- Tell boss about conversation.
- Realize you don't know what kind of work gregarious church member does or what kind of client business owner is for him.
- Guess what kind of work gregarious church member does.
- Get boss's preference on how to proceed.
- Contact minister from church to get contact info for gregarious church member.
- Think about calling gregarious church member.
- E-mail gregarious church member instead.
- Answer phone when gregarious church member calls.
- Find out gregarious church member talked to business owner last night on his way home from church.
- Get contact info for business owner.
- Give contact info to boss.
- Talk to boss as she passes through your office and learn that she is on her way over to see business owner.
- Listen to the pouring rain start while boss is walking to see business owner.
- Wonder if you should take car to pick up boss.
- Relax when rain stops.
- Talk to colleague about employee appreciation luncheon.
- Let boss interrupt conversation with colleague to report on meeting with business owner.
- Find out that business owner may have just the solution you've been looking for for six months or more.
- Join boss in celebratory dance.
- Eat chocolate.
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
If a fox could talk...
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Kite flying on Easter afternoon
I had decided I had too much to do today to keep this week from being completely crazy to accept an invitation to dinner I'd been given yesterday. A phone call after church from a friend going to the same dinner brought me to my senses and convinced me I could take the afternoon off and go out into the country for an Easter gathering.
My mind is full. I was given a great gift at the end of this week, the unqualified acceptance of my former boss, the one who recruited me to seminary 20 years ago, the one who launched me on my career in seminary administration. He enjoyed a great deal of renown in the Southern Baptist Convention years ago. He's since surrendered his ordination and is teaching religion courses at a state school here in my current state. Next fall he will teach a course for us at the seminary.
The closer association necessitated my coming out to him much sooner than later. I felt enough urgency in telling him to ensure he heard it from me that I opted to e-mail him, rather than wait until we got together. His response was quick and gracious. We'll be getting together on Friday to talk some more. There's much to catch up on. I've yet to find words to articulate what this means to me. I'm not sure I really even know what it means yet, but it's not for lack of trying to figure it out. I've longed for an accepting connection to my past. I'd honestly given up hope I'd ever find one.
There are other things occupying my attention as well. My Lenten discipline opened me to things I hadn't expected this year. Once I decided to give up the questions of adequacy to see how my relationship to what I've dreamed of doing for years changed, it was amazing how clearly I saw what I want to do once those questions were taken out of the picture. It hasn't been easy. I've had to face some truths about my self that haven't been easy to swallow. I've had to accept that I have been a greater hindrance to my own achievement than I've been willing to admit in the past. The amazing thing, though, is once that admission is made, it's hard to support staying stuck in that place. And, indeed, there's been much that's happened to rouse me from that place of complacency and inaction. I've quit trying to make sense of it in any sort of logical way, but it has felt like the messages at church lately have been in lock step with where my own heart has taken me.
I'm applying to enter the credentialing process with the Unitarian Universalist Association, a process that will eventually lead to ordination. Though I've seen what I want clearly, I do still feel inadequate to the task, more than I ever have before, with a lot of new reasons to feel that way. I guess what I've learned this Lent is that I can move ahead anyway.
I had laundry to do today, and housecleaning, and I thought journaling about this morning's sermon and how it affected me seemed like the most important things to get done. I feel a sense of urgency about what lies ahead. Instead, I spent a portion of my afternoon flying a kite with an eight-year-old, learning from him the ways to keep it in the air as the wind shifts and changes. In the time we spent, I learned about a bully in his class who thinks he's going to hell. I heard about his teacher's new baby, a girl, and the legends about people who live in the area around him. He told me what he misses from the city he left behind when his family moved out into the country several months ago. He offered me his jacket when the wind nearly succeeded in chasing me back inside. And I shared in his joy over "the best gift ever," kite string on a spool with handles that help him reel it in quickly and keep it under control more easily.
I feel like my spirit is emerging from a dark place, beginning to take flight, pushing toward the sun, riding on the currents of a cool spring wind.
My mind is full. I was given a great gift at the end of this week, the unqualified acceptance of my former boss, the one who recruited me to seminary 20 years ago, the one who launched me on my career in seminary administration. He enjoyed a great deal of renown in the Southern Baptist Convention years ago. He's since surrendered his ordination and is teaching religion courses at a state school here in my current state. Next fall he will teach a course for us at the seminary.
The closer association necessitated my coming out to him much sooner than later. I felt enough urgency in telling him to ensure he heard it from me that I opted to e-mail him, rather than wait until we got together. His response was quick and gracious. We'll be getting together on Friday to talk some more. There's much to catch up on. I've yet to find words to articulate what this means to me. I'm not sure I really even know what it means yet, but it's not for lack of trying to figure it out. I've longed for an accepting connection to my past. I'd honestly given up hope I'd ever find one.
There are other things occupying my attention as well. My Lenten discipline opened me to things I hadn't expected this year. Once I decided to give up the questions of adequacy to see how my relationship to what I've dreamed of doing for years changed, it was amazing how clearly I saw what I want to do once those questions were taken out of the picture. It hasn't been easy. I've had to face some truths about my self that haven't been easy to swallow. I've had to accept that I have been a greater hindrance to my own achievement than I've been willing to admit in the past. The amazing thing, though, is once that admission is made, it's hard to support staying stuck in that place. And, indeed, there's been much that's happened to rouse me from that place of complacency and inaction. I've quit trying to make sense of it in any sort of logical way, but it has felt like the messages at church lately have been in lock step with where my own heart has taken me.
I'm applying to enter the credentialing process with the Unitarian Universalist Association, a process that will eventually lead to ordination. Though I've seen what I want clearly, I do still feel inadequate to the task, more than I ever have before, with a lot of new reasons to feel that way. I guess what I've learned this Lent is that I can move ahead anyway.
I had laundry to do today, and housecleaning, and I thought journaling about this morning's sermon and how it affected me seemed like the most important things to get done. I feel a sense of urgency about what lies ahead. Instead, I spent a portion of my afternoon flying a kite with an eight-year-old, learning from him the ways to keep it in the air as the wind shifts and changes. In the time we spent, I learned about a bully in his class who thinks he's going to hell. I heard about his teacher's new baby, a girl, and the legends about people who live in the area around him. He told me what he misses from the city he left behind when his family moved out into the country several months ago. He offered me his jacket when the wind nearly succeeded in chasing me back inside. And I shared in his joy over "the best gift ever," kite string on a spool with handles that help him reel it in quickly and keep it under control more easily.
I feel like my spirit is emerging from a dark place, beginning to take flight, pushing toward the sun, riding on the currents of a cool spring wind.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Is it me?
You know, last week, I sort of just laughed off the whole flat tire, cat sick, mom in the hospital, rental car guy locks the keys in the car with the engine running gaff. Really, it was so ridiculous, who couldn't laugh.
So yesterday, I took the car in for some repairs. There was a horrid belt screeching noise that started late last week, so as soon as I was able to go without the car for a day, I took it in. No problem. My fabulous mechanic found the problem, but had to wait for a part, so he kept it over night.
Today, I worked from home since I didn't have a way to get to work. I didn't mind. I like working from home. It's nice to have PPBob keep me company.
So the mechanic calls to tell me it's ready, and I arrange a way to get there, and as soon as I'm out of the vehicle and my ride is gone, I notice that the driver's license and ATM card that I put in my pocket was GONE! Panic insued. Immediately.
My very, very gracious mechanic handed me my car key and sent me home to find a means for paying him. I returned and did just that. I looked around all of the places where I had been between the apartment and the mechanic's shop, and didn't find anything. When I returned home, I checked my account to see if there'd been any unauthorized activity. There had not.
I went to dinner with friends, who took pity on my pitiful self, as they have each time I've had one of these "experiences," and then went to their place to watch a movie.
When I got home, I checked e-mail. There was an alert from the bank. I checked my account. It appears whoever "found" my card loves movies. Blockbuster, Hollywood Video, twice. Kwik-i-Mart, Walgreens, and some other ridiculous charge...to the tune of nearly $180. Fortunately, he/she got nowhere at Walmart; the fraud protection person I spoke to at the bank said he/she attempted to use it there but was declined, probably because he/she didn't know the pin.
They've canceled the card. I'll be able to have the money for the charges returned as soon as they officially post to the account, and I can get a temporary ATM card at the bank tomorrow. I'll have to get a replacement license as well, and I'm guessing in the grand scheme of things this will amount to little more than a couple hours of my time and a lot of annoyance.
But I have to tell you, I'm ready to call "uncle."
Anyone have a good cleansing ritual? It's time to clear the negative energy around me. My friends are going to run when they see me coming!
So yesterday, I took the car in for some repairs. There was a horrid belt screeching noise that started late last week, so as soon as I was able to go without the car for a day, I took it in. No problem. My fabulous mechanic found the problem, but had to wait for a part, so he kept it over night.
Today, I worked from home since I didn't have a way to get to work. I didn't mind. I like working from home. It's nice to have PPBob keep me company.
So the mechanic calls to tell me it's ready, and I arrange a way to get there, and as soon as I'm out of the vehicle and my ride is gone, I notice that the driver's license and ATM card that I put in my pocket was GONE! Panic insued. Immediately.
My very, very gracious mechanic handed me my car key and sent me home to find a means for paying him. I returned and did just that. I looked around all of the places where I had been between the apartment and the mechanic's shop, and didn't find anything. When I returned home, I checked my account to see if there'd been any unauthorized activity. There had not.
I went to dinner with friends, who took pity on my pitiful self, as they have each time I've had one of these "experiences," and then went to their place to watch a movie.
When I got home, I checked e-mail. There was an alert from the bank. I checked my account. It appears whoever "found" my card loves movies. Blockbuster, Hollywood Video, twice. Kwik-i-Mart, Walgreens, and some other ridiculous charge...to the tune of nearly $180. Fortunately, he/she got nowhere at Walmart; the fraud protection person I spoke to at the bank said he/she attempted to use it there but was declined, probably because he/she didn't know the pin.
They've canceled the card. I'll be able to have the money for the charges returned as soon as they officially post to the account, and I can get a temporary ATM card at the bank tomorrow. I'll have to get a replacement license as well, and I'm guessing in the grand scheme of things this will amount to little more than a couple hours of my time and a lot of annoyance.
But I have to tell you, I'm ready to call "uncle."
Anyone have a good cleansing ritual? It's time to clear the negative energy around me. My friends are going to run when they see me coming!
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Unusual foray into political commentary
My cynicism reared its ugly head yesterday. I avoided listening to Obama's speech until this evening. I'll admit I was afraid to listen to it. I've come to appreciate Obama's leadership and call for change, but I was afraid that the controversy surrounding the quotes from pastor Jeremiah Wright's sermons would push Obama take the business-as-usual, pansy-assed approach of distancing himself from controversy in the name of political expediency that dominates the world of politics today. I wanted to believe that he would offer something different, but my cynicism honestly expected that he wouldn't.
I just finished watching the speech. While I'm not normally given to tears by speeches from politicians, I'll acknowledge a lump in my throat by the end of this one. To my utter amazement, he forcefully disagreed with the statements that have been played over and over again, denounced the shallow sound bite analysis of relationships and issues, beautifully named his dilemma and the nation's real struggle with racism, AND stood by a man who has obviously had a powerful influence on him. That is exactly the kind of change in leadership I think is necessary to move this country in a different direction.
I don't agree with Obama entirely. His strong denouncement of Dr. Wright's statements was too forceful in my opinion. I'm not offended by what the pastor said. I think he was making some important points. I also understand that preaching good news in a prophetic manner sometimes requires saying things that make people uncomfortable. I would not consider myself a follower of Jesus Christ if that were not the case. I have no doubt that Dr. Wright has said things with which I would disagree. I've never met a preacher who didn't. I might also choose to say some of the same things in a different way, but I have never ministered in a context like his, nor have I ever had the guts to speak as prophetically as he, often to my own shame.
A few years back, Jeremiah Wright preached at my PhD school, Brite Divinity School at Texas Christian University. I did not attend. I was in the dungeon of PhD coursework at the time, trying to keep my head above water and believing that I didn't really have the time to go to any of the events during that week's conference. I regret that I didn't hear him. The reports I received from fellow students afterward were glowing, full of rave reviews and deep appreciation for the messages he brought. In recent months, the Black Church Studies Program at Brite selected Dr. Wright to be the recipient of an award in honor of the contributions he's made in the course of his ministry. The award will be given at a banquet at the end of next week.
In the past few days, Brite has received numerous phone calls and e-mail criticizing the seminary for honoring Dr. Wright. Some of the messages have expressed hatred and bigotry in shockingly candid language and tone. The seminary's administration has taken the courageous step of affirming the decision to grant the award and has posted a statement on the website further honoring Dr. Wright's accomplishments. I have not always had positive things to say about my PhD school, but their handling of this situation has deepened my sense of pride in having studied there.
I understand why Obama used such forceful language to distance himself from the ideas expressed. I'll even admit that I think doing so demonstrated his ability to be leader for all of the people in this country and to help us move toward healing the pain and suffering of racism. Nothing has made that more clear to me than the angry response leveled at Brite. The pain is deep, and the solutions will not be easy. It is a deeply complex problem that requires both the prophetic word of ministers like Jeremiah Wright to rouse us from our numbness and indifference and the authentic conviction and courageous diplomacy of a leader like Barack Obama to help us see a way forward.
I just finished watching the speech. While I'm not normally given to tears by speeches from politicians, I'll acknowledge a lump in my throat by the end of this one. To my utter amazement, he forcefully disagreed with the statements that have been played over and over again, denounced the shallow sound bite analysis of relationships and issues, beautifully named his dilemma and the nation's real struggle with racism, AND stood by a man who has obviously had a powerful influence on him. That is exactly the kind of change in leadership I think is necessary to move this country in a different direction.
I don't agree with Obama entirely. His strong denouncement of Dr. Wright's statements was too forceful in my opinion. I'm not offended by what the pastor said. I think he was making some important points. I also understand that preaching good news in a prophetic manner sometimes requires saying things that make people uncomfortable. I would not consider myself a follower of Jesus Christ if that were not the case. I have no doubt that Dr. Wright has said things with which I would disagree. I've never met a preacher who didn't. I might also choose to say some of the same things in a different way, but I have never ministered in a context like his, nor have I ever had the guts to speak as prophetically as he, often to my own shame.
A few years back, Jeremiah Wright preached at my PhD school, Brite Divinity School at Texas Christian University. I did not attend. I was in the dungeon of PhD coursework at the time, trying to keep my head above water and believing that I didn't really have the time to go to any of the events during that week's conference. I regret that I didn't hear him. The reports I received from fellow students afterward were glowing, full of rave reviews and deep appreciation for the messages he brought. In recent months, the Black Church Studies Program at Brite selected Dr. Wright to be the recipient of an award in honor of the contributions he's made in the course of his ministry. The award will be given at a banquet at the end of next week.
In the past few days, Brite has received numerous phone calls and e-mail criticizing the seminary for honoring Dr. Wright. Some of the messages have expressed hatred and bigotry in shockingly candid language and tone. The seminary's administration has taken the courageous step of affirming the decision to grant the award and has posted a statement on the website further honoring Dr. Wright's accomplishments. I have not always had positive things to say about my PhD school, but their handling of this situation has deepened my sense of pride in having studied there.
I understand why Obama used such forceful language to distance himself from the ideas expressed. I'll even admit that I think doing so demonstrated his ability to be leader for all of the people in this country and to help us move toward healing the pain and suffering of racism. Nothing has made that more clear to me than the angry response leveled at Brite. The pain is deep, and the solutions will not be easy. It is a deeply complex problem that requires both the prophetic word of ministers like Jeremiah Wright to rouse us from our numbness and indifference and the authentic conviction and courageous diplomacy of a leader like Barack Obama to help us see a way forward.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Missing my normal life
My usual routine has been badly interrupted the past six weeks. I've been gone more than I've been home, and when I've been home, I've been sick most of that time.
I miss blogging things that are more than stream of consciousness and reports on my boring life.
I miss eating decent food.
I miss running.
I miss my friends.
I miss the day-to-day interactions with people at work.
I miss morning wake-ups from PPBob.
I miss regular journaling and meditation.
I miss evenings at home, reading and writing in an unhurried fashion.
I got home last night and had a normal day in the office today. But my usual routine feels foreign to me now. I sat at work a little while ago dreading going home to an empty house while simultaneously dreaming of nothing more. It's weird, I tell you!
I miss blogging things that are more than stream of consciousness and reports on my boring life.
I miss eating decent food.
I miss running.
I miss my friends.
I miss the day-to-day interactions with people at work.
I miss morning wake-ups from PPBob.
I miss regular journaling and meditation.
I miss evenings at home, reading and writing in an unhurried fashion.
I got home last night and had a normal day in the office today. But my usual routine feels foreign to me now. I sat at work a little while ago dreading going home to an empty house while simultaneously dreaming of nothing more. It's weird, I tell you!
Friday, March 14, 2008
Update
Mom's fine. After a wild round of "where's she going?," she ended up in rehab in her town, like we'd planned originally, but not without considerable string-pulling to make it happen. The flu has all of the hospitals around that area full!
PPBob is also home and feeling better, though very tired from the harrowing experience of spending two days at the vet's. We have a new vet at the clinic whom I love! PPBob has a different opinion, but she's not paying the woman.
I changed the flat tire this morning and got two new tires this afternoon. I'm feeling rather pleased with myself for doing that without much effort! I will tell you, though, I'm very, very glad that I was on a neighborhood road when it happened. I couldn't tell until I got the wheel off, but the tire blew. Seriously blew! It could not have happened in a better spot at a better time. I'm grateful I wasn't on the turnpike.
I'm about as tired as a person can be. I slept 2.5 hours this afternoon and can barely keep my eyes open tonight. But, tomorrow I go to the farm! Woo Hoo!
PPBob is also home and feeling better, though very tired from the harrowing experience of spending two days at the vet's. We have a new vet at the clinic whom I love! PPBob has a different opinion, but she's not paying the woman.
I changed the flat tire this morning and got two new tires this afternoon. I'm feeling rather pleased with myself for doing that without much effort! I will tell you, though, I'm very, very glad that I was on a neighborhood road when it happened. I couldn't tell until I got the wheel off, but the tire blew. Seriously blew! It could not have happened in a better spot at a better time. I'm grateful I wasn't on the turnpike.
I'm about as tired as a person can be. I slept 2.5 hours this afternoon and can barely keep my eyes open tonight. But, tomorrow I go to the farm! Woo Hoo!
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Free association from the vortex of anxiety
If you've been missing any anxiety the past few days, I know where it went. My mom and my brother sucked it all out of the universe on Monday. Fortunately, I think they're giving it back.
My mom had a knee replacement on Monday. She's doing well. She's already walking around, mostly with a walker, but some without. I had no idea she would be doing so well at this point. Unfortunately, the rehab unit they were to transfer her to tomorrow is not accepting transfers because the flu has the hospital at capacity and they are short-staffed. We're waiting to hear what alternatives to the original plan there might be.
My oldest brother and sister-in-law were here until yesterday evening. I haven't spent that much time around them in a long time. I've had some revelations about family that are helpful. I'm waiting to find a good metaphor to describe what I'm seeing now. When I do, I'll write about it.
The hospital where my mom is staying is in a larger town between her town and my city, though a good bit closer to her town. I needed a night at home last night, so I drove a little further and slept in my own bed. I arrived home to find a sick cat. She hadn't eaten much and there were no "packages" in the litter box after two days. I left with her tow to take her to the vet this morning, before I headed back to see my mom. On the way to the vet, I heard a noise from the rear of the car that kept getting louder, until there was a good "thump, thump, thump," and a wobbly drive. A flat tire. When the loud thump occurred, PPBob screamed really loud and raced to the front of her cat carrier, effectively pitching it forward off the passenger seat into the floor board of the car. I was just two or three blocks from some friends' house, so I drove on there and got one of them to take me to the vet and to a car rental place. There were no cars at my usual place, so I called another, made a reservation, and learned that it would be an hour and a half before the car would ready, so she took me to her home and I waited for the car rental people to pick me up. After the agent checked me in, he took me out to the car to check mileage and fuel level. He opened the door, leaned in to turn it on, checked the mileage, then closed the door. It locked. With the keys inside and the engine running. He checked me into another car.
Fortunately, that string of events seems to have burned off all of the excess anxiety, so this afternoon has been good. Mom's more well-rested and I've gotten some work done.
Hospital stays require a lot of ridiculous questions, like "How do you feel today?" Necessary, I know, but it often seems the answer is obvious. The most ridiculous one I've heard this time, though, came from a person in anesthesia. She came in to check on my mom yesterday, stepped just inside the door, introduced herself, and with clipboard and pen in hand asked, "So how was your anesthesia?" Doesn't it seem highly likely that the person asking the question is in a much better position to answer that question than the person she's asking? I mean, by it's very nature, anesthesia, if done right, is meant to be forgotten.
I have a couple of opening lines for blog posts about things that inspired me the past few days. I hope to get to those posts soon.
Hope all is well in your world.
My mom had a knee replacement on Monday. She's doing well. She's already walking around, mostly with a walker, but some without. I had no idea she would be doing so well at this point. Unfortunately, the rehab unit they were to transfer her to tomorrow is not accepting transfers because the flu has the hospital at capacity and they are short-staffed. We're waiting to hear what alternatives to the original plan there might be.
My oldest brother and sister-in-law were here until yesterday evening. I haven't spent that much time around them in a long time. I've had some revelations about family that are helpful. I'm waiting to find a good metaphor to describe what I'm seeing now. When I do, I'll write about it.
The hospital where my mom is staying is in a larger town between her town and my city, though a good bit closer to her town. I needed a night at home last night, so I drove a little further and slept in my own bed. I arrived home to find a sick cat. She hadn't eaten much and there were no "packages" in the litter box after two days. I left with her tow to take her to the vet this morning, before I headed back to see my mom. On the way to the vet, I heard a noise from the rear of the car that kept getting louder, until there was a good "thump, thump, thump," and a wobbly drive. A flat tire. When the loud thump occurred, PPBob screamed really loud and raced to the front of her cat carrier, effectively pitching it forward off the passenger seat into the floor board of the car. I was just two or three blocks from some friends' house, so I drove on there and got one of them to take me to the vet and to a car rental place. There were no cars at my usual place, so I called another, made a reservation, and learned that it would be an hour and a half before the car would ready, so she took me to her home and I waited for the car rental people to pick me up. After the agent checked me in, he took me out to the car to check mileage and fuel level. He opened the door, leaned in to turn it on, checked the mileage, then closed the door. It locked. With the keys inside and the engine running. He checked me into another car.
Fortunately, that string of events seems to have burned off all of the excess anxiety, so this afternoon has been good. Mom's more well-rested and I've gotten some work done.
Hospital stays require a lot of ridiculous questions, like "How do you feel today?" Necessary, I know, but it often seems the answer is obvious. The most ridiculous one I've heard this time, though, came from a person in anesthesia. She came in to check on my mom yesterday, stepped just inside the door, introduced herself, and with clipboard and pen in hand asked, "So how was your anesthesia?" Doesn't it seem highly likely that the person asking the question is in a much better position to answer that question than the person she's asking? I mean, by it's very nature, anesthesia, if done right, is meant to be forgotten.
I have a couple of opening lines for blog posts about things that inspired me the past few days. I hope to get to those posts soon.
Hope all is well in your world.
Saturday, March 08, 2008
The good, the bad, the ugly
Good: Very good, actually! I made a drum today. It was a fabulous experience. The strings need to be tightened a bit more, so I left it with the person who led the workshop and will get it in a few days. I'll post a picture when I get it back.
The process started with the selection of the wooden drum itself. Then, I wrapped cloth and tied knots around three rings that would be used to hold the drum head in place. All of that was done last night. This morning, I decorated the drum with pictures of the red-winged blackbird totem I posted last year and put a nice lacquer finish on it.
After the goat skin head was thoroughly soaked in water and softened, I began the arduous task of string the drum through the knots on the rings. It took a long time, but I managed to get mine tight enough, pulling with all the strength I had, that it's almost ready to go. The workshop leader will tighten it a little bit more with a special tool he uses, and I'll be good to go.
Someone please warn my neighbors that I intend to practice. A lot.
Bad: I hate to admit it, but I've gained weight over the past few weeks since I was sick and have been traveling. I haven't been running regularly since December. That really needs to change soon.
Oh, and daylight savings time is bad. I hate changing the clock!
Ugly: Watch the following video for the ugly... The audio is from a state representative here. No further explanation should be required.
The process started with the selection of the wooden drum itself. Then, I wrapped cloth and tied knots around three rings that would be used to hold the drum head in place. All of that was done last night. This morning, I decorated the drum with pictures of the red-winged blackbird totem I posted last year and put a nice lacquer finish on it.
After the goat skin head was thoroughly soaked in water and softened, I began the arduous task of string the drum through the knots on the rings. It took a long time, but I managed to get mine tight enough, pulling with all the strength I had, that it's almost ready to go. The workshop leader will tighten it a little bit more with a special tool he uses, and I'll be good to go.
Someone please warn my neighbors that I intend to practice. A lot.
Bad: I hate to admit it, but I've gained weight over the past few weeks since I was sick and have been traveling. I haven't been running regularly since December. That really needs to change soon.
Oh, and daylight savings time is bad. I hate changing the clock!
Ugly: Watch the following video for the ugly... The audio is from a state representative here. No further explanation should be required.
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