In my effort to post on a more consistent basis, I’m going to do two things: start an actual online blog, and start something called “Song of the Week” (inspired by Lauren Michaud’s “Song du Jour” but I’m sticking with a weekly schedule since I’m considerably lazier than she is.)

This week’s song is “Footprints,” by John Gerard.

Gerard is a singer/songwriter based in Boston, and he makes his living through the dollars dropped into his guitar case as he busks along the T or throughout Boston/Cambridge. He has three CD albums, all of which I own, and I must say I had the pleasure of meeting this man in person – not only is he a nice guy, he gave me one of his CDs as a gift for being a fan. If you ever hear about him having a show nearby, go see him. If you hear him playing on the T or in Harvard Square, stop and listen. This man has talent.

What I like about Footprints is that Gerard takes an old adage and turns it on its head. You know that anecdote where a guy walked through life, and God always claimed he was with him? And then the man looks back to see that in the hardest times of his life, there was only one set of footprints. The man asks God why he left him during those times when he needed him most, and God said, “Those were the times that I carried you. (Jackass.)”

In this song, Gerard says, “For all the times I walked the shore, all I ever saw were my footprints, and nothing more.” But throughout the song, he points out all the other places where he saw God, and it’s pretty heart-warming. I don’t think it’s meant to be a religious song – God holds many meanings to many people, from hope and mirth to comfort and understanding – but whatever God means to Gerard, it sounds like he knows where to find Him if he ever needed Him. It’s kinda made me think about where I see God myself, and for some reason makes me miss my brother.

Of course, I could be totally wrong and may have missed the point entirely, but that’s what I gather from this song. It has profoundly affected me and is, therefore, my song for the week.

John Gerard

I’ve spent the morning preparing images for a new exhibition at Griffith University’s School of Social Work and Human Services here in Brisbane. These are the images they selected to reflect the nature of the department’s involvement in things like mental health, Aboriginal affairs, community and relationship.

Let me know what you think of the images!

——–

Feel free to email Jo at admin@visitedplanet.com with your comments/thoughts/photo aspirations.  See and learn more at www.visitedplanet.com

Dogs and owner, New South Wales

Sunset on the Oodnadatta track, South Australia

Hands reaching out over the fire, India

Aboriginal child, Queensland

Canoe at Lawn Hill Gorge, Queensland

Mother and baby in Segou, Mali

Karnatika girls selling cloth on a Goan beach, India

Footprints in the dune near Birdsville, Queensland

“Landscape of sufficient variety promises surprises at every turn; it furnishes relief from the monotony and non-surprise of strictly sited space … What protrudes in a landscape offers us something to grasp at the most basic level of sensory awareness … [it] arrests the body momentarily in its onward motion, gives it pause, that is, gives it something to fasten onto.”– Edward Casey, Remembering: A Phenomenological Study

This corner was the most regulated and possibly the most contested of all the pigeon track sites. Signage is tightly controlled, probably with reason.

It is also the site where I managed to get one good plaster cast of a footprint – thanks to my nephew Albert’s nimble fingers. We did this at 5PM on a Thursday and hardly anybody noticed.

Close view of tracks at Ste Caterine an St Marc

“I stood frozen on the sidewalk…The way he walked was  unmistakable … Bruno, I said … He touched his hand to my cheek. We were in the middle of the sidewalk, people were hurrying past, it was a warm day in June. His hair was thin and white. He dropped his fruit. Bruno.”

– Nicole Krauss, A History of Love

shopper hurrying past tracks on de Maisonneuve west of Guy

pedestrian walking across tracks on de Maisonneuve

view of tracks on de Maisonneuve west of Guy

long view of tracks on de Maisonneuve west of Guy

coffee shop terrace overlooking tracks

Look at these heavy tulip bulbs, the torsos
we lift into the air. Can you? We guard
your immobilized heroes
bring them and your concrete piazzas
to life, are smartly unromantic
about the outmoded countryside,
have no need for medals,
our collars, iridescent violet-green
bind us to no master.

– from the poem “A Word from the Feral Pigeon” by Andy Quan

See http://pigeonpoetry.com/ for the complete poem.

tracks under jewellery store roost at Guy above de Maisonneuve

Roosting Pigeons

These tracks, which are near the lamppost on the left, are just around the corner from the statue of Norman Bethune. When they recently redid the good doctor's square they used stone instead of concrete but our feral friends continue to stand guard nonetheless.

ปวงบ่าวของศตวรรษที่สิบเก้าประสบความทุกข์ยากอันยิ่งใหญ่เพื่อคืนเสรีภาพของพวกเขาแต่เนื้อเพลง เพลง พระวรสารใต้พวกเขาให้เกิดมีซ้าย footprints เขาฝังลึกในหน้าประวัติศาสตร์. การต่อสู้ที่พวกเขาประสบและราบให้อาหารสัตว์หลายงานมากที่สุดและสวยงามเร้าใจของ ดนตรี ประเภทที่รู้จักกันในปัจจุบันนี้และพวกเขาวางรากฐานสำหรับยุคใหม่ของคริสต์ศาสนา.

เนื้อเพลงเหล่านี้แตกต่างจากหลาย hymns โปรเตสแตนต์predating พระวรสารที่ทันสมัยในการที่พวกเขาเป็นตัวมากขึ้นความสัมพันธ์ส่วนตัวกับพระเจ้า. มากนี้ตามวิธีการที่ศาสนาพัฒนา. Protestants ยุโรปได้สนับสนุนให้ในการรักษาศาสนาอย่างเป็นทางการมากขึ้นแต่เมื่อบริการทางศาสนาจะมีขึ้นใน huts ลามกและคุณไม่มีความหวังอื่นๆเพื่อให้ได้ผ่านพิธีวันที่ได้รับโยนไปข้างทาง. นี้นำมาสู่ชิ้นที่เร้าใจเช่น Thomas A. Dorsey 's "รักพระเจ้า" "ซอนุโลม" "The Old หยาบ Cross""Beulah ที่ดิน" และ "แกว่ง Low, Sweet ราชรถ."

เหล่านี้จึงเป็นที่นิยมว่าเมื่อทาสถูก abolished และ freed ปวงบ่าวของแอฟริกาได้รับอนุญาตให้จัดตั้งสถานบูชาอย่างเป็นทางการกระจาย เพลง ของพวกเขาตลอดใต้, วาดภาพในแอฟริกันและยุโรปเข้าร่วมเหมือนกันในพี่น้องทั่วไป. นี้เป็นหนึ่งชิ้นแรกของแอฟริกา-วัฒนธรรมอเมริกันเพื่อข้ามแบ่งเชื้อชาติ, สร้างรากฐานของสิ่งที่ในที่สุดจะกลายเป็นครบวงจรชน.

ใต้เนื้อเพลง เพลง พระวรสารยังให้เกิดแจ๊สพระวรสารเป็นประเภทที่ทรงพลัง ดนตรี ที่พัฒนาขึ้นในศตวรรษที่ 20 ก่อน. แจ๊สเองแล้วบนถนนของใต้พัฒนาผ่านความพยายามของปวงบ่าว freed ใหม่เพื่อเรียนรู้การเล่นดนตรีตะวันตกและมั่นคงรวมของมรดกทางดนตรีของพวกเขาชัดเจน. แจ๊สพระวรสารหมีรสของตะวันตกแอฟริกาแคริบเบียนและอเมริกาใต้, seamlessly ผสมพวกเขาและนำพวกเขาวิญญาณเสรีและทุกข์ลึกของคนแอฟริกา.

เช่นประเภทความรู้สึกวิงวอนขอออกสำหรับอเมริกันใหม่เพื่อแสดงจิตวิญญาณของพวกเขาและดังนั้นจึงเป็นที่ Thomas A. Dorsey ประสบติของโบสถ์และตั้งเนื้อเพลง เพลง แจ๊สพระวรสารใต้ไป. เพื่อสังคมที่น่าแยกสมบูรณ์ของจิตใจและฆราวาสนี้ abomination แต่งานของเขาจะมาจะเรียกว่าสไตล์ดั้งเดิมของพระวรสารใต้และ emulated ในโบสถ์ทั้งหมดเหนือใต้.

ใต้เนื้อเพลง เพลง พระวรสารยังสามารถพบได้ในผลงานของศิลปินร่วมสมัยคริสต์และฆราวาส. วันนี้ singers เพลง ประเทศได้สร้างรุ่นใหม่ที่ชื่นชอบความเก่าและได้ถูกตีพวกเขาเป็นของตนเองและมีศิลปิน เพลง คริสเตียนนั่งคร่อมรั้วระหว่างสอง. พวกเขาได้ทิ้งอย่างปฏิเสธไม่ได้ footprints ในประวัติศาสตร์ของประเทศนี้และมรดกทางใต้ยิ่งใหญ่.

My Links : เพลง, โหลดเพลง, โหลดหนัง, โดจินแปลไทย,

Wat een informatiestroom op zo’n maandagochtend. Hoe zou ik dat destijds als 17 jarige jongen ervaren hebben? De krant, de twittertjes, de mailbox, de teksten van Linkedin, facebook en al die andere geadresseerde boodschappen?

In je hoofd komen ongebreideld talloze signalen binnen. Niet alleen het gezoem van de Nespressomachine, maar ook de geur van koffie, de jeuk aan mijn oog en de smaak van een appel. En daar moeten al die headlines, die allemaal vooraan willen staan blijkbaar nog bij. Het is onze rechter hersenhelft die – volkomen in het ‘hier en nu’ – gretig al die signalen binnenhaalt. In eenvoudige bewoordingen legt de Amerikaanse Jill Bolte Taylor bij TED.com uit hoe vervullend dat gevoel in de rechter hersenhelft moet zijn. Want daar is alles tijdloos en volkomen verweven met de wereld om ons heen. Onbaatzuchtig en kritiekloos nemen we rechts alles aan wat er aan signalen ons hoofd weet te bereiken. En als ik haar beschrijving moet geloven, herken ik daarin de dromerige meisjes in mijn klas vroeger, die urenlang konden voelen aan een versleten plekje van hun boekentas, of staarden naar de trillerige reflectie van zonlicht in het linoleum, alsof ze in een tijdloze wereld zaten. Hun linker hersenhelft zal waarschijnlijk op halve kracht hebben gewerkt, want daarin gaat het normaal heel anders toe. In deze helft regeert de logica en is het bewustzijn van het eigen belang dominant. Dus zit daar een soort informatiemanager die uit al die prikkels en beelden precies die details verzamelt, die ons persoonlijk verder kunnen brengen. Zo wordt ons dossier ‘algemene ontwikkeling’ of ‘carrière’ voortdurend aangevuld met feiten en handigheidjes, beweert Jill overtuigend.
Zou het werkelijk zo gaan dat ik uit die krant met haar enorme gehalte aan absurde berichtgeving, de stroom aan irrelevante twittertjes, mijn mailbox die uitpuilt van andermans problemen, de aanhoudende headlines van Linkedin en facebook en al die andere overlopende emmers die schreeuwen om aandacht, steeds maar weer die enkele relevante snippertjes weet op te rapen, omdat ze me toch iets brengen? Verwondering, kennis, inzicht of verstrooiing? Dan moet ik, vergeleken met de 17 jarige jongen die ik ooit was, behoorlijk bedreven zijn geraakt in het selecteren. Toen was er niets te selecteren, ik las zelden een krant en verder was er niets. Maar vandaag doe ik niet onder voor mijn dochters van 17. Ik ben als een hongerig kind op een oneindige vuilnisbelt, op zoek naar eetbare stukjes afval. Met om mij heen duizend twitterende meeuwen en andere kinderen die me proberen af te leiden, me allerlei rotzooi toewerpen die er niet toe doet: politie bij massavaccinatie, zelfmoord arrestant, dwaling Roda, chirurg verminkt geslacht, Chinese mijnramp, wat ga ik daar allemaal mee doen? Misschien weet die hersenmanager er toch steeds creatiever raad mee en vult hij daarmee dossiers als: ‘wereldwaanzin’ en ‘cultuurspagaat’ en ‘borderheadline’ of de map ‘blogthechaos’. Voorlopig kan ik vooruit want TED is nu ook wegens mondiaal succes in Amsterdam neergestreken. En Prinses van Oranje Wisse Smit deed er al haar woordje. En noemde Obama the president of the United ‘Change’ of America. Dat was nog eens pareltje om op te slaan in de linker hersenhelft.

“Familiar things seen in an unfamiliar context become perceptually new as well as old.”

– Robert Venturi, Complexity and Contradiction in Architecture

long view of tracks on St Mathieu south of de Maisonneuve

These tracks are left by a pigeon who landed right into the wet cement and then flew right out again without taking a step. Pigeons don’t hop. There are many other fainter tracks of walking pigeons nearby, but these deeper tracks show the weight of the pigeon as it lands and takes off.

Note the large planter full of parsley in the background. It is one of two in front of the Pizzeria Anatolia whose slices are available until the wee hours of the morning. Thanks to the pizza-meister for filling my purple bucket twice with hot water. Tasty pizza too.

Close view of landing tracks

another landing track - not just a walk from the tree oasis

Bij toeval ontdekte ik iets moois op een forum over auteursrecht. En nadat ik dit pareltje deelde met Facebookvrienden kregen ook anderen glinsterende oogjes. Het is de internetfilm Sita Sings the Blues. Gemaakt door de Amerikaanse Nina Paley, na het lezen van het Indiase sprookje de Ramayana.

De Ramayana is een van de twee grote legendes van India. En Nina Paley heeft er een Indiaas-Amerikaanse animatiefilm van gemaakt die zowel uniek als innovatief is. De eerste indruk op het beeldscherm zal meteen doen denken aan gestileerd bloemetjesbehang uit een meisjeskamer. In tweedimensionale vormen, gebaseerd op cirkels, zien we extreem eenvoudige personages in bonte kleuren, die de prille kijker zullen verbazen. Want onze eerste indruk is dat zulke abstracte schepselen niet kunnen boeien door de onveranderlijk portretten en gebrek aan motorische dynamiek. Sinds Sneeuwwitje (Disney, 1937) zijn we immers verwend met fraaie bewegingen en meeslepende emoties in gezichtsuitdrukkingen. Nog steeds wedijveren de animatiestudio’s met elkaar om hun personages zo dicht mogelijk bij de realiteit te brengen. Bij Sita is dat heel anders: de beeldtaal is nogal statisch en symbolisch. Een huilende Sita is bijna dezelfde als een gelukkige Sita, maar dan met pruilmondje en tranen die vanuit haar ogen in een perfecte boog wegschieten. Maar wie deze film de eerste minuten het voordeel van de twijfel geeft, komt terecht in een verrassend speels verhaal met meerdere lagen en dimensies. Het is op momenten zo verfrissend dat je er spontaan gelukkig van wordt. En ik vraag me soms af waarom er niet al honderden van deze films bestaan, zo krachtig en werkzaam kan eenvoud zijn. Paley (van wie je denkt dat je haar kent uit de groentewinkel) heeft onder meer gebruik gemaakt van drie vertellers, die als Aziatische schaduwgoden kibbelen over de juistheid van de historie. En in weer een heel andere tekenstijl heeft ze ook een bijna autobiografisch verhaal van een mislukte liefde in de film verwerkt. Van scene naar scene houdt ze de kijkers in de greep en maakt er een prachtig geheel van. De muziek is van uitzonderlijke klasse en het heeft Paley dan ook de grootste moeite gekost om de muziekrechten te regelen. Want met haar eigen genereuze weggeven van haar creativiteit – de film is geheel gratis door iedereen te bekijken op het web – zijn de auteursrechthebbenden van de prachtige muziek van Annette Hanshaw het niet eens. En daarom probeert Paley nu het tekort via donaties te verwerven. Dat lukt haar inmiddels moeiteloos en maakt het de miljoenen kijkers ook mogelijk om hun waardering uit te drukken in een gift. Ook in die zin is het een heel eigentijdse vorm van distributie en vergoeding. Neem er gerust een avond de tijd voor om dit prachtige verhaal te bekijken en klik ook eens op de vele achtergronden bij Sita sings the Blues.

Escalation.

Why do people start escalating things so quickly? The economy is not what it used to be, but suddenly people are so concerned with every deal and every action that they quickly escalate things that they would have tried to work out in the past.

Fear is an interesting tool for people to both use and abuse. The problem is that people forget – other people are motivated by their needs, not the needs of the first person. Which means that you, as in the days of old, need to find out why the person is reacting the way they are.

You can have a fire drill once. You can have an emergency situation once. But there may be multiple emergencies going on at the same time.

So, why escalate?

.doc

Beachy Head cliff edge and the footprints of those who dared? to go closer.

Canon EOS 450D

www.christopherjonesphotography.co.uk

As I write this, I’m eating icing out of the tub. With a baby spoon (somehow this makes it better in my mind. Tiny spoon=not as bad for me. Don’t ask).

I secretly wish we had cable because I like all of the kid shows (like iCarly & stuff).

I like to lay the wrong way on my bed (with my head at the “feet end”) on top of the blankets and then I bring in a whole other blanket to cover up with while resting my feet on the mirror of our headboard. People (if they ever came into my bedroom) would wonder why there are footprints on it.

I recorded myself on my cell phone one time singing just to see how bad I am (I already knew I was bad). Funny part? I had the radio so loud you could hardly hear me! lol

I hate cleaning my ceiling fan. It’s so gross. I usually put it off until little balls of dust start flying off of it.

Sometimes when I’m in the car, I pretend I can’t hear when my children say (for the hundredth time) “Hey, mom?” I just sing along with the radio & figure if it’s really important they’ll keep asking.

I sometimes tell my husband that I salt the popcorn when I didn’t.

Life is a succession of lessons which must be lived to be understood (Helen Keller).

Dear Mister,

It has been a year since I have touched this subject.  I think about you and the lessons daily, but to write of you, to allow my deepest thoughts travel to paper or to my keyboard I have been unable to do so.

Life is full of memories and anniversaries, both happy and melancholic.  Life is full of boundaries and limitations. Life is full of love and loss. With everything, one thing is always present -  Time.  Time is a part of it all.  It is with everything that we must respect time.  We must give time…. Time.

Life is full of footprints left by others on us.  From both the biggest to the smallest details.  From a persons words, nicknames, touching lyrics in a song, a date in time, a joke, a fairytale, a gift, their presence, touch, a special place, even a language that people have created between them.  These footprints never allow us to forget when life happens sometimes separating us. When the past evolves into the present and we are moving constantly into our future.  Memories allow us to grow, to become, to take on shape, to transform, to even sometimes forgive and move forward as human beings.  Not move on, but to move forward into the direction we are destined to travel.  In my opinion, it is not the final destination but the journey that defines us.  This is where all the prettiest things exist.  This is where you have to pay attention not to miss them.

So much has occurred this past year.  So many things I needed to tell you, share with you, cry to you, laugh with you and you laugh at me.  I almost feel like it would be easier to start writing backwards.

This is what I do know. Our toughest times, those biggest obstacles all have a greater meaning, a deeper existence.  They prepare us for when we need to be our strongest, our wisest.  My “immediately if not sooner” friend.  My “crazypants” partner in crime.  A rock in my support system.  Your sarcastic verbal abuse on me, I miss dearly.  My friend to remind me of my best when I’m at my worst.  My buddy to remind me of my strengths when I felt weak.  The one who always made it so easy to see the beautiful in me when I needed a little reminding. Someone that without even knowing, allowed me to realize even more my own “Truth.” You were a gift and I am blessed that you entered my life even if it was for a handful of years.

Life has been so busy since your passing that I sometimes find myself wanting to hardly take the time to pause. To simply be.  To stop and wonder or think, “Where are you?” “Why?”  “Are you really gone?”  I think as human beings, it is easier to keep moving and pushing and doing rather than just feeling.  As sometimes the answers are simple, it is asking the questions that are the hardest part. This could truly apply to so many things.

There are many memories I will never forget, but I will never lose our last time spent together.  You surprised me with a knock on my door, a pleasure of course.  You grabbed a pair of my sweatpants to get comfortable (and constantly reminded me how they fit you perfect).  We ordered Chinese food and a scary movie.  You loved to scare me.  You loved to pretend to go to the bathroom or kitchen only to scare me into a panic attack just so you could startle me (which the majority of the time you terrified me).  We sat on my couch eating like little fat kids every so often reminding ourselves that tomorrow we would start a diet, that this wouldn’t even count. Throughout the eating and the watching, there was a point in the middle of the movie that I felt a peaceful silence in the room.  I saw you from my peripheral vision in the darkness, your distinct facial features lit from the TV. It was one of the few times I felt that sense of “home” in my New York City apartment away from my family and childhood home. That place where you feel safe and comfortable and loved.

Your personality was electric. Once people got a glimpse of your spark, we felt addicted to your energy.  It pulled us all in. I will never understand how you were full of such light and darkness at the same time.

Sometimes we don’t realize when it is too late.  All of the late night talking on my couch about everything and nothing.  All of our talks, confessions and moments remind me of your beauty.  I always hope you took it as a two-way street.  That, I helped you make sense at times as you so many times helped me remember me in my own self.  That you were needed, loved, adored and considered one of a kind. That you noticed not the words being used to describe you and what you meant, but the power behind and weight of them.

I have our moments, which I protect in your very own compartment in my heart under lock and key.  Nothing and no one can touch its place.  I will forever miss you.  I will always love you.  I will forever talk about you.  I will be forever grateful for all of the people you have connected me to in your being and your passing. (I will always be connected to the theme song of Golden Girls, the end of a McDonald’s commercial, “Dah Dah Dah… Dah Dah,” and of course “Singular sensation every little step we get….”

You find your way into everything. You are everywhere, a constant inspiration. You will always be in my heart. You have left your permanent footprints in my life.

CK

Het heeft even geduurd, maar we schrijven weer. En lezen erbij. Al is de krisis niet bezworen – integendeel – we kunnen weer adem halen na een lange periode van overuren en vernieuwen. Want wie denkt te kunnen blijven doen wat hij altijd deed… mist de essentie van deze tijd. En komt beslist in slapeloos vaarwater. Herbezinning is op alle fronten noodzaak want we leven in blessuretijd.

Je kunt een bank wel miljarden toeschuiven in deze tijd van gebroken vertrouwen, maar ook Wouter Bos weet dat we daar op lange termijn niets mee bereiken. We leven van enorme voorschotten die we tegen onbetaalbare rente hebben opgenomen van onze kinderen. Door – zoals Bos dat deed – de schuldenlast te verschuiven van de bank naar de burger, lossen we natuurlijk niets op. Dus is het zaak dat we heel snel die scheefgroei vervangen door iets beters. Hoe gaan we dat aanpakken?
In de beste boekhandel van ons land kwam de lokale elite bijeen om het verse boek van Govert Derix te verwelkomen. De Tribune is niet groot, maar op dat moment voelt het toch heel groots dat daar zoveel historici, schrijvers, journalisten, filosofen en andere intellectuelen bijeengekomen zijn om het glas te heffen op 128 bladzijden vol bezinning over hebzucht, creativiteit, vriendschap, crisis en passie. Govert is filosoof en schrijft geconcentreerde tekst. Dat is niet voor iedereen makkelijk verteerbaar, maar wie nog wat ouderwetse moeite doet, kan er veel inspiratie uit halen. Govert heeft zijn boek Holofaust gedoopt. Faustkenners weten dat deze hoofdpersoon uit het Magnum Opus van Goethe een pact sloot met de Duivel. Daarmee verwierf hij de hoogste wijsheid, maar zou dat moeten bekopen met zijn ziel. In dat licht bezien belooft Holofaust niet veel goeds. En inderdaad, het boek analyseert op pijnlijke wijze de enorme teloorgang van al hetgeen in de mensheid ooit waarde had. En als er nu – in de ‘blessuretijd van de verlenging’ – niet iets geheel nieuws en beters in ons midden neerdaalt, wordt het een fatale finale. Maar Govert laat ook nieuw licht schijnen, vanuit nieuwe standpunten. En al zijn de conclusies niet zomaar geruststellend, zijn glimlach straalt toch door in vele alinea’s. Een verademing voor mensen die graag inhoud consumeren. En lang daarna nog de prikkelende nasmaak willen proeven van een verwarrende zienswijze. De echte metamorfose naar een nieuwe orde begint in het hoofd. En als we collectief beseffen dat het ook heel anders kan, is er een mogelijkheid dat deze wereld transformeert tot iets haalbaars. ‘Govert, schrijf door… en breng samen met andere moralisten en beschouwers nieuwe verwarring onder de lezers. Zodat we onze inzichten scherpen en op nieuwe sporen komen, als antwoord op een op hol geslagen wereld’. Het eerste exemplaar ging naar de innemende Erik Croux, kunstbetrokkene, beeldend kunstenaar en inspirator. Holofaust is verkrijgbaar onder ISBN nummer
978-90-78407-54-6 en kost € 14,90

In day to day life I don’t often notice my footprints.

Probably because I wear shoes most of the time.

Shoeprints could be anyone’s shoeprints.

At the beach I’m always fascinated by my footprints.

I think most people are.

They are uniquely yours.

Footprints are like personal breadcrumbs showing you where you’ve been.

I guess what I’m trying to say is …

it must suck to be a fish.

note: everyone makes copies of their hands with photocopiers … never their feet … it’s a mystery.

double note: I bet most fish don’t know where the hell they are, where they’ve been, or where they are going.  I know some people like that.

triple note: fish don’t have feet because they don’t have shoe stores … probably.

quadruple note: shouldn’t it be “feetprints” … or is this just another of those “toothbrush” scenarios.

.

notes to myself #49

Your feet smell for periods of time when you get older. Hey! it’s not my fault!

Prime Hook Beach, Delaware

I’ve been having a lot of camera problems lately (anyone with info on Canon’s ERR 099?), and I’ve been pretty busy, so I’m not getting out as often as I’d like to, but today I decided to drive down to Fowler Beach and watch the sun set. When I got down that way, the road was closed, so here are some photos from a short walk on Prime Hook Beach instead.

I am an avowed literary preservationist.  I read and I preserve.  I don’t happen to feel the need to leave footprints or thoughts in the books.  Being that I’ll read a copy of a beloved book until the pages literally fall out, I like being able to form different reactions and thoughts each time I pick up a story.  That works well for fiction but what about non-fiction or reference books?

I’ve been reading a lot on marginalia.  Not only on Steve Leveen’s blog on Levenger, but also in different reference books on effective study practices.  Remember the 80’s or 90’s movie on women in the FBI?  I can’t remember the name of it now, but one part always stuck with me.  The one woman was teaching another how to study the textbooks including highlighters, flags, and colored paperclips.  I don’t remember much from the movie but that – highlight, flag, paperclip.

I have a ton of reference books based on literary endeavors, religion, psychology, and art creation and history.  Even though this is only about 50 or so books, it probably is a literal ton in weight.  Around 10 are in continual use.  The rest I have to hunt for when I need them.

Now that it’s NaNo time, I need nuggets of wisdom (highlight) – not a leisurely stroll through interesting facts. I’m sure anyone who has attempted NaNo knows what I mean.

I’m trying something new this year (in regards to how I write.)  In my stories, I’ve always leaned towards plot driven stories.  I write circumstances and let my characters be formed at will.  I read much the same way – I prefer plot over character.  However, I value characters and I spend time wondering about them.

So this NaNo, I’m spending quite a bit of time on character creation.  I’m letting them tell me about themselves almost like they’re filling out a 360 degree survey often used in business to evaluate effective management skills.  It’s not only how people view themselves, it evaluates how other people view them.  How direct contact people view them as well as the odd acquaintance or stranger.

My idea is to have 6 characters who are put into a situation go through the same event and see what each character picks up on.  They’ll each tell the story in a way that is important to them.

Anyways, back to reference materials.  I have a copy of The Outlandish Companion by Diana Gabaldon and I’m looking through her commentary on character creation.  I’m actually having a conversation with her in my head, so I decided to write it down.  In the book.

I wrote it down.

In the book.

In a book I only own 1 copy of.

I did, however, write it in pencil so that if I have marginalia remorse later on, I can go in and erase it.  I better paperclip the page so I know where to find it.

Highlight.  Flag.  Paperclip… and now notate.

Next thing you know I’ll be dog-earring books.  (No, probably not.  Do you know what happens to dog-eared books?  The corner that was folded down forms a nice little perforation where the page wears down and rips.  Dog-ears turn into sad little cornerless pages.)  Three words:  small metal paperclips.  Plastic ones are too thick and will warp the spine.  Small.  Metal.  Paperclip.

The Rev. Beverly Dale (“Rev Bev” to those who know her) will be recognized for twenty years of dedicated service to the Christian Association and the University of Pennsylvania community at an open house on Friday, November 6, 2009 from 5:00 – 7:00 at the CA house. The Penn and surrounding Philadelphia communities are invited to join in this celebration in recognition of the central role Rev Bev has played in the conceptualization, development and maintenance of the CA as a voice of progressive Christianity on the campus of Penn.

The passion she exhibits for engaging issues related to social justice, peace, sexuality and reproductive freedom has been and continues to be a driving force for much of the success the CA has experienced over the past two decades. To many who encounter her in the course of her work she appears to have unlimited stores of energy and tremendous insight into the circumstances, needs and mutual interests of others.

Rev Bev was appointed Executive Director by the Board of Directors of the CA in 1989 and was appointed General Minister and President in 2007. She has served throughout as a pastoral and prophetic leader to the CA and a voice for progressive action in the community. She is steadfast in her dedication to alleviating poverty, racism, discrimination and the ignorance that underlies it, and perhaps most importantly the stereotypical conceptions about Christians and Christianity in general that permeate much of today’s society.

Any attempt to delineate the accomplishments of Rev Bev during her tenure at the CA is destined to fall far short of the mark. Some of the most notable include the successful transition of the CA to its present location in 1999, freeing it up from the burdens of property management and landlord/tenant relations; development of the Arts After School program which is now Peacemaking Through the Arts program which brings together undergraduate students and minority elementary school children to combat violence through involving the children in performing and visual arts; development of a DVD entitled Body Without Fear that focuses on the Passion Works program of the CA designed to educate students about the realities of sex and sexuality in an engaging and thought-provoking way; establishing positive, active and effective relationships with other ecumenical campus ministries and organizations; and recognition of the CA as a consistent voice for justice throughout the campus.

Through her visionary leadership, the CA house has become a true “home” of the Penn community in its openness to hosting events, group meetings and classes, and for some simply a place to rest and meditate in the “Upper Room” where they can free themselves from the burdens of their daily toil.

For Rev. Bev though, the true challenge and reward of her position is being able to “get out of the building and become more involved in ministry” that meets the needs of people. When asked, she concedes she could never have imagined more than twenty years ago that she would be as involved in the areas of ministry that are now the daily focus of her attention and activity.

When out of the building and approached by students on campus who say they have heard of her she simply replies “I hope it’s good!” Not everyone however, identifies positively with Rev Bev’s progressive vision. She receives a regular stream of nasty annual letters – now e-mails – from people who disagree with her and is quick to engage students who would come to her office to “save her” because of her “erroneous theology.” She notes however, “They seem to have given up lately.”

Internal to the CA she launched a sustained development program to attract alumni and foundation support; resumed publication of Annual Reports and alumni/friend newsletters to keep the CA community better informed; initiated the website and electronic newsletters to more effectively reach today’s students; initiated pod-gospels and blogs to further use electronic media to get out the message of progressive Christianity; and reestablished the CA as a Theological Field Education site for seminary students serving in the role of pastor-mentor to help shape the ministries and minds of tomorrow’s spiritual leaders.

Rev Bev has worked closely with the Penn Women’s Center, African-American Resource Center, the LGBT Center and other organizations to further the causes with which the CA is closely identified; most particularly the cause of social justice and equality for women, people of color, and sexual minorities. She is outspoken in her opposition to locating casinos in Philadelphia’s neighborhoods; increasing awareness of the negative impact of the conservative Christian agenda in the areas of sex education, sexual repression and reproductive freedom; and the wars in Iraq, Afghanistan and other parts of the world. She is keenly attuned to the damage that is done in the name of “religion” and works tirelessly to increase people’s level of knowledge, awareness and understanding.

Come and join us in our celebration of a true CA treasure: Rev. Beverly Dale.

Gary Bronson and Katherine Primus made significant contributions to this Footprints.

It was just another day at the office for the little ibis and another chapter of footprints spooling behind him, ones which the ocean would heartlessly erase.

in the sand.

One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord. Many scenes from my life flashed across the sky.

In each scene I noticed footprints in the sand. Sometimes there were two sets of footprints, other times there was one only.
This bothered me because I noticed that during the low periods of my life, when I was suffering from anguish, sorrow or defeat, I could see only one set of footprints, so I said to the Lord,

“You promised me Lord,
that if I followed you, you would walk with me always. But I have noticed that during the most trying periods of my life there has only been one set of footprints in the sand. Why, when I needed you most, have you not been there for me?”
The Lord replied, “The years when you have seen only one set of footprints, my child, is when I carried you.”

Poem writen in 1936 by Mary Stevenson, but still as current.

******