2.20.2010
grateful for..
skin care, friends, shelter, dessert, walks, Mission, skiing, snowboarding, curling, athletes, inner beauty, dogs, cats, rest, blueberry pancakes, vitamins, weekends.
2.14.2010
Good Morning
In honor of Black History Month, here I share a poem by Maya Angelou. I'm listening to her "Letters to my Daughter" on CD, I highly recommend it for your commute or leisure time this February of 2010. May we all continue to listen to this little blue planet, and, of course, each other.
The Rock Cries Out to Us Today
A Rock, A River, A Tree
Hosts to species long since departed,
Mark the mastodon.
The dinosaur, who left dry tokens
Of their sojourn here
On our planet floor,
Any broad alarm of their of their hastening doom
Is lost in the gloom of dust and ages.
But today, the Rock cries out to us, clearly, forcefully,
Come, you may stand upon my
Back and face your distant destiny,
But seek no haven in my shadow.
I will give you no hiding place down here.
You, created only a little lower than
The angels, have crouched too long in
The bruising darkness,
Have lain too long
Face down in ignorance.
Your mouths spelling words
Armed for slaughter.
The rock cries out today, you may stand on me,
But do not hide your face.
Across the wall of the world,
A river sings a beautiful song,
Come rest here by my side.
Each of you a bordered country,
Delicate and strangely made proud,
Yet thrusting perpetually under siege.
Your armed struggles for profit
Have left collars of waste upon
My shore, currents of debris upon my breast.
Yet, today I call you to my riverside,
If you will study war no more.
Come, clad in peace and I will sing the songs
The Creator gave to me when I
And the tree and stone were one.
Before cynicism was a bloody sear across your brow
And when you yet knew you still knew nothing.
The river sings and sings on.
There is a true yearning to respond to
The singing river and the wise rock.
So say the Asian, the Hispanic, the Jew,
The African and Native American, the Sioux,
The Catholic, the Muslim, the French, the Greek,
The Irish, the Rabbi, the Priest, the Sheikh,
The Gay, the Straight, the Preacher,
The privileged, the homeless, the teacher.
They hear. They all hear
The speaking of the tree.
Today, the first and last of every tree
Speaks to humankind. Come to me, here beside the river.
Plant yourself beside me, here beside the river.
Each of you, descendant of some passed on
Traveller, has been paid for.
You, who gave me my first name,
You Pawnee, Apache and Seneca,
You Cherokee Nation, who rested with me,
Then forced on bloody feet,
Left me to the employment of other seekers--
Desperate for gain, starving for gold.
You, the Turk, the Swede, the German, the Scot...
You the Ashanti, the Yoruba, the Kru,
Bought, sold, stolen, arriving on a nightmare
Praying for a dream.
Here, root yourselves beside me.
I am the tree planted by the river,
Which will not be moved.
I, the rock, I the river, I the tree
I am yours--your passages have been paid.
Lift up your faces, you have a piercing need
For this bright morning dawning for you.
History, despite its wrenching pain,
Cannot be unlived, and if faced with courage,
Need not be lived again.
Lift up your eyes upon
The day breaking for you.
Give birth again
To the dream.
Women, children, men,
Take it into the palms of your hands.
Mold it into the shape of your most
Private need. Sculpt it into
The image of your most public self.
Lift up your hearts.
Each new hour holds new chances
For new beginnings.
Do not be wedded forever
To fear, yoked eternally
To brutishness.
The horizon leans forward,
Offering you space to place new steps of change.
Here, on the pulse of this fine day
You may have the courage
To look up and out upon me,
The rock, the river, the tree, your country.
No less to Midas than the mendicant.
No less to you now than the mastodon then.
Here on the pulse of this new day
You may have the grace to look up and out
And into your sister's eyes,
Into your brother's face, your country
And say simply
Very simply
With hope
Good morning.
Maya Angelou
Namaste,
Kat
The Rock Cries Out to Us Today
A Rock, A River, A Tree
Hosts to species long since departed,
Mark the mastodon.
The dinosaur, who left dry tokens
Of their sojourn here
On our planet floor,
Any broad alarm of their of their hastening doom
Is lost in the gloom of dust and ages.
But today, the Rock cries out to us, clearly, forcefully,
Come, you may stand upon my
Back and face your distant destiny,
But seek no haven in my shadow.
I will give you no hiding place down here.
You, created only a little lower than
The angels, have crouched too long in
The bruising darkness,
Have lain too long
Face down in ignorance.
Your mouths spelling words
Armed for slaughter.
The rock cries out today, you may stand on me,
But do not hide your face.
Across the wall of the world,
A river sings a beautiful song,
Come rest here by my side.
Each of you a bordered country,
Delicate and strangely made proud,
Yet thrusting perpetually under siege.
Your armed struggles for profit
Have left collars of waste upon
My shore, currents of debris upon my breast.
Yet, today I call you to my riverside,
If you will study war no more.
Come, clad in peace and I will sing the songs
The Creator gave to me when I
And the tree and stone were one.
Before cynicism was a bloody sear across your brow
And when you yet knew you still knew nothing.
The river sings and sings on.
There is a true yearning to respond to
The singing river and the wise rock.
So say the Asian, the Hispanic, the Jew,
The African and Native American, the Sioux,
The Catholic, the Muslim, the French, the Greek,
The Irish, the Rabbi, the Priest, the Sheikh,
The Gay, the Straight, the Preacher,
The privileged, the homeless, the teacher.
They hear. They all hear
The speaking of the tree.
Today, the first and last of every tree
Speaks to humankind. Come to me, here beside the river.
Plant yourself beside me, here beside the river.
Each of you, descendant of some passed on
Traveller, has been paid for.
You, who gave me my first name,
You Pawnee, Apache and Seneca,
You Cherokee Nation, who rested with me,
Then forced on bloody feet,
Left me to the employment of other seekers--
Desperate for gain, starving for gold.
You, the Turk, the Swede, the German, the Scot...
You the Ashanti, the Yoruba, the Kru,
Bought, sold, stolen, arriving on a nightmare
Praying for a dream.
Here, root yourselves beside me.
I am the tree planted by the river,
Which will not be moved.
I, the rock, I the river, I the tree
I am yours--your passages have been paid.
Lift up your faces, you have a piercing need
For this bright morning dawning for you.
History, despite its wrenching pain,
Cannot be unlived, and if faced with courage,
Need not be lived again.
Lift up your eyes upon
The day breaking for you.
Give birth again
To the dream.
Women, children, men,
Take it into the palms of your hands.
Mold it into the shape of your most
Private need. Sculpt it into
The image of your most public self.
Lift up your hearts.
Each new hour holds new chances
For new beginnings.
Do not be wedded forever
To fear, yoked eternally
To brutishness.
The horizon leans forward,
Offering you space to place new steps of change.
Here, on the pulse of this fine day
You may have the courage
To look up and out upon me,
The rock, the river, the tree, your country.
No less to Midas than the mendicant.
No less to you now than the mastodon then.
Here on the pulse of this new day
You may have the grace to look up and out
And into your sister's eyes,
Into your brother's face, your country
And say simply
Very simply
With hope
Good morning.
Maya Angelou
Namaste,
Kat
2.11.2010
grateful for..
All my teachers that I ever had. Especially Mr.Coleman, Mr.Lamb, Mr.Beecraft, Ms. Jenkins, Mr.Dick, Mrs.Broyles, Mrs.Reeke, Mrs.Rhinhardt, Mr.Wickman, Dr.Sodamann Mrs.Anderson (kindergarten), Mr.Shane, Senor Steere, Senora Kramer, Senora Khan, Mrs.Abernathy, Mrs.Messer, Mr.Woodford, wow, it's kind of amazing how well I can remember them.
Hilary and her good ideas!
Wyandotte Swimming Pool!
Pandora
Wearing Jeans to work on Friday. Why is that soooo awesome?
Yoga.
Hilary and her good ideas!
Wyandotte Swimming Pool!
Pandora
Wearing Jeans to work on Friday. Why is that soooo awesome?
Yoga.
2.09.2010
grateful for...
Clean water,a nice husband, kindness, Maya Angelou (listening to letters to my daughter on CD, wow), human resiliency, peppermint, candles, pine trees, waves, salads, friends, March, April, even February with its whirling wind and ice, and little babies, so new.
2.07.2010
2.7.10 Grateful for...
ed's birthday!
my washer and (new) dryer
snow
amaryllis
electricity/hvac
DIY
Terrible's Casino, ha ha, seriously. Free pretzels people. nuf said.
CAKE.
my washer and (new) dryer
snow
amaryllis
electricity/hvac
DIY
Terrible's Casino, ha ha, seriously. Free pretzels people. nuf said.
CAKE.
2.03.2010
Grateful for...
My E.
Spring - I know you are hiding under a rock, behind a cloud, in a drop of water. I shall wait, of course, you knew that.
My health.
The office oasis.
Getting to work at 8am tomorrow, instead of 7. Dracula emerges from the dark. Ah!
Birthdays.
Babies.
Elizabeth Anne.
Freedom.
Tenure.
Exploration of new avenues.
Coffee.
Sleep.
My advisory students, they are awesome.
L.O.S.T.
Weekends.
Sushi.
Haircut and colors.
My soccer girls, they are awesome. Even when they test me.
Friends.
Foe types, they strengthen my character to be a better person and not "stoop".
My grandparents with whom I spoke this week. Key quotes, "farming is good when you're old, it's a gamble". and "I'm not doing anything very interesting". One is 89, one is 95, they are miracles on earth. I love them very very much.
Namaste,
Kat
Spring - I know you are hiding under a rock, behind a cloud, in a drop of water. I shall wait, of course, you knew that.
My health.
The office oasis.
Getting to work at 8am tomorrow, instead of 7. Dracula emerges from the dark. Ah!
Birthdays.
Babies.
Elizabeth Anne.
Freedom.
Tenure.
Exploration of new avenues.
Coffee.
Sleep.
My advisory students, they are awesome.
L.O.S.T.
Weekends.
Sushi.
Haircut and colors.
My soccer girls, they are awesome. Even when they test me.
Friends.
Foe types, they strengthen my character to be a better person and not "stoop".
My grandparents with whom I spoke this week. Key quotes, "farming is good when you're old, it's a gamble". and "I'm not doing anything very interesting". One is 89, one is 95, they are miracles on earth. I love them very very much.
Namaste,
Kat
1.30.2010
Change Change Change
“Change is the only constant.” Ain't that the truth. What is changing in your life right now? Take some minutes to reflect, consider writing it down and looking at it. True, some things can be constant for many years, but even within that realm, micro-adjusts are twisting around so subtly it's hard to inter. Our views change, our bodies change, maybe somewhere, somehow our soul retains some constant vibe throughout the eons? I think so. It's a cozy and comforting thought for me.
How can we adapt so often and so much without being thrown off our base? Honestly sometimes I think we could call Yoga "How to deal with Change". Breath, stand strong, be flexible, listen to your body and mind, and let it all go. The more we go through life, the more change we may be subjected to, at least, I feel that way in light of my dad passing away. Often I think of childhood as a safe and secure time, timeless, but nothing is timeless really. Some children aren't as lucky, their childhood is rife with chaos, emotional turmoil. For these individuals, I believe it will take much more effort and focus to find a source of strength and calm, they never found it or saw an example of it. Since each of us must look within for this, how can we open a window? Even awareness of a safe place? I think one yoga class, or maybe more, many strong walls can grow.
Some of these human beings end up in bad places, even in adult life. Consider taking yoga to a prison, a shelter, a place where those that land need more than just food for their physical body. Do bad people exist? I guess I must say yes, at least people with bad actions. Were they born that way? I don't think so, our childhood shapes us so powerfully.
Namaste,
Kat
How can we adapt so often and so much without being thrown off our base? Honestly sometimes I think we could call Yoga "How to deal with Change". Breath, stand strong, be flexible, listen to your body and mind, and let it all go. The more we go through life, the more change we may be subjected to, at least, I feel that way in light of my dad passing away. Often I think of childhood as a safe and secure time, timeless, but nothing is timeless really. Some children aren't as lucky, their childhood is rife with chaos, emotional turmoil. For these individuals, I believe it will take much more effort and focus to find a source of strength and calm, they never found it or saw an example of it. Since each of us must look within for this, how can we open a window? Even awareness of a safe place? I think one yoga class, or maybe more, many strong walls can grow.
Some of these human beings end up in bad places, even in adult life. Consider taking yoga to a prison, a shelter, a place where those that land need more than just food for their physical body. Do bad people exist? I guess I must say yes, at least people with bad actions. Were they born that way? I don't think so, our childhood shapes us so powerfully.
Namaste,
Kat
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