Greek Chorus

I've only read a couple of the ancient Greek plays in my life, and those a long time ago. The only thing that really stands out in my memory is that along with the characters in the play, there was a another part. We referred to it as 'the Greek chorus'. This was played by several people who voiced together what was going on in the play throughout the performance. In their fixed role outside of the acting, they echoed lines, or cast out clarification or judgment.

leaves
skid down the street
like lobsters
like crabs
on the floor of the sea.
brown and arched
they rattle and waltz
and stop and go.
how'd you get here?
i ask.
we fell off a tree!
the young voices cry out
then they snicker and laugh
and race each other
ahead of my feet
as i walk behind
their exuberant lead.

dance

Two quotes from the book 'Dance', copyright 1998, by Dr. Andrée Grau:


- Dance is a series of movements performed in patterns and set to an accompaniment. Every human society practices dance, which may be performed solo, in couples, or in groups. People around the world use dance to express themselves, pass on their histories, and exercise their bodies. In this way, dance can be a celebration of the emotional, mental, and physical human self. It can also be a preparation for battle or an unspoken protest. Dance is often used to mark major life changes or to commemorate an important event in a nation's history. In the earliest societies, dance helped humans survive - it was a way for communities to learn cooperation in working and hunting together - and, like today, dance was probably used to communicate and express feelings that are difficult to convey in any other way.


- For Martha Graham (1894-1991), there was nothing more wonderful than the human body. She saw dance as a celebration of the miracle of the body's beauty, and she called dancers 'athletes of God.' Like athletes, her dancers were expected to move in a disciplined way and to carry out a daily regime of exercises based on her principles of contraction, release, and spiral. Graham's dances were designed to reveal a person's inner landscape - what she called the 'cave of the heart.'

humans & chickens

Two families in Louisiana in the 1960s had chickens. One family had half a dozen colorful hens and a rooster or two.  Though the yard was not fenced, the chickens stayed in the yard during the day, pecking among the grasses with their beaks for food - I assumed bugs and seeds and sometimes little snakes. Their droppings went straight to the ground (as with most animals living on land). The grasses were thick and healthy; the droppings were spread out enough they were not noticed. There was a coop where the chickens stayed at night. The other family 
had a clever cage of chicken wire in a barn with a compartment for each hen and access to chicken feed and a common water trough. The chicken wire floors sloped a bit, and when the hen laid an egg, it rolled out of the compartment to a rim out side the compartments where they could be easily gathered by a family member. The droppings fell through the wire onto a wood surface with a drain; the surface was regularly hosed clean. There were only hens, about a dozen domestic, solid whites, no roosters. The chickens remained in the compartments in the barn at all times.

These contrasts in how humans and other life species relate to each other come to mind often - and I go back to my childhood for insight about how we coexist. Nature and science go hand in hand sometimes; sometimes nature and science are at odds with one another.

the snakes and irises ...

Still not a great artist, but I am prolific. Art is a part of every day for me. Sometimes, I get attached to a particular subject, and it will crop up again and again, like an archetypal experience. The raven (and other corvids), dandelions, ball moss, banana tree blooms, prayer flags, jellyfish, clams, and whales are among those who have surfaced with great insistence. These are not necessarily subjects that hold any specific memories for me - but there they are. When they do surface - the snakes and irises - they bring me a most profound sense of trust and wonder.

 


seventy miles an hour -
the interstate highway and the afternoon
stretch long -
caught up in a steady current
of cars and trucks
(no camels nor burros)-
tires braid invisible trails
vehicles passing this guy
or sailing in the tail wind
of an 18-wheeler
weaving
left lane middle lane right lane
where are we going
caravan of strangers
on the road?

As a kid, I never saw an owl in the wild - not knowing what to look or listen for. My encounters with owls since (Great Horned Owls, Eastern Screech Owls, and one Pygmy Owl) however, have been so intriguing that I remember nearly every one. With only a couple of exceptions, it's as though the owl found the human rather than the other way around. Perhaps there is some reason the owl seeks us out.

People in the United States now have more yard maintenance equipment than ever before, and thus we are more likely to prune our trees and other vegetation. This produces a more tidy look (sometimes a scalped look). The owls are grateful though to find the older, unmanicured, mellowed trees that have branches or tree trunks weathered over the years by insects and lichens and squirrels and such. I was happy to find a pine tree in Lousiana tucked in a corner of a neighborhood - a snag with few limbs still bearing cones and needles. There was much evidence that this aged tree supported a little community of wildlife, including the several young owls peering from a hole high up in the broken trunk.

Jonah and the whale

from the belly of the whale
Jonah thought of wide open spaces
with distant skies running rivers
to ease his claustrophobia.
the whale herself
shared a steady calm
that helped keep Jonah whole

wasp nest

The design and functional expertise of the paper wasp's nest is so beautiful and so geometrically perfect, that perhaps the wasp is my favorite architect. Durable, lightweight, non-toxic in any way, and constructed of sustainable materials - the wasp's work reflects a kind of genius. Last year, I found an abandoned nest perched on a limb. I would not disturb a nest that is in use - this was the first time I was able to look at one up close. Each compartment was so perfectly replicated, perfectly part of the whole. The pale nest was both naturally camouflaged and visually fascinating, a natural wonder. This type of work makes me curious about the nature of intelligence in a paper wasp.

(After writing the above, I did a brief youtube search for videos of wasps building a nest - using 'wasp nest' as the search words. In the first thirty or forty finds, only one video was about the construction. The rest were videos of people destroying nests and the occupants. The subjects in the videos were referred to as wasps, but included hornets and other insects.)

smells

Aromatherapy emerged some years back, and my first thought was here's another gimmick. We don't always cling to our first thoughts, though, and I have relaxed some. There are so many powerful fragrance experiences in life, why not use these with intention for healing purposes? I still know little about the art or science of aromatherapy, but I know of personal olfactory experiences. For many decades I did not drink coffee, but just walking down the grocery store aisle where the coffee beans were nestled was a happy wakeup. Spicy peppers in a garden, pine trees, fresh mint or rosemary near the outdoor spigot all are bright fragrances. The first break in the peel of an orange is like opening a gift - such a poignant scent. Sandalwood inspires romance. Then there are some scents that bellow - keep away!

Subtle smells, some that we may not even notice, of our furniture or blankets, reassure us that we are in familiar territory, that we are safe at home. A child clutches his Felix the Cat toy close to his face, feeling the security of his familiar fabric companion. The smell of a cake baking in the oven, or fresh bread reassures us all that we are loved, that we shall be fed.

The complexity of a forest is absorbed by the senses. In one breath, smell the earth, the mouldering leaves, the different trees and grasses, the stones, the change in the weather. Smell the deer that wander across the tumbling creek, take in the wildness of the bear who just lumbered through. Living in the city, I hold on to the memory of wilderness.

There were two farms I knew as a kid that had about the same number of cows - forty or less. The farmers were very different in their ways of managing their livestock. The younger farm treated the livestock as a business. The cattle were well-fed. There was a trough for sorgham (an unrefined cane molasses) that the cows were offered. There was fine alfalfa hay in the winter when the grasses in the fields were less abundant. The older farm also fed the cows well - a mix of sweet-smelling grains to supplement their diet as needed. Both farms had salt licks out in the pasture - about a one foot cube of solid salt - unrefined - a kind of dark rose color perhaps due to other minerals. I don't know. The animals did slowly whittle the cubes down with their tongues over the year.

On the younger farm, the owners - good people - were not farmers. They hired help, but also oversaw the operation. They used electric fences to keep the cattle in the pasture, and cattle prods to get the cattle to the barn or corral. They wrestled some of the animals to get them in the corral for vaccinations. When they touched an animal, it was to get him or her onto a trailer, or from one side of the pasture to the next. They were novices, and seemed to rely on force to succeed. On the older farm, the owner was the farmer; farming was his calling in life. He knew every cow by name. When he called they came, and he fed them one by one by name. There was no sense that he dominated his herd - he was there every day, and they got up together before dawn. The cows were waiting at the barn when he showed up. They rubbed up against his arm, and he stroked their heads or backs. They seemed to speak the same language.

what if one cold day
i had apple pie for breakfast
apple pie for lunch
& saved a piece of crust
for the grackles
pacing about the parking lot?

When I think of an Eskimo, I see an image that was popular at one time - a calm pale brown face framed by the fur-lined hood of their traditional garb. We were told in school that the Eskimo people who lived way up north near the Arctic circle built their houses using blocks of ice. These houses, small domes with a tunnel-shaped entry, were known as igloos. The Eskimo had fifty words for snow - or maybe it was a hundred - for different varieties of the frozen precipitation - slush, tiny crystals, pebbles, big fat soft flakes. Maybe there were poetic words too, and words for the time of year, and how the snow fell - stormy wind or no wind. They had no word for green, I heard. In their language, greens were labeled as shades of blue. Perhaps in their northern homes, green wasn't seen very much, and wasn't very vivid. Did they every day of the year come out of their igloos to a world of blue sky and shades of white ice?

Living in south Louisiana where snow made only one or two timid appearances in a winter, if at all, it was fascinating to wonder about a culture that had so many words for snow, and homes of ice that did not melt.

voices like birds

he murmured
and she replied
as they walked up the sidewalk.
it was a saturday night -
their voices carried
to the windows of houses
and around the shrubs
and disappeared
in the clean air
below the yellow moon
who wore a scarf of mist
and a hat of cloud -
it was that cold.
the little boy
behind a window
tucked in bed
beneath a quilt
heard the voices
floating near.
The words weren't familiar -
he knew not what they said
but the trickle of conversation
up and down and pause and start
sounded like birds in a tree
warm in their feather coats
content in the cold bright night
and the boy slid -
all is calm -
to sleep.

emu

There was a lot of publicity in Texas in the 1980s regarding the emu. The emu is a tall, flightless Australian bird five to six feet high (similar to the African ostrich who has a reputation of burying its head in the sand when threatened). The emu was advertised as a sure-fire investment for ranchers. The emu produced very large eggs, and its skin made a fine leather. Emu oil was promoted as a product with many health benefits. People who invested in emus were promised a big profit.

We had the opportunity to meet a few emus in what turned out to be a brief era. In our rural neighborhood in central Texas, a pair of emus lived up the hill across from us. They would come to the fence as we walked by. The emu I remember best, though, is one we met when visiting friends in northeast Texas - the Tyler area. This one walked up to the fence also, and we and our little kids admired its height, big quaint face, and gait. Its legs were like stilts. As we turned to go, the emu started to call to us.  The surprising booming sound stopped us in our exit. It was not a call from the bird's throat but seemed to originate in a lower part of the neck, or perhaps even the torso. The call sounded like a low-pitched drum, a moving sound that carried far. It carried far across the field. It carried across time, the history of its species. And the drum beat carried right to the hearts of us humans, standing near the creatures living far from their origins.

raindrops

raindrops that streamed
down windowpanes
not so long ago
now sit on glass
and ponder

Over the past ten to fifteen years, with computers connected online to the public network of other computers and data bases, one has had access to cameras situated in various locations. One could have live views of sites around the world. I wrote long ago about my favorite webcam at the time, which was set up within Crater Lake National Park. Since then, I've made brief visits to a few other webcams - a famous street in England, my college alma mater. I've visited several web cams focused on birds nesting and feeding young.

The National Park webcam was a favorite because I could watch the changes in light during the day, and the changing seasons. I saw when the snows arrived, and how early or late in the year they melted. The other webcams made me a bit uncomfortable, shy about seeing people crossing the street and cars going by without them knowing I was 'there' watching. These were public areas, though, and so it didn't seem that big of an issue.

The birds nesting is a little different. One camera was focused up close on a great blue heron nesting high up in a light fixture. The bird's face and head filled much of the screen. Access to this particular webcam had been publicized, and there was notation on the website about how many viewers were watching the heron at this moment. There was a running string of dialogue, commentary from various watchers online.

Professors used to caution us about attributing emotions to non-human species, but this heron did not look happy. She looked a little agitated, on alert, her eyes twitching from side to side, her head turning back and forth. I wondered if having the attention of several hundred distant viewers focused on one creature could affect its peace of mind - in this instance, a heron who, from what could be seen, looked alone, safe in her nest incubating eggs.

7th grade science, 1960s

Around 1966-67, Mother Pezolt taught 7th grade science, based on a standard text book. Thinking back on the class, she had a lot to offer. We worked on several projects. I remember drawing a poster of oil deposits pooled underground at the base of a salt dome. She arranged for a class trip to see the NASA museum (National Aeronautic and Space Administration) in Houston, Texas. We got to touch the truly small capsule that the astronauts were contained in during their journeys orbiting the earth. (I remember thinking the astronauts could use more window to see out of, that little canister so claustrophobic. There's been commentary that the first astronauts were like lab mice in a sardine can, or something like that. They had no control of the craft - no steering wheels or brakes so to speak.)

The science project I've been thinking about involved making a replica of the sun, one with a segment removed so that one could see the inner layers. I used a styrofoam ball, and it was more difficult than I anticipated, but I muddled through. I don't remember the names of the layers within the sun. I do remember sunspots were thought to be storms on the sun's surface - that their temperature was considerably cooler than that of the rest of the surface. The solar surface also featured - was it prominences and corollas? Like geysers of fire shooting out from below - some went straight out, others arced like a bridge. We were taught about the three states of matter on earth: solids, gases and liquids. There was another form of matter, very hot, that could be found within the sun called plasma. Even in the 1960s, I was curious - how do we know that?

Was yesterday the 12th day of Christmas, or was it the day before? January fifth or 6th? Maybe it starts at sunset on the fifth and ends at sunset on the sixth, and the night in between is 12th night. Twelfth night.

Is it about the Epiphany? or the arrival of the three wise men to the manger? (Did the family stay at the barn that long?)

King's cake - is it the same recipe as challa? only dressed up in Mardi Gras beads and colorful frosting? Where does brioche fall in? If my computer or cell phone were more responsive, I'd look these little mind ticklers up.

Who invented the violin? (isn't it a little odd to tuck one's instrument under the chin?) Who was Lawrence of Arabia? What makes a stork so special this week?

An encyclopedia might help. My life has been enhanced by the volumes of information presented with pictures and using clear and practical language. A comfortable chair and a random volume, say V-Z, can amuse me for quite a while.

the cosmic cartographer

 


he cast his net 
into the night sky
each star, each rock, 
each wandering cat
mapped for a moment
within a square 
of the infinite grid

The Genius of China: 3,000 years of science, discovery & invention, by Robert Temple, first published in 1986, contains all sorts of fascinating facts and pictures regarding Chinese inventions and discoveries. Matches, umbrellas, and 'the magic lantern' - an ancestor of movies - were made in China long before they reached other continents. Suns-spots and solar winds were discovered by the Chinese. Two things that caught my attention browsing through the book are the first earthquake alert device and a simple map-making technique.

The earthquake alert system looks like an elaborate piece of bronze pottery. Dragons' heads circle near the top, and toads circle at the base. Each dragon has a ball in its mouth. Hidden within the jar is a kind of pendulum. When an earthquake occurs, a ball drops from a dragon's mouth to the toad below. The location of the specific toad reportedly points the observor toward the location of the tremors.

Some of the ancient Chinese maps are very simple grids. They don't show the topography of the land, but rather show precisely how many units of distance away, and the location of towns or other points of interest. Seeing these ancient drawings, and other ways of doing things characteristic of the Chinese, is an enlightening experience.

Nice, good and great are words in the American vocabulary used to casually assert approval in a conversation. Awesome! they say when you tie your shoelaces on your own.

Groovy, keen, neat (and neato-keeno) were used in a similar fashion when I was a young kid in the sixties. These slang words evolved into far-out (a John Denver favorite), solid (from The Mod Squad), psychedelic, and others that are fast escaping my memory. Copascetic was popular among an erudite few.

Cool seemed to come in with the beatnik poets of the 1950s, and has survived to the present. Swell was first popular some decades before that, I've read. The elders thought it slightly vulgar and thus the youth used it with enthusiasm. Swell is still heard here and there today, with spot-free acceptance.

Parenting is a big job. We spend a lot of energy and time making decisions that will best help our children grow up to be happy, strong, and responsible. Kids in both strict and relaxed families tend to grow up fine, when the parents are reasonably consistent with their approach - when they don't abruptly change their rules and expectations - when they love their children.

Some of this is coming from my training and experience as a psychologist, some from my training and experience as a mother. Recent trends have encouraged a kind of parenting similar to yanking a pet on a leash. Life doesn't have to be so rugged. Having a strong parent figure that can be trusted is very wise and important and sometimes, in fact, it's beneficial to both child and parent for the child to lead the way. This can hold true for babies as well!