Friday Floral

Illumination

This being human is a guest

house. Every morning

a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,

some momentary awareness comes

as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and attend them all!

Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,

who violently sweep your house

empty of its furniture, still,

treat each guest honorably.

He may be clearing you out

for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,

meet them at the door laughing,

and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,

because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond.

Welcome difficulty.

Learn the alchemy True Human

Beings know:

the moment you accept what troubles

you've been given, the door opens.

Welcome difficulty as a familiar

comrade. Joke with torment

brought by the Friend.

Sorrows are the rags of old clothes

and jackets that serve to cover,

and then are taken off.

That undressing,

and the beautiful

naked body

underneath,

is the sweetness

that comes after grief.

~ Rumi

Friday Floral

Dahlia

It's my birthday!

The Bot is trying to care, but he'll have to get back to me.

~   ~   ~

Bonus birthday surprise: Senator Maria Cantwell visited our office today and I had the opportunity to chat with her and shake her hand. Now I can say I shook a Senator's hand on my birthday.



Illumination

Come
Come, whoever you are! Wanderer,
worshipper, lover of leaving
Come.
This is not a caravan of despair.
It doesn't matter if you've broken
your vow a thousand times, still
Come,
and yet again
Come!

~ Rumi

Snip Snipe, Snip Snipe

This season of Project Runway has my stomach churning with all its ugliness: and I'm not talking about the clothes. The judges have become increasingly unnecessarily cruel. During last week's episode I began reconsidering my loyalty to the show with every biting remark spewed from judge Joanna Coles' sour mouth. (Really, Joanna, you would fire Nina Garcia for a garment she wore that didn't satisfy your criteria, despite her years of service and dedication? Really?!) But this week hit a new low when the contestants took their turn at being condescending diva bitches. At least in the past I could ignore the judges because I enjoyed the contestants and the fabulous garments they created. Sure Christian Siriano was practically the definition of 'diva' at times, but at least he was funny, and wow, could he design and sew. This season there seems to be no striking talent, creativity or redeeming personality. The only person I might stand a chance at liking is Kimberly Goldson. But I'm not sure if I'm willing to stick around to find out. 

Friday Floral

Crocus

The Siren's Call

On July 10 we saw Neko Case at the Paramount in Seattle. Although it's a beautiful venue, I would like nothing more than to watch her perform in a smoky bar. She's a gritty woman, I would even call her a "broad" (gasp), and when she's not singing, she loves to swear and has a filthy laugh. Out of that wiry woman with crazy red hair comes a voice that I would imagine is like a Siren's, weaving tales and luring men, and women, out to their beautiful demise. I envy those who had the opportunity to enjoy her in a small dive bar, where I'm sure she threw back a few drinks, told a couple dirty jokes, and let her voice fill the room. In theater actors are told to project their voices to the back of the room; her voice seems to project into the next state.

The Kittenpants Bot

He is mine. I am his. He is The Bot.

Read Until the Pages are Blank

As a kid, I shunned sports and playing outdoors and instead buried myself in books. I was like an addict, stealing any free moment I could find to read. Upon hearing my mother approaching my room, I would hide the book I was reading under my homework and pretend I was deeply engrossed in a math problem. I finally hit rock bottom when my mother confiscated my library card as punishment for finding me reading in bed at night to the dim light coming from the hallway. She said I was ruining my eyes but I didn't care, I just wanted to know what happened next. 

During my youth, fiction was all I devoured.  I gobbled up the classics like Anne of Green Gables, The Secret Garden, Little Women and Heidi.  I read most of Beverly Cleary's young adult novels and rejoiced when I discovered endless tomes of Nancy Drew mysteries. I read exclusively about girls and felt that the only use boys had were as distant objects of desire. The heroines' torment over unrequited love only made them more interesting to me.

Fiction continued to captivate me until I took a World Religions class in high school. After 9 years in Catholic schools it was, ironically, this class that opened my mind to religious spirituality. I set aside Ivan Turgenev and Henry James and started learning about Islam and Buddhism. Religion became a gateway into a burgeoning new passion: culture. As a first generation American, in high school I attracted friends who also grew up with two cultures. But the one who captivated me most was a Romanian girl who, after 4 years of close friendship, 'came out' to me as a Jew. Her tales of religious persecution and eventual escape from Romania further fueled my need to learn more about the people on this planet and why Religion is such a big deal to them. So after college I put down the books and hit the road to experience a little of it myself.

These days after a bit of travel and a whole bunch of life experiences, I have returned to my first love. The books I now read cycle through my phases of cultural obsession. India and Japan stay with me always, but others grab my attention at their own accord. The common thread lies in the stories and struggles of women around the world. Whether living in Pakistan, Iran or Somalia, I continue to be fascinated by women and how they find the resolve to persevere, enact change and raise families within the harshest conditions. 

I have been fortunate enough to see small pockets of the world, but only books allow me the freedom to experience them all.

Run away with me

Puerto Vallarta, Mexico

The Tree of Life

I became particularly curious about Terrence Malick's new film, The Tree of Life, when it was booed at this year's Cannes Film Festival. It has a solid cast of actors, and the trailer seemed pretty straightforward, so I didn't understand what made it boo-worthy. I had heard that a few dinosaurs passed through one of the scenes (which didn't quite seem to fit into the plot of a family grieving for the untimely loss of their son), so I thought that might be one of the clues. And if I hadn't been prepared for them, I would have definitely broken into a fit of giggles when they appeared during the 'birth of a planet' sequence. No doubt, The Tree of Life is visually lush and a treat for those of us who like to stop and smell the roses. In fact, I particularly enjoyed the 'birth of a planet' sequence, despite the goofy dinosaurs, and found the main body of the movie to contain many beautiful and poignant life moments. I even indulged in a chuckle or two. But ultimately I found the movie disappointing.

Despite its weightiness, The Tree of Life failed to pull me in and engage my sympathy for the characters. I did not walk out questioning our place in this world and the meaning of existence, and I had really wanted to. I was hoping to walk out feeling like I did after Sean Penn's Into the Wild which left me in an existential quandry for days. The Tree of Life has all the elements to do the same, yet it doesn't. The intro is lumbering and confusing so instead of engaging the viewer, it leaves you asking 'huh'? Two people actually walked out of the theatre during the intro. Apparently they felt they got their $20 worth in the first half hour.

The 'birth of a planet' sequence is quite gorgeous, and for people like me who retain information better through visual explanations, it really brought to life, well, the beginning of life. The middle of the film is an enjoyable 'coming of age' story. It's a bit drawn out and contains several images which lose their poignancy due to repetition, but it's still a pleasure to watch. Unfortunately once that story line ends, the film goes back to the same confusing structure of the intro - shifting between past and present, throwing in images of random landscapes and cliché ladders reaching into the sky. It's almost as if this film is a music video, a science documentary and a coming of age movie rolled into 138 minutes.

The Tree of Life would be much more impactful if a little more time had been spent in the editing room. The intro sequence is completely unnecessary and detracts from engaging the viewer because it is so confusing. And the concluding sequence can be thrown out the window along with it. I give this film props for effort, but won't be adding it to my 'must own' list.

Image by kittenpants. Do not use without permission, please.

curiosity kittenpants

Image by kittenpants. No use without permission, please.

Blind Faith?

Hello! Welcome. I'm happy you stopped by!

This is my first blog. And my first entry. I'm going to cheat a little and start with a quote from the beautiful person who is my inspiration for this blog. She lost her battle with leukemia this year, but she never lost her faith. I'm not referring to religion. I'm talking about faith in love, goodness, beauty, music, inspiration, laughter, and faith in life. 

"I guess the only other choice would be to do nothing, and that just ain't gonna work, for me, and for all the people who love me. So what do you do? You have just got to keep it going and moving on."