Category Archives: Humanities

Spreading the Wealth

I live a good life. In fact, even when I’ve struggled to pay rent and other expenses, I have always had the luxury of running water, heating/cooling, and electricity. Food has never been scarce, nor has it ever been difficult to purchase products for my household or physical needs. I’ve had access to credit which made achieving some goals possible, such as buying a car and getting an education. I am so very blessed.

Meanwhile, here are some facts and figures to provide perspective. Half the world — nearly three billion people — live on less than two dollars a day; 20% of the population in the developed nations, consume 86% of the world’s goods. The poorer the country, the more likely it is that debt repayments are being extracted directly from people who neither contracted the loans nor received any of the money. Approximately 790 million people in the developing world are still chronically undernourished, almost two-thirds of whom reside in Asia and the Pacific. A mere 12 percent of the world’s population uses 85 percent of its water, and these 12 percent do not live in the Third World. The richest 50 million people in Europe and North America have the same income as 2.7 billion poor people. “The slice of the cake taken by 1% is the same size as that handed to the poorest 57%.” (Info from Global Issues.)

Instead of feeling guilty, I decided to do something constructive. Have you ever heard of microlending? It’s a means of assisting other people across the world by lending some of your money to them. It’s not a donation or charity. The loan is repaid. One of the organizations that facilitate the process is Kiva. From their website:

Kiva lets you connect with and loan money to unique small businesses in the developing world. By choosing a business on Kiva.org, you can “sponsor a business” and help the world’s working poor make great strides towards economic independence. Throughout the course of the loan (usually 6-12 months), you can receive email journal updates from the business you’ve sponsored. As loans are repaid, you get your loan money back.

Kiva partners with existing microfinance institutions. In doing so, we gain access to outstanding entrepreneurs from impoverished communities world-wide. Our partners are experts in choosing qualified borrowers. That said, they are usually short on funds. Through Kiva.org, our partners upload their borrower profiles directly to the site so you can lend to them.

You just visit the site and look at the businesses needing loans. You can loan as little as $25 (a night at the movies, a week of Venti lattes). You will then receive email updates on how the business is doing. Once the loan is repaid, you can withdraw the money from Kiva or lend it again. Kiva has experienced a 100% repayment rate on all businesses with completed loans. Over the past three decades, more than 100 million of the world’s poor have demonstrated a greater than 95% repayment rate in micro-loans. Yes, there is a risk you might not get your money back. But it’s not a huge amount of money to begin with. The loans are interest-free, so you don’t make money. Since these are not donations, they are not tax-deductible. Yet Kiva takes no cut of the loan either; you can donate money to help them and it’s tax deductible.

So as of yesterday I’ve financed four businesses, two of which have been fully funded. Here are the two in my portfoloio still in need of funding. You can see more businesses here. Join in and enjoy the feeling of changing lives for the better.

Spring in Santa Clara, CA

tossed

Every spring the city of Santa Clara offers residents the opportunity to clean out their attics, closets, garages, yards, etc. With the exception of computer equipment, they’ll take anything you put out: construction material, refrigerators, boxes, toys, paper, garden supplies, tools, furniture, toilets and plumbing fixtures. Just use your imagination; whatever you think of they probably will take off your hands. For three weeks every year the neighborhood is a complete eyesore; people even start putting their trash at curbside weeks before their pickup date. Lots of people scavenge the discards to repurpose these cast-offs.

This scene brought to mind The Velveteen Rabbit story.

A Penny For Their Thoughts

Winston, who writes at Nobody Asked, honored me with the Thinking Blogger Award. Apparently I am among the many blogs that tickle his gray matter. Now it falls to me to inform the world of five blogs that make me think. Here they are (there are many more, and it was difficult to choose):

Dating God: Kate Turner writes soulful, deeply authentic posts about her journey through the world. She’s unique, and I’d prefer to use her words to present her. From her “about” page:

I no longer believe that I have any answers. And I’m now even suspicious of my questions. But more will be revealed and I am dang skippy surrendered to whatever occurrs in the meantime.

I have lived in 70+ places in seven states and held at least that many different jobs including feng shui consultant, actor, corporate recruiter, bartender, limo driver, truck driver, personal assistant, psychic, holistic practitioner, dancer, yogini, weight loss instructor, strip club waitress, cat wrangler, and currently, public health intern. I write this here blog as a form of Life-as-jigsaw-puzzle, shove 6.2 billion scholarly facts daily into my sweet brain, and drive my car around the snowy streets of Albany as training for my future career in NASCAR on Ice.

I have had over forty soulmates and have discovered there is no such thing.

I have overturned a hundred thousand stones and moments searching for proof of god and I have discovered that god is Nothing.

I believe in love, Life, and creative expression as a path to salvation. I believe that we are all already saved but are too consumed by all the shiny things to realize it. I believe that all the love we need is inside of us. I believe that any love experienced in this world is better seen as a verb in motion rather than a stationary noun.

I recently discovered Memoirs of a Skepchick, which has as the tagline: Critical Thinking for the Masses. A lot of the books I see published about skepticism, culture, and religion tend to be written by men: Richard Dawkins, Sam Harris, George Smith, David Mills, etc. So it’s refreshing to hear (i.e., read) a woman’s perspective. There are several authors for this blog; here are some of the categories used in organizing posts: Science, Anti-Science, Literature, Random Asides, Current Events, Religious Rants, and Skepchick-ism. I’ve only begun reading this blog and devour what they write.

Gerry Rosser is a fairly new blogger, and he posts at TwoBlueDay. I enjoy Gerry’s ruminations, and I especially appreciate the photography he posts. His eye for extraordinary shots is excellent, and I savor them. He reminds me to look at the world at all there is to see. I hope he decides to sell prints of his work. They really are that good.

Another new blog to me, Quiet Little Life is a gem. Kay Pere describes herself as “a multi-dimensional performing songwriter, visual artist, writer, educator and activist whose work embodies a message of hope, healing and humanity. When she isn’t traveling to perform, present workshops or show her artwork, Kay lives a quiet little life in a Mystical corner of southern New England.” I enjoy her mix of whimsy (an ode to Peeps, for example) and reflection (a post on experiencing creative blockage).

My dear friend Leah Piken is the author of Creative Every Day, another blog with soul. I’ve been reading Leah since I first began blogging in early 2002 and have been a witness to her journey into a new career, an engagement, and many other avenues for growth. She is an artist, and it was her blog that really inspired me to begin playing with art, which resulted in me embracing the identity of “artist.” Leah writes about creative synchronicities and unearths interesting tidbits (books, quotes, inspirations) that get my creative juices flowing.

The awardees are invited to participate and post a list of five bloggers whose writing makes you think. The original rules suggested:

  • Create your own post of five blogs that make you think.
  • Link to this place so that people know where the meme is from.
  • Display the award, if you like, linking to the post that you wrote.

Happy Thinking!

All Things Baby

We embarked on the Great Baby Supply journey Saturday. Our intention this trip was to get an idea of what we need, pricing, and what’s available. The answer to the last question is: an overwhelming selection! Do we want a traditional crib with a drop-side rail, or a Lifestyle crib that can be converted into a toddler and later a full-size bed? Do we want white, natural, oak, cherry, or pine finish? Do we want mission style furniture, or contemporary, or country? How much do we want to spend? What is the difference between two cribs of the same type and style other than the price tag?

We want a glider. Do we want one that reclines, or swivels, or both? Do we want microsuede or cotton upholstery? One is $600, and another is $300. They look the same and function the same. The same company seems to make them all (Dutelier). So what makes the more expensive one worthwhile?

Do we want to pick a theme for the decor? (At first I thought no, but I’m rethinking.) Do we want to get a a bedding set: sheets, dust ruffle, padded cloth to tie to the crib sides, and blanket? You can drop a couple hundred dollars for a set. Do we want to paint the room? We’re renters, but we can always paint it white later. The room came with dark sage green curtains. Do we want something kid-themed?

What type of stroller do we want? Do we want a travel system, even though the stroller will be somewhat heavier? Shall we get one with a single bar handle or umbrella handles? As for the high chair, gosh, do we want one with toys built in to the tray or not? Do we want a removable cover for easy cleanup? Do we want one that’s collapsible for easy storage?

We looked for five hours and at three stores. Husband’s shopping style is different than mine. He likes to research a lot and look at many items before he chooses. I find it stressful, because after a time I can barely distinguish the difference and deflate into a state of exhaustion. I prefer to set a dollar limit, look at several items in that range, and make the purchase. In many cases, though, his method results in us getting a better deal. In order to help me tolerate the process this time, we agreed by the day’s end we would purchase one baby item to give me a sense of accomplishment.

At least a dozen parents have sung the praises of and urged us to acquire at least one of an item called a Boppy. They are apparently the salvation of mankind. One friend advised us to get one for every level of the house (though since we have four separate levels, that seems extreme). I put the Boppy on our registry at Babies R Us, but since we want two, we bought one Saturday. And I should warn you: I’m turning into a gooey, sentimental momma-to-be. The one I selected was called Sweet Pea: light green with little pea pods all over it, and inside each are three cute little faces with green caps. Peas in the pod! Babies! Adorable!

And I have another admission to make. Since at least half a dozen people have spoken enthusiastically of the miracle called a baby wipe warmer, I did [cringe] add it to the registry. My first response upon learning of such a thing was to scorn it as a luxury, and indeed it is. After all, I grew up without warm baby wipes and I’m a contributing member of society! But I trust the enthusiasm of parents; they have the experience, after all. When I asked my mother what she used (I was born before baby wipes existed), she said she cleaned me with a warm washcloth. A-ha! So there’s proof that a warm wipe on a baby’s bottom is preferable. Husband believes he’d like to use washcloths. Fine for him, but since I expect I’ll be changing the majority of diapers, I’m damn well going to get and use baby wipes and a warmer. So there.

What’s especially delightful to me is watching Husband’s responses to all this. He’s embracing his Inner Father: reading Consumer Reports Guide to Baby Products, searching Internet forums discussing the pros and cons of items, reading about baby care in What to Expect the First Year. I handed him a booklet from Fisher-Price that features their products, and he was charmed by the baby bath and swings. The reality of what’s coming is permeating us both, and we’re getting excited. I plan to borrow Dr. Seuss books from the library so he can read to my belly.

And yes, I’ve already decided on and aquired a baby book for her first year. They are all so different: some are frilly and cute, some are hip, some have scrapbook elements, some are spiral-bound, and they all are organized differently. Since I’ll be using it for a year, I found one I really like. For myself I bought The Belly Book; it’s a keepsake for me, but I imagine someday my daughter might like it, since it’s a record of the very beginning of her life.

I’m a little concerned that my regular readers will find the frequency and length of my posts on all things baby tiresome after awhile. But that’s the direction of my life. I’m becoming a parent, and this blog focuses on what I find relevant to me, so I expect to often use the lens of parenting and childhood. I’m sure I’ll write about other stuff too; I’m too interested in everything to fall prey to tunnel vision. So have faith if you’re not interested in parenthood and children; I’ll throw a bone to you now and then. 😉

P.S. I’m feeling her move frequently now. There’s a little person inside me. I’m bringing her into existence. It moves me to tears. And it truly is an awesome feat.

The Foolish Expression

I loathe the expression “What makes him tick.” It is the American mind, looking for simple and singular solution, that uses the foolish expression. A person not only ticks, he also chimes and strikes the hour, falls and breaks and has to be put together again, and sometimes stops like an electric clock in a thunderstorm.

–James Thurber

Poetry For Men

Like many men, I’m also more “practical” than my wife. It took me years to understand why a woman would want to get flowers. After all, they just die in a few days. Wouldn’t a blender be a better Valentine’s Day gift? Like flowers, poetry isn’t always meant to be practical, and this is sometimes hard for me to “get.” Sometimes there isn’t even a “point” to a poem other than it being an expression of emotion. I’m always looking for “meaning,” rather than taking the emotion in. The words, the image provoked or the music of the poem should be just enough to make a piece of writing special.

I’m learning to appreciate poetry more by reading poems, including many of the poems I see here on Poetry Thursday. It is good to be reminded that not all poems are about flowers or “girly” things, or topics that make you go out and buy a black beret. You can write poems about baseball games and pissing in the forest, and it can still be considered a poem.

–Neil Kramer, Confessions of a Poemphobe: Poetry for Men

A Kind of Magic I Can Believe In

Once upon a time, long, long ago, we had just watched magician Harry Blackstone Jr. perform marvelous feats of wizardry on television. I heard my young son ask his father, Is there really such a thing as magic? I held my breath as my husband answered. No. There’s no real magic. It’s only tricks that fool your mind and your eyes.

NO REAL MAGIC? I was disappointed. For years I’d taught my writing classes the art of incantation and enchantment. The casting of spells and charms. By words. I (and they) believed we had special power to call up feelings, knowings, a kind of sorcery. By the use of words! As I reflected on my husband’s answer, I knew he was wrong: There is such a thing as magic. A writer can cause another human being to glow or tingle or wince; to tremble, or to laugh out loud; or to weep — to experience the shine of words — and certainly that is magic, and poets are magicians of the highest order.

I had a student once who, after the death of her elderly aunt, found herself going through some old trunks in an attic. In one of the trunks she found a letter written by a great grandmother, whose husband had just taken a second wife. As my friend read this letter, in which a woman who lived 150 years ago poured out her dismay, her grief, onto a piece of paper, she wept. When we are able to touch someone else across a barrier of time, or distance or culture and make them laugh or cry, that truly is MAGIC!

–Joyce Ellen Davis, Poetry Thursday

Our Life’s Prayer

blood art

Our Life’s Prayer

Carnal syrup which flows within,
why not make it art?
It has been spilled
enough to fill
the gloomy pit of Tartarus.
Ferry to us the draught of life.
Preserve us from dissolution,
for our gene codes fight dauntlessly,
against this.
Be not used to segregate others,
for humanity is one tribe.
Thou art the mystery, the
sinew, and the richness
that makes our lives worth living. Yes.

–Kathryn Harper

—
For Poetry Thursday. This poem is based on a Poetry Thursday exercise using a style called ekphrasis. The photograph is of a piece by René de Guzman and is titled Blood Color Theory. His artworks allude to current issues such as the HIV/AIDS crisis in the early 1990s. In this piece, de Guzman sandwiched his own blood, mixed with preservatives, between two Plexiglass sheets. The work’s impact lies partly in the shock value to convey the message, and the work takes on the formal qualities of a minimalist painting. What I find intriguing are the images reflected. This poem, which echoes The Lord’s Prayer, is the result.

Turf War With A Spider

Turf War With a Spider

I drape against a picnic table, inhaling
orange blossom perfume thick
on the breeze. With pen poised,
my hand starts scrawling when
in the corner of my sight
I catch perched on my elbow a small
tuxedo with eight legs.

Jerking,
I shake her off; she lands on my knee.
I am Goliath. With a stamp of my foot
she tumbles
to the concrete,
banished.

Moments later a presence pulls me
from my pen. I look down.
She has crawled
halfway up the table leg. One gust
of breath blows the leaf of her body
to the concrete, again.

I return to my words, absorbed, only
to soon find my nemesis at the
table edge. We stare,
eyes to eyes. I’m a behemoth,
but this David is relentless.

Such determination in so small
a creature deserves reward.
I move to another table.

–Kathryn Harper

An Invitation to Play

Shortly over a year ago I mentioned that I was going to explore a book on creativity written by Eric Maisel. I didn’t follow it daily, but I found the ideas and exercises interesting.

Well, just a few days ago I was contacted by his publicist asking me if I’d be interested in participating in a “blog tour” for his upcoming book, Ten Zen Seconds. It’s a type of marketing that seems collaborative and mutually beneficial. I thought it would be rather fun. I’ll get to know other bloggers who focus on similar interests, become acquainted with the author, and get a free book out of the deal!

In a couple of months, I will interview Eric about his book as it relates to a topic of interest to me. As I develop this I’ll keep you posted. And once the Ten Zen Seconds blog tour page is updated, I’ll post a link to that instead. It will be a trove of resources on creativity.

For general information on Eric Maisel, you might visit his website, too.

These Old Boots

These Old Boots

These boots were once fresh,
a leather pair of strutting
peacocks flaunting
straight laces in full plumage.
They boasted proud soles,
like granite; impervious
to water, stoic in heat
and cold. These centurions
marched to conquer.

Now the plumage, frayed
and faded, holds scuffed
split leather by a thread.
Mile after mile erased
the heels. They are failed
sentries against enemy
pebbles and creeping rot.
These wounded soldiers
wear the perfume of decay
waiting to hike one last
time into the shadows.

–Kathryn Harper

—
For Poetry Thursday; from an exercise in The Poet’s Companion. Photo by Fedot Praslov, used under the Creative Commons License.

For the Sake of Authenticity

Just in case I seem only an “inspiring” person who has most of her life together…

I have a specific person in mind as I write this post. Laurel, my dear, I write this to you (though all commenters are welcome).

It’s been one year since I started playing with poetry again. One year since I approached writing poems with wonder, with confidence in my right to try and to have fun. It’s been almost one year since I immersed myself in the toxicity of that poetry forum (which shall remain unlinked here).

Now, maybe I’m not writing as avidly as I did that first month because I’ve been busy. (Then again, I had plenty of energy when I began writing despite working a zillion hours a week. And I’ve not been busy since October when my job ended, but the pen seems dry.) Maybe I’m not writing because, as is my fashion, I often begin endeavors with bright enthusiasm, then fade over time.

There’s some truth in this, but there’s more. I’m lying to myself to deny it. The atmosphere of the forum: the snootiness, the stringent standards, the high academia, the ruthlessness of the moderators, and that encounter with the asshole wannabe guru — this silenced me. When I write a poem now, I choke. I hear the critic before I even capture an image and taste the words. I can’t hear the music in them now. Inspiration fled.

No matter how much I try to comfort myself with Ted Kooser’s encouragement, I remain bound.

Today, at the ocean, I managed to free myself a little. Perhaps it was the 25 mph wind. I wish I could return to the poem writer I was before encountering the forum. It’s a kind of innocence lost. And by venturing into the forum, I did it to myself.

Even in middle age, I am still affected by others’ judgment of me. Not as much as when I was younger, certainly. There are some people whose judgment or opinion matters more and to whom I respond: Husband, family, close friends. But why, oh why, do the opinions of strangers, especially disembodied ones on the Internet, have any impact? Why the hell do I give them this power? The forum stressed that the criticism should not be taken personally, that it was critique of the work. I understood this; I don’t feel I took it personally. But I did feel daunted by the focus on technicality. What keeps me from writing poetry is the desire to do it “right,” like a “serious” poet, but I get bogged down by the high standards of technique. Where’s the fun?

More importantly, how will I get it back?

A Visit With Mother

A Visit With Mother

Playing with the ocean is a high contact sport.
Wrestle a wave, expect
to be tackled, lifted up, tossed aside,
waves sprinting and jockeying each other to shore,
cresting, swapping twelve-foot high fives.

Boys tag icy waves; cries of surprise
compete with seagulls. A toddler in pink totters toward
starlings holding their convention on the sand.
Her face beams as she waves to each bird.

You cross dry sand and it swallows your toes.
The wind slaps and pushes,
scrubs your face, bleaches your mind.
Your eyes sting and weep in the salt air.

You do not come to the beach for tranquility.
You do not come here for shelter,
but to absorb ancient energy,
feel the rhythm of waves in your blood,

swing on the tidal pendulum,
submit to the scrutiny of the bald sun,
gaze at the horizon melting into thousands
of miles of nothingness and possibility.

You come to release your illusions.

–Kathryn Harper