Posts
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"Without friends, no one would choose to live even though he had all other goods." - Aristotle
2-10 You've Got A Friend
This week our topic in Channeling Aristotle was friendship. Aristotle was emphatic about the importance of friendship in leading a good life. Aristotle says that the essence of a virtuous friendship is selflessness.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Aristotle, CEO pay, Pursuing Full Potential and OWS
This blog is moving. Please bookmark the new url www.marthacarlin.com
I am currently taking a DU Enrichment Class "Channeling Aristotle: Cultivating a Virtuous Life in the 21st Century". Our discussion last week evolved around the "golden mean" and finding purpose in life. Aristotle believe that happiness lay in the pursuit of one's full potential and in maintaining a perfect balance between excess and deficit.
Mulling this over for the past week in light of the growing momentum with the Occupy Wall Street Movement (OWS) leads me to the hypothesis that much of what is wrong in our society today is the result of this lack of balance and current perceived lack of opportunity to reach full potential. If one thinks about the question of balance between excess and deficit this is the key issue in terms of anger toward Wall Street, CEO's and the demonized 1%. In general terms one might see these groups as organizations or people who have clearly erred to the side of excess. This is most certainly the case in some situations but without analyzing each individual or each corporation it is wrong to make that gross generalization.
I am currently taking a DU Enrichment Class "Channeling Aristotle: Cultivating a Virtuous Life in the 21st Century". Our discussion last week evolved around the "golden mean" and finding purpose in life. Aristotle believe that happiness lay in the pursuit of one's full potential and in maintaining a perfect balance between excess and deficit.
Mulling this over for the past week in light of the growing momentum with the Occupy Wall Street Movement (OWS) leads me to the hypothesis that much of what is wrong in our society today is the result of this lack of balance and current perceived lack of opportunity to reach full potential. If one thinks about the question of balance between excess and deficit this is the key issue in terms of anger toward Wall Street, CEO's and the demonized 1%. In general terms one might see these groups as organizations or people who have clearly erred to the side of excess. This is most certainly the case in some situations but without analyzing each individual or each corporation it is wrong to make that gross generalization.
Friday, October 21, 2011
Occupy Wall Street - I am the 1
This blog is moving to a new location. Please bookmark the new URL www.marthacarlin.com
I am the 1. The 1% that is to say. At least I was in 2007. I was surprised to learn that in 2007 the IRS reported 391,000 Americans with income exceeding $1 Million. I was one of them.
I am not greedy, self-interested, dishonest or villainous. For a long time I was ashamed to admit it because I had some unsavory stereotypes of what people “with money” were like. I am the epitome of the American Dream.
I grew up in a small town in Kentucky and attended public school. My father and mother were not college graduates. They were small business owners who had good years and bad years. My father declared bankruptcy twice in his life. That alone had a significant impact on my choice of career and desire to have a strong, stable income. I got my first part time job, a minimum wage job, when I was just twelve. That was in 1976 and I worked non-stop from that point on. I worked many different low level jobs to help pay for my college education at the University of Kentucky. I stayed in-state because the price was right, not because that was my first choice.
I worked as a receptionist, a bookstore clerk, a ice cream scooper, a retail clothing store clerk, a bank check processor, and a missed paper customer service rep taking calls starting at 4am. I took a year off from school and worked as a waitress at a resort in South Carolina saving up for school and continued to work as a waitress throughout my final two years of college. I studied hard and earned a BS in Accounting graduating with honors.
I interviewed and got an offer to work for Arthur Andersen in Dallas, Texas. I loaded up right after graduation and headed to Texas, starting my new job earning $23,000/year. I worked hard and excelled at Andersen surviving 3 years of significant cut backs, as the oil and gas and real estate industries declined from the mid to late 80′s. I interrupted my career briefly after getting married and having a child. We divorced when my daughter was 2 and I was suddenly a single mother. I chose jobs that would build my skills and engage my mind. I returned to Andersen, sometimes working 18-20 hour days during busy season. I would bring my daughter to the office on Saturdays. While I worked a 12 hour day she played and napped at the foot of my desk. Eventually I left to become the CFO for a small client but was still only earning about $55,000/year – 11 years after graduating. I was offered an opportunity with a company in Colorado that was growing rapidly – this changed the course of the next 10 years of my life, making it possible for me to be one of the 1% in 2007. From the experience I gained there I moved to a key leadership role in another company going through a restructuring. I worked LONG hours and traveled sometimes as much at 60% of the time. I returned to work when my second child was just 3 weeks old. I worked weekends, nights, early mornings – you name it. Work was my life. My 2nd husband took care of the children and I worked.
The money that I earned did not come easy and I did not lie, cheat or steal to get it. I WORKED. I worked hard and paid my dues. I am proud to say that I was one of the 1. I can’t imagine that those marching on Wall Street would begrudge what I worked so hard to earn.
Peggy Noonan’s editorial in this weekend’s WSJ makes a good point. While I don’t agree part and parcel with her editorial, she says, “It is an early expression, an early iteration, of something that is coming, and that is a rising up against current circumstances and arrangements. OWS is an expression of American discontent, and others will follow. The protests will grow as the economy gets worse.”
I think the issue that is being lost in the Occupy Wall Street protests is WORK. There isn’t much of it these days and that’s just the problem. Young people graduating aren’t finding the starting jobs in their chosen fields so that they can start “paying their dues”. I feel very much that the anger is misplaced. How can they be angry with me – the 1% – when all I’ve done is work hard to build a career? Yes, there are some greedy, unscrupulous villains on Wall Street but an even better place to protest would be in the halls of Congress and the White House. We lack leadership and character in every corner of politics and this is keeping us from solving our problems. We are strangling opportunity at every turn – with regulation, with immigration fears, with graft/pork barrel spending, with status quo and quid pro quo – both parties are guilty – but nobody is occupying their space. Our system of government is broken and that’s where we need to focus attention – not on class warfare and anti-capitalist rhetoric.
Capitalism, in its pure form, is what made this country great. It’s what allowed me and many others to be self-made millionaires. Without capitalism there would not likely be a twitter or facebook to use to “spread the word” or an Apple or Google or any of these other tools and gadgets we so love. Most forget or don’t realize that we don’t practice capitalism in its purest form anymore – the long arm of the government has gotten in the way. That’s not to say that business hasn’t brought that on itself by not taking the high road most of the time. But Marxism and Socialism do not support or promote entrepreneurship. Entrepreneurs provide jobs and opportunities; the bulk of the jobs in America. Let’s not put a stake in their hearts because we’ve got misplaced anger. Focus attention on the current occupiers of Washington, DC.
I am no longer the 1%. I gave that up in 2007 when my father died. I am a now struggling entrepreneur.
I am the 1. The 1% that is to say. At least I was in 2007. I was surprised to learn that in 2007 the IRS reported 391,000 Americans with income exceeding $1 Million. I was one of them.
I am not greedy, self-interested, dishonest or villainous. For a long time I was ashamed to admit it because I had some unsavory stereotypes of what people “with money” were like. I am the epitome of the American Dream.
I grew up in a small town in Kentucky and attended public school. My father and mother were not college graduates. They were small business owners who had good years and bad years. My father declared bankruptcy twice in his life. That alone had a significant impact on my choice of career and desire to have a strong, stable income. I got my first part time job, a minimum wage job, when I was just twelve. That was in 1976 and I worked non-stop from that point on. I worked many different low level jobs to help pay for my college education at the University of Kentucky. I stayed in-state because the price was right, not because that was my first choice.
I worked as a receptionist, a bookstore clerk, a ice cream scooper, a retail clothing store clerk, a bank check processor, and a missed paper customer service rep taking calls starting at 4am. I took a year off from school and worked as a waitress at a resort in South Carolina saving up for school and continued to work as a waitress throughout my final two years of college. I studied hard and earned a BS in Accounting graduating with honors.
I interviewed and got an offer to work for Arthur Andersen in Dallas, Texas. I loaded up right after graduation and headed to Texas, starting my new job earning $23,000/year. I worked hard and excelled at Andersen surviving 3 years of significant cut backs, as the oil and gas and real estate industries declined from the mid to late 80′s. I interrupted my career briefly after getting married and having a child. We divorced when my daughter was 2 and I was suddenly a single mother. I chose jobs that would build my skills and engage my mind. I returned to Andersen, sometimes working 18-20 hour days during busy season. I would bring my daughter to the office on Saturdays. While I worked a 12 hour day she played and napped at the foot of my desk. Eventually I left to become the CFO for a small client but was still only earning about $55,000/year – 11 years after graduating. I was offered an opportunity with a company in Colorado that was growing rapidly – this changed the course of the next 10 years of my life, making it possible for me to be one of the 1% in 2007. From the experience I gained there I moved to a key leadership role in another company going through a restructuring. I worked LONG hours and traveled sometimes as much at 60% of the time. I returned to work when my second child was just 3 weeks old. I worked weekends, nights, early mornings – you name it. Work was my life. My 2nd husband took care of the children and I worked.
The money that I earned did not come easy and I did not lie, cheat or steal to get it. I WORKED. I worked hard and paid my dues. I am proud to say that I was one of the 1. I can’t imagine that those marching on Wall Street would begrudge what I worked so hard to earn.
Peggy Noonan’s editorial in this weekend’s WSJ makes a good point. While I don’t agree part and parcel with her editorial, she says, “It is an early expression, an early iteration, of something that is coming, and that is a rising up against current circumstances and arrangements. OWS is an expression of American discontent, and others will follow. The protests will grow as the economy gets worse.”
I think the issue that is being lost in the Occupy Wall Street protests is WORK. There isn’t much of it these days and that’s just the problem. Young people graduating aren’t finding the starting jobs in their chosen fields so that they can start “paying their dues”. I feel very much that the anger is misplaced. How can they be angry with me – the 1% – when all I’ve done is work hard to build a career? Yes, there are some greedy, unscrupulous villains on Wall Street but an even better place to protest would be in the halls of Congress and the White House. We lack leadership and character in every corner of politics and this is keeping us from solving our problems. We are strangling opportunity at every turn – with regulation, with immigration fears, with graft/pork barrel spending, with status quo and quid pro quo – both parties are guilty – but nobody is occupying their space. Our system of government is broken and that’s where we need to focus attention – not on class warfare and anti-capitalist rhetoric.
Capitalism, in its pure form, is what made this country great. It’s what allowed me and many others to be self-made millionaires. Without capitalism there would not likely be a twitter or facebook to use to “spread the word” or an Apple or Google or any of these other tools and gadgets we so love. Most forget or don’t realize that we don’t practice capitalism in its purest form anymore – the long arm of the government has gotten in the way. That’s not to say that business hasn’t brought that on itself by not taking the high road most of the time. But Marxism and Socialism do not support or promote entrepreneurship. Entrepreneurs provide jobs and opportunities; the bulk of the jobs in America. Let’s not put a stake in their hearts because we’ve got misplaced anger. Focus attention on the current occupiers of Washington, DC.
I am no longer the 1%. I gave that up in 2007 when my father died. I am a now struggling entrepreneur.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Monday, October 10, 2011
Can politicians learn something from a conductor?
I came across this TED presentation which I found very thought provoking. If you don't have time to listen to the entire 19 minutes, just listen for the first 3-5 minutes. In this presentation conductor, Charles Hazelwood, talks about trust as a key ingredient to the success of making music. I am in the habit of connecting seemingly unrelated things. This particular talk about trust really made me the think about politics and the current state of politics in America.
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Rolling on the River, Guns and Ammo and a Haunted House
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After our lazy morning on the porch and a late breakfast, we loaded two canoes and two kayaks on the truck. We headed out down the dusty, winding gravel road upstream for a little outing on the river. We parked at a State Park - $2 - and drove down to the lot by the river. There was a building near the river called the Shot Tower. This is an old Civil War building where the cannon balls were made and then cooled by the waters of the New River. It is still standing tall with what looks like a big fireplace opening at the bottom. We divided in to our boats - Quinn and Jack in the kayaks, John and Erin in one canoe and Lindsay, Mary Mac and me in the other, larger canoe.
Rollin' on the River - 01 Proud Mary
After our lazy morning on the porch and a late breakfast, we loaded two canoes and two kayaks on the truck. We headed out down the dusty, winding gravel road upstream for a little outing on the river. We parked at a State Park - $2 - and drove down to the lot by the river. There was a building near the river called the Shot Tower. This is an old Civil War building where the cannon balls were made and then cooled by the waters of the New River. It is still standing tall with what looks like a big fireplace opening at the bottom. We divided in to our boats - Quinn and Jack in the kayaks, John and Erin in one canoe and Lindsay, Mary Mac and me in the other, larger canoe.
Rollin' on the River - 01 Proud Mary
Friday, October 7, 2011
Sweet, Sweet South
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We arrived in Raleigh late yesterday afternoon and drove a couple of hours North to the Blue Ridge Mountains along the New River to our friends cabin. In an instant I was taken back to my Southern youth. The sounds, sights and smells of the South are unmistakeable. Sitting on the porch in the evening the moisture starts to build as the sun drops down below the trees. The sound of crickets fills the night air calling me to a gentle sleep. Sitting in the kitchen, Erin’s smoke drifts up through the window reminding me of my father – cigarette smoke always evokes those memories for me.
The cabin sits above the river with a small river bottom just below and a hill rising on the other side of the river filled with trees just waiting for the crisp fall air to take them over the edge to flaming glory. They aren’t there yet because the air is still warm in the late afternoon.
I drifted off to sleep to the sound of the crickets as the evening air took on the chill of the moisture filling it up snug in the down of a true Southern bed with all the fluff.
Waking in the South is a slow process. The light of dawn is slow to brighten as it is held back by the thick mists surrounding the river. Looking out the window I remember all the mornings of my childhood growing up in Kentucky in the Ohio River Valley. Moisture hangs low over the morning, holding back the day. So many mornings waiting for the bus there was a thick mist in the air. It takes several hours for the sun to gain enough strength to burn off the fog. This allows for the morning to slowing unfold in to the day.
We sat on the front porch with our coffee listening to the birds and catching up on life – listening to the river flow by, barely visible through the fog. Three hours pass until the sun burns strong enough to banish the mist. Quinn is cooking sausage and eggs and I am once again reminded of my father – the breakfast chef – and a good Southern style breakfast. Breakfast in the South is full of flavor, generally provided by some tasty pork fat. Not so good for the arteries but definitely good for the soul.
Breakfast awaits….. biscuits, bacon, sausage, scrambled eggs cooked in the sausage grease, grits and fresh coffee. Will have to a take a long walk after this one.
We arrived in Raleigh late yesterday afternoon and drove a couple of hours North to the Blue Ridge Mountains along the New River to our friends cabin. In an instant I was taken back to my Southern youth. The sounds, sights and smells of the South are unmistakeable. Sitting on the porch in the evening the moisture starts to build as the sun drops down below the trees. The sound of crickets fills the night air calling me to a gentle sleep. Sitting in the kitchen, Erin’s smoke drifts up through the window reminding me of my father – cigarette smoke always evokes those memories for me.
The cabin sits above the river with a small river bottom just below and a hill rising on the other side of the river filled with trees just waiting for the crisp fall air to take them over the edge to flaming glory. They aren’t there yet because the air is still warm in the late afternoon.
I drifted off to sleep to the sound of the crickets as the evening air took on the chill of the moisture filling it up snug in the down of a true Southern bed with all the fluff.
Waking in the South is a slow process. The light of dawn is slow to brighten as it is held back by the thick mists surrounding the river. Looking out the window I remember all the mornings of my childhood growing up in Kentucky in the Ohio River Valley. Moisture hangs low over the morning, holding back the day. So many mornings waiting for the bus there was a thick mist in the air. It takes several hours for the sun to gain enough strength to burn off the fog. This allows for the morning to slowing unfold in to the day.
We sat on the front porch with our coffee listening to the birds and catching up on life – listening to the river flow by, barely visible through the fog. Three hours pass until the sun burns strong enough to banish the mist. Quinn is cooking sausage and eggs and I am once again reminded of my father – the breakfast chef – and a good Southern style breakfast. Breakfast in the South is full of flavor, generally provided by some tasty pork fat. Not so good for the arteries but definitely good for the soul.
Breakfast awaits….. biscuits, bacon, sausage, scrambled eggs cooked in the sausage grease, grits and fresh coffee. Will have to a take a long walk after this one.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Something for Nothing
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Please bookmark the new address.
As I was listening to an interview on NPR today I was really struck by one of the statements made by Michael Lewis, the author of The Big Short, Moneyball and now Boomerang - The Meltdown Tour. In discussing the potential default in Greece and in municipalities across America he said, "People want to have things they don't want to pay for".
This really shook up my thinking for a bit because I don't see myself as someone who wants something for nothing. But then I started to really think about the shifts I see in products, services and even how I spend my time. I think it is very possibly true that we have trained ourselves to expect things at little or no cost. Is this because we've lost sight of value and/or cost of production?
Please bookmark the new address.
As I was listening to an interview on NPR today I was really struck by one of the statements made by Michael Lewis, the author of The Big Short, Moneyball and now Boomerang - The Meltdown Tour. In discussing the potential default in Greece and in municipalities across America he said, "People want to have things they don't want to pay for".
This really shook up my thinking for a bit because I don't see myself as someone who wants something for nothing. But then I started to really think about the shifts I see in products, services and even how I spend my time. I think it is very possibly true that we have trained ourselves to expect things at little or no cost. Is this because we've lost sight of value and/or cost of production?
Friday, September 30, 2011
Changing Perspective
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Please make note of the new location.
Changing our perspective is often one of the most difficult tasks we face. We are often so busy we don't have time to stop and think about anything from an angle other than the one we've already got set in our minds.
The New World Dictionary defines perspective as a way of regarding situations, facts, etc, and judging their relative importance . I see our society more and more as judging relative importance and this generally involves ranking our own importance/views/etc. above those of others. We've lost our ability to respect and value differing opinions. But isn't that what makes our world so fascinating? Thank goodness, we aren't all the same. How dull would that be?
The Middle English origin of the word is the past participle stem of perspicere to look at closely . I prefer this definition as it really tells you that you need to pay attention at look at the various aspects. In order to look at something closely you must look up/down, left/right, close/far and every other way possible.
Please make note of the new location.
Changing our perspective is often one of the most difficult tasks we face. We are often so busy we don't have time to stop and think about anything from an angle other than the one we've already got set in our minds.
The New World Dictionary defines perspective as a way of regarding situations, facts, etc, and judging their relative importance . I see our society more and more as judging relative importance and this generally involves ranking our own importance/views/etc. above those of others. We've lost our ability to respect and value differing opinions. But isn't that what makes our world so fascinating? Thank goodness, we aren't all the same. How dull would that be?
The Middle English origin of the word is the past participle stem of perspicere to look at closely . I prefer this definition as it really tells you that you need to pay attention at look at the various aspects. In order to look at something closely you must look up/down, left/right, close/far and every other way possible.
Monday, September 26, 2011
You Can't Fool Mother Nature - GMO foods
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Do you remember the slogan from the 1970's for Chiffon Margerine? "You can't fool Mother Nature." In their commercial, of course, you could fool Mother Nature. A lot has changed in the relationship between man and nature in the past 40 years. Man has begun to manipulate nature in ways that would have been inconceivable back then. Giant leaps in the science of genetics have made it possible to do the unnatural with nature in myriad ways.
Do you remember the slogan from the 1970's for Chiffon Margerine? "You can't fool Mother Nature." In their commercial, of course, you could fool Mother Nature. A lot has changed in the relationship between man and nature in the past 40 years. Man has begun to manipulate nature in ways that would have been inconceivable back then. Giant leaps in the science of genetics have made it possible to do the unnatural with nature in myriad ways.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Empty Space
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Last year I took a drawing class and the first thing the instructor discussed was the use of empty/negative or white space. The term is used for the space which is left blank in a drawing, painting, photograph or graphic presentation. This empty space is what allows the objects in the work of art to exist. One of the best descriptions of negative is “space where other things are not present.” We spent one class trying to work building imagery through the use of negative/empty space.
I keep returning to Anne Lindbergh’s Gift from the Sea as the passages I underlined years ago are popping out to emphasize the simplicity I am seeking these days and connecting to other things – the art class – long past. One of the quotes I underlined:
“For it is only framed in space that beauty blooms. Only in space are events and objects and people unique and significant – and therefore beautiful. A tree has significance if one sees it against the empty face of sky. A note in music gains significance from the silences on either side. A candle flowers in the space of night. Even small and casual things take on significance if they are washed in space, like a few autumn grasses in one corner of an Oriental painting, the rest of the page bare.”
She goes on to say, “My life, I begin to realize, lacks this quality of significance and therefore of beauty, because there is so little empty space. The space is scribbled on; the time has been filled.”
I am again struck by the significance of these words, written in 1955, to the world today. How is it that we can find significance with so little empty space in our lives? I long for the pause between the notes, yet I feel pressed to fill every pause with something that “needs to be done”. I file, I write, I call, I post, I tweet, I read but seldom pause to sit in silence and allow the empty space around me to create significance, beauty.
As I look for ways to create more empty space in my life in order to reflect I offer up a few examples of the use of empty space in art and music.
My daughter Lindsay’s photography site has two good examples on her opening page at
http://www.lightchaser-photography.com/
As well as numerous other examples in her landscape and travel photographs. Another friend and photographer, Jeff Rennicke, has some great examples as well. Here is one from our trip to Africa.
This M.C. Escher Gallery has some excellent examples
http://www.worldofescher.com/gallery/
On the music side listen to the space between notes used by Jack Johnson and James Blunt. They both use silence or a pause where it’s not typically expected. You will often find this as well in classical music. Some examples I really like are Mahler’s Resurrection and Barber’s Adagio for Strings:
Maybe tonight would be a good not for some empty space. Sit on the back porch, listen to the Mahler symphony and gaze up into the dark night sky and ponder, just for a moment, the beauty of the space between us. Just you and the space between the note, the space between the stars and the space between you and infinity. How’s that for evening of adventure?
Last year I took a drawing class and the first thing the instructor discussed was the use of empty/negative or white space. The term is used for the space which is left blank in a drawing, painting, photograph or graphic presentation. This empty space is what allows the objects in the work of art to exist. One of the best descriptions of negative is “space where other things are not present.” We spent one class trying to work building imagery through the use of negative/empty space.
I keep returning to Anne Lindbergh’s Gift from the Sea as the passages I underlined years ago are popping out to emphasize the simplicity I am seeking these days and connecting to other things – the art class – long past. One of the quotes I underlined:
“For it is only framed in space that beauty blooms. Only in space are events and objects and people unique and significant – and therefore beautiful. A tree has significance if one sees it against the empty face of sky. A note in music gains significance from the silences on either side. A candle flowers in the space of night. Even small and casual things take on significance if they are washed in space, like a few autumn grasses in one corner of an Oriental painting, the rest of the page bare.”
She goes on to say, “My life, I begin to realize, lacks this quality of significance and therefore of beauty, because there is so little empty space. The space is scribbled on; the time has been filled.”
I am again struck by the significance of these words, written in 1955, to the world today. How is it that we can find significance with so little empty space in our lives? I long for the pause between the notes, yet I feel pressed to fill every pause with something that “needs to be done”. I file, I write, I call, I post, I tweet, I read but seldom pause to sit in silence and allow the empty space around me to create significance, beauty.
As I look for ways to create more empty space in my life in order to reflect I offer up a few examples of the use of empty space in art and music.
My daughter Lindsay’s photography site has two good examples on her opening page at
http://www.lightchaser-photography.com/
As well as numerous other examples in her landscape and travel photographs. Another friend and photographer, Jeff Rennicke, has some great examples as well. Here is one from our trip to Africa.
This M.C. Escher Gallery has some excellent examples
http://www.worldofescher.com/gallery/
On the music side listen to the space between notes used by Jack Johnson and James Blunt. They both use silence or a pause where it’s not typically expected. You will often find this as well in classical music. Some examples I really like are Mahler’s Resurrection and Barber’s Adagio for Strings:
Maybe tonight would be a good not for some empty space. Sit on the back porch, listen to the Mahler symphony and gaze up into the dark night sky and ponder, just for a moment, the beauty of the space between us. Just you and the space between the note, the space between the stars and the space between you and infinity. How’s that for evening of adventure?
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
More than our Hearts can Hold?
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please bookmark the new URL
I mentioned a few posts ago that I have been getting ready for a garage sale which has had me going through lots of old things to decide whether to keep,toss or sell. Since I am an avid reader and lover of books it means I have a LOT of books about which to make decisions. This is always tough for me. I often take stacks of books to the local library that I am finished with but it always tough for me to part with them. Maybe I should stay there and check out a few instead of buying my own copies all the time. Anyway,last night I was going through a stack and came across Anne Morrow Lindbergh’s Gift from the Sea. This book was first published in 1955 but I am always struck when I read it how relevant much of it still is today. In my copy of the book I have underlined many passages that spoke to me at my first reading. I enjoy going back and revisiting the passages and thinking about why they spoke to me years ago when I first read them. As I was skimming through the book last night this passage jumped out and grabbed me:
“The interrelatedness of the world links us constantly with more people than our hearts can hold. Or rather –for I believe the heart is infinite –modern communication loads us with more problems than the human frame can carry. It is good,I think,for our hearts,our minds,our imaginations to be stretched;but body,nerve,endurance and lifespan are not as elastic. My life cannot implement in action the demands of all the people to whom my heart responds.”
Wow –those are words that were written in 1955! Can you imagine what a person who felt that modern communication in 1955 was too much would think of the interconnected information age that we live in? Hundreds of facebook “friends”,Twitter feeds by the thousands,multiple 24 hour new channels and on and on are constantly vying for our attention and begging our hearts to respond with connection,caring,money,support,etc.
Do these “tools”help us to be able to “respond to more hearts”,maintain better connection? Or do they only provide a shallow pool in which to wade and pretend that we are connected? People,businesses and causes use them to reach out to us. Sometimes they reach us, sometimes they don’t. Sometimes the more “connected” I am the more disconnected I feel. Relationships held together by 240 character snippets seem shallow and insignificant. Can I really know a person by their daily posts and comments?
But then I see the opposite side as well. After just returning from a truly inspiring Leap of Faith climb up Mount Kilimanjaro,I see how these social tools can help us connect and share at an even deeper level. After returning we’ve been able to share our photos,videos and experiences much more easily with each other despite the fact that we live all over the place. We’ve been able to continue to share ourselves with each other and learn more about what matters in each of our lives. Its really puzzling to me how something that seems so superficial can really enable the deepening of relationship.
On the negative side again, is the the competition for my attention that all these electronic tools present. I sit in front of my computer clicking away, skimming on the surface rather than reading a good novel or story. I tap away at my iPhone while one of my children is trying to talk to me, paying only half attention to both. How is this enriching my life? How would my life be without these tools? Would I write letters and send pictures telling my new found Kili friends more about myself and asking them more about themselves? I like to think I would, but I know that I wouldn’t. Would I have reconnected with one of my dearest friends from childhood who was all but lost to me until I searched for her name on the internet? I don’t know if I would have been able to find her again. How tragic that would have been. But would I have even known how tragic? Is my awareness increasing with these new tools?
What about my ability to respond to the demands of all the people to whom my heart responds? There are so many causes that call out to me –hunger and famine,tragic fires and earthquakes,food safety and security,diseases that have touched people I love,inspirational people and stories. How can my heart respond to them all? How can I as a single person make a difference? Maybe before,in the time of 1955,that was very,very difficult but now these tools make it possible for ME a solitary person to have a much larger impact on the world and those to whom my heart responds. With the click of a mouse I can make hundreds of friends and followers “aware”of something that touches my heart. Maybe they don’t all read what I send or what I write but even if one or two do then I have made more of a difference than I could alone. At first,I thought social media was just a time waster and it certainly can be,but now I see that through social media ONE person can have a significant impact on others and on the world just by passing on the word,the story,the cause,the message…….
So pass it on and make a difference in the things that touch your heart and let me know what you think.
please bookmark the new URL
I mentioned a few posts ago that I have been getting ready for a garage sale which has had me going through lots of old things to decide whether to keep,toss or sell. Since I am an avid reader and lover of books it means I have a LOT of books about which to make decisions. This is always tough for me. I often take stacks of books to the local library that I am finished with but it always tough for me to part with them. Maybe I should stay there and check out a few instead of buying my own copies all the time. Anyway,last night I was going through a stack and came across Anne Morrow Lindbergh’s Gift from the Sea. This book was first published in 1955 but I am always struck when I read it how relevant much of it still is today. In my copy of the book I have underlined many passages that spoke to me at my first reading. I enjoy going back and revisiting the passages and thinking about why they spoke to me years ago when I first read them. As I was skimming through the book last night this passage jumped out and grabbed me:
“The interrelatedness of the world links us constantly with more people than our hearts can hold. Or rather –for I believe the heart is infinite –modern communication loads us with more problems than the human frame can carry. It is good,I think,for our hearts,our minds,our imaginations to be stretched;but body,nerve,endurance and lifespan are not as elastic. My life cannot implement in action the demands of all the people to whom my heart responds.”
Wow –those are words that were written in 1955! Can you imagine what a person who felt that modern communication in 1955 was too much would think of the interconnected information age that we live in? Hundreds of facebook “friends”,Twitter feeds by the thousands,multiple 24 hour new channels and on and on are constantly vying for our attention and begging our hearts to respond with connection,caring,money,support,etc.
Do these “tools”help us to be able to “respond to more hearts”,maintain better connection? Or do they only provide a shallow pool in which to wade and pretend that we are connected? People,businesses and causes use them to reach out to us. Sometimes they reach us, sometimes they don’t. Sometimes the more “connected” I am the more disconnected I feel. Relationships held together by 240 character snippets seem shallow and insignificant. Can I really know a person by their daily posts and comments?
But then I see the opposite side as well. After just returning from a truly inspiring Leap of Faith climb up Mount Kilimanjaro,I see how these social tools can help us connect and share at an even deeper level. After returning we’ve been able to share our photos,videos and experiences much more easily with each other despite the fact that we live all over the place. We’ve been able to continue to share ourselves with each other and learn more about what matters in each of our lives. Its really puzzling to me how something that seems so superficial can really enable the deepening of relationship.
On the negative side again, is the the competition for my attention that all these electronic tools present. I sit in front of my computer clicking away, skimming on the surface rather than reading a good novel or story. I tap away at my iPhone while one of my children is trying to talk to me, paying only half attention to both. How is this enriching my life? How would my life be without these tools? Would I write letters and send pictures telling my new found Kili friends more about myself and asking them more about themselves? I like to think I would, but I know that I wouldn’t. Would I have reconnected with one of my dearest friends from childhood who was all but lost to me until I searched for her name on the internet? I don’t know if I would have been able to find her again. How tragic that would have been. But would I have even known how tragic? Is my awareness increasing with these new tools?
What about my ability to respond to the demands of all the people to whom my heart responds? There are so many causes that call out to me –hunger and famine,tragic fires and earthquakes,food safety and security,diseases that have touched people I love,inspirational people and stories. How can my heart respond to them all? How can I as a single person make a difference? Maybe before,in the time of 1955,that was very,very difficult but now these tools make it possible for ME a solitary person to have a much larger impact on the world and those to whom my heart responds. With the click of a mouse I can make hundreds of friends and followers “aware”of something that touches my heart. Maybe they don’t all read what I send or what I write but even if one or two do then I have made more of a difference than I could alone. At first,I thought social media was just a time waster and it certainly can be,but now I see that through social media ONE person can have a significant impact on others and on the world just by passing on the word,the story,the cause,the message…….
So pass it on and make a difference in the things that touch your heart and let me know what you think.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Unlocking the Cage
This blog is moving to a new URL www.marthacarlin.com Please bookmark the new location
"The Life of Every Man is a diary in which he means to write one story, and writes another. His humblest hour is when he compares the volume as is with what he vowed to make it." - James Berry
This quote was in a newsletter sent to me by a friend over the weekend. It really struck me to my core thinking about what it says. It was especially poignant since I spent the weekend with some of my climbing team from Kilimanjaro. We participated in a presentation to people with people with Parkinson's about how important it is to have a positive outlook, to set goals and keep moving. Over the weekend we spent a lot of time together reliving and processing our experiences on Kilimanjaro. One of the themes I heard over and over again from the people who climbed with us that have MS or PD is that they wouldn't change a thing. That their lives now having more meaning and purpose because of their disease. This really touched me after reading the quote above because these people started out thinking they were going to write a very different story before they were diagnosed and now they are writing something different. They have chosen to use it to build strength and character and to impact and inspire others with the disease. What story am I choosing to write?
I've been really trying to think about the story that I meant to write long ago when I started out in the world and the one that I am writing now. I think most people don't really reflect on this sort of thing until they come closer to their end in life or to some life or death circumstance. But I want to make sure that I am writing the story I will be happy to measure myself against at the end of my days. But first I have to consider what keeps me from writing that story.
When I was in high school and college I loved the creative arts - painting, drawing, drama, photography, writing. All these things gave me great joy but I saw no economic way to make a living at them that was "safe". Growing up my father was a real estate developer. So sometimes we had lots of money and other times not very much. This created a sense of fear in me around money and wanting to have a secure source of money . so despite the fact that I wanted to study theatre or something in the arts, I chose a career in accounting. I was good at and it came easily. I graduated with honors and went out in the to world to make my mark. I had taken my first step away from the story I had originally wanted to "write" for myself. My career moved along nicely and I continued to get promotions or new jobs with more responsibility and more money. But I wasn't any more secure. I always felt like I didn't have enough to be secure. This kept me locked in a cage of fear for more than 20 years chasing the goal of enough. Over those years I sacrificed and sold my time - time away from the things and the people that I loved - but I was never secure. I was still locked in the cage. The biggest lock to my cage is my fear around money. In 2007, I finally got a little courage and I quit but I was still locked in the cage, writing the same story that was off course - going back to my comfort zone looking at "jobs" that were in my field of experience. But my field of experience wasn't my passion. Each time I would allow myself to get off course of exploring my passions it was because I was being gripped by fear - fear of not enough money, fear that people would think I was nuts, fear that I would lose everything I had worked so hard for, fear of really speaking my truth. As I started to examine myself and understand that I was locked in this cage of fear, I began to notice how many times I heard other people mention the words "fear" or "afraid". If you stop and really listen in your daily life to the people around you I think you will be amazed at how many times you will hear those words.
So it occurred to me that as a society we are overwhelmingly locked in a cage of fear from obtaining our full potential. Fear prevents us from even trying in so many cases. Here are just a few examples I have observed in the last month:
a friend of my daughter's didn't try out for the play because she was afraid she wouldn't get a part
another friend of hers didn't try out for volleyball because she was afraid she would get cut
a friend of mine didn't send a resume in for a job opening because they were afraid they didn't have enough experience
another friend didn't call a potential client because she was afraid her bid would be too high and she wouldn't get it
one of my MS friends from the climb said she was afraid her life was over when she was diagnosed and she just sat down and stopped living for a while
one of our fellow climbers quit at the very beginning because she was terrified she wouldn't make it and would be a burden to others
my daughter wants to be a sculptor but she doesn't because she's afraid she can't make a living at it
I'm not finishing my novel because I'm afraid that "I'm not a writer and I won't be able to get it published"
Some people didn't fly on Sunday because they were afraid they might be on a plane that would blow up
The stock market keeps gyrating because people are afraid and their fear makes the market more unstable
See how these fears prevent each of us from doing something or reaching for something that we really want. It really is a cage that holds us back from fully experiencing our lives as they should be. So what if we don't get the part or nobody buys the book or we don't reach the top of the climb - isn't it better to have tried and failed than not to try at all? Can't we dust ourselves off and try again and again. Its hard but it can be done.
I am working hard every day now to unlock my own cage of fear and step out to write the story of my life that I really want it to be - not the safe, easy version - the full out, sailing through the air, adventure of a life that I know my life can be if I am not afraid to live it. That doesn't mean I won't have fears from time to time. What it means is that each time I am faced with a fear that could lead me down a path to a mediocre life, I will cast it aside and step forward with courage.
What about you? Will you step forward today with courage and overcome the fears that haunt you and keep you from living your full life?
A few famous quotes about fear to close:
"You block your dream when you allow your fear to grow bigger than your faith." ~Mary Manin Morrissey
"Fear makes the wolf bigger than he is." ~ German Proverb
"What are fears but voices airy?
Whispering harm where harm is not.
And deluding the unwary
Till the fatal bolt is shot!"
~ Wordsworth
"I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain."
~ Frank Herbert, Dune - Bene Gesserit Litany Against Fear
"What we fear comes to pass more speedily than what we hope."
~ Publilius Syrus - Moral Sayings (1st C B.C.)
"The Life of Every Man is a diary in which he means to write one story, and writes another. His humblest hour is when he compares the volume as is with what he vowed to make it." - James Berry
This quote was in a newsletter sent to me by a friend over the weekend. It really struck me to my core thinking about what it says. It was especially poignant since I spent the weekend with some of my climbing team from Kilimanjaro. We participated in a presentation to people with people with Parkinson's about how important it is to have a positive outlook, to set goals and keep moving. Over the weekend we spent a lot of time together reliving and processing our experiences on Kilimanjaro. One of the themes I heard over and over again from the people who climbed with us that have MS or PD is that they wouldn't change a thing. That their lives now having more meaning and purpose because of their disease. This really touched me after reading the quote above because these people started out thinking they were going to write a very different story before they were diagnosed and now they are writing something different. They have chosen to use it to build strength and character and to impact and inspire others with the disease. What story am I choosing to write?
I've been really trying to think about the story that I meant to write long ago when I started out in the world and the one that I am writing now. I think most people don't really reflect on this sort of thing until they come closer to their end in life or to some life or death circumstance. But I want to make sure that I am writing the story I will be happy to measure myself against at the end of my days. But first I have to consider what keeps me from writing that story.
When I was in high school and college I loved the creative arts - painting, drawing, drama, photography, writing. All these things gave me great joy but I saw no economic way to make a living at them that was "safe". Growing up my father was a real estate developer. So sometimes we had lots of money and other times not very much. This created a sense of fear in me around money and wanting to have a secure source of money . so despite the fact that I wanted to study theatre or something in the arts, I chose a career in accounting. I was good at and it came easily. I graduated with honors and went out in the to world to make my mark. I had taken my first step away from the story I had originally wanted to "write" for myself. My career moved along nicely and I continued to get promotions or new jobs with more responsibility and more money. But I wasn't any more secure. I always felt like I didn't have enough to be secure. This kept me locked in a cage of fear for more than 20 years chasing the goal of enough. Over those years I sacrificed and sold my time - time away from the things and the people that I loved - but I was never secure. I was still locked in the cage. The biggest lock to my cage is my fear around money. In 2007, I finally got a little courage and I quit but I was still locked in the cage, writing the same story that was off course - going back to my comfort zone looking at "jobs" that were in my field of experience. But my field of experience wasn't my passion. Each time I would allow myself to get off course of exploring my passions it was because I was being gripped by fear - fear of not enough money, fear that people would think I was nuts, fear that I would lose everything I had worked so hard for, fear of really speaking my truth. As I started to examine myself and understand that I was locked in this cage of fear, I began to notice how many times I heard other people mention the words "fear" or "afraid". If you stop and really listen in your daily life to the people around you I think you will be amazed at how many times you will hear those words.
So it occurred to me that as a society we are overwhelmingly locked in a cage of fear from obtaining our full potential. Fear prevents us from even trying in so many cases. Here are just a few examples I have observed in the last month:
a friend of my daughter's didn't try out for the play because she was afraid she wouldn't get a part
another friend of hers didn't try out for volleyball because she was afraid she would get cut
a friend of mine didn't send a resume in for a job opening because they were afraid they didn't have enough experience
another friend didn't call a potential client because she was afraid her bid would be too high and she wouldn't get it
one of my MS friends from the climb said she was afraid her life was over when she was diagnosed and she just sat down and stopped living for a while
one of our fellow climbers quit at the very beginning because she was terrified she wouldn't make it and would be a burden to others
my daughter wants to be a sculptor but she doesn't because she's afraid she can't make a living at it
I'm not finishing my novel because I'm afraid that "I'm not a writer and I won't be able to get it published"
Some people didn't fly on Sunday because they were afraid they might be on a plane that would blow up
The stock market keeps gyrating because people are afraid and their fear makes the market more unstable
See how these fears prevent each of us from doing something or reaching for something that we really want. It really is a cage that holds us back from fully experiencing our lives as they should be. So what if we don't get the part or nobody buys the book or we don't reach the top of the climb - isn't it better to have tried and failed than not to try at all? Can't we dust ourselves off and try again and again. Its hard but it can be done.
I am working hard every day now to unlock my own cage of fear and step out to write the story of my life that I really want it to be - not the safe, easy version - the full out, sailing through the air, adventure of a life that I know my life can be if I am not afraid to live it. That doesn't mean I won't have fears from time to time. What it means is that each time I am faced with a fear that could lead me down a path to a mediocre life, I will cast it aside and step forward with courage.
What about you? Will you step forward today with courage and overcome the fears that haunt you and keep you from living your full life?
A few famous quotes about fear to close:
"You block your dream when you allow your fear to grow bigger than your faith." ~Mary Manin Morrissey
"Fear makes the wolf bigger than he is." ~ German Proverb
"What are fears but voices airy?
Whispering harm where harm is not.
And deluding the unwary
Till the fatal bolt is shot!"
~ Wordsworth
"I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain."
~ Frank Herbert, Dune - Bene Gesserit Litany Against Fear
"What we fear comes to pass more speedily than what we hope."
~ Publilius Syrus - Moral Sayings (1st C B.C.)
Remembering the Falling Man
This blog is moving to www.marthacarlin.com. If you are following this blog, please follow on the new URL.
Today there were many memorial shows about 9-11 on television but none really showed much of the real impact of what happened that day. Most just had a short clip or two of the buildings burning. I was looking for the coverage that showed the buildings as the second tower was attacked and they both fell. I was looking for coverage of the Pentagon burning to remind myself of that day when I drove across the 14th Street Bridge leaving DC and looked over to see the building in flames. I think it is important to remember and reflect. While I was searching and watching videos on youTube I came across this documentary on the falling man. It tells the story of the controversy over the photograph of the falling man and one man’s journey to try to understand why WE didn’t want to see or talk about the people who jumped from the buildings that day and to find and tell the story of the person from the photograph.
Included here is the documentary. It is just over an hour long. I would encourage you to watch when you have the time to look at it and reflect. Ultimately he was never able to confirm definitively who the falling man was. But the falling man,for me,defines the tragedy of that day in a way no other photograph of the day can. It captures the human toll,the fear,the desperation and the lack of choices these people had. I watched the video with my son Jack,one was not even two years old on 9-11. He cringed as he watched it and we cried. He asked some questions but mostly just soaked in the horror of what happened. I wanted him to know,to try to understand what happened. In the closing of the documentary the narrator talks about this man as the “unknown soldier of 9-11″. So my tribute to him and to all those lost on that day was to watch the documentary and to remember fully this man and the others who chose a different fate than choking or burning in the inferno.
He is somewhere in the list of names on the memorial but we will never know which name is his. http://bit.ly/qSqy5T
falling man 9-11 documentary http://bit.ly/rtGHQs
Today there were many memorial shows about 9-11 on television but none really showed much of the real impact of what happened that day. Most just had a short clip or two of the buildings burning. I was looking for the coverage that showed the buildings as the second tower was attacked and they both fell. I was looking for coverage of the Pentagon burning to remind myself of that day when I drove across the 14th Street Bridge leaving DC and looked over to see the building in flames. I think it is important to remember and reflect. While I was searching and watching videos on youTube I came across this documentary on the falling man. It tells the story of the controversy over the photograph of the falling man and one man’s journey to try to understand why WE didn’t want to see or talk about the people who jumped from the buildings that day and to find and tell the story of the person from the photograph.
Included here is the documentary. It is just over an hour long. I would encourage you to watch when you have the time to look at it and reflect. Ultimately he was never able to confirm definitively who the falling man was. But the falling man,for me,defines the tragedy of that day in a way no other photograph of the day can. It captures the human toll,the fear,the desperation and the lack of choices these people had. I watched the video with my son Jack,one was not even two years old on 9-11. He cringed as he watched it and we cried. He asked some questions but mostly just soaked in the horror of what happened. I wanted him to know,to try to understand what happened. In the closing of the documentary the narrator talks about this man as the “unknown soldier of 9-11″. So my tribute to him and to all those lost on that day was to watch the documentary and to remember fully this man and the others who chose a different fate than choking or burning in the inferno.
He is somewhere in the list of names on the memorial but we will never know which name is his. http://bit.ly/qSqy5T
falling man 9-11 documentary http://bit.ly/rtGHQs
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Remembering My 9-11 Journey 10 years ago
Ten years ago today I was in Washington,DC at a conference at the Willard Hotel. The night before I had been out for drinks with an Australian news crew who was in town with their Prime Minister. They had been talking about what a boring trip it had been. I often think back on that comment when one of my children says that the day is “boring”. Boring and ordinary is not so bad when you consider what the opposite might be.
On the morning of September 11th I had breakfast with my boss,Tom,who had flown in from New York that morning. He had been at the World Trade Center the day before for a meeting with investors. The conference had just started when it was interrupted to tell us that a plane had hit the first tower. Many of the attendees were from New York so they suggested people who were step out and let people know they were okay or check on those back in New York. Tom stepped out to the call the office and let them know he was in DC and not New York. The conference continued for a few minutes more. A few minutes until they came and told us that another plane had hit the second tower. We were dumbfounded as we left the room. I found Tom and we went up to my room to look at the television. Just as we arrived we saw that the Pentagon had also been hit. That wasn’t far from where we were. We were scared. Tom said to finish packing that we were going to leave and go to our offices in Richmond. But we didn’t have a car. I quickly packed as we watched the coverage of the towers falling to the ground. It didn’t seem real. As we made our way through the lobby of the Willard we saw people huddled in groups trying to figure out what they were going to do. Most at the conference did not have cars so an escape was going to be a challenge.
We walked out the front of the building to chaos. All of the Federal Buildings were being evacuated. The roads were clogged with cars and the streets with people coming out of the buildings. We turned to our left and there sat an empty cab. Tom opened the back door and asked if he would take us to Richmond.
He said,“Sure. I want to get the hell out of here.”
We merged in to the heavy traffic and made our way toward the 14th street bridge –the route to I95 South to Richmond. We weren’t initially thinking how this would take us past the Pentagon. Within minutes we were driving across the bridge with very little traffic. There were cars pulled to the side all along the bridge,their occupants standing outside,mouths wide open,staring in the direction of the Pentagon. There was black flume of smoke rising from the building. It was surreal.
Our cab driver had no radio and we were getting agitated not knowing if anything else had happened. Tom asked the cab driver to pull off the highway in to Pentagon City so we could go in to a store and get a radio. We could not get our cell phones to work –there was too much volume for the system. The driver pulled off and we immediately realized we had made a mistake. People were pouring out of the metro stations like rats from a sewer. The roads were packed with people wandering around in a daze. There were people in military uniforms with clip boards on several corners. There would be no stopping for a radio. This detour took us well over an hour. It is extremely difficult to get out of the Pentagon area and back on I95. By the time we got back on to the interstate,we were the only car on either side of the road. I95 is an extremely busy artery into to DC. Being the only car on the road was unnerving,especially with no radio to indicate if there was further danger.
I remember driving down the highway in silence. All along the drive I saw raptors circling in the sky. At the time I thought they were hawks. I later figured out they were turkey vultures. We were finally able to reach one of our co-workers in Richmond on the cell phone. He started driving our way and we met a the Quantico exit. There was a long line of cars waiting to get in to Quantico –the marines were already headed to our defense.
Most of the next two days were a blur. I missed most of the news coverage for those days and the two days it took us to drive and fly back to Denver. We looked at every option to get home but there were none. We were finally able to get a rental car from Hertz on Thursday. We left at 8pm and started driving west through the mountains of Virginia and West Virginia. There was a terrible accident on the highway and the road was shut down for several hours. Everyone turned their cars off and sat parked on I64. Tom and got out and walked up and down the shoulder of the road,while Joseph,our other co-worker sat with the car. We were finally able to go again sometime after midnight. We drove through my hometown around 4am and stopped for a few minutes to say hello to my parents and get a few pillows so we could sleep in the van. We drove on through the day,stopping for breakfast in St. Louis. Sometime after 1 Tom’s assistant Alix called us to say she had a plane for us if we could make it to Kansas City by 3. We stopped to get a radar detector and got on the road driving as fast as we thought was safe but would get us there in time. The window to fly was going to be small,if we missed it we would have to continue driving. We were exhausted and probably should not have been driving but we made it to the airport and boarded our plane. We arrived in Denver around 4:30pm that Friday after the attack. Joseph’s friend picked us up and dropped me off at home.
I just wanted to sit and hold my family. We hugged,then I fell exhausted in to the bed and slept for several hours. My daughter Lindsay was 12,Mary Mac 3 and Jack was 1 1/2. Lindsay was old enough to understand that something terrible had happened. My younger children were not. They have no real recollection of it. The images of those days and weeks are not imprinted in their minds forever.
In the weeks following the attack what I remember most is the silence in the skies –no noise pollution from airplanes constantly overhead. It was soothing,yet erie. I also remember the kindness of strangers –people reaching out to each other,talking to strangers,smiling,helping each other. That’s the one thing that sticks out to me ten years later –how far we have moved away from that sense of oneness that produce kindness and consideration. The vitriolic discourse and inflaming news coverage drives a wedge that puts civility out of reach.
Just for today,reflecting on that,I ask if we can’t remember our oneness ten years ago. Can we reach back to that feeling,that understand and comprehend that we are many but we are also one. Can we try to find that civility again? Appreciating our differences and finding common ground to move forward?
I did not realize until recently the impact 9/11 had in changing me and my path in life. It was from that point that I began to question everything that I had worked for up to that point. It has taken ten years but my path has changed dramatically in that time. Has yours?
On the morning of September 11th I had breakfast with my boss,Tom,who had flown in from New York that morning. He had been at the World Trade Center the day before for a meeting with investors. The conference had just started when it was interrupted to tell us that a plane had hit the first tower. Many of the attendees were from New York so they suggested people who were step out and let people know they were okay or check on those back in New York. Tom stepped out to the call the office and let them know he was in DC and not New York. The conference continued for a few minutes more. A few minutes until they came and told us that another plane had hit the second tower. We were dumbfounded as we left the room. I found Tom and we went up to my room to look at the television. Just as we arrived we saw that the Pentagon had also been hit. That wasn’t far from where we were. We were scared. Tom said to finish packing that we were going to leave and go to our offices in Richmond. But we didn’t have a car. I quickly packed as we watched the coverage of the towers falling to the ground. It didn’t seem real. As we made our way through the lobby of the Willard we saw people huddled in groups trying to figure out what they were going to do. Most at the conference did not have cars so an escape was going to be a challenge.
We walked out the front of the building to chaos. All of the Federal Buildings were being evacuated. The roads were clogged with cars and the streets with people coming out of the buildings. We turned to our left and there sat an empty cab. Tom opened the back door and asked if he would take us to Richmond.
He said,“Sure. I want to get the hell out of here.”
We merged in to the heavy traffic and made our way toward the 14th street bridge –the route to I95 South to Richmond. We weren’t initially thinking how this would take us past the Pentagon. Within minutes we were driving across the bridge with very little traffic. There were cars pulled to the side all along the bridge,their occupants standing outside,mouths wide open,staring in the direction of the Pentagon. There was black flume of smoke rising from the building. It was surreal.
Our cab driver had no radio and we were getting agitated not knowing if anything else had happened. Tom asked the cab driver to pull off the highway in to Pentagon City so we could go in to a store and get a radio. We could not get our cell phones to work –there was too much volume for the system. The driver pulled off and we immediately realized we had made a mistake. People were pouring out of the metro stations like rats from a sewer. The roads were packed with people wandering around in a daze. There were people in military uniforms with clip boards on several corners. There would be no stopping for a radio. This detour took us well over an hour. It is extremely difficult to get out of the Pentagon area and back on I95. By the time we got back on to the interstate,we were the only car on either side of the road. I95 is an extremely busy artery into to DC. Being the only car on the road was unnerving,especially with no radio to indicate if there was further danger.
I remember driving down the highway in silence. All along the drive I saw raptors circling in the sky. At the time I thought they were hawks. I later figured out they were turkey vultures. We were finally able to reach one of our co-workers in Richmond on the cell phone. He started driving our way and we met a the Quantico exit. There was a long line of cars waiting to get in to Quantico –the marines were already headed to our defense.
Most of the next two days were a blur. I missed most of the news coverage for those days and the two days it took us to drive and fly back to Denver. We looked at every option to get home but there were none. We were finally able to get a rental car from Hertz on Thursday. We left at 8pm and started driving west through the mountains of Virginia and West Virginia. There was a terrible accident on the highway and the road was shut down for several hours. Everyone turned their cars off and sat parked on I64. Tom and got out and walked up and down the shoulder of the road,while Joseph,our other co-worker sat with the car. We were finally able to go again sometime after midnight. We drove through my hometown around 4am and stopped for a few minutes to say hello to my parents and get a few pillows so we could sleep in the van. We drove on through the day,stopping for breakfast in St. Louis. Sometime after 1 Tom’s assistant Alix called us to say she had a plane for us if we could make it to Kansas City by 3. We stopped to get a radar detector and got on the road driving as fast as we thought was safe but would get us there in time. The window to fly was going to be small,if we missed it we would have to continue driving. We were exhausted and probably should not have been driving but we made it to the airport and boarded our plane. We arrived in Denver around 4:30pm that Friday after the attack. Joseph’s friend picked us up and dropped me off at home.
I just wanted to sit and hold my family. We hugged,then I fell exhausted in to the bed and slept for several hours. My daughter Lindsay was 12,Mary Mac 3 and Jack was 1 1/2. Lindsay was old enough to understand that something terrible had happened. My younger children were not. They have no real recollection of it. The images of those days and weeks are not imprinted in their minds forever.
In the weeks following the attack what I remember most is the silence in the skies –no noise pollution from airplanes constantly overhead. It was soothing,yet erie. I also remember the kindness of strangers –people reaching out to each other,talking to strangers,smiling,helping each other. That’s the one thing that sticks out to me ten years later –how far we have moved away from that sense of oneness that produce kindness and consideration. The vitriolic discourse and inflaming news coverage drives a wedge that puts civility out of reach.
Just for today,reflecting on that,I ask if we can’t remember our oneness ten years ago. Can we reach back to that feeling,that understand and comprehend that we are many but we are also one. Can we try to find that civility again? Appreciating our differences and finding common ground to move forward?
I did not realize until recently the impact 9/11 had in changing me and my path in life. It was from that point that I began to question everything that I had worked for up to that point. It has taken ten years but my path has changed dramatically in that time. Has yours?
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Chop, chop, toss, pop
this blog is moving to www.marthacarlin.com, partly because the links on blogger only work about half the time. Frustrating.....
Another busy afternoon in the kitchen. After a morning of cleaning up computer files and sorting things for the upcoming garage sale,cooking seemed like a good break. John wanted something light for dinner –soup and salads. At first thought that seems like it wouldn’t take too much time to put together. Not so,not so. One of John’s favorite things is gazpacho. I decided to surprise him with a batch. This requires a great deal of chopping. Chopped tomatoes,chopped peppers,chopped onions,chopped parsley,chopped cucumbers –toss in some worcestershire sauce,tomato juice,broth (I used veggie),hot sauce,salt,pepper and this recipe had a hard boiled egg thrown in. Interesting but not my favorite. I need another recipe. John liked it though.
On the salad front more chop –thus the chop,chop. On the menu –potato salad,spicy bean salad,Jamie Oliver’s wild rice salad,fruit salad and tomato salad –all of which required chopping.
Potato salad –boil a small bag of new potatoes,drain and cut in to smaller pieces. While they are still hot toss them with a mix of 6T olive oil and 2T lemon juice,then add dill,capers,a small amount of diced onion or shallot,chives if you have them and 1/4 c. of plain yogurt (I life Fage 2%) –salt and pepper to taste.
Spicy bean salad –I make this all the time but it is never the same since I don’t use a recipe –toss in two cans of beans (any will do). Today I used black beans and cannellini beans. Add diced peppers –red,yellow,orange or green,diced red onion,herbs (basil and parsley if you have them),corn (frozen or fresh cut off the cob and roasted in the oven). Today I roasted the fresh cut corn with some cumin,cayenne and salt. Add sriracha or other hot sauce to taste and either oil and vinegar dressing or buttermilk ranch. Today I used ranch. I also tossed in some sun-dried tomatoes. Today’s batch was a bit spicier than usual but it didn’t stop John and Mary Mac from devouring it. Jack is not a fan.
Rice salad –cook long grain and wild rice according to package and then cool. Add fresh herbs –basil,parsley and mint,about one sprig of each,chopped. Add 8oz of diced roasted red peppers. Toss with lemon dressing –3T olive oil,1 T lemon juice shaken in a jar with salt and pepper. Sometimes I add feta or goat cheese and black olives but not today.
Tomato salad –I vary this one all the time too –using different vinegars,adding cheese or leaving it out,adding olives or leaving them out,adding beans or leaving them out. Today’s mix –diced beefsteak tomatoe tossed with red wine vinegar and oil dressing (3T oil and 1 T vinegar shaken in a jar with salt and pepper),added tiny balls of fresh mozzarella,fresh basil leaves and half a cup of cannellini beans.
Fruit salad –cut up 1 peach,1 pluot,1 plum,1 apple,5 strawberries,1/4 cantelope and toss together.
By the time I finished all the chopping and got this on the table it had been about two and half hours. The time flew though because I love being in the kitchen. Chopping is a form of meditation for me. The rhythmic motion of the knife on the cutting board can really absorb me and clean my mind. Its like a dance moving from one ingredient to another –chop,chop,toss,stir,taste.
We have enough of the salads to have a nice lunch tomorrow with fresh peaches I am hoping to get at the Parker Farmer’s Market. It is nearing the end of the season so its anybody’s guess as to whether there will be peaches tomorrow. My taste buds hope so.
After the dinner clean up,I decided to make a dessert mess. This happens with me a lot. Poor John is usually the clean up guy. He gets everything in the dishwasher and the counters clean and I turn right around and start making a mess again. Isn’t it that way with life though. Just when you think you’ve got everything straightened out something new comes along to stir things up. Well my new mess involved stirring –lots of it. I decided to make the base custard from Ciao Bella so I could cool it over night and make Key Lime and graham cracker gelato tomorrow. Besides,I need to use up my Longmont Dairy Milk. They have the best milk going –no hormones,fresh,local,grass fed cows…. But I am required to buy a minimum of 3 half gallons a week. We don’t always drink this much so it leaves me coming up with ideas of what to do with it. Sometimes I make yogurt. Today it is gelato. The base recipe calls for 4 cups of whole milk,1 cup of whipping cream,1 cup of sugar and 4 egg yolks. The milk and cream are mixed and warmed in a sauce pan to 170 degrees. While this is going on the sugar and egg yolks are beaten to pale yellow. When the milk reaches 170 you temper the eggs –that means to put a little bit of the warm milk in the eggs while you whisk them briskly,adding milk a little at time until the eggs are mixed with the milk. Then you cook it further on low to 185 degrees stirring constantly until it coats the back of a wooden spoon. This takes a little while and gets kind of hot standing over the stove. When you are finished you have to strain the custard mixture through a fine strainer to get out any egg that has solidified. This takes quite a while. Lucky for me Jack found it interesting and came to the rescue. Now it is cooling on the counter awaiting a night in the freezer. More tomorrow on how delicious the gelato is –along with the recipe if you want to make it.
Finally,we finished off the evening with a favorite movie –Lord of the Rings and some pop corn,the old fashioned way. I popped it in a pan with oil –none of that microwave stuff with artificial flavors. This is an art in itself. It can be hard to get it right without burning the pan. Cover the bottom of the pan with oil and heat it up with one kernel in the pan. When that kernel pops you know your pan is ready. Add about half a cup of popcorn. Put the lid on and keep shaking the pan to make sure the popped corn rises to the top and the unpopped kernels stay at the bottom to continue popping. That’s the real trick to not burning it –constant movement. Once the sound of popping slows you know its time to take it off the heat. If you wait for every last kernel to pop you are probably going to have a burnt pan. Resist the urge. Then toss with season –we add cajun and salt along with a little real butter.
Finally after 4 long hours,I retire to the couch with my bowl to revisit “Lord of the Rings”. We all love this movie though Jack was afraid of Gollum when he was little. I love Galadriel’s monologue at the beginning.
“The world is changed. I feel it in the water. I feel it in the earth. I smell it in the air. Must that once was is lost,for none now live who remember it.”
I am not sure what year Tolkein wrote the book but it was a number of years ago. I think her monologue is timeless. With each generation comes change and something is lost of the past. Today for example,few know how to grow their own food and children don’t know where most of their food comes from other than the grocery store. We are losing our knowledge of how things are made because nothing is made here in the US anymore. In another generation all those skills will be lost. There are hundreds of varieties of seeds that are no longer grown and will eventually pass away from memory. Youth want their electronic devices more than their sense of smell (see previous blog entry). Change is inevitable. It will happen no matter how we try to stop it. So how do we embrace the change while still trying to steer it in a good direction.
“Even the smallest person can change the course of the future”–Galadriel to Frodo. So true. So true. Never think that you don’t matter. You do and you can make a difference.
Well enough wandering through my mind for the day. Like I said,you never know what you mind find here.
Another busy afternoon in the kitchen. After a morning of cleaning up computer files and sorting things for the upcoming garage sale,cooking seemed like a good break. John wanted something light for dinner –soup and salads. At first thought that seems like it wouldn’t take too much time to put together. Not so,not so. One of John’s favorite things is gazpacho. I decided to surprise him with a batch. This requires a great deal of chopping. Chopped tomatoes,chopped peppers,chopped onions,chopped parsley,chopped cucumbers –toss in some worcestershire sauce,tomato juice,broth (I used veggie),hot sauce,salt,pepper and this recipe had a hard boiled egg thrown in. Interesting but not my favorite. I need another recipe. John liked it though.
On the salad front more chop –thus the chop,chop. On the menu –potato salad,spicy bean salad,Jamie Oliver’s wild rice salad,fruit salad and tomato salad –all of which required chopping.
Potato salad –boil a small bag of new potatoes,drain and cut in to smaller pieces. While they are still hot toss them with a mix of 6T olive oil and 2T lemon juice,then add dill,capers,a small amount of diced onion or shallot,chives if you have them and 1/4 c. of plain yogurt (I life Fage 2%) –salt and pepper to taste.
Spicy bean salad –I make this all the time but it is never the same since I don’t use a recipe –toss in two cans of beans (any will do). Today I used black beans and cannellini beans. Add diced peppers –red,yellow,orange or green,diced red onion,herbs (basil and parsley if you have them),corn (frozen or fresh cut off the cob and roasted in the oven). Today I roasted the fresh cut corn with some cumin,cayenne and salt. Add sriracha or other hot sauce to taste and either oil and vinegar dressing or buttermilk ranch. Today I used ranch. I also tossed in some sun-dried tomatoes. Today’s batch was a bit spicier than usual but it didn’t stop John and Mary Mac from devouring it. Jack is not a fan.
Rice salad –cook long grain and wild rice according to package and then cool. Add fresh herbs –basil,parsley and mint,about one sprig of each,chopped. Add 8oz of diced roasted red peppers. Toss with lemon dressing –3T olive oil,1 T lemon juice shaken in a jar with salt and pepper. Sometimes I add feta or goat cheese and black olives but not today.
Tomato salad –I vary this one all the time too –using different vinegars,adding cheese or leaving it out,adding olives or leaving them out,adding beans or leaving them out. Today’s mix –diced beefsteak tomatoe tossed with red wine vinegar and oil dressing (3T oil and 1 T vinegar shaken in a jar with salt and pepper),added tiny balls of fresh mozzarella,fresh basil leaves and half a cup of cannellini beans.
Fruit salad –cut up 1 peach,1 pluot,1 plum,1 apple,5 strawberries,1/4 cantelope and toss together.
By the time I finished all the chopping and got this on the table it had been about two and half hours. The time flew though because I love being in the kitchen. Chopping is a form of meditation for me. The rhythmic motion of the knife on the cutting board can really absorb me and clean my mind. Its like a dance moving from one ingredient to another –chop,chop,toss,stir,taste.
We have enough of the salads to have a nice lunch tomorrow with fresh peaches I am hoping to get at the Parker Farmer’s Market. It is nearing the end of the season so its anybody’s guess as to whether there will be peaches tomorrow. My taste buds hope so.
After the dinner clean up,I decided to make a dessert mess. This happens with me a lot. Poor John is usually the clean up guy. He gets everything in the dishwasher and the counters clean and I turn right around and start making a mess again. Isn’t it that way with life though. Just when you think you’ve got everything straightened out something new comes along to stir things up. Well my new mess involved stirring –lots of it. I decided to make the base custard from Ciao Bella so I could cool it over night and make Key Lime and graham cracker gelato tomorrow. Besides,I need to use up my Longmont Dairy Milk. They have the best milk going –no hormones,fresh,local,grass fed cows…. But I am required to buy a minimum of 3 half gallons a week. We don’t always drink this much so it leaves me coming up with ideas of what to do with it. Sometimes I make yogurt. Today it is gelato. The base recipe calls for 4 cups of whole milk,1 cup of whipping cream,1 cup of sugar and 4 egg yolks. The milk and cream are mixed and warmed in a sauce pan to 170 degrees. While this is going on the sugar and egg yolks are beaten to pale yellow. When the milk reaches 170 you temper the eggs –that means to put a little bit of the warm milk in the eggs while you whisk them briskly,adding milk a little at time until the eggs are mixed with the milk. Then you cook it further on low to 185 degrees stirring constantly until it coats the back of a wooden spoon. This takes a little while and gets kind of hot standing over the stove. When you are finished you have to strain the custard mixture through a fine strainer to get out any egg that has solidified. This takes quite a while. Lucky for me Jack found it interesting and came to the rescue. Now it is cooling on the counter awaiting a night in the freezer. More tomorrow on how delicious the gelato is –along with the recipe if you want to make it.
Finally,we finished off the evening with a favorite movie –Lord of the Rings and some pop corn,the old fashioned way. I popped it in a pan with oil –none of that microwave stuff with artificial flavors. This is an art in itself. It can be hard to get it right without burning the pan. Cover the bottom of the pan with oil and heat it up with one kernel in the pan. When that kernel pops you know your pan is ready. Add about half a cup of popcorn. Put the lid on and keep shaking the pan to make sure the popped corn rises to the top and the unpopped kernels stay at the bottom to continue popping. That’s the real trick to not burning it –constant movement. Once the sound of popping slows you know its time to take it off the heat. If you wait for every last kernel to pop you are probably going to have a burnt pan. Resist the urge. Then toss with season –we add cajun and salt along with a little real butter.
Finally after 4 long hours,I retire to the couch with my bowl to revisit “Lord of the Rings”. We all love this movie though Jack was afraid of Gollum when he was little. I love Galadriel’s monologue at the beginning.
“The world is changed. I feel it in the water. I feel it in the earth. I smell it in the air. Must that once was is lost,for none now live who remember it.”
I am not sure what year Tolkein wrote the book but it was a number of years ago. I think her monologue is timeless. With each generation comes change and something is lost of the past. Today for example,few know how to grow their own food and children don’t know where most of their food comes from other than the grocery store. We are losing our knowledge of how things are made because nothing is made here in the US anymore. In another generation all those skills will be lost. There are hundreds of varieties of seeds that are no longer grown and will eventually pass away from memory. Youth want their electronic devices more than their sense of smell (see previous blog entry). Change is inevitable. It will happen no matter how we try to stop it. So how do we embrace the change while still trying to steer it in a good direction.
“Even the smallest person can change the course of the future”–Galadriel to Frodo. So true. So true. Never think that you don’t matter. You do and you can make a difference.
Well enough wandering through my mind for the day. Like I said,you never know what you mind find here.
What is Chaos?
Blog is moving to www.marthacarlin.com
A few weeks ago I wrote about the chaos in my garden - my daughter's description, not necessarily mine. I find the them of trying to find "order" in my life keeps coming back over and over. Moving my blog over to this URL I am still missing a few key elements from my other site. One of them, my oldest, in length of years not in age, friend Tracy pointed out was the comment "you never know what you might find here". That is probably the key element of description for a my blog. I pull together a seemingly random collection of topics and thoughts that come to mind. So maybe its time to revisit Chaos.
What is Chaos?
I mentioned the book Sync by Steven Strogatz in my previous entry http://amzn.to/qz51bZ . As I was flipping through the pages recalling different parts of the book I came across a discussion of chaos. Here is the discussion from the book that drove home the key "theme", if there is one, of my blog:
"The first step is to understand chaos itself. Unfortunately, many of us begin with faulty preconceptions about what chaos is like. Part of the confusion stems from the word itself. In colloquial usage, chaos refers to a state that only appears random, but is actually generated by nonrandom laws. As such, it occupies an unfamiliar middle ground between order and disorder. It looks erratic superficially, yet it contains cryptic pattersn and is governed by rigid rules. It's predictable in the short run but unpredictable in the long run."
I really like the thought of my bog occupying the middle ground between order and disorder.
But then I read on in the book to further discussion of chaos.
"Another subtlety: In chaos, every point is a point o finstability. It's worse than the quandary face by Robert Frost's traveler in "The Road Not Taken" (see earlier post - more lessons from the trail) - a life ruled by chaos is even more precarious. Every moment would be a moment of truth. Every decision would have long-term consequences that would alter your life beyond recognition."
Wow, that really gets my head spinning. A person could go nuts going back and hashing over decisions from the past and trying to figure out how they changed the present. Even worse, a person could get totally bogged down in indecision out of fear of making the wrong decision and going down the wrong road. I think many people are actually like this - terribly indecisive. Not me. In fact, if its possible, I am probably too decisive about everything. I make my decisions from my gut and therefore don't always consider every single bit of information or fact available.
What about you? Is there chaos to your life? Are you finding order? How decisive are you? And is every moment a moment of truth?
A few weeks ago I wrote about the chaos in my garden - my daughter's description, not necessarily mine. I find the them of trying to find "order" in my life keeps coming back over and over. Moving my blog over to this URL I am still missing a few key elements from my other site. One of them, my oldest, in length of years not in age, friend Tracy pointed out was the comment "you never know what you might find here". That is probably the key element of description for a my blog. I pull together a seemingly random collection of topics and thoughts that come to mind. So maybe its time to revisit Chaos.
What is Chaos?
I mentioned the book Sync by Steven Strogatz in my previous entry http://amzn.to/qz51bZ . As I was flipping through the pages recalling different parts of the book I came across a discussion of chaos. Here is the discussion from the book that drove home the key "theme", if there is one, of my blog:
"The first step is to understand chaos itself. Unfortunately, many of us begin with faulty preconceptions about what chaos is like. Part of the confusion stems from the word itself. In colloquial usage, chaos refers to a state that only appears random, but is actually generated by nonrandom laws. As such, it occupies an unfamiliar middle ground between order and disorder. It looks erratic superficially, yet it contains cryptic pattersn and is governed by rigid rules. It's predictable in the short run but unpredictable in the long run."
I really like the thought of my bog occupying the middle ground between order and disorder.
But then I read on in the book to further discussion of chaos.
"Another subtlety: In chaos, every point is a point o finstability. It's worse than the quandary face by Robert Frost's traveler in "The Road Not Taken" (see earlier post - more lessons from the trail) - a life ruled by chaos is even more precarious. Every moment would be a moment of truth. Every decision would have long-term consequences that would alter your life beyond recognition."
Wow, that really gets my head spinning. A person could go nuts going back and hashing over decisions from the past and trying to figure out how they changed the present. Even worse, a person could get totally bogged down in indecision out of fear of making the wrong decision and going down the wrong road. I think many people are actually like this - terribly indecisive. Not me. In fact, if its possible, I am probably too decisive about everything. I make my decisions from my gut and therefore don't always consider every single bit of information or fact available.
What about you? Is there chaos to your life? Are you finding order? How decisive are you? And is every moment a moment of truth?
Moving my blog to www.marthacarlin.com
For anyone interested in this blog, it has been moved to www.marthacarlin.com
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Why are we so out of sync?
This blog is moving to
As I was sorting through the books on the shelves trying to decide which of my “babies”to part with in the garage sale I came upon a book I read several years back called “Sync –How Order Emerges From Chaos in the Universe,Nature and Daily Life”by Steven Strogatz. Sounds a bit dry to you I imagine. It did to me at first too but it was recommended by a friend so I undertook it. I have to say it took me a long while to finish it as I undertook it as a “bathroom”read,meaning I only read a snippet here or there when I made my trip to the loo.
As I picked it up off the shelf this time and flipped back through the pages I remembered some of instances of sync discussed in the book.
Journal Science,1917 ”Some twenty years ago I saw,or thought I saw,a synchronal or simultaneous flashing of fireflies. I could hardly believe my eyes,for such a thing to occur among insects is certainly contrary to all natural laws.”–Philip Laurent
For the next twenty years the Journal Science published multiple articles on this mysterious sychrony. The book goes on to discuss numerous instances of sync in the world –brain waves,heart beats,menstrual cycles of women in close proximity,clocks,leaves of plants that open and close simultaneously. Most of these examples are both synchronic and rhythmic. But synchronicity doesn’t have to be rhythmic. For example,the various sections of an orchestra –strings,woodwinds,etc. are synchronous as they come in to play in a piece but not necessarily rhythmic.
In any event,my point here is that the universe is drawn to synchronicity. If that is so,then why can’t we,as a society,as individuals be more in sync? We are once again in a political cycle. Well really,these cycles are not cycles at all,they are perpetual states of re-election. But these campaigns seem to draw us further and further away from sync with each other as they are designed to focus on our differences rather than where we are alike. In religion,we have battles all over the world and here at home on who has the “right”religion,instead of focusing on where we are in sync. There are many basic foundational beliefs in the religions of the world that are the same. Can’t we focus our attention there to be more in sync?
I’ve stopped watching the news for the most part. It just seems designed to aggravate and induce fear and anxiety. NPR’s Talk of the Nation this week did a piece on the media hype behind Hurricane Irene and whether or not it was too much. http://n.pr/qpYULM I think the same could be said for the earthquake in Washington,DC the week before. We had the same level of earthquake out here in Colorado the same day and there was almost no news about at all. We live in this age of constant media bombardment of “news”that’s not really news. Its opinion,speculation and hype. How do we stop this crazy cycle? I’d like to see something like “the Good News Network” or the “Just the Facts M’am Network”. Wonder if that would even be possible today?
At the same time we are bombarding ourselves and our children with these images and voices of discord,we are also failing in our ability to have a civil discourse about any meaningful topic. Can’t people agree to disagree and be respectful about it? Why can’t we talk about our differences of opinion as the great debaters who founded our nation did? I just don’t get it. I like to read about and talk to people about different points of view. That’s the only way to really learn. Ask questions and listen. Maybe you won’t change your view from black to white but maybe,just maybe,you will add a shade of gray to your point of view.
As a nation,as a world,and as individuals we desperately need to give this topic some serious thought and try to turn ourselves toward SYNC. That doesn’t mean we all have to be alike,just that we move in better concert with each other -like the symphony.
As I was sorting through the books on the shelves trying to decide which of my “babies”to part with in the garage sale I came upon a book I read several years back called “Sync –How Order Emerges From Chaos in the Universe,Nature and Daily Life”by Steven Strogatz. Sounds a bit dry to you I imagine. It did to me at first too but it was recommended by a friend so I undertook it. I have to say it took me a long while to finish it as I undertook it as a “bathroom”read,meaning I only read a snippet here or there when I made my trip to the loo.
As I picked it up off the shelf this time and flipped back through the pages I remembered some of instances of sync discussed in the book.
Journal Science,1917 ”Some twenty years ago I saw,or thought I saw,a synchronal or simultaneous flashing of fireflies. I could hardly believe my eyes,for such a thing to occur among insects is certainly contrary to all natural laws.”–Philip Laurent
For the next twenty years the Journal Science published multiple articles on this mysterious sychrony. The book goes on to discuss numerous instances of sync in the world –brain waves,heart beats,menstrual cycles of women in close proximity,clocks,leaves of plants that open and close simultaneously. Most of these examples are both synchronic and rhythmic. But synchronicity doesn’t have to be rhythmic. For example,the various sections of an orchestra –strings,woodwinds,etc. are synchronous as they come in to play in a piece but not necessarily rhythmic.
In any event,my point here is that the universe is drawn to synchronicity. If that is so,then why can’t we,as a society,as individuals be more in sync? We are once again in a political cycle. Well really,these cycles are not cycles at all,they are perpetual states of re-election. But these campaigns seem to draw us further and further away from sync with each other as they are designed to focus on our differences rather than where we are alike. In religion,we have battles all over the world and here at home on who has the “right”religion,instead of focusing on where we are in sync. There are many basic foundational beliefs in the religions of the world that are the same. Can’t we focus our attention there to be more in sync?
I’ve stopped watching the news for the most part. It just seems designed to aggravate and induce fear and anxiety. NPR’s Talk of the Nation this week did a piece on the media hype behind Hurricane Irene and whether or not it was too much. http://n.pr/qpYULM I think the same could be said for the earthquake in Washington,DC the week before. We had the same level of earthquake out here in Colorado the same day and there was almost no news about at all. We live in this age of constant media bombardment of “news”that’s not really news. Its opinion,speculation and hype. How do we stop this crazy cycle? I’d like to see something like “the Good News Network” or the “Just the Facts M’am Network”. Wonder if that would even be possible today?
At the same time we are bombarding ourselves and our children with these images and voices of discord,we are also failing in our ability to have a civil discourse about any meaningful topic. Can’t people agree to disagree and be respectful about it? Why can’t we talk about our differences of opinion as the great debaters who founded our nation did? I just don’t get it. I like to read about and talk to people about different points of view. That’s the only way to really learn. Ask questions and listen. Maybe you won’t change your view from black to white but maybe,just maybe,you will add a shade of gray to your point of view.
As a nation,as a world,and as individuals we desperately need to give this topic some serious thought and try to turn ourselves toward SYNC. That doesn’t mean we all have to be alike,just that we move in better concert with each other -like the symphony.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Aroma, Scent, Smell - What fools these children be.......
Yesterday I read a tidbit in Real Simple Magazine. It said that according to research by McCann Worldgroup 53% of 16 to 22-year-olds around the world would rather give up their sense of smell than their favorite personal technology device. It took a minute or two for that to sink it. I could argue about their sample size and what countries they surveyed to argue against this but that is beside the point.
The point is that our children have been deprived of their senses, especially smell, so much so that they are not even aware of the importance of some of them.
"Our sense of smell is 10,000 times more sensitive than any other of our senses and recognition of smell is immediate." (von Have, Serene Aromatherapy).
Our children grow up in these sterile environments in well lit rooms filled with electronic gadgets to distract their attention. Many are rarely outside surrounded by the smells of nature. Smell has the ability to achieve instant memory recall. When I smell the rich, thick, earthy aroma of rotting organic matter, I am instantly transported back to the woods of my childhood. My mind goes back to the rich soil under my feet and in my fingernails from hours spent exploring the woods behind my neighbors house. Just after the lawn is mowed and a gentle rain falls, again, I am transported back in my mind to days of my childhood. The sweet smell of grass mingling with the crisp scent of the falling rain. Would I give this up for an iPhone? Are you crazy?
I remember as a child standing in the front hall closet and smelling my Dad's khaki work jacket. It was infused with the scent of tobacco and my father's unique earthiness from a day of construction work. I used to hold the jacket up to my face and just breathe it in. My father is gone but I could bring him back in an instant with that mix of smells. As any of you know who have lost a loved one, some of the most treasured things you have in the weeks following the loss are not golden lockets or even photographs, they are the old shirt, the pillow, the blanket they last used. We close our eyes and hold them close and evoke the full sense of "knowing" our loved one is still there with us. I remember when my Dad's T-shirt, I had saved after he died, was washed by accident and the scent was no longer there. I was heart broken. Nothing can recreate that. Would I give this up for a Computer? No way.
Every time I smell fresh bread cooking it takes me back to the time Lindsay and I lived in the little house in Dallas around the corner from the Mrs. Baird's Bread Factory. I remember what my life was like then, sitting in the backyard watching Lindsay frolic around shirtless in the sprinkler while the smell of bread floated over the fence. I remember the way she smelled as a little girl - her clothes,her hair, her skin. I wish I had that in a bottle. Would I trade that for an iPad? Not on your life.
There are so many smells that evoke a great sense of pleasure or a memory for me - the leaves of a tomato plant, dirt, my mother's perfume, Vick's vapor rub, strawberries, peaches, cookies baking, pine needles, gardenias, peonies, baby soap, bourbon, wine......
My husband is losing his sense of smell. Its one of the early signs of Parkinson's. Its also an early indicator for Alzheimer's. Without a sense of smell I imagine it makes it even harder for a person losing their memory to recall things. It goes slowly at first, without notice.
The sense of smell is oh so important. Teach your children to appreciate it. Renew your own appreciation for it. Stop and smell the roses and/or the dirt. Never consider trading this critically important gift for an electronic gadget. Blasphemy!
When nothing else subsists from the past, after the people are dead, after the things are broken and scatter
the smell and taste of things remain poised a long time, like souls
bearing resiliently, on tiny and almost impalpable drops of their essence, the immense edifice of memory.
--- Marcel Proust "The Remembrance of Things Past"
The point is that our children have been deprived of their senses, especially smell, so much so that they are not even aware of the importance of some of them.
"Our sense of smell is 10,000 times more sensitive than any other of our senses and recognition of smell is immediate." (von Have, Serene Aromatherapy).
Our children grow up in these sterile environments in well lit rooms filled with electronic gadgets to distract their attention. Many are rarely outside surrounded by the smells of nature. Smell has the ability to achieve instant memory recall. When I smell the rich, thick, earthy aroma of rotting organic matter, I am instantly transported back to the woods of my childhood. My mind goes back to the rich soil under my feet and in my fingernails from hours spent exploring the woods behind my neighbors house. Just after the lawn is mowed and a gentle rain falls, again, I am transported back in my mind to days of my childhood. The sweet smell of grass mingling with the crisp scent of the falling rain. Would I give this up for an iPhone? Are you crazy?
I remember as a child standing in the front hall closet and smelling my Dad's khaki work jacket. It was infused with the scent of tobacco and my father's unique earthiness from a day of construction work. I used to hold the jacket up to my face and just breathe it in. My father is gone but I could bring him back in an instant with that mix of smells. As any of you know who have lost a loved one, some of the most treasured things you have in the weeks following the loss are not golden lockets or even photographs, they are the old shirt, the pillow, the blanket they last used. We close our eyes and hold them close and evoke the full sense of "knowing" our loved one is still there with us. I remember when my Dad's T-shirt, I had saved after he died, was washed by accident and the scent was no longer there. I was heart broken. Nothing can recreate that. Would I give this up for a Computer? No way.
Every time I smell fresh bread cooking it takes me back to the time Lindsay and I lived in the little house in Dallas around the corner from the Mrs. Baird's Bread Factory. I remember what my life was like then, sitting in the backyard watching Lindsay frolic around shirtless in the sprinkler while the smell of bread floated over the fence. I remember the way she smelled as a little girl - her clothes,her hair, her skin. I wish I had that in a bottle. Would I trade that for an iPad? Not on your life.
There are so many smells that evoke a great sense of pleasure or a memory for me - the leaves of a tomato plant, dirt, my mother's perfume, Vick's vapor rub, strawberries, peaches, cookies baking, pine needles, gardenias, peonies, baby soap, bourbon, wine......
My husband is losing his sense of smell. Its one of the early signs of Parkinson's. Its also an early indicator for Alzheimer's. Without a sense of smell I imagine it makes it even harder for a person losing their memory to recall things. It goes slowly at first, without notice.
The sense of smell is oh so important. Teach your children to appreciate it. Renew your own appreciation for it. Stop and smell the roses and/or the dirt. Never consider trading this critically important gift for an electronic gadget. Blasphemy!
When nothing else subsists from the past, after the people are dead, after the things are broken and scatter
the smell and taste of things remain poised a long time, like souls
bearing resiliently, on tiny and almost impalpable drops of their essence, the immense edifice of memory.
--- Marcel Proust "The Remembrance of Things Past"
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