Rachel led me to a very fun website, wordle.net, and I could stay at this site forever. You can enter any text you want (in this case I chose my blog), and it creates an image from your text. Apparently the more times you enter a word, the larger it shows up. I love what showed up from my blog: garden, Keats, family, motto, Kevin. I could do this all day, if only I had the time (I don't). I will defintely be back later to try some others out.
Today I found a saving grace in a small thing. Lately I have been experiencing a lot of stress, and today I just needed a break from it all. I went on a walk around the LDS Conference Center to get my heart pumping as I trucked up part of Capitol Hill. And while I was in the middle of power-walking, I saw lamb's ear next to the sidewalk. I never pick flowers out of someone else's garden or even off of the nearby mountains. But, I love lamb's ear and I felt the need to touch it. I reached down to feel it, and then I picked a leaf. I felt a little guilty, but I figured my tithing would more than cover picking one leaf out of a little garden by the Conference Center.
I've kept this leaf with me all day. It's so soft and comforting, like flannel sheets out of the dryer in winter. Thank goodness for the little things.
My favorite is the one from Shelley's "Ozymandias," about the mighty despairing at our works, because it's very tongue in cheek, and how can that be bad in a motto? We also really like the Bartleby one, "I would prefer not to." I need to use this phrase more in my life.
(image courtesy of wikipedia.org)Do any of you have a motto, personal, family, or otherwise? If not, what would it be?
After viewing an awesome virtual garden tour on Brooke's blog, I decided to go through my backyard and take a photo tour of my own. I've been working hard in my garden, and I watch it grow every day. I am happy that I've only had the online seller replace five or six of the 120 plants I ordered. It makes me feel like a good nurturer.
So I thought it would be fun to do a side-by-side comparison of my Afternoon Delight garden that I posted on a few months ago. When I got back to the computer, I looked at the new photo and the previous photo. Surprisingly, I could see little difference between the two. Oh, and did I mention that it was supposed to look like this? It makes me sad that despite my efforts, the garden hasn't grown that fast. After all, it's been three months.
Here's the garden before:
And now:
Granted, this picture doesn't show the close-up details like the flowers some of these have now. But just so this post isn't completely depressing, I am posting my favorite, healthiest coneflowers planted this spring.
In what way do you think the angst of a young adult differs from that of a teenager? While all angst seems somewhat narcissistic, to me teenage angst is routed in powerlessness. For a young adult, angst is more about futility, failed hopes and dreams, and a feeling like life has already passed us by. Now in my late twenties and re-reading John Keats' poetry, I view Keats' obsessions differently: that his life was wasted, was essentially over, and he would never achieve his dreams. He died slowly of tuberculosis at 25 and never knew he would become so revered.
I read this book review of Keats' poetry in my most recent New Yorker Magazine, which reminded me of my admiration of the poet. My senior-year seminar was on Romantic/Victorian poets and painters, and I became amazed at Keats' clear analysis of literature (he coined the description "negative capability" in regard to Shakespeare's enduring characterizations) and his own poetic creations.
This inspired me to write a poem of my own about the angst I see in Keats. Below is the sonnet I wrote, which contains four quotes cited in the New Yorker article. Now I can tell you what I found out: I hate writing sonnets. I find the form very limiting and the results contrived--I used words I'd never actually say. It's not just the rhyme scheme, but the ten syllables per line that are supposedly alternating between "down" and "up" emphasis of the iamb--or is it "up" and "down"? You take a line directly from Keats himself, “Here lies one whose name was writ on water," and see that it's hopelessly the opposite of iambic (it's trochaic). On the other hand, "When I have fears that I will cease to be" is perfect iambic pentameter. Oh well. Perfection be damned, and here it is:
Angst of a Wasted Life (A Sonnet inspired by Master Keats)
Earth awoke to cheerful blossoms and hearth
While I awoke to meet the Pain of Day
Noted a poet I met on my way,
“When I shook her by the hand, there was death!”
When I have fears that I will cease to be
I differ not from the fresh-scented flower
Turned withered bloom or dried-up bower—
I live this existence Posthumously.
Earth’s Glory subside, her Wonders deride
Praiseworthy actions all shrink before long
All Courage deemed haughty—Right be judged Wrong
Mercy extinguished by Fear and by Pride.
Moot is my glory or voice’s thunder
“Here lies one whose name was writ on water.”
Now on to doing something I enjoy: eating spaghetti made from herbs in our garden, made by Kevin, the superior chef in this house.
D'Arcy presented this meme of an artistic expression, and I thought I'd give it a try.
And for those of us who don't know what "meme" means:
Meme: (from mimesis) "An idea, behavior, style, or usage that spreads from person to person within a culture."
I made a meme--this is how the meme works:
Type your answer to each of the questions below into Flickr or Google Image search. Using only the first page, choose an image. Copy and paste each of the URL’s into the mosaic maker over at FD's image maker.
The questions:
What is your first name?
What is your favorite food? (cheese, but not all kinds are created equal)
What high school did you attend? (Brighton)
What is your favorite color? (blue)
Who is your celebrity crush? (Bono, for the whole persona, not just looks)
Favorite drink? (Coke Zero)
Dream vacation? (Southern France)
Favorite dessert? (crepes with nutella or lemon juice & powdered sugar)
What do you want to be when you grow up? (a leisurely woman)
What do you love most in life? (wilderness)
One word to describe you? (seeking)
Your nickname? (only one Kevin can use--lisa bug)
Alisa: “Enjoy driving your new Hyundai!”
Kevin: “No, it’s a Honda. Oh wait…” Pauses while reality sets in. “Oh crap.”
All jokes aside--after several weeks, three makes, three models, six dealerships, and a lot of research, we are finally very happy with our new Hyundai Elantra.
I discovered Jana's blog through Exponent, where I guest posted several months ago. I enjoy her nature photography--she has enviable close-up skills. There are two of her older posts that I think are really worth revisiting.
Maya Angelou on Forgiveness
For the last few years, my family has made a tradition of going to the Uintah Mountains on July 4th. This was where I, as a child, first learned to love the mountains, forest, meadow, and fishing. It's wonderful to see that, nearly 30 years later, my father hasn't changed much, although the little girl has.
Many people will say that emotion is what separates us from the animals. Sure, they have fight or flight responses; they can feel pain and fear. But complex emotions, those are reserved for the humans and maybe a few of our like-minded mammal buddies, such as dolphins and chimpanzees.
I, however, proudly stake myself with the other crazy pet owners who think our animal companions have the ability to show and process complex emotions. The skeptics say this is merely a form of projection—a need of our pathetic pet-owner lives to see more than what is actually there. Well, let them say it. I just happen to disagree and can vouch for the complex emotions animals express.
Jealousy: Take for instance my cats. When we brought Phoebe home to live with us, I wasn’t surprised that Aja rejected her at first. But what surprised me was how she rejected me. Even though she had little idea of why this kitten appeared in the house, she knew I was trying to make peace between them, and that made me her enemy. We had it out and didn’t really get over it for a few weeks.
Let me even make a further stretch: Empathy. What makes a cat realize that when she wants something—to go outside, to have her litter box changed, to have the floaties removed from her water—that the more pathetic her meow is, the more likely she is to receive attention? She’ll start off whining, but gradually the meows will become elongated, deeper, and more mournful. Why does she doe this? Empathy. She has to know that I want her to be happy. Then she makes her pitiful attempt, so that I will realize how my lack of action is torturing her, so I will obviously remedy the situation. Her ability to feign complete helplessness is an exercise in her emotional awareness.
Yesterday I discovered a new emotion in Phoebe. Everyone knows cats to be an aloof sort of creature. I am their servants, they are the queens. It is a privilege for me to scratch Aja behind the ear, or to twirl a toy for Phoebe. This is one thing they never let me forget, until yesterday morning. I was sitting on the couch, reading, and Phoebe came to grace me with her presence. She sat sitting on the arm of the couch, and, not wanting to make eye contact with me, she stared at the closed blinds covering the window. For a few minutes she sat that way, deeply interested in staring at nothing to avoid my gaze. At that point, I got out of my seat, walked over to the window, and turned the wand on the blinds. A whole universe opened up outside the window. Phoebe stared at amazement at how the view from her couch arm was transformed. She then looked up at me, as if I had not only exposed this new world, but created it myself. She stood amazed, asking with her eyes how I had accomplished this great work. Projection of my own desires? I think not. Since that time, I have been admired as her god.
I'm on the quest to write at least one half-decent poem in my life. Because of my perfectionism, I avoided taking a creative writing class through all six years of earning my degrees in literature. I just knew I could never write the way the poets I love did. But I figure I'll never learn if I never try, so here goes.
This one I hammered out today when I felt very comfortable. I started exploring that feeling, the sensations, the places it reminds me of, and I came up with this poem about Surprise Arch, a part of the Fiery Furnace in Arches National Park. The picture is a view of that arch from directly underneath.
Within the ancient rough-hewn room
Cave of Cliffs—and an Arch—
the Expected Place, no Surprise,
Nothing grows of Physical Matter
but of Spirit.
Cradled between the rising walls, blocking
the ever-parched Sun
A shelter provides rock, hard and cool.
Sand-paper sound on boots, on hands,
And an always-ready Breeze hollows the shout
of the Word Outside muted, softened,
Lifting hairs on arms, the gentle brushing
Easing Breath, as atmospheric pressure
on the Shoreline.
Besides this breeze, alive—
Persists the Barren Stone.
Canteen water, warm and metallic,
dripping slightly,
Splashes upward, outward—Expelled Away
from the unreceiving Rock of Earth.
There is no use of Living Water
in the Desert Cavern.
A single rose can be my garden, a single friend, my world.
-Leo F. Buscaglia
This rapid shift from a long, snowy winter to a blazing hot summer has been an odd one. Last night Kevin and I ordered takeout and headed up Millcreek Canyon to get out of the heat. Can I tell you how awesome it is to be just minutes away from fresh, pine-scented mountain air?
I love long days of May and June. The summer solstice is always a bitter-sweet time for me, as I want to celebrate the longest day of the year, but I am melancholy that for the next six months I will observe shrinking daylight. In my way of obsessing about the bleak future of sunlight, I often let the beauty of the day slip by me.
Today I offer a mediation. These thoughts are brought to you by Elizabeth Gilbert's memoir Eat, Pray, Love:
When I get lonely these days, I think: So be lonely, Liz. Learn your way around loneliness. Make a map of it. Sit with it, for once in your life. Welcome to the human experience.
It is better to live your own destiny imperfectly than to live an imitation of someone else's life perfectly.
Not only in the big global Hitler-n-Stalin picture, but also on the smallest personal level... I can see exactly where my episodes of unhappiness have brought suffering or distress or (at the very least) inconvenience to those around me. The search for contentment is, therefore, not merely a self-preserving and self-benefiting act, but also a generous gift to the world.
Collectively, as a species, this is our emotional landscape.... There are only two questions that human beings have ever fought over, all through history. "How much do you love me?" and "Who's in charge?" Everything else is somehow manageable.
You need to learn how to select you thoughts just the same way you select what clothes you're gonna wear every day. This is a power you can cultivate. If you want to control things in your life so bad, work on the mind. That's the only thing you should be trying to control... On first glance, this seems a nearly impossible task. Control your thoughts? Instead of the other way around? But imagine if you could?
You gotta stop wearing your wishbone where your backbone oughtta be.
In Hawai'i I became obsessed with coral reefs and saltwater tropical fish. Kevin and I went snorkeling every day, usually at excellent spots, and I just fell in love with the fish in the ocean. This led to a nightly routine, where Kevin would sleep and I'd sit on the computer in our condo researching reef tank set-ups. And I'm not just talking about a saltwater aquarium. I mean a live reef tank, where the decorations are live coral, urchins, anemones, and all that jazz. I also looked up minimum gallon requirements for the fish I desired to have, based on my snorkeling experiences.
Here are the fascinating species I saw out in the ocean:
This is a Hawai'ian trigger fish, also known as humuhumunukunukuapua'a. How could you ever forget a name like that? But apparently these fish are aggressive in live tanks, which makes sense because they were always pushing each other around in the ocean.
We saw two sea turtles while snorkeling this year, and they're always amazing. They're endangered, so even if we had a room-sized tank, it would do no good. They're not for sale.
This one is a puffer fish. We saw one of these, which was enough for me. They're pretty big (we saw probably a 14"-15" one).
These are convict tang fish. There are a variety of tangs. Dory, from Finding Nemo, is also a tang. These are hugely popular fish. These ones are smaller and live in schools, but I found out that Dory fish, which grow to 8"-12", aren't supposed to be in a smaller tank than 125 gallons (which is a big tank).
This is a butterfly fish, "because no one ever suspects... the butterfly[fish]" (OK, just a little call-out to Simpson's fans). There are lots of different types of these too, including one that looks strangely like the Moorish Idol.
These are flounders, who dig in the sand to disguise themselves and have their face on one side of their bodies, oddly enough. Kevin and I saw these off of the beach our condo was on.
And this is the beautiful Moorish Idol.
These are needle fish, who like to swim up at the surface, and often looked very perturbed when I swam by.
And these fish make me laugh. They look like they're wearing makeup. These are parrot fish, which are huge and beautiful. I, of course, liked to follow them around, which made them swim away, which made me follow, etc., etc.
Which leads to where I am today. Kevin would catch me in the bookstore reading "Saltwater Aquariums for Dummies" and doing even more research on tropical fish. I knew he was worried that I'd bite of more than I could chew. So last week I tricked him into going over to PETCO with me. We looked at all the fish, and I admit, only the saltwater ones were interesting. But, I finally settled for this one, which cost about $3.60,lives in fresh water, and I guess is pretty too for a very low-maintenance fish.
I think Kevin was relieved.
We've decided to name him Huey. Kevin suggested Bluey, which reminded me of "Kablooie" from "Hamster Huey and the Gooey Kablooie" from Calvin and Hobbes, and that just naturally led to us calling him Huey. Even if he isn't a hamster. Welcome to the family, Huey.
To celebrate a couple of birthdays, all my family went to the gardens at Thanksgiving Point.
This one is my favorite, showing a time-honored tradition of soaking half the family when we get to the Secret Garden.
We've captured some of the fun and funny Hawai'i moments on video, and after swallowing my pride about being seen in a bathing suit so up close and personal, I've decided to share. First, after breakfast one morning on our lana'i, we saw a whole huge pod of dolphins swimming right by our hotel. They're far out, but you can see them if you look for the sideways splashing, as they were all jumping out of the ocean on their morning romp.
And because I like animals so much, I can't let a gecko go scurrying by without chasing it all over. I finally caught this one.
This one is from Napili beach, a very sandy beach with steep shores and small waves. This makes it perfect for "Monastery Tag," a game we learned from our guidebook. In this game, you race your partner as high up on the shore as you can get without getting beached. It may look really stupid, but when you're that close to the sand, it looks like you're moving a lot faster. I still have the sand burns on my skin to prove my devotion to this pastime. This one you'll want to turn your earphones down on--I was obviously having a great time.
Jenny linked to this fun (and totally obvious) Jane Austen quiz to see what heroine you're most like. I knew the answer before I took it. Even though Jane Austen claimed she was most like Emma (I know, I should cite the source for this), I have always related most to Elizabeth Bennet.
And I love this hilarious description. Let's not forget that Elizabeth Bennet often found herself on the outside, being quite unpopular:You are Elizabeth Bennet of Pride & Prejudice! You are intelligent, witty, and tremendously attractive. You have a good head on your shoulders, and oftentimes find yourself the lone beacon of reason in a sea of ridiculousness. You take great pleasure in many things. You are proficient in nearly all of them, though you will never own it. Lest you seem too perfect, you have a tendency toward prejudgement that serves you very ill indeed.
So I have one cat that honks like a goose and another that chirps like a song bird. And no, I didn't have any treats. Aja just wanted me to tuck her into bed, and Phoebe was just there because Aja was.
Today we got back from our vacation this year to beautiful Maui. It was such a great time! Last year Kevin and I only got to spend two full days there, so we figured we'd go back and do all the things we were dying to do earlier. In addition to taking a surfing lesson (I stood up on my first wave!) and snorkeling, our activities pretty much consisted loafing on the beach or taking in the excellent ocean view from our condo's lana'i.
Here are the highlights:
Lava hike (calling the lava sharp is an understatement) and snorkeling at the Aquarium
Reading on the beach. Kevin read Bel Canto. I read Three Cups of Tea and then, when I'd start feeling guilty about being on a tropical island and reading about poor Pakistani children, I'd switch to Confessions of a Shopaholic (both excellent books in their own right).
Took in some fabulous sunsets (Maui is best for this)
Also took in some local culture. This guy (no, not Kevin--behind him) is walking up and down the beach, strumming his guitar and singing, wearing only a thong and a cowboy hat. Excellent stuff.
The Dragon's Teeth in West Maui
The Nakalele Blowhole
Maui's other West Coast sites
Iao Valley State Park. I'll have to tell you later what that mountain represented to the native islanders just 200 years ago, if you're dying to know!
