Radio Ruminations

(phil's old radios)

Today I found this little blog called

Phil's Old Radios,

and I must confess, I was quite smitten by it, and

it's not simply because the guy who runs it

is named Phil.

He has a gallery of radios he has restored,

and he gives plenty of information

on how to restore your own.

I wanted to put Phil on my favorite blog list,

and I will, but I thought I'd also call attention to him

with this modest little entry today.

pbs

You see,

I have a little radio problem.

I love radios.

Not only do I think they are one of the most efficient ways

to disseminate information, I also have

utopian visions about them.

I'm not the only one -- when radio first appeared,

plenty of people felt it would be the most

democratic of mediums,

and it would unite the world.  

Well, that task would be left for radio's

younger cousin, the internet.

But I also have

great respect for the way their waves

embrace the earth, in something

like a woven electronic basket.

vsc.edu

We tend to be afraid of too much 

radio-activity, but

I tend to think radio waves are our friends;

and we just don't understand how fully they can be --

So many of our recent technologies, in fact, 

have involved working with some form of 

radio wave, taming it for our

own selfish ends.

~ ~ ~

I read somewhere just yesterday

that there is a project afoot to protect the earth

from asteroids.  There's this huge telescope looking for them.

bunsenburner (story here about the telescope)

My question is:

what would we do if we actually found an asteroid hurtling towards us?

Is there some way that the earth can duck?

My simplistic theory is:

use the radio waves.  We can use microwaves to cook,

xrays to see into our bodies,

is there any frequency at which we can create

some kind of shield?

Just thinkin'

This is a pretty modest entry,

so pardon me.

My brain is just not functioning

as fluently as I would like it to.

Too much sun will do that to me.

So let me wish you a happy day,

and move on my way --

(greeninnovation)

. . . and another radio thought:

(just found this on Facebook,
at the FB page "Global Awakening"

Everything Must Change: today's diva: James Marcell

Don't know if this guy is really homeless

but

he's got a voice,

and a message worth sharing:

Dear Karen Klein, Please Retire

via bullyingproject

I'm writing this off of the top of my head, so it may be messy,

but today I saw some of the video of the bullying that occurred

on a school bus in Rome, NY  (outside Rochester), and I felt the need

to write something about it, and post it, if only to join in the outrage

against it.

Now if you haven't seen the video, 

and you feel like being sickened,

go on YouTube;

it seems to have gone so viral

that people are reposting it 

for the attention it brings.  

I will not post that video on this blog.

Or you can read this story, from CNN 

The basic details are these:

Four or five middle schoolers on a school bus

taunted, swore at, jeered, made fun of, 

were absolutely nauseatingly awful

to a 68 year old woman named Karen Klein, 

who was on the bus as a monitor.

Someone took a video of it,

and posted the video on You Tube, and it "went viral."

I watched about 30 seconds of that video,

and it made me sick.  Now, the questions bound up in this video

and its "popularity" are many.  To begin, there's the horrifying question

of who raised kids who would act that way?  Yes, I will also blame the kids; I

like so many others who have commented on this, feel they should be

disciplined, severely.  But, as the saying goes: "the apple doesn't fall too

far from the tree."  I'll come back to this thought in a moment.

I also can't help but wonder who took the video?  That person

was sitting right next to the elderly victim, and the video captures

that woman's reaction: she cried; yes, she cried, as her assaulters

commented on her weight, her glasses, her ears (and then I stopped watching).

Why would someone want to capture that woman's reactions to this,

and then post it on YouTube?  Whatever the

motivation, as one You Tube commenter said,

the internet works fast, and no matter what the poster's intent,

within hours there were people all over the world responding to it with horror.

This included a blogger starting a collection to send this woman, Karen Klein,

on a trip.  I sure hope she just retires.

Now, bullying has been around for a very long time,

especially among children.  There's garden variety bullying,

I think, like my sister as a child teasing me because I was fat

(or so she said) or because I had a lazy eye.  That 

often comes from sibling rivalry.

But bullying has become such a huge issue

in the United States in particular.  A few months ago, just down

the road from Rochester, in Buffalo, NY,  a 14 year old boy

became famous because he committed suicide; he could no longer

tolerate the bullying against him. 

This caused a national campaign against bullying,

but did it make any difference?  

The common feeling about the Karen Klein case is that

these young people should be punished,

but would punishing these kids make any difference?

These kids have no respect for authority --

this woman was on the bus as a monitor,

and they attacked her, so punishing them might just

roll off them like water off a spaniel.

Furthermore, it's only a matter of hours before

their parents and other family members start

posting videos about how their poor, innocent child

is so misunderstood.   Which, let me say immediately,

is just a load of bullshit.  Those kids are perfectly understood

to be messed up.

I tend to think that whatever system

produced kids who felt it was ok to harass

an elder needs to be 

examined very carefully, and changed, immediately  --

and that includes calling to task their parents,

or anyone else who led these kids to feel

that they could gain popularity or respect

by harassing other human beings.

I do tend to feel parents are a huge part of

this sad equation of dysfunction: 

what I hear in these young peoples'

jeers are the jeers of an immature father or mother

who bullied their children with similar insults.

The U.S. education system is at fault, too:

it so wrapped up

in teaching kids to pass a test that it

isn't really paying attention to teaching

human dignity.

And then there's the entertainment industry:

the glorification of bullying and ridiculing through figures

such as Gordon Ramsey, Charlie Sheen, or even cartoon

characters (like those on Family Guy) who ridiculously

become models for human interaction.

The problem is very very deep, and it's only going to get worse

unless we all take responsibility for it now.

I'm going to have to teach some of these kids in university,

and I will say right here and now that it's already happening:

a year ago, I had a young woman in a university level English class

who took great delight in taunting me, calling me "stupid" in front of her peers,

and writing on her final course evaluation that I was just ugly

and she hated coming to class and looking at me.

Of course, she never did her classwork, and also

wasted precious class time by asking me, over and over again,

to repeat the requirements of any given assignment.

What gives me the chills is that she is now a year away

from graduation,

with an education degree no less. 

This type of behavior should not be validated

in any way, shape or form. They should not be allowed

to graduate from high school.

They should not be admitted into a college or university.

I'm not sure how to fix this system as quickly

as it needs to be fixed.  So I add my voice to the chorus

of online distress over Karen Klein's sad experience.

Perhaps shame, as this gets broadcast all over the world

by countless bloggers just like me, will be what it will take

for every person in this country to stop being preoccupied

with an election that is costing way too much already,

and put that money into teaching people how 

to be humane, and how

to live in the world.

happy solstice to you

via wkbw

So I was walking along the harbour today,

watching the sun sizzle over the horizon,

while the Wednesday sailing regatta pirouetted underneath,

and a salsa band played music,

and couples danced and walked

and children ate ice cream

and I did, too.  I did

too, with you

thankful for this moment,

this day,

and you reminded me it was the longest of the year.

The past few weeks have not been altogether easy,

but there is the sun,

always to be counted on,

and there are the smiles of a summer dawning ~

We can rejuvenate ourselves,

indeed.

Our planet does, every day,

every year

Happy solstice to everyone

The Shimmering Self

So hard to believe my material self
                                           is the very least of me,
not meant to accompany me
                                           into eternity.

Over the centuries, I've grown so very
                                                      very
                                             intimate
with my curves and lines,
with my cracks and groans,
with my nails and toes,
with my hair, and every
crevice of me.
So very hard to believe my physical
                                           disposability.

( with gratitude to The Happiness Rx )

And yet, when breathing deep,
I find my shimmering self exceeds
my mortal limits, is only impeded
by my body's desires, but smiles
              compassionately at my body's
needs for snacking on the fruits of the earth --
                air and sea, wine and bread,
                you and me
                together --
gentle pastimes of the time
we spend clasped in this earth's embrace.

But if one sincerely meditates
one finds the lines of our bodies
only hold us close; we seek to fly,
and we can fly
infinitely.

(photo by Makropoulos)

Why
is it that we fear our dying?
It is because the body
which is a somatic entity
loves the vibrancy
                   the spirit endows it with.


The body is, essentially,
a parasite that sucks the life
off the spiritual source
that created it.
No sin in that, we live mutually,
striving to see clearly
                         the duality
               of each and all.

~ ~ ~

Now what the hell
             you may implore
does this have to do
               with the cost of oil,
               the unending wars,
               the embittered child,
               the Tony awards,
               with Barack Obama,
               or with Mitt or George?
               With the rising debt
               with the setting empire
               with Madonna's tit
               or the unpredictable weather?

With all the awful news today
Why is it that this is all
                I can say?


Because it is all I can say.

It's hard to believe,
yet it may be time
to believe
that our materials selves
are the very least of we
not meant to accompany
us
into eternity.

nature

(Huffington Post: "Human Induced Ocean Warming" )

Respect Yourself, by the Staples Singers

Heard this on the radio this morning,

and I can't get it out of my head.

It's worth a listen,

or two:

Or Three.

Chios

I was recently on the Greek island of Chios,

which is just off the coast of Turkey.

I've lived in Turkey,

and been to several places in Greece,

but I had never been to Chios before.

Chios, like other islands in the area,

has been invaded and settled over time by several

different powers,

including the Greeks, the Persians, the Italians,

and of course the Turks.

Because of the island's vulnerable, coveted geographical location,

the people built up cities that were natural fortresses,

like this one, the medieval village of Mesta.

This is its outer wall:

The houses in these village/fortresses are built so close together

that you have to look for the hole

or chink

in the fortress, so the speak,

where you will find the entrance:

And then you walk through narrow passageways

that ultimately open out into fabulous central courtyards

The most fascinating of these medieval villages was Pyrgi,

also built so to protect itself:

But the remarkable thing about Pyrgi is the amazing designs 

on the buildings there.  It's almost like graffitti,

but controlled into fabulous patterns.

It reminds me, in a small way,

of the island of Bali,

a land where art and living work collaborate continually.

But in Pirgi, the artwork comes from very humble means.

It begins with putting plaster on stone walls,

then digging it off into different designs

using spoons:

This people of Pyrgi began doing this to their houses 

a few hundred years ago.  The more geometric patterns

come from that time.  The most recent designs

date back fifty years or so, and they are more

elaborate.  The result is a most definitely Greek

village that might have been imagined

by

Dr. Seuss & Gaudi:

. . . ah, it is so wonderful to see

what the human compulsion

for self expression.

There will, I believe, always be

some form of art.  And it is most fabulous

when our art is also the place

where we live.

(all photos by Makropoulos)

The Garden Goddess

Haven't been living in the virtual world much these days-

instead I've been in the real,

whatever that is,

gardening

and watching the garden explode.

You met this lady once before, in this form,

when the garden was young:

Well, her little patch of the garden keeps changing,

and she keeps reclining,

so happy to be part of the constant cycle

of the earth:

. . . enjoy your day --

I wish I had some more to say!

But sometimes the insanity of the man-made world is far too insane 

to even provoke comment.

Today's Diva: Orianthi Panagaris

As I've said so many times before,

divas don't have to be

opera singers.

They're anyone who put their hearts and souls

on the line to produce the best 

that they can produce.

Here's another:

I first encountered her in 

This Is It! --

the film about Michael Jackson's "final" tour,

and I thought then: there's a force to be reckoned with,

and that force was not Michael Jackson:

And she is a force to be reckoned with,

and a true diva ~ ~

Orianthi Panagaris

The Rage of the Soul

from: extremeinstability

Those times, when the rage comes around,

so great, it's near impossible to control,

don't let the despair overcome you; know

it's the god within your soul;

It's the force of creation awakening

there, trapped in the shell of the human --

it's the sustaining spirit in

despair, for the bondage it suffers,

the blindness of flesh,

the myth of happy-ever-after,

the rope of time,

the windowless buildings

of society's rights

and wrongs.

(readywisconsin)

Like all caged beasts, it is prone to rebellion.

Ride the wave of its energy, channel

it through the inlets and byways

of art and society.  Put it to use,

so it doesn't use you, and it will

be 

the beauty that you leave

on the face of the earth.

 (also from extremeinstability -- a fascinating website!)

Living in Bunny Land

( petrabbitcare )

The winter was not cold; this climate
grows rabbits.  Bunnies, in abun-
dance dance across my yard.

Our nightly walk, a ballet of cotton
feet in moonlight, ears in twi-
light, noses nibbling, twitching

to the pulse of the earth; my feet your feet too.
Two of us see two of them: bunnies
in our path.  They see us too.

Who will give way to the other?  It
is we who move to the street, while the rabbits
watch.  Bunnies are we all, even

my cats who watch bunnies from windows.
This is why the rabbits run rampant
on my side of town, and will endure

long after the rest of us have moved on.

( ribonita )

Diva Donna Summer, continued

I know I honored her a day or two ago,

but then I found these videos,

and wanted to post them,

because they prove she truly numbers among 

some of the great gospel divas:

In the case of this diva,
and all the others,
the internet does us the great favor
of making their music
truly immortal --

Today's Diva: Donna Summer (May She Rest In Peace)

Another great disco diva departs:

She was one of those radio spirits that orchestrated a certain part of my growing up,

and it was really easy to like her.

And right up until about three years ago, she was still delivering:

Dear Donna, I'm sure you're a diva in heaven!

Lilac Tercets

Overnight, purple and white

exploded on your boughs

against blue skies, you burgeon there

insisting on the now, the breath

revolves and calms me here

despite the ringing in my ear

be still, it whispers, be

amazed, let birdsong ease

the chill.  Be still.

The Elf in Self

stonecarver

~ ~ ~

The self, transformed

becomes an elf,

on its way to being

stone.

~ ~ ~

fanpop

The elf in the self is a 

solitary soul,

sly and suspicious 

of snakes;

when met on the road,

she is playful and kind and certain

society's rules are a guise.

The elf self wants only to be self

unencumbered

by rules and opinions

of others.

And then, we'll agree

that the loss of the "e"

leaves

life's consonants

that must be whispered,

not hissed or aspirated

but rolled on the lips

and tongue

felt by the body

like a kiss.

Self as a word,

deconstructed,

brings us solely to now,

wholly to how

we can give to each other --

by discovering the elf,

and removing the vowels

we are left with the body

the shape of the utterance,

the impulse to say,

the impulse to stay.

sdakotabirds

The Art of the Exhale

I just started reading Pema Chödrön's book When Things Fall Apart,

and I have been trying to practice her meditation technique of 

making the outbreath, the exhale, the object of meditation:

". . . -the elusive, fluid, everchanging out-breath, ungraspable and yet

continuously arising.  When you breathe in, it's like a pause

or a gap.

There is nothing particular to do except wait for the next out-breath." (19)

annawojtczak

~ ~

Last Tuesday, I returned to the States after my second trip abroad

this year.  It was a relief to be home,

and to return to Normalcy, though, quite frankly,

I fear Normalcy 

-- "Normalcy" is that strange state we all slip into

when we are surrounded by the familiar,

where we take things for granted,

take each other for granted,

walk down the street where we live and don't look at the beauty,

etc. etc. etc. . . . 

but I did not come home to Normalcy, really; I came home to a phone message

from an old friend telling me my former husband was dying.

In actual fact, he died that night,

and for 24 hours or so I was barraged by phone calls from people

who associated me with him, everyone wanting to be

the person who told me he had passed on.

Of all the calls I received, the one that moved me most was from my old friend A.,

who happened to be there in the hospital when my ex breathed his last.

A. called me within 30 minutes of the death, and he was indeed the first to tell me.

Truly, I was deeply moved that he shared that moment with me:

I could hear the awe and horror still in A.'s voice as he described the scene:

my former mate had cancer, you see, and it was in his lungs,

in his whole body, A. finally admitted,

(I actually had had contact with my ex- over the past months,

and knew he was quite ill, though he would't tell me

exactly how ill)

and he had a breathing tube,

and A. explained the sound of the breath

even with the tube,

and I recalled the times I've stood by one near death,

and all I could really focus on 

was breath.

The inhale, yes,

the agonizing intake,

but more poignantly,

the exhale --

that moment of release

and relief

that anyone at hand knew could be the last,

and I was happy to hear

that the final breath was a gentle one,

a peaceful one 

orchestrated by Mahler, played by one of his friends. 

You see, exhales are the most important part of the breath because

it is what we give out to the world.

Yes, we need the inhale for our individual lives,

we draw in the air to maintain our measly machines,

but it is the exhale that we give to the rest of our

living, breathing creation.

(inhabitat)

Perhaps this is why people are so interested in final words:

Did he say anything about me?

(No, I didn't wonder that, not at all; but people do.)

Did he say anything absolutely insightful?

Did she say anything at all?

The final word is the wish we give to the larger assembly.

So it is best if it is one of love, or at least one of peace or compassion,

or understanding.  

Our world is so full of evil expirations

and intentions, and it seems to me our final words

have the power to allay them.

huffingtonpost (interesting story - The Scream is being auctioned off!)

~ ~ ~

Indeed, every exhalation is a powerful thing,

like a wish, or a spell, we unconsciously bring 

to those around us.  My mother

was a great sigher, exuding her personal agonies on her children

with every melodramatic sigh.

I think we were all impacted by this,

raised as we were in this aura of personal despair.

Exhalations of fear, too, only fill others with apprehension.

I can see that in my poor cats: when I get upset,

they are upset, too, just as

when I am in love, they too are in love.

Air, you see, is the most insubstantial substance

we consume 

in the material world,

and, whether we like it or not,

it gets recycled.

Now that we understand recycling a little more,

those of us who care actually clean what we discard

before we put it out to be reused.

Why not the same with breath?

Meditating on the outbreath

makes me very conscious of this dynamic.

I know it's hard to make every outbreath meaningful --

after all, we take so many every hour --

but being conscious on some level of the challenge

can slowly bring a change

to every breath we take,

and give back to the world in which we live

and die.

Some Thoughts on a Morning Walk

Now that I've lived in my body

for hundreds of years,

                                         now

that I know the cycle of my personalities,

                               now

that I know the journey from my spine to foot,

and traverse it regularly,

relieved by regularities,

and pestered by the places of pain and imperfection,

Now that I know

unequivocally that

No

One

Wins,

                            and no one loses,

and

that you, on your morning jog,

and I, walking my head to clarity,

that we, working repetitively

just to be here now,

well,

now

what is there to do but be grateful 

that the earth too works repetitively

to make our nows

Eden, if we let them be.

photos by me.

Today's Diva: Deb "Spoons" Perry

Yes, I've been away for awhile,

out of the country, in fact.

As I recuperate from both my trip

and my allergies,

let me please share the work of Deb "Spoons" Perry

She is a true diva!

going on the road

Hey,

I'm going on the proverbial road

and won't be blogging for a little while =-=

Please don't leave me dear friends:

I will be back!