Fire Quarter

The stories you tell determine the world you see.  The stories you enjoy tell about the world in your heart. -- Steven Barnes

Does it seem like I've been talking about fire a lot lately?  I know... I feel like I've been talking a lot about fire lately. Certainly thinking about it a lot.

Right now the sun is an eery blood red. All day long there's a thick, heavy smoke in the air - the lower half of BC is pretty much on fire.  If I didn't know that half of BC was lit, I'd be thinking I should be moving along to somewhere that might be safe.  Not seeing the mountains that flank either side of the sound isn't always unusual on an overcast day.  Not being able to see across the lake, or only seeing partial silhouettes is... real weird. Photographers refer to the last 45 minutes of the day as "the golden hour", but everything has this orangish-tint right now, all day long.  When it's foggy, the tint is a cool blue, so the greens stand out against it.  This orange tint washes the green out and it's just all very strange.  And smoky.  

And of course, it's hot.  Not as hot as it would be if the smoke weren't creating a weird cloud cover, but you know.  It's still hot. 

I've said for a long time that we have two seasons.  The wet season (3/4 of the year, wet, overcast, and probably in the range of 55F), and summer (when it apparently doesn't rain anymore at all and everything burns).  

One of the quintessential summer albums in our house is Siouxsie & the Banshees Tinderbox. There's a song on there, 92 Degrees, inspired by the following quote from It Came From Outerspace: 

Did you know, Putnam, that more murders are committed at 92 Fahrenheit than any other temperature? I read an article once. At lower temperatures, people are easy-going. Higher, it's too hot to move. But just at 92, people get irritable.

I was thinking of this today as I was leaving work - it was 92F. On the upside, there was minimal traffic on the way home and in our house, if it's above about 79, we're all too hot to move. 

Another song that comes to mind is The Specials "Too Hot." Ska at it's best.

And just to wrap it up before my computer overheats here, Mikhail Baryshnikov & Liza Minelli doing Cole Porter'sIt's Too Darn Hotfrom Kiss Me Kate.  Just because. (And because I'm down the Broadway musical rat hole now!).

Stay cool, stay hydrated!
With love and curiosity,
--Susan

It's Not a Competition

M2 has been lecturing me over fonts. She thinks my default font is boooring. As we were talking tonight, I asked her what I should write about. The first thing she said to me was, "You need a *hook*.  You know, something to draw them in.  ...What? They drill this stuff into our heads in school!"  Then she said the thing that she's been thinking about a lot lately has been a phrase she read recently - "You don't have to be grateful that it isn't worse."

Learn from the mistakes of others. You can't live long enough to make them all yourself! - Eleanor Roosevelt

Last week as I was writing the newsletter, we were on our way to visit the in-laws. I was fretting about friends of friends, and having a sick cat.  I'm happy to say at least the cat is doing better. 

This week, M1 had her wisdom teeth out.  Sometimes she tries to smile and says, "OW."

M2 has been lecturing me over fonts. She thinks my default font is boooring. As we were talking tonight, I asked her what I should write about. The first thing she said to me was, "You need a *hook*.  You know, something to draw them in.  ...What? They drill this stuff into our heads in school!"  Then she said the thing that she's been thinking about a lot lately has been a phrase she read recently - "You don't have to be grateful that it isn't worse."  This reminds me of a thing a friend used to say - "There are no oppression Olympics."  E.g., it's not a competition. Regardless that things *could* be worse, challenges are still something that need to be worked through, and experiencing challenges and difficulties are valid without comparison.  

This ties into something that I'd been talking with my physical therapist about. We were talking about the difficulty of 'growing up' and realizing that there will always be others who are better, faster, stronger, smarter (worse, slower, weaker, less smart)... any qualifier you care to use, than you.  Their being in no way diminishes your own being. Their experiences in no way diminish your own experiences - unless you choose to be competitive about it, but that's on you, not them.  I remember thinking I was really into cooking.  And then I met actual foodies.  I like cooking what I cook and they're *way* more into it than I am and... it doesn't seem like very much fun for them for how obsessed they are with it but sometimes they seem excited about it all, so more power to them! But I think that was the first time I realized that I could be happy about doing something and there were going to be not only other people who were *way* more into it than me, but obsessively, competitively way more into it... and that I didn't have to feel bad about not being as whatever.  Because it's not a competition. 

So now that's what I'm thinking about too.  I don't have to be grateful that it isn't worse. And there is no such thing as oppression Olympics.  Which also reminds me of the brilliant Ring Theory of Trauma. Summed up it's 'comfort in, dump out.' I'm pretty terrible at this sometimes because how I instinctively want to show I care is by trying to help or fix. Not always so helpful or comforting.  But we're working on that. 

With love and curiosity, 
--Susan

Random Acts of Kindness

My thought this week has been that kindness, out of the blue, acts as a sort of battery for community.  

If one man can destroy everything, why can't one girl change it? --Malala Yousafzai

Some weeks y'all. This week, three different sets of friends posted about friends or  neighbors of theirs who had their homes burn down. In two of these cases, one person in each of the couples has burns over 75% of their bodies.  

Also, lots of pets either dying or getting sick, including our own Lissa Tortilla. She was shaking her head and falling over on Tuesday morning so, off to the vet. Full exam, blood panels, etc, show nothing, except a couple sore spots on her spine, so she completed a round of anti-inflammatories today, and seems to be back to herself... Aside from occasionally shaking her head and falling over, or miscalculating how high to jump to get up on her favorite chair. The vet said if that continues, that we should probably get an MRI because it could be neurological, but it seems to be slowly subsiding so... ? Watchful waiting...

Hug and love your people, and hug and love the critters that love you and rely on you. 

What does this have to do with random acts of kindness? My thought this week has been that kindness, out of the blue, acts as a sort of battery for community. Like love, it isn't a limited resource - the more love and kindness you put out into the world, the more there is to give. Like we explained to M1 as M2 was coming into the world, there won't be less love in your life because we have to "divide" our attention, there will be more love in your life because we are adding another person who will love you. Kindness works the same way. It has a tendency to spiral or ripple out, like a splash in the water. 

When something terrible happens, kindness is (often, usually, hopefully) the default response because we are moved by empathy. "Random", or maybe more accurately, integral generous-hearted kindness (the nature of practicing kindness as a way of life) primes that flow of empathy. It builds not only chosen community, but civic community.

At the heart of a lot of what's wrong with our civic life right now is a lack of kindness and empathy in discourse, in policies. And it's hard to have empathy and a sense of kindness about egregious cruelty, which is correct... But compassion is the grace that elevates kindness. We do not need to accept meanness and cruelty. But we can choose to practice compassion and kindness, and even sometimes love in ways that bring more of these things into the world despite the ugliness.

Choose kindness, choose compassion, choose love.

May you and all you love be safe from fire and all elements, may your pets be well, and may you know love and curiosity.
--Susan

Summer in Full Swing

“Nothing ever goes away until it has taught us what we need to know.” `-- Pema Chodron

I went for a walk this morning.  Down the hill by the pool towards the water - I could see the ferries coming and going, smell the sea air.  It wasn't too hot yet, it was just right for a nice walk. I spent a fair amount of time last summer walking the area around the pool.  It is something I've missed this summer.  Not for lack of other walking areas that I've been enjoying (though not enough).  The grass is starting to dry out and turn brown, except where someone is watering it.  The flowers are blooming and smell wonderful.  

As I was walking, I got to thinking about the stories we tell about ourselves as a way of defining who we are to ourselves and to others.  How sometimes we can get attached to a story that isn't really actually our self, but something that we have experienced/are experiencing. If I follow this train of thought too long, I eventually wander off into the land of what is the part of me that's observing me observe these things. But today it was just the observation of attachment to a story.

Sometimes it's hard to tell which things are the stories and which things aren't.  I've noticed I have a tendency to get excited about things other people are excited about -- I'm excited for them, but it can take me a while to realize I'm excited for them and not because it's something I'm excited about.  For example, a long time ago, in another lifetime, I worked at a natural foods store in various roles.  

One of the many roles was helping guest chefs teach cooking classes & doing the food prep for them so they miraculously had chopped onions in a bowl right when they needed them as well as preparing various food samples for the busy days.  One day we were using up day old crusty bakery bread and we put thinly sliced fresh mozzarella on it, with a slice of roasted pepper on top of that, drizzled with olive oil & balsamic vinegar.  Or maybe the olive oil & balsamic vinegar first.  Or possibly first and last... Anyway, people were raving about it and it actually "sounded good to me".  I don't really like peppers.  It's a texture thing. I don't mind some flavor of pepper, but super meh on the texture. Sometimes I learn (I actually make and eat my own coleslaw now because ginger coleslaw, but not really a fan of anyone else's because texture and picky), and maybe some day... but... not that day and still not really. 

At least I know I don't like peppers.  Sometimes though, I think something sounds really interesting and half way into a project I've committed myself to I realize that oohhhhhhhh, maybe I don't actually like this?   OR, after having finished (or been released) from something, it takes some time to realize that thing was not what it was cracked up to be and ohhhhh. Perhaps that thing? Is kind of like peppers.  Or onions.  Or other peoples' cabbages. 

Which... how does this related to summer being in full swing?  Last summer I was trying to figure out if my ambitions were leading me towards peppers & onions or something else.  This summer, I have been ever so delighted to find myself rewarded (for the most part) by the hard work of disentangling myself.  Every now and again I wonder if I have landed somewhere else that isn't a fit, but those days are few between (crossing my fingers that I didn't just jinx myself for the next week), and generally I know I can wander into work with half polished toenails sticking out of (black, suede) birkenstocks, or big flow-y pants or whatever else I like and no one will bat an eye, much less care.  

I work with people who wear everything from suits to yoga pants.  And we all come in, do our jobs, enjoy each others' company, and then go live the rest of our lives.  The rest of our lives defined as 'not being at work.'  Big presentation?  I do not actually have to care about putting on the girl costume and making sure my nails are perfect and appropriate.  In fact, they'll probably be "extra" the night before and, thanks to anxiety and a fabulous peel off base coat, my nails will be entirely bare by one hour before the presentation (if they last that long) and it'll go fine and then it's done and moving on to the next thing in the big pile of things to do. 

Looking back from last summer to this summer so far, I may have my doubts because imposters syndrome is a thing, but I am not trying to climb out of my own skin any more.  I am not trying to eat peppers and be excited about other people liking peppers.
 
Progress! And really *extra* fingernails!
With love and curiosity to see where things go from here,

--Susan

Halfway Through the Year

It always happens faster than I think it will, even though I start off the year with, 'whelp! It's almost over already!'  It seems like just a few weeks ago that we were headed into March.  

Love words. Agonize over sentences. And pay attention to the world. -- Susan Sontag

Now we are heading into the hot quarter.  Most of this week has been relatively pleasant.  Last weekend was witheringly hot for our area and girl child #2 didn't wear sufficient sunscreen and got pretty darn toasted.  Something something lessons about sunscreen.

In the past two days, I have seen wild bunnies each day.  Wednesday, I took myself out on a walk after lunch to try to shake off the sleepies, and there was a little deer-faced wild hare eating the carefully manicured landscaping (you know, like you do), and then as I was leaving campus Thursday, one casually bounced across the intersection like no big deal in front of me.  Also, all the roses are in bloom and they're all over the place and warm roses in bloom smell amazing on the early summer breeze.  

The sun was out tonight until 9:10pm.  The days are as long as they'll get, though I probably won't notice them getting shorter until late September.  Sometimes I think it's odd that "mid-summer" is really the beginning of our summer, with the heat and the warmth of the season yet to come.  It's always felt like those quarter marks are off by about six weeks to me. And yet, those days have other seasonal events.

Something else I've been thinking about, courtesy of @MythologyBot on the twitters is the following:

A671.2.14
Tigers
in hell

I'm trying to think of a time when I heard a story that was even remotely similar. Often I'm familiar at least with something in the vicinity of the indexed component, but not this one.  And yet it exists! And furthermore, someone even indexed it!  Perhaps something to look into tomorrow.  Because who doesn't need a good story of tigers in hell up their sleeves!

Hoorah!  Something new to wake up curious about!

In love and curiosity,
--Susan

Sumer Is Icumen In

Happy Summer Solstice.  If you happen to be in the Southern Hemisphere, Happy Winter Solstice.  And let me know if you're in the Southern Hemisphere, because I have *so* many questions for you!

Music is a moral law. It gives soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, and charm and gaiety to life and to everything.” --Plato

Some days, weeks... months... call for musical interludes, this seems to be one of them. Here is where my heart is today.

It's a fun round to sing, written in middle English.

It's a fun round to sing, written in middle English. 

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Semantics

“The beginning of wisdom is the definition of terms.” 
-- Socrates

Every ending is a new beginning.  It's the season of graduations, the end of the school year.  Transitions from one (academic) year to the next, one school to the next, one stage of life to the next. We've worked hard to get here this year and victories big and small abound.  

So this week I've been thinking a lot about semantics and the importance of using accurate words with specificity.  At least for some of us.  Especially when our anxiety has spun up out of control.  There is a difference between "done" and "passed." (We're golden).  Words can make a big difference though!  It's what I do all day, and I'm not the only person who gets particular about the words that should be used.  

A big part of my job is helping people determine the words they use for the metadata they describe their content with.  Sometimes it gets changed multiple times before everyone (begrudgingly) agrees that the word set will do.  It's the nature of the role though. It's sort of nice to see that people are so insistent that the right words are used, to be honest.  It always sort of surprises me given how lax and non-specific about language people often are.  

I don't always agree with them, and in fact, once I get some other stuff under "control" (lol!), I need to do a metadata audit and see how many terms have been used 0 or even just 3-4 times.  Over specificity in language is just as inappropriate as insufficient specificity.  It's kind of a Goldilocks thing -- it needs to be just the right level of specificity.  After all, "Words mean something."  Or if you prefer, “The question is,” said Alice, “whether you can make words mean so many different things.” You can, but they lose any useful communication capablity...

So that's some of the stuff that I've been curiously considering this week.

With love & curiosity,
--Susan

My People

Seven years I spent, feeling like a fish out of water, like I wanted to crawl out of my own skin, the men-lizards looking at me with their cold, dead, calculating eyes.  Seven years.  

If you have knowledge, let others light their candles in it. - Margaret Fuller

It was a blessing to be set free.  Even when it was hard, even when we were scraping.  It was a sweet, sweet blessing.  

This is not to say that there were no people of my own there, but they were a distant minority - often moving along to elsewhere, or being worn down by the same battles I was fighting.  It's an exhausting way to live.

A year of sweet blessings, and now I have a day job again. An office job.  And it is nothing like those seven years.  The team plays board games every Thursday at 4.  We have the most diverse team I have ever had the pleasure of being a part of -- and each of them is a sweet, kind, delight.  Once again, I am asked to do the needful.  An archaic turn of phrase from the British, long gone from their linguistic inclinations, but lives on in India.  We go get lunch, or when it's hot, we find a shaded outdoor location and sip boba tea.  

Our project is something people are excited about, the biggest curmudgeon concedes, "yes, this basically hits the mark of what I expect it to be able to do" making his boss ecstatic because H "is a badass and delights in picking everything to shreds."

Though some discomfort remains -- I'm a perfectionist, and there is so much that needs to be done, and done right, and so much institutional knowledge wrapped up in people who desperately need to delegate... And I want to do it all.  And it takes time.  It's this discomfort that pushes me to do what I do so well though - create order and structure from chaos.  It's why they hired me in the first place. Despite the discomfort of wanting to have it all organized and running the way I'd like to see it running, I am comfortable in my skin. 

It is good.  It feels like I have landed again, for now.

So much to remain curious about, so much to sort and organize.  It is good.  

With love and curiosity,
--Susan