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I Am Easily Amused

Words to Consider

  • There must be more to life than having everything. -Maurice Sendak
  • Don't take life so serious; it ain't nohow permanent. —Pogo
  • The first revolutionary act is to call things by their true names, said Rosa Luxemburg.
  • The test of our progress is not whether we add more to the abundance of those who have much, it is whether we provide enough for those who have too little. -- Franklin D. Roosevelt
  • When you arise in the morning, give thanks for the morning light, for your life and strength. Give thanks for your food and the joy of living. If you see no reason for giving thanks, the fault lies in yourself. —Tecumseh
  • i do it for the joy it brings / because i am a joyful girl / because the world owes me nothing / and we owe each other the world / i do it because it's the least i can do / i do it because i learned it from you / i do it just because i want to / because I want to —"Joyful Girl", Ani DiFranco
  • Democrats are the party of those who are working, those who have finished working, and those who want to work. -- Elizabeth Edwards
  • Do not worry over the charge of treason to your masters, but be concerned about the treason that involves yourselves. Be true to yourself and you cannot be a traitor to any good cause on Earth. - Eugene V. Debs, Speech, June 16, 1918
  • "Nothing living should ever be treated with contempt. Whatever it is that lives, a man, a tree, or a bird, should be touched gently, because the time is short. Civilization is another word for respect for life." - Elizabeth Goudge, author of The Joy of the Snow
  • "There is nothing I can give you, which you have not; But there is much, very much, that while I cannot give it, you can take. No heaven can come to us unless our hearts find rest in today. Take heaven! No peace lies in the future which is not hidden in this present instant. Take peace! The gloom of the world is but a shadow. Behind it, yet within reach, is joy. There is a radiance and glory in the darkness, could we but see, and to see we have only to look. I beseech you to look. Life is so generous a giver, but we, judging its gifts by their covering, cast them away as ugly, or heavy or hard. Remove the covering, and you will find beneath it a living splendor, woven of love, by wisdom, with power. Welcome it, grasp it, and you touch the angel's hand that brings it to you. Everything we call a trial, a sorrow, or a duty, believe me that angel's hand is there; the gift is there, and the wonder of an overshadowing presence. Our joys too: be not content with them as joys. They, too, conceal diviner gifts. And so, at this time, I greet you. Not quite as the world sends greetings, but with profound esteem and with the prayer that for you now and forever, the day breaks, and the shadows flee away. " (Fra Giovanni 1513 A.D.)

Art Dolls

  • Another Pink Jester
    My imaginary friends.

Artist Trading Cards

  • Twigs
    A sampling of my ATCs. Some available for trade, as noted.

Beadwork

  • Face in Browns
    Mostly pins, with some other oddments.

Hats, Etc.

  • Yellow Beret
    Both hats and scarves, almost all crochet . . . so far.

Journal Quilts

  • Gift of the Sea
    I'm doing one 8.5" x 11" quilt a month for an online challenge this year, plus a few others.

Paper Dolls

  • Button Lady with Hat
    Second childhood? Not quite . . .

Books, 2008

  • A Language Older Than Words, by Derrick Jensen
    I don't know quite how to describe this book—it's disquieting, uncomfortable, and eminently worth reading.
  • Catwings and Catwings Return, both by Ursula LeGuin
    I listed them together because they're short juveniles, with charming illustrations. James, Thelma, Harriet and Roger were born with wings, and they flew into adventures.
  • Firebird, by R. Garcia y Robertson
    Takes the firebird legends of Russia and Eastern Europe and adds several new twists—a heroic heroine, for one, who rescues her knight . . .
  • World Made By Hand, by James Howard Kunstler
    American life in the aftermath of the long emergency, when lack of oil and climate change have put industrial civilization out of business. Not bad, but I've read better; specifically, I have problems with his characterizations of women (the proverbial madonna/whore and nothing else). However, I didn't buy this, so I got what I paid for . . . .
  • The Three of Swords, by Fritz Leiber
    A three-volume book club compilation of Swords and Deviltry, Swords Against Death, and Swords in the Mist. Leiber's epic fantasy stories and novelettes, featuring his heroes Fafhrd and the Grey Mouser. These were one of my first sword-and-sorcery readings, and I've never quite gotten over them, I suppose.
  • A Sand County Almanac, by Aldo Leopold
    This edition also contains Sketches Here and There, and some essays—I loved the Almanac part! The sketches were enjoyable, but not essential to me, and I'm afraid I got bogged down in the essays and didn't finish them.
  • The Penelopiad, by Margaret Atwood
    The story of Penelope, the long-suffering and constant wife of Odysseus, as told by herself and the twelve maids hanged by Odysseus upon his return.
  • Crossing Open Ground, by Barry Lopez
    Nature essays, on various subjects—I highly recommend this. In fact, I ordered his Of Wolves and Men, which has moved to the top of the "read this next" pile; and I have Arctic Dreams here *somewhere* . . . but I can't find it!
  • The Dispossesed, by Ursula LeGuin
    I've read this twice now, and I still don't "get" it. There doesn't seem to be much point to the story, though LeGuin is always a good writer. It's probably some lack in me, but there you are.
  • The Hounds of the Morrigan, by Pat O'Shea
    Comic fantasy set in the world of Irish mythology (and Faery)—the heroes are Pidge and his sister Brigit, who are chosen to thwart the Morrigan. This was O'Shea's first novel; I need to see whether she's written anything else . . .
  • The Pilot's Wife, by Anita Shreve
    I read this in one long evening—it's that good. Learning to live with the unthinkable.
  • The Iron Dragon's Daughter, by Michael Swanwick
    Very, very strange, even for a fantasy novel "Industrial Darkness and Magick" says the dust jacket—the story of Jane, a changeling stolen to toil in the dragon factory in Faery.
  • The Killer's Tears, by Anne-Laure Bondoux
    A very strange and thoughful little book that explores guilt, innocence and the nature of love.
  • The Left Hand of Darkness, by Ursula LeGuin
    Another of my periodic re-reads. The story of the Terran Envoy to Winter, a planet whose inhabitants are androgynous and may chance sex every 26 days (but there's a lot more to it than just that).
  • The Spiral Dance, by R. Garcia y Robertson
    I first read this ten or fifteen years ago, and have been searching for a copy ever since (thank you, Alibris!)—set in Elizabethan Scotland, it is the story of Anne Percy, Countess of Northumberland, and the conspiracy (one of them) to restore Mary Queen of Scots to the English throne—and of a madwoman, the Virgin Mary, witches, a werewolf, the lands of Faery . . .
  • The Moon Under Her Feet, by Clysta Kinstler
    A feminist retelling of the conception, birth, life and death of Christ, as told by Mary Magdalene, High Priestess of the Great Mother in Jerusalem.
  • Kitchen Literacy, by Ann Vileisis
    An account of how we as a culture have become disconnected from the sources of our food, and why we need to return.
  • The Death of Innocents, by Sister Helen Prejean
    An eyewitness account of wrongful executions, this is the followup to her stellar Dead Man Walking. Must reading, in my not-so-humble opinion.
  • The Last Girls, by Lee Smith
    Another fine story by the author of Fair and Tender Ladies, Black Mountain Breakdown, Oral History, and so many more—all evoke The South beautifully, and this is no exception. A reunion-riverboat trip down the Mississippi is the setting, and the "girls" are now women looking back.
  • Feasting the Heart, by Reynolds Price
    52 essays originally aired on NPR, plus a couple that never made in onto the air—varying subjects, but always beautifully done.
  • The White Witch, by Elizabeth Goudge
    A yearly re-read—Cavaliers, Puritans and Gypsies in the time of Charles I in her tale of love and subterfuge in the English countryside. And Froniga, one of my favorite of all her strong women . . .
  • Pucker, by Melanie Gideon
    Thomas, horribly burned in a childhood fire and burdened by a 'crazy' mother, has always been an outsider—but now he must return to his birthplace, the world of Isaura, to save his mother and to face possibility and temptation. Fascinating and well-written.
  • The Scent of Water, by Elizabeth Goudge
    Begins with a death and ends with a birth in the tiny village of Appleshaw—and in between there is life, love, friendship, faith, and the enchanting cabinet full of 'the little things." As always, a portal into a way of life long gone. . . and one that I miss, though I never knew it.
  • A Swift Pure Cry, by Siobhan Dowd
    The story of Shell, who finds herself pregnant at 15—the baby is stillborn, so she and her brother and sister bury it in the back garden. Then the Garda arrive . . . based on a true story, and very well done.
  • The Dean's Watch, by Elizabeth Goudge
    I'd never read this one; the characters aren't nearly as sympathetic as in most of her books, and it was difficult for me to finish. But it was worth it—there are lessons here, and things don't end well, but they do end rightly.
  • Book of a Thousand Days, by Shannon Hale
    A shimmering retelling of the Grimm's fairy tale 'Maid Maleen,' reimagined on the Central Asian steppes. I read until 3 a.m. because I couldn't bear to stop until the end. . .
  • Tistou of the Green Thumbs, by Maurice Druon (trans. by Humphrey Hare)
    A strange and pleasant little book: Tistou, an only child with remarkable powers of growing plants simply by sticking his 'green thumbs' into the dirt, takes on the wrongs of society. A French juvenile, ex-library, my brother found it at Goodwill and passed it on.
  • A Country Year, by Sue Hubbell
    About life on the land in the Ozarks, and a woman finding herself in middle age—I recommend it highly. And she keeps bees, too.
  • Losing Moses on the Freeway, by Chris Hedges
    The 10 Commandments in America—Hedges explores the challenge of living according to these moral precepts.
  • In Defense of Food, Michael Pollan
    An Eater's Manifesto—Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants. (and nothing with over five ingredients, ingredients you don't recognize and can't pronounce, and nothing your great-grandmother wouldn't recognize as food.)

Thursday, 09 August 2007

The Explosion

On the day of the explosion
Shadow pointed towards the pithead:
In the sun the slagheap slept.

Down the lane came men in pitboots
Coughing oath-edged talk and pipe-smoke,
Shouldering off the freshened silence.

One chased after rabbits; lost them;
Came back with a nest of lark's eggs;
Showed them; lodged them in the grasses.

So they passed in beards and moleskins,
Fathers, brothers, nicknames, laughter,
Through the tall gates standing open.

At noon, there came a tremor; cows
Stopped chewing for a second; sun,
Scarfed as in a heat-haze, dimmed.

The dead go on before us, they
Are sitting in God's house in comfort,
We shall see them face to face—

Plain as lettering in the chapels
It was said, and for a second
Wives saw men of the explosion

Larger than in life they managed—
Gold as on a coin, or walking
Somehow from the sun toward them,

One showing the eggs unbroken.

By Philip Larkin, whose birthday is today; he was born in Coventry, England, in 1922, and died in 1985. He worked as a librarian and wrote poetry in his spare time, and he was considered one of the great English poets of his time. (Biographical information here, and links to various poems.)

Larkin was featured on this morning Writer's Almanac, and I found this poem while poking around for more of his poetry (for today's poem, The Mower, click on the link). I'd been considering the plight of the six miners buried in Utah's Crandall Canyon mine . . 1,500 feet down, under solid (or nearly so) rock. I cannot even begin to imagine how that must feel . . . I couldn't do their job. Shut away from air and light, all those thousands of pounds and hundreds of feet of rock weighing down on you. It makes me queasy just thinking about it . . . I'm so thankful that I don't have to choose between that and my family going hungry and homeless.

The rescuers have a small borehole nearly to the men, according to this morning's news; they should break through sometime this afternoon, and they're working on a larger one. God willing, they will find them alive.

Crandall Canyon is a non-union mine. The mine has received 325 citations by federal mine inspectors (those that are left, that is, after this administration's gutting of their ranks, too) since January of 2004. More than a quarter of those were "significant and substantial," meaning likely to cause injury. Tula Connell has a highly informative post at Firedoglake; you can google 'United Mine Workers*Crandall Canyon' to find news articles about what's happening. I forget just how many miners have died this year already—57? Most of them in nonunion mines.

So how many lives is it worth for mine owners to have their big houses and easy living? And how do they sleep at night?

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