Daniel Chesir was kind enough (or perhaps busy enough) to invite me to deliver the drash at his Shabbat Shuvah service this year, which he has led each of the 30 years since he co-founded Congregation Sha'ar Zahav. Since the rest of my preparation for the High Holy Days was going along OK, and since I had in fact been engaged in teshuvah during the month of Elul, I figured that it wouldn't be too hard. So, here it is:
Sermon on Shabbat Shuvah, 2007
This is Shabbat Shuvah, the Sabbath of Return. The name comes from the Haftarah text, which Daniel just chanted, from Hosea, "Shuvah, Yisraeil, ad Adonai elohecha." "Return, O Israel, to Adonai your God, for you have fallen because of your sin."
The theme of return also appears prominently in the Rosh Hashanah liturgy, "U-teshuva, u't'filah, u'tzedaka ma'avirin et roah hag'zerah." “But repentance, and prayer, and charity avert the severe decree.” Teshuvah means both return and repentance, or perhaps return to God by means of repentance: making a serious examination of our past shortcomings and making efforts to improve, especially to improve our relationships with God, others, and ourselves.
During the month of Elul we have had the special opportunity to examine ourselves and return to a closer relationship with God: to heal all our relationships by making necessary apologies, and to appreciate the relief that can come from getting rid of whatever it was we wanted to leave behind us when we cast our bread crumbs or pebbles into the Bay at tashlich.
But really, the opportunity to return to God is always ours. As our Yom Kippur prayerbook says, "Let us not blaspheme the Most High, by saying that there ever comes a time when sincere prayer is not heard, when sincere repentance is turned away. But if we cannot find prayer and repentance on this Day of Repentance, if we cannot make a start towards peace and wholeness before the sun sets on this one Day of Peace, then when shall repentance come?"
Teshuvah begins when we realize our need to act. If we sense that the distance between us and God has increased, God is not the one who has moved; we have.
On the bright side, to return to God does not require a vast journey. Towards the end of Deuteronomy, Moses talks of a time when the Israelites have turned away from God and been banished from the Holy Land, and the people "return to Adonai your God, and you and your children heed God's command with all your heart and soul, just as I enjoin upon you this day, then Adonai your God will restore your fortunes and take you back in love." And to perform this return is "not too baffling for you, nor is it beyond reach. ... It is very close to you, in your mouth and in your heart, to observe it."
In fact, God will help us to return. At the end of the Torah service, we pray, "Hashiveinu Adonai eilecha v'nashuvah." "Return us to you, O God, and we shall return."
Teshuvah is in our mouth and in our hearts: An examination of our hearts, to see where our distance from God is causing pain, to us and to those around us; then using our mouths to make apologies to those we've harmed and to God for our failures, and then making a renewed effort to live our lives as children of God. It can help us in this effort to remember that we were created in the image and likeness of God, and that we have in us a “yetzer tov,” an urge towards doing good, in addition to the "yetzer hara," the urge towards evil.
Making teshuvah is a bit like doing meditation: we try to focus on a word or image, or our breath, and our busy minds continually present us with other thoughts and images and sensations. However, we don't stop meditating when our minds do that. We simply notice that we've lost our focus, and we gently and kindly return our attention to that focus. This practice strengthens our spirit and our ability to keep our minds from going places that will do us no good. When we're trying to return to God, and we notice that we've swerved away from God and towards something that is, as the Buddhists would say, less skillful, we don't give up on teshuvah. We simply notice that we've turned in the wrong direction and gently turn ourselves back towards God.
And so I'd like to end with a prayer that I wrote about our continuing efforts towards teshuvah:
In the Divine image You created us, Adonai. We strive to measure up to that image, and we fail, and then we get up and strive again. Please teach us that we grow closer to Your image every time we get up again, and give us joy in that knowledge. Blessed are You, Adonai, who lifts up the fallen.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Saturday, September 1, 2007
Be All that You Can Be
To be what we are, and to become what we are capable of becoming, is the only end in life.-Baruch Spinoza
This saying makes the same point as the story about Rabbi Zusya, who taught that he would not be asked in the World to Come why he was not Moses, but rather, why he was not Zusya.
I'm trying to prepare for the High Holy Days with introspection and service preparation and a to-do list. The topic of my meditation last night was change, what I need to change about myself, what is scary about that change, how I can deal with the fear, including the fear that I'll never be able to make changes that I've tried and failed to make in the past.
If it were easy to make and keep New Year's resolutions, there would be no need for people to keep on making them, or for the thousands of self-help books that keep on being published. I do know a lot about what doesn't work for me, but less about what does work. My yetzer hara, or destructive impulse, is strong. But I do not despair. I have done new things, and have improved myself in some ways, even if only for a time. And each day, in fact, each moment, presents the opportunity for a fresh start.
May we all be written in the Book of Life for a sweet and healthy New Year.
This saying makes the same point as the story about Rabbi Zusya, who taught that he would not be asked in the World to Come why he was not Moses, but rather, why he was not Zusya.
I'm trying to prepare for the High Holy Days with introspection and service preparation and a to-do list. The topic of my meditation last night was change, what I need to change about myself, what is scary about that change, how I can deal with the fear, including the fear that I'll never be able to make changes that I've tried and failed to make in the past.
If it were easy to make and keep New Year's resolutions, there would be no need for people to keep on making them, or for the thousands of self-help books that keep on being published. I do know a lot about what doesn't work for me, but less about what does work. My yetzer hara, or destructive impulse, is strong. But I do not despair. I have done new things, and have improved myself in some ways, even if only for a time. And each day, in fact, each moment, presents the opportunity for a fresh start.
May we all be written in the Book of Life for a sweet and healthy New Year.
Saturday, August 4, 2007
Summer Fun
So, I went to recorder camp the last week of July. I'd been holding off making the decision to enroll because it has moved to a new location this year, after some 15 years in San Rafael. I don't take kindly to change. After I realized that I was overreacting to the change, I signed up at the last minute, and am very glad that I did so.
The new location, St. Albert's Priory, is a lovely place, built around a central courtyard with grass, a koi pond, and two tortoises. The main chapel is great acoustically, and elegantly appointed with dark wood choir stall, marble floors, and stained glass. The grounds are invitingly rustic, with trees and creek doing their darnedest to absorb noise and pollutants from Highway 24 next door.
The faculty rotates through the technique classes, so I got to spend one session with each of them, and took classes all week with two of my favorite teachers. I also arranged jam sessions in the off-hours with old and new friends, getting to play some of their music, and, most happily, with a 9-part piece of music that I had been introduced to 2 years ago and hadn't had the chance to play with that many sufficiently capable players ever since. And I even have a recording of our session!
Then, I barely had time to unpack before I was at a rehearsal for a healthcare town hall being hosted by my synagogue last Wednesday. It was attended by Assemblyman Mark Leno, Assemblywoman Fiona Ma, and representatives from Senator Carole Migden, Governor Arnold Schwartzenegger, and Speaker of the House (my Congresswoman) Nancy Pelosi. Under the guidance of San Francisco Organizing Project mentors, I was part of the committee that wrote the script for the evening, and I wound up reading the part of the co-chair. Thanks to those who phoned congregants of the various SFOP congregations, we had a full house! Standing room only. It seemed to make a positive impact on the politicos, who assented whole-heartedly to our principles calling for a statewide universal healthcare plan this year.
So now I'm back to trying to work and real estate decisions, and stuff like that.
The new location, St. Albert's Priory, is a lovely place, built around a central courtyard with grass, a koi pond, and two tortoises. The main chapel is great acoustically, and elegantly appointed with dark wood choir stall, marble floors, and stained glass. The grounds are invitingly rustic, with trees and creek doing their darnedest to absorb noise and pollutants from Highway 24 next door.
The faculty rotates through the technique classes, so I got to spend one session with each of them, and took classes all week with two of my favorite teachers. I also arranged jam sessions in the off-hours with old and new friends, getting to play some of their music, and, most happily, with a 9-part piece of music that I had been introduced to 2 years ago and hadn't had the chance to play with that many sufficiently capable players ever since. And I even have a recording of our session!
Then, I barely had time to unpack before I was at a rehearsal for a healthcare town hall being hosted by my synagogue last Wednesday. It was attended by Assemblyman Mark Leno, Assemblywoman Fiona Ma, and representatives from Senator Carole Migden, Governor Arnold Schwartzenegger, and Speaker of the House (my Congresswoman) Nancy Pelosi. Under the guidance of San Francisco Organizing Project mentors, I was part of the committee that wrote the script for the evening, and I wound up reading the part of the co-chair. Thanks to those who phoned congregants of the various SFOP congregations, we had a full house! Standing room only. It seemed to make a positive impact on the politicos, who assented whole-heartedly to our principles calling for a statewide universal healthcare plan this year.
So now I'm back to trying to work and real estate decisions, and stuff like that.
Monday, July 30, 2007
Sermon on Devarim and Health Care Access
This week we begin reading the last book of the Torah, Devarim. The book presents the discourses that Moses addressed to the children of Israel just outside the land of Cana'an. Like the other books, it takes its Hebrew name from one of its first words - d'varim, which means "words." It also means "things." And the connection between words and things is nowhere more clearly shown than in Bereishit, where God speaks the world into existence. Words spoken by humans are also important. I'm reading a book these days called Words that Hurt, Words that Heal, by Rabbi Joseph Telushkin. Words are powerful things; let's be careful how we use them.
The portion D'varim outlines the journey of the Israelites through the wilderness, mentioning various battles that took place during those forty years. It makes the point that a battle will go well for the children of Israel if God has commanded it and will fight with them, and that the people will be defeated if they choose to fight a battle that God has not commanded. Rebelling against God's command not to fight a battle is as sinful as disobeying a command to fight a battle. Neither response is a good idea.
The Haftarah for this week is the first chapter of Isaiah. It talks about the sorry state of Israelites who have forsaken God. All manner of misfortune comes to them, including the fact that there is no one to provide treatment for their illnesses: "Every head is ailing, and every heart is sick. From head to foot no spot is sound: all bruises, and welts, and festering sores--not pressed out, not bound up, not softened with oil."
Tonight I want to speak with you about the work of the San Francisco Organizing Project. SFOP is a faith-based group of congregations, schools, and community centers representing 40,000 families throughout San Francisco. The staff of SFOP works with these congregations to teach them how to organize to improve their communities. With their help, a year and a half ago, we at Sha’ar Zahav interviewed members of our community and discovered that the lack of affordable healthcare was a major concern. Congregants formed a local organizing committee with a mentor from SFOP. Last June we had a community meeting at Sha’ar Zahav that included members of the San Francisco Board of Supervisors. They heard our concerns and the next month, the supervisors unanimously approved groundbreaking legislation for universal, accessible healthcare in San Francisco, a program now called Healthy San Francisco. The program will provide actual health care, not insurance, through city clinics and other providers, and will be paid for through a combination of sliding scale fees, employer payments, and governmental funding. Three weeks ago, Healthy SF began at two clinics in Chinatown, and it is scheduled to be in full operation by the end of next year. We at Sha'ar Zahav helped make that happen; we made our voices heard, and the legislators listened.
But that was just the beginning. One of the goals of the congregation was to work for expanded health care access at the state and national levels. And now there is momentum in the country to work for better health care. The movie Sicko is eloquently making the points that the US healthcare system works primarily to create profits for the insurance companies, and that people in countries with free universal healthcare are healthier and live longer than Americans. Californians are starting to take action. The governor and several Democratic legislators have proposed bills for statewide healthcare programs. Now we have another opportunity to make our voices heard.
Sha'ar Zahav will be hosting a Town Hall Meeting for all the SFOP congregations on Wednesday, August First, at 6:30 P.M. In attendance will be State Assemblyman Mark Leno, State Assemblywoman Fiona Ma, State Senators Carol Migden and Leland Yee, State Senator Pro Tem Don Perata, and a representative from the office of Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger. We will let them know our concerns and priorities, and they will let us know what they are doing to fulfill them. Imagine their thoughts if only 40 people are in the audience. There is power in numbers. We need you to be there.
The Haftarah continues with a call for the people to engage in tikkun olam, to work towards healing this broken world. "Devote yourselves to justice; aid the wronged. Uphold the rights of the orphan; defend the cause of the widow." Since Isaiah has noted that untreated illness is not a good thing, I think he would agree that working for universal, accessible healthcare would be one way to uphold the rights and defend the cause of those who need help. Fighting for justice and health, we can be sure that God is fighting with us.
The portion D'varim outlines the journey of the Israelites through the wilderness, mentioning various battles that took place during those forty years. It makes the point that a battle will go well for the children of Israel if God has commanded it and will fight with them, and that the people will be defeated if they choose to fight a battle that God has not commanded. Rebelling against God's command not to fight a battle is as sinful as disobeying a command to fight a battle. Neither response is a good idea.
The Haftarah for this week is the first chapter of Isaiah. It talks about the sorry state of Israelites who have forsaken God. All manner of misfortune comes to them, including the fact that there is no one to provide treatment for their illnesses: "Every head is ailing, and every heart is sick. From head to foot no spot is sound: all bruises, and welts, and festering sores--not pressed out, not bound up, not softened with oil."
Tonight I want to speak with you about the work of the San Francisco Organizing Project. SFOP is a faith-based group of congregations, schools, and community centers representing 40,000 families throughout San Francisco. The staff of SFOP works with these congregations to teach them how to organize to improve their communities. With their help, a year and a half ago, we at Sha’ar Zahav interviewed members of our community and discovered that the lack of affordable healthcare was a major concern. Congregants formed a local organizing committee with a mentor from SFOP. Last June we had a community meeting at Sha’ar Zahav that included members of the San Francisco Board of Supervisors. They heard our concerns and the next month, the supervisors unanimously approved groundbreaking legislation for universal, accessible healthcare in San Francisco, a program now called Healthy San Francisco. The program will provide actual health care, not insurance, through city clinics and other providers, and will be paid for through a combination of sliding scale fees, employer payments, and governmental funding. Three weeks ago, Healthy SF began at two clinics in Chinatown, and it is scheduled to be in full operation by the end of next year. We at Sha'ar Zahav helped make that happen; we made our voices heard, and the legislators listened.
But that was just the beginning. One of the goals of the congregation was to work for expanded health care access at the state and national levels. And now there is momentum in the country to work for better health care. The movie Sicko is eloquently making the points that the US healthcare system works primarily to create profits for the insurance companies, and that people in countries with free universal healthcare are healthier and live longer than Americans. Californians are starting to take action. The governor and several Democratic legislators have proposed bills for statewide healthcare programs. Now we have another opportunity to make our voices heard.
Sha'ar Zahav will be hosting a Town Hall Meeting for all the SFOP congregations on Wednesday, August First, at 6:30 P.M. In attendance will be State Assemblyman Mark Leno, State Assemblywoman Fiona Ma, State Senators Carol Migden and Leland Yee, State Senator Pro Tem Don Perata, and a representative from the office of Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger. We will let them know our concerns and priorities, and they will let us know what they are doing to fulfill them. Imagine their thoughts if only 40 people are in the audience. There is power in numbers. We need you to be there.
The Haftarah continues with a call for the people to engage in tikkun olam, to work towards healing this broken world. "Devote yourselves to justice; aid the wronged. Uphold the rights of the orphan; defend the cause of the widow." Since Isaiah has noted that untreated illness is not a good thing, I think he would agree that working for universal, accessible healthcare would be one way to uphold the rights and defend the cause of those who need help. Fighting for justice and health, we can be sure that God is fighting with us.
Friday, July 6, 2007
My Bat Mitzvah Drash
It seems that I never posted my bat mitzvah drash. Here it is:
My Catholic mother had me baptized as an infant. Nevertheless, I belonged to a Reform synagogue when I was in elementary school, because I was living with the Jewish parents of my atheist father. I studied Hebrew and ethics, and led children's services. But I went to live with my father at the end of the sixth grade, and my Jewish education ended.
Years later I became involved with a group of gay and lesbian Lutherans. Through them, in 1980 or so, I met Daniel Chesir, who invited me to Sha'ar Zahav. Here, I appreciated the familiar old prayers and the new liturgy that acknowledged and upheld me as gay and as a woman, not to mention all the nice Jewish lesbians. I joined the synagogue and the Ritual Committee, and started leading adult services.
Several months ago, I started to take these interesting classes that could lead to an adult B'nai Mitzvah ceremony. After some soul-searching, I decided to go for it; what with my Catholic mother and all, it seemed like a good idea to formalize my connection with Judaism. So far, my Bat Mitzvah experience is turning out as I recently read it described, "one step on the path to increasing community involvement." I've joined the Bikkur Cholim committee and my increased commitment to tikkun olam, as part of the B'nai Mitzvah requirements, has taken me as far as Sacramento to talk with my legislators about health care access.
From this week's Torah portion, I chose to chant the priestly benediction, because of my summers at Cazadero Music Camp. There I enjoyed the redwood trees and the music, and getting crushes on my counselors. I always choked up, though, when the counselors bade us farewell by singing a choral setting of the benediction, the one we played on recorders. Probably because it meant that our week in the woods was officially over, but also because the much-admired counselors were singing to us campers, praying for us.
The priestly benediction is as follows: Y'varechecha Adonai v'yishm'recha; Ya'eir Adonai panav eilecha vichuneka; yisa Adonai panav eilecha v'yaseim lecha shalom: May God bless you and keep you. May God deal kindly and graciously with you. May God bestow divine favor upon you and grant you peace.
The first verse is usually interpreted as a plea for material blessings, and for protection from any harm that might flow from that prosperity. The second verse asks that we experience the spiritual blessing of insight into the Torah; and the third verse asks for some combination of material and spiritual blessings. These 15 words have been hallowed by millenia of use, and they incorporate the hopes and prayers of millions of Jews. On top of which, they come with a money-back guarantee. Well, actually, a promise of response. At the end of my portion, God says, "My priests will use these words to link my name with the children of Israel, and I will bless them, va'ani avarecheim."
The priests traditionally pronounced the blessings at the High Holy Days and the three Pilgrimage Festivals. Nowadays, congregations use them on many happy occasions, including, as it happens, b'nai mitzvah. So, you'll be singing them for us soon.
Incidentally, the gesture for the Vulcan greeting "Live long and prosper" derives from the priestly benediction. I don't have time to explain it here; ask me about it after the service.
I expect to choke up when you folks sing the blessing for us, as I did at the end of summer camp. Not only because it will mark the end of my Bat Mitzvah classes, but also because all of you will be using the ancient words to ask blessings on us, on our path to increasing community involvement - with Congregation Sha'ar Zahav and with the Jewish people.
My Catholic mother had me baptized as an infant. Nevertheless, I belonged to a Reform synagogue when I was in elementary school, because I was living with the Jewish parents of my atheist father. I studied Hebrew and ethics, and led children's services. But I went to live with my father at the end of the sixth grade, and my Jewish education ended.
Years later I became involved with a group of gay and lesbian Lutherans. Through them, in 1980 or so, I met Daniel Chesir, who invited me to Sha'ar Zahav. Here, I appreciated the familiar old prayers and the new liturgy that acknowledged and upheld me as gay and as a woman, not to mention all the nice Jewish lesbians. I joined the synagogue and the Ritual Committee, and started leading adult services.
Several months ago, I started to take these interesting classes that could lead to an adult B'nai Mitzvah ceremony. After some soul-searching, I decided to go for it; what with my Catholic mother and all, it seemed like a good idea to formalize my connection with Judaism. So far, my Bat Mitzvah experience is turning out as I recently read it described, "one step on the path to increasing community involvement." I've joined the Bikkur Cholim committee and my increased commitment to tikkun olam, as part of the B'nai Mitzvah requirements, has taken me as far as Sacramento to talk with my legislators about health care access.
From this week's Torah portion, I chose to chant the priestly benediction, because of my summers at Cazadero Music Camp. There I enjoyed the redwood trees and the music, and getting crushes on my counselors. I always choked up, though, when the counselors bade us farewell by singing a choral setting of the benediction, the one we played on recorders. Probably because it meant that our week in the woods was officially over, but also because the much-admired counselors were singing to us campers, praying for us.
The priestly benediction is as follows: Y'varechecha Adonai v'yishm'recha; Ya'eir Adonai panav eilecha vichuneka; yisa Adonai panav eilecha v'yaseim lecha shalom: May God bless you and keep you. May God deal kindly and graciously with you. May God bestow divine favor upon you and grant you peace.
The first verse is usually interpreted as a plea for material blessings, and for protection from any harm that might flow from that prosperity. The second verse asks that we experience the spiritual blessing of insight into the Torah; and the third verse asks for some combination of material and spiritual blessings. These 15 words have been hallowed by millenia of use, and they incorporate the hopes and prayers of millions of Jews. On top of which, they come with a money-back guarantee. Well, actually, a promise of response. At the end of my portion, God says, "My priests will use these words to link my name with the children of Israel, and I will bless them, va'ani avarecheim."
The priests traditionally pronounced the blessings at the High Holy Days and the three Pilgrimage Festivals. Nowadays, congregations use them on many happy occasions, including, as it happens, b'nai mitzvah. So, you'll be singing them for us soon.
Incidentally, the gesture for the Vulcan greeting "Live long and prosper" derives from the priestly benediction. I don't have time to explain it here; ask me about it after the service.
I expect to choke up when you folks sing the blessing for us, as I did at the end of summer camp. Not only because it will mark the end of my Bat Mitzvah classes, but also because all of you will be using the ancient words to ask blessings on us, on our path to increasing community involvement - with Congregation Sha'ar Zahav and with the Jewish people.
Sunday, July 1, 2007
City Sightings
I've been meaning to pass on a few recently spotted vignettes:
I saw a woman knitting with four or five double-pointed needles as she walked across the street (while I was crossing in the opposite direction) near my office one afternoon. It takes a serious command of one's needles to have the confidence to maneuver them while standing, let alone walking, because the stitches will drop off the needles at the slightest provocation. Or the needle will simply fall out of the stitches. And if a needle drops into the storm drain, it's all over for that set of needles.
On the same walk to the Metro, I saw two (presumably Sikh) gentlemen in turbans. The first turban was a virulent shade of chartreusy green, and had no connection whatsoever to the other colors of his clothes. It just about hurt my eyes. I concluded that the man was color-blind or had no taste whatsoever. The next gentleman, however, was wearing a purple (my favorite color) turban, which eased my eyes. Moreover, it coordinated beautifully with his lavender shirt and the other clothes he was wearing. I said to myself - that guy has to be gay. However, suspecting that the Sikh religion is no more gay-friendly than other religions of a similar vintage, I revised my diagnosis, and now think that he was a metrosexual.
Finally, just the other day, I walked by a motor scooter that was Pepto Bismol pink. It was soooo girly looking. But the seat was covered with a black vinyl with a white pattern on it. A pattern that, on closer examination, turned out to be skulls and crossbones! Perhaps the owner is Anne Bonney?
I saw a woman knitting with four or five double-pointed needles as she walked across the street (while I was crossing in the opposite direction) near my office one afternoon. It takes a serious command of one's needles to have the confidence to maneuver them while standing, let alone walking, because the stitches will drop off the needles at the slightest provocation. Or the needle will simply fall out of the stitches. And if a needle drops into the storm drain, it's all over for that set of needles.
On the same walk to the Metro, I saw two (presumably Sikh) gentlemen in turbans. The first turban was a virulent shade of chartreusy green, and had no connection whatsoever to the other colors of his clothes. It just about hurt my eyes. I concluded that the man was color-blind or had no taste whatsoever. The next gentleman, however, was wearing a purple (my favorite color) turban, which eased my eyes. Moreover, it coordinated beautifully with his lavender shirt and the other clothes he was wearing. I said to myself - that guy has to be gay. However, suspecting that the Sikh religion is no more gay-friendly than other religions of a similar vintage, I revised my diagnosis, and now think that he was a metrosexual.
Finally, just the other day, I walked by a motor scooter that was Pepto Bismol pink. It was soooo girly looking. But the seat was covered with a black vinyl with a white pattern on it. A pattern that, on closer examination, turned out to be skulls and crossbones! Perhaps the owner is Anne Bonney?
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Last Writing Class of this Session
We had the last session of the creative writing class last Thursday, and were instructed to bring some entertaining readings. So, I revisited two of the pieces I wrote for the humor class two years ago, and read them at the class, to some acclaim. Here they are:
The Comet
Comets and meteors have rammed into Earth from time to time. In 1908, for example, a huge area of Siberia was devastated by a comet. But scientists are only made curious by such destruction.
In 2005, NASA launched an 820-pound slug of copper (with a camera and a propulsion system) into a neighboring comet, to see what it was made of. The "ejecta," the debris kicked up from the impact of the slug, are being analyzed to determine, in the words of one of the NASA scientists, whether comets are "dirty snowballs" or "snowy dirtballs."
What if they find out that comets aren't made of dirt and water, after all? Maybe they're made of palm trees, or pepperoni pizzas, or fur coats, or dolphins, or skis, or oboes, or old truck engines, or paper clips, or surveying rods, or old computers, or bus transfers, or clown makeup, or steel kettles, or brown paper shopping bags, or street signs, or Swiss watches, or acrylic paints, or tattered paperback books, or backhoes, or wrought iron railings, or Louis XIV armoires, or corn silos, or locomotive engines, or birchbark canoes, or threadbare sheets.
Flinging a huge chunk of metal at an object is not the most sophisticated method of studying it, I think. Also, it's just not a neighborly thing to do. How would we like it if somebody flung a heavy object at Earth to see what it's made of? Mm. I'm thinking of the crater in Siberia and wondering if maybe somebody did.
The Sea and Me
My bed sings a siren song to me, one that I can hear from miles away. But the song is not loud, just insistent. It lures me to my bed, wrapping me in sleepiness like a wonderfully soft bathrobe. It whispers to me of relaxation, release, and refreshment. It reminds me of the simple pleasure of sleep. I go gladly to its embrace. My bed becomes a conch shell of shimmering warmth; at once it is both large and protective, and cozy and comfortable.
In the morning, however, it's another story. Then my bed is a huge octopus. Its arms spring forth from the mattress and entangle me in their tentacles of sheets and pillows. The gigantic octopus grasps hold of me and refuses to let me go. (It seems to have woken up hungry.) I struggle to free myself from its grasp, but every time I lift my head from the pillow it drags me back down underwater. Not satisfied with just keeping me asleep, it keeps me in bed even when I don't actually get back to sleep. On weekends, when I don't try that hard to get up, it can keep me from leaving the bed until half the day is gone. On workdays, however, my need to earn a living gives extra strength to my struggles, and I break free of the long, suckered tentacles and swim off to work.
___________
Just before class, I dashed off the first scene of a recorder camp murder mystery. Since I'd already sketched out some characters and done a plot outline, I had no excuse not to - and if I didn't start it now, I probably never would.
Death by Recorder, scene 1
The recorders were playing a bit out of tune, but the dissonance troubling Harmony was not musical. She and the other students were playing in the opening session of the week-long Mendocino Early Music Festival. They had spent at least a thousand dollars to attend the workshop, and some had traveled halfway across the country. The room should be filled with the joy of music making, she thought.
But that wasn't what Harmony was feeling. Her shoulders were climbing towards her ears, and she wasn't getting good, deep breaths. "Could I be nervous about being here?" she asked herself. "This is hardly my first recorder workshop. No. I'm here, my luggage is here, I know how to get from my room to the dining hall to here. The weather suits my clothes. No, I'm not nervous. This must be someone else's feeling that I'm picking up on."
She looked around the classroom, once part of a military barracks, to see if she could spot someone who might be the source of her discomfort. The teacher, Meolody, stopped the music often enough that it didn't taker Harmony very long to survey her 30 fellow students.
She knew about half of them from earlier workshops. She had spoken with Hank, Melody, and Elizabeth earlier today, congratulating them on their good taste in choosing the same K&M purple folding music stand that she used (and that was used by nobody else in her local playing community).
She also knew Horace, Julie, and the other teacher, Heather. None of the players looked especially troubled, but nobody looked joyful, either. Harmony couldn't put her finger on it, but something was amiss in Mendocino.
The Comet
Comets and meteors have rammed into Earth from time to time. In 1908, for example, a huge area of Siberia was devastated by a comet. But scientists are only made curious by such destruction.
In 2005, NASA launched an 820-pound slug of copper (with a camera and a propulsion system) into a neighboring comet, to see what it was made of. The "ejecta," the debris kicked up from the impact of the slug, are being analyzed to determine, in the words of one of the NASA scientists, whether comets are "dirty snowballs" or "snowy dirtballs."
What if they find out that comets aren't made of dirt and water, after all? Maybe they're made of palm trees, or pepperoni pizzas, or fur coats, or dolphins, or skis, or oboes, or old truck engines, or paper clips, or surveying rods, or old computers, or bus transfers, or clown makeup, or steel kettles, or brown paper shopping bags, or street signs, or Swiss watches, or acrylic paints, or tattered paperback books, or backhoes, or wrought iron railings, or Louis XIV armoires, or corn silos, or locomotive engines, or birchbark canoes, or threadbare sheets.
Flinging a huge chunk of metal at an object is not the most sophisticated method of studying it, I think. Also, it's just not a neighborly thing to do. How would we like it if somebody flung a heavy object at Earth to see what it's made of? Mm. I'm thinking of the crater in Siberia and wondering if maybe somebody did.
The Sea and Me
My bed sings a siren song to me, one that I can hear from miles away. But the song is not loud, just insistent. It lures me to my bed, wrapping me in sleepiness like a wonderfully soft bathrobe. It whispers to me of relaxation, release, and refreshment. It reminds me of the simple pleasure of sleep. I go gladly to its embrace. My bed becomes a conch shell of shimmering warmth; at once it is both large and protective, and cozy and comfortable.
In the morning, however, it's another story. Then my bed is a huge octopus. Its arms spring forth from the mattress and entangle me in their tentacles of sheets and pillows. The gigantic octopus grasps hold of me and refuses to let me go. (It seems to have woken up hungry.) I struggle to free myself from its grasp, but every time I lift my head from the pillow it drags me back down underwater. Not satisfied with just keeping me asleep, it keeps me in bed even when I don't actually get back to sleep. On weekends, when I don't try that hard to get up, it can keep me from leaving the bed until half the day is gone. On workdays, however, my need to earn a living gives extra strength to my struggles, and I break free of the long, suckered tentacles and swim off to work.
___________
Just before class, I dashed off the first scene of a recorder camp murder mystery. Since I'd already sketched out some characters and done a plot outline, I had no excuse not to - and if I didn't start it now, I probably never would.
Death by Recorder, scene 1
The recorders were playing a bit out of tune, but the dissonance troubling Harmony was not musical. She and the other students were playing in the opening session of the week-long Mendocino Early Music Festival. They had spent at least a thousand dollars to attend the workshop, and some had traveled halfway across the country. The room should be filled with the joy of music making, she thought.
But that wasn't what Harmony was feeling. Her shoulders were climbing towards her ears, and she wasn't getting good, deep breaths. "Could I be nervous about being here?" she asked herself. "This is hardly my first recorder workshop. No. I'm here, my luggage is here, I know how to get from my room to the dining hall to here. The weather suits my clothes. No, I'm not nervous. This must be someone else's feeling that I'm picking up on."
She looked around the classroom, once part of a military barracks, to see if she could spot someone who might be the source of her discomfort. The teacher, Meolody, stopped the music often enough that it didn't taker Harmony very long to survey her 30 fellow students.
She knew about half of them from earlier workshops. She had spoken with Hank, Melody, and Elizabeth earlier today, congratulating them on their good taste in choosing the same K&M purple folding music stand that she used (and that was used by nobody else in her local playing community).
She also knew Horace, Julie, and the other teacher, Heather. None of the players looked especially troubled, but nobody looked joyful, either. Harmony couldn't put her finger on it, but something was amiss in Mendocino.
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