City of Ember

The title of on article posted on Yahoo! today exclaims, “Antarctic Meltdown Would Flood Washington, D.C.” My first response was “well, I guess we’ll just have to move the Capital then.” I was slightly annoyed. “Do you think things always stay the same?” Given the context that cities around the world would be flooded at that point in time, moving the Capital would be one of the least of everyone’s worries. For those with a natural inclination for visualizing or long term planning, I suggest creating a folder on their computers or taking out pencil and paper and start noodling on this idea now.

In January I read the Books of Ember by Jeanne DuPrau: The City of Ember, The People of Sparks, The Prophet of Yonwood, and The Diamond of Darkhold. Three of the four books in the series take place in a post-apocalyptic society. According to Amazon.com, the reading level is 9-12 year old and, the series is aimed at the 10 to 14 year old group. This is all rather deceiving. Adults could benefit from the series just as much as kids.

I told my 84 year aunt about the books, and we wondered whether they were good for children. “Won’t they worry about their future? Won’t they have nightmares?” Yet in the days since I have read the books, some of the “take home” messages have been floating around in my head. “We make a lot of assumptions about the future, thinking it will be more or less like the present.” “In all probability, one way or another, the world will probably change radically in the next generation or so.” “People are resourceful.”

Change is a given. Radical change is highly probable. The sooner we can accept that, the sooner we can move on to working from an attitude of resourcefulness. Lina, the little girl in the Ember series, kept on drawing her vision of a city of lights. This is DuPrau’s message of hope to tweens and adults alike. It can give people a context when reading about predictions for the future.

Obama’s Inauguration: A New Brand

After watching Obama’s Inauguration on television yesterday, it is back to “chopping wood and carrying water” for me today. As an intense introvert, I confess that I couldn't always relate to all the hoopla yesterday. I do know that I like how Obama thinks. I like how he solicits information from multiple sources and synthesizes it. I like how he defines his goals. Of all the candidates who ran for president, I think he is the best one to lead the United States at this point in time.

This morning as I was waking up, I was thinking about the strong power of symbolism. Older white males have come to symbolize so much of what is wrong with the United States right now: corporate greed, untouchable arrogance. They have almost become as much of a brand as Campbell’s soup or Pepsi Cola. (I am in no way saying that I agree with the stereotype.) When people looked at President Obama yesterday, they saw something different. Part of people’s hope yesterday was related to seeing a different brand of elected official.

Techno Sensei

Ron recorded Bob doing the first third of the Liuhebafa form and gave each of us in the class DVD copies. The form is complex, and I appreciate the ability to look at it at home. One couple loaded the video onto their I Pod. I loaded it onto my computer because I don’t own a DVD player. This weekend Ron told me that I can actually slow the video down. So, now some of us have “Little Bob.” I now am enjoying “Slow Bob.” What fascinates me is that we are using current technology to master an ancient martial art. We are also naturally being proactive in our learning. I think most of us have a high degree of motivation to learn the form.

What Is Dancing?

On Sunday, NBC premiered Superstars of Dance, a program with dance routines from around the world. Some were what people traditionally think of as dance, but some pushed the definition. A number were martial arts routines. The judges didn’t know how to score them. Yes, it was an incredible routine, but was it dancing?

I have fond childhood memories of dancing in the living room of my parents’ home. At night I would use the picture window as a mirror, not so different from my ballet class. I was an adult before I ever found out that some of the neighbors used to watch me. I would have been horribly embarrassed. Instead I just remember the joy of moving to the music.

After much internal debate, I registered for the second semester of Liuhebafa, an internal martial art. Yes, I am uncoordinated and the slowest one in the class. Yes, a number of times in the first semester I wanted to sit down on the floor in tears because I was trying to figure out which hand was my right and which was my left when everyone else was asking detailed questions about movements. Yes, I have just a fraction of the martial arts experience of the other students in the class. But, when I go home and practice what little of the form I can remember, I feel like I am dancing, just like I did when I was a little girl. While I get a great deal of satisfaction practicing Tai Chi, the flowing movements of Liuhebafa often make me feel joyful. Right now that feeling is worth the struggle.

End of 2008

I am not planning a big end of the year review or a long list of New Year’s resolutions. What I do find curious is that I probably read more fiction in 2008 than in any year of my life, or at least since junior high. Somewhere along the line I stopped reading fiction. When my aunt went into assisted living a few years ago, I started reading some of the books that I planned to give to her so as not to offend her good Lutheran sensibilities. This has now morphed into me reading a 700 page fantasy novel this month, with a 800 page novel somewhere in transit to me in our library system. I averaged close to reading a novel a week, most of them much shorter.

2008 also involved a major education of my heart. I did more talks at church than any other year, which I discovered is more art than science. I also became more aware of people’s “world view,” beliefs, perspective; whatever one might call the foundation from which people’s opinions and actions spring. This is where Tai Chi came in handy. I began to be aware of people’s energy without judging it. I was more interested in learning how to “dance” with it.

More Snow I

For the last two months I have been reading Liuhebafa Five Character Secrets. Li Dongfeng, some time during the Yuan Dynasty, managed to write 134 wise phrases about Liuhebafa, an internal martial art, using only five Chinese characters for each, like the martial arts meet haiku.

I was thinking about that today when I was moaning about our weather forecast. Snow, snow and yet more snow: sore back; chapped face, hands, and feet; all over tired. I’m sure the martial arts masters would not have tolerated my whining. If I considered myself a martial artist, I would probably consider doing some training exercises using the snow, as if daily shoveling weren’t enough. Instead I thought about the magic of those five Chinese characters. They reminded me of acronyms.

Snow – Sometimes Need Observable Whimsy

I think Li Dongfeng would have liked that. I could imagine a Taoist monk catching snow flakes on his tongue as he shoveled snow.

Cookies Without Perfection

When my parents met, they were both accountants. This probably explains my fondness for putting ideas into tidy tables or charts. When I was little, my father used to tell me there was no room in this world for mistakes. I believed him. For the most part I still believe him. I wonder if there are parents out there who teach their children at an early age that the purpose of life is to make mistakes, to keep on trying out things until they create something really marvelous.

I keep on wondering how I can have two bookshelves full of self-help books and my life be in such a mess. To my way of thinking, my life should be as tidy as a well-maintained spread sheet. I read the books. I understood the concepts. I even tried to apply them now and then.

I think the problem is that in each book the procedure worked well for that person and maybe their students, but it is only one way of going about solving a problem or living a life. In fact, many of the books I have contradict one another. Each time I read a new book, I am starting from scratch, assuming that whatever I have read up until that time was wrong. After all, don’t many of the books actually refer to other philosophies and say just that.

Years ago I became fascinated by the Toll House Chocolate Chip Cookies Recipe. It seemed to me that it was the basis for so much excitement. Every few weeks I would add new ingredients or change something in the recipe. I had many happy surprises, and only a few not so happy ones. I thought about that a few days ago when I was hankering for some white chocolate chip cranberry cookies. Would it really be so hard to try to make some without an official recipe? I am a little out of practice making cookies, but the thought is appealing. I wish I could feel that way about making changes in my life. I wish I felt up for a grand experiment rather than needing to have something perfectly spelled out in a book. Why is it so easy to do that with cookies and so terrifying to do that with the other parts of my life?