THE X FACTOR

Posted on May 17, 2013 by

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Yesterday the computer “went down” (as they say) just at the moment that T.M. called from the next room to tell me the television had lost it’s signal. When I attempted to call Ottertail Telcom, the local “bundler,” the phones were dead. And my cell phone needed charging.

Two hours later I spoke to a technician who was puzzled by the interruption. He did some configuring of signals from afar, tweaked electromagnetic dials for all I know, hemmed and hawed and finally, reestablished contact with whatever force it is that courses through wires and space.

He said it was “suspicious.” I say it was solar flares.

In case you haven’t heard, an area on our Sun which is named AR 11748, erupted over the past 72 hours with 4 massive flares in the X class (the strongest), one of which is equivalent to the force of a billion hydrogen bombs. NASA assures us that “even if they don’t destroy our planet, solar flares and coronal mass ejections can impact life on earth.” Need I spell out G U L P?

When I googled the event, of course I came across a number of End Timers, who were thrilled to tsk, tsk about our retribution and the fact that we have sinned and didn’t pay attention to the signs. I also learned that the flares could cause blackouts through geomagnetic storms  with huge waves of charged solar material striking the earth at millions of MPH. For some reason, and I honestly don’t think I’ve sinned, they struck my house.

What if the Sun was looking down at all the pollution and spilling of Co2 into the atmosphere and poisoning of our oceans, and just went ballistic? “What are they doing, those idiots? I give them a pleasant orbit and the warmth of my rays and they mess it all up.” Picture his version of taking off his belt and giving us a good lick or two. And grounding us with no TV or video games for our folly.

I am it’s true, a proponent of taking care of our planet. I recycle and refuse to use nasty chemicals in my garden. I blah, blah, blah to whoever will listen, about the problems of GMO’s and the need to save the rain forests and the polar icecaps. I plant asclepias and monarda for the bees and butterflies. I don’t believe that the Sun meant to target me personally. After all, it’s difficult to pinpoint Mt. Faith on the Ottertail River from outer space.

 

 

 

 

Posted in CYBERSPACE, global warming, storm, WEATHER | Leave a comment

PATRIOTISM/MATRIOTISM

Posted on May 12, 2013 by

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I just emailed my friends, Al and Amy. We keep in touch. Usually I let them know how passionate I feel about an issue and they write back and thank me. And let me know what’s going on in their lives – senate bills and progress reports and the like.

Today I felt especially motivated to write my friends after seeing the New York Times article by Justin Gillis – “Earth’s CO2 hits ‘scary’ milestone.”

After reading that “decades of efforts to bring human-produced emissions under control are faltering,” and “It symbolizes that so far we have failed miserably in tackling this problem, said Pieter P. Tans who runs the monitoring program at the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration” and “It means we are quickly losing the possibility of keeping the climate below what people thought were possibly tolerable thresholds – Ralph Keeling, Scripps Institute of Oceanography” – after reading all this I felt terrified and justified at the same time.

The article also stated – “For the entire period of human civilization, roughly 8,000 years, the carbon dioxide level was relatively stable near that upper bound. But the burning of fossil fuels has caused a 41 percent increase in the heat-trapping gas since the Industrial Revolution, a mere geological instant, and scientists say the climate is beginning to react, though they expect far larger changes in the future.”

“It feels like the inevitable march toward disaster,” said Maureen Raymo, a scientist at the Lamont-Doherty Earth Observatory at Columbia University. And I felt like yelling – “Help! Is anyone listening?”

The “any-ones” turn out to be our elected officials. And yes, I know, that Chinese citizens across the globe may not be in the position to write to their friends, Li-Po and Mai Lin. And have them respond with progress reports. But that should never stop anyone from standing up and be counted.

I was raised by a single mom who walked the neighborhood with petitions for better street lighting. And tuned in daily to her favorite senate hearings on C-SPAN, just so she could tell who voted on what and why and be able to hold them accountable.

Global warming, climate change, whatever you wish to call it, seems so far beyond grasp or control. Someone must be taking care of it? Right? It’s way in the future, if at all. Wrong.

Whether it’s guns, gays or Bengazi, and whether you’re on one side or the other, nothing matters in the end if we let our earth slip away.

I write to all my congressmen on both sides of the aisle about a multitude of issues. My mother taught me to do that. Sometimes I get back generic “thank you’s.”  Recently I wrote to my Minnesota state senator, Bill Ingebrigtsen, about a funding for bee studies at the University. The return email said, “I apologize for not getting back to you sooner” and, I know, I know, it was probably from his aides. But I like to imagine that Bill said – “When you write back to Diane, will you tell her I’m really sorry I was slow to respond.” I appreciated that.

My point being, whether it’s global warming or the demise of the bees, it’s too easy to slip into helplessness or hopelessness and believe we can’t make a difference. I get it. But I like to think that my Mom had the best answer. She was always a patriotic citizen who stood up for her principles. She listened and thought and wrote to her congressmen. And I know, she would want us to save our mother Earth.

HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY!

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Posted in COMMUNITY, global warming, In Memorium, MOTHER'S DAY, politics, WEATHER | Leave a comment

ULTIMATE DRIVING CHALLENGE

Posted on May 3, 2013 by

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I thought I had signed up for something called “Defensive Driving Class.” Sounded a bit combative to me. Something like Martial Arts on Wheels and not at all like our Minnesota Nice, where a typical lane merging on the highway often stalls because everyone is waving everyone else on ahead. “No, you first. Please.” “Oh please! Just go!”

But that’s what our insurance agent called it when she explained that by enrolling in the 8 hour class (2 four hour sessions), we would get an insurance discount while brushing up on our driving skills. My husband suggested that I be the designated driver/student, since his skills were more than sufficient and by attending I/we would be eligible for a 10% reduction in our premium over the next three years.

And since in one year alone, I crashed into 2 deer in one blow, 1 coyote, 1 lamppost, and a pedestrian (don’t ask), I not only had no recourse, but decided that I most likely needed some defense.

Thus it was that this past week I showed up two nights in a row, from 5:30 to 9:30 p.m. at the Community Education Center of Fergus Falls. As it turns out, the class was not, as previously described, entitled “Defensive Driving Class” but rather, “Driving Skills for Seniors.” Consequently there was a large chunk of class time devoted to senior citizen issues. Facts like – after 60 years of age, a driver needs 3 times more light to see adequately while behind the wheel. And a list of the primary safety issues to confront – narrowing of peripheral vision, night blindness, neck turning mobility, slower brain responses, tendency to get lost, and general confusion. Uff Da!

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Shari, the instructor was peppy and funny, regaled us with tales about her 8 children and aging parents, and threw out tootsie rolls to anyone who responded with a correct answer. She also put a huge car monkey wrench in my driving technique, which just might be unfixable at this late date. And scared me witless about the danger of even getting behind the wheel.

Weren’t we all trained in our high school driving course to assume, at the risk of life and limb, a 10-2 hand position? I was. Remember? You envision the face of a clock and put the left hand where the 10 would be and the right hand at the 2. I know the rules. 

But we seniors began driving before the advent of air bags, said Shari, and that fact, it seems, has changed everything. So now I know (and sort of wish I didn’t), that when that bag explodes it does so at an awesome 200 miles per hour. Which means that if our hands are in the “old timer” position, they will not only knock us senseless but most likely right out of this earthly existence. To further illustrate her point, and to ensure that our senior brains grasped the gravity, she cited some specific accidents in graphic detail. I can only say that you must never, ever, as a passenger, rest your feet upon the dashboard or engage in picking your nose.

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As our homework after the first evening class, we were instructed to observe our driving stance and if it was a 10-2, we must readjust to 8-4.  And not only that, we must be certain that we don’t grasp the wheel with our thumbs pointing towards our body. Eight Four, Thumbs Out. And don’t turn the wheel by rotating your hand up and above and around. Stay in 8-4 mode at all times. And one more thing. Make certain you body is over 10” away from the steering wheel.

I think of myself as a confident, responsible driver. In the past I regularly traversed the Big Sur highway in California with aplomb as well as the Los Angeles freeway system (well, the later when I was younger) and I have been 10-2 behind a wheel for almost 60 years. Like most motorists, I never consciously think about a “hand stance.” I think about whether I need to add arugula to the shopping list and if I have enough time to pick up a latte before garden club meeting and how mad I am about the pesticides that are killing the honey bees and how I need to write about that on my blog when I get home.

But now? I don’t know. I’m not certain I’m a comfortably adaptable Eight Four-er. It’s not easy to change. It’s like switching the side of the bed you sleep on. Or eating your dessert before your entrée. Or patting the top of your head while rubbing your tummy as you hop on one foot while whistling the Norwegian national anthem. If I knew it.

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Well, this is a fine dilemma. The certificate of completion states specifically that I now have the skills. But, honestly, I don’t.

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Posted in COMMUNITY, DRIVING, education, SENIOR CITIZENS | Leave a comment

KINDRED SPIRITS

Posted on April 30, 2013 by

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(Finally. Back from bronchial purgatory. Thanks for your wishes and concerns.)

When we first moved to Minnesota, Pastor Sarah of the Shepard of the Prairie Lutheran Church of Hickson, North Dakota (the familial family spiritual home base), invited me to be her guest at a day-long women’s retreat. The theme was Renew, Respond, and Rejoice and we covered the gamut from spiritual lessons to physical exercise. But the resource which resonated most for me that day, was a section on creating a personal sacred space, which came from the writings of an Inez Torres Davis, the Director of Justice in the Women of the ELCA organization.

Her pamphlet, which outlined the procedure for setting up a meditation/contemplation place, covered the subject in depth. I was amazed at her guidelines. They were progressive, almost “new-age” in a good way, all about energetic clearing, healing, essential oils, burning sage, and the like, but ultimately about creating/finding a place of peace and grace.

When I came home from the retreat, I immediately began to convert a nook above our stairwell, following Inez’ steps to cleanse, bless and decorate. A soft red Indian kilim for the floor, an old lace curtain for the side railing, a wicker chair from a garage sale with a silk brown pillow that was embroidered “Dream,” Tibetan chimes in the doorway. Upon a small slate table I plopped a Buddha garden ornament that my daughter had given me, a labyrinthe incense holder that had belonged to my son, and my father’s maracas that he had brought back from South America when I was a little girl (for the music). Just above the table I hung my favorite framed Christmas card of angels ascending past stained glass windows and a large photograph of filmily-swathed feet, entitled “Angel Descending.” I figured I had it covered, coming and going.

My sacred space looks out upon the front yard and the magnificent Elm tree. It is where I now write in my journal. Or meditate. Watch the birds. Or just sit and think. Whenever I am stressed, my husband will say – “Go to your room!”

And I wrote about the endeavor on my blog – giving credit and posting pictures of the progress. (See “Sacred Spaces,” July 15, 2011, on snowbirdredux.com to read more about the process.)  

Recently a friend asked me how to deal with grief. She turned to me because she knew that we had both lost sons, thinking I might best understand. Her son had died violently in a snow mobile accident as a teenager. My son wasted away with AIDS as an adult. There are no comparisons in the details, but a mother’s loss is loss is loss.

Struggling to find the words for her, any words, I thought of the sacred space and the place I use for contemplation, joy, and grief. I decided to print out the 13 page booklet that I had received a year and a half ago at the women’s retreat and take it to her at our writer’s group gathering. I dug it out of my file drawer, warmed up the computer, and while I waited for the printer to be ready, decided to check my emails.

The first entry was from an Inez Torres Davis.

Huh? I thought. The subject title was “Sacred Spaces.” What?

Confused, I clicked open to read the message.

Inez Torres Davis was confused too. She had been advised, she said, to occasionally “Google” herself in order to see what was “out there.” It had been a year and a half since she had done it, but now she was surprised to see a picture of herself alongside a picture of MY meditation space (who knows who, how, or why the internet gods decided to post that photo with HER bio) along with a link to MY blog (snowbirdredux.com) and the article about my project to create a sacred space based on her writings.

I sat at my computer, Inez Torres Davis’ pamphlet in my left hand, ready to print, wondering why this person would be writing to me, just at the very moment I was preparing to photocopy her writing, which was in reference to my blog entry of a year and a half ago.

Once we both straightened it all out, and delighted in the amazing cross confusion and synchronicity, we began to communicate. Inez is the Director of Justice for the Women of the ELCA. In that office she primarily works on race relations. In my youth I was not just involved, but deeply in the trenches of the civil rights movement. She writes about the United Nations Climate Change Conference in Copenhagen. If you have read this blog regularly, you know that I am passionate about the fate of our Mother Earth. Inez has worked with Bread for the World and writes beautifully about her experience in Zambia, Malawi and Tanzania. Huzzah, Kudos, Bravo for that. She is an AIDS advocate. I have been deeply in those trenches too. And, she is a passionate gardener. Need I say more.

Thank you Inez, my new friend.

(You can follow her writings (as I am now doing) at Inez Torres Davis on the Women of the ELCA Blog.)

 

 

 

 

Posted in introspection, friendship, religion, faith, COMMUNITY, writing, CYBERSPACE, spirituality | 1 Comment

THE CATALYST

Posted on April 15, 2013 by

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Looking back at my frivolous and naïve platitudes about weather and snow over the past two years, and my personal thrill of Minnesota extremes, I stand humiliated and repentant. What a silly-billy idiot I was until now. Enchanted with the promise of drama and the magnitude of weather of which-I-knew not, I bloviated (yes, guilty) about the excitation of Mother Nature’s fury.

Forgive me. I now wonder if my silly enthusiasm was the catalyst for the hubris I now must own. Oh, sorry. WE must endure.  For this snow is bearing down on the northern prairie with a vengeance fit for one and all.

Not to be all self-important about the possibility of my pitiful influence, but I did shout and celebrate and WOO-HOO about turbulence and bluster. I cheered on every little snowflake. I reveled and shouted with each clap of thunder. I knew not what I said and called for.

And here we are. April 15, 2013, two weeks to go until May, and Snowmegedden.

I’m sorry.

And not to suggest that I, personally, have magical powers. But there’s a part of me that feels a bit like the Sorcerer’s Apprentice. Remember the story? Goethe wrote it first, I believe, and Uncle Walt appropriated it for Mickey Mouse as a thrilling segment for Fantasia. Mickey, in the Disney version, gets weary of hauling pails of water and decides to experiment with some magic tricks he learned from his master. And of course, it all gets out of hand and disaster ensues until the sorcerer returns and puts it all to right, while admonishing that – “the powerful spirits should only be called by a Master.”

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I did stand at my upper window throughout the winter, channeling the Snow Queen, surveying my wintry domain, reveling in the splendor. And I did even pour through the Hans Christian Anderson Tale, immersing myself in the lore and re-imagining it as a modern novel. Just this past February I wrote about referencing “the wonder of wafting flakes, the cushy clumps of white upon the evergreens, all the novelty of exotic climatology to a California girl.” And the joy “of a wintry trail across the prairie,” along with the comfort of “saying the word – BRRR – as you peek outside while rubbing your hands together as you smell the bouquet of baking ginger cookies.”

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But enough is enough!

Words and thoughts are magic. I believe. I repent.

Starting today I’m lighting a candle and singing the praises of Idunn, Norse goddess of the Spring. I do believe, I do believe, I do believe . . .

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Posted in minnesota life, mythology, Norwegian, SNOW, storm | Leave a comment

READ ALL ABOUT IT!

Posted on April 10, 2013 by

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Some days you just hate to pick up the morning paper for all the disastrous news of the world.

We have a routine at our house. I put on my boots (this time of year), button my down jacket over my old red robe (ditto), pull the fuzzy black cap down over my ears and hike down the driveway to retrieve the Minneapolis/St. Paul Star Tribune from the edge of the street. He makes the coffee.

Back in our cozy chairs, I divvy up the parts. He gets the Sports and the Variety section (which he must read first so I can have the crossword after working my way through the Front, Local and Business). And then we trade. Except for the Sports.

As to the news of the world, today was a first, I believe. On the front page, four out of the five lead stories were cause to celebrate and the fifth wasn’t all bad. Of course, above the banner it proclaimed in bold type – “SNOW TURNS SPRING BACK INTO WHIMPER.” And the inner pages revealed – “Student goes on stabbing rampage” and “Iraq’s Al-Qaida joins fray in Syria” and even, “Magazine posts secret tape of McConnell mocking Ashley Judd.” That can’t be nice. But how many times can you remember that you chuckled or sighed appreciatively over the front page?

The right lead story, reprinted from Justin Gillis in the New York Times, proclaimed that a new guideline entitled The Next Generation Science Standards plans to include a focus on teaching climate change and evolution in public schools. Be still my heart.

This new tact suggests “introducing climate science into the curriculum starting in middle school, and teaching high school students in detail about the effects of human activity on climate.” And it goes on to state that the guidelines were devised to “combat widespread scientific ignorance, standardize teaching among disparate states and raise the number of high school graduates who choose scientific and technical majors in college, a critical issue for the country’s economic welfare.”

Is it just possible that there is hope for the planet? That it’s not too late to redirect our focus towards solving the energy crisis and saving the planet through a younger generation who will embrace the smart and economical “greening” of the earth? Not only because they are less set in the ways of diesel fuel and coal production, but because they will have actually been schooled in scientific and “economic welfare?”

The story just below the one on climate, places more hope in the arms of our youth. It begins with the headline – “Mohamed joins Olivia, Mason in state’s top 100 baby names.” The article explains that – “From 2000 to 2010, the number of residents of color grew 55 percent, and Minnesota’s fast-growing Somali population is the largest in the United States.” Move over Ole and Lena. I personally think that diversity makes us strong. If we could just move away from the “us and them” mentality … And yes, I know I’m an idealist.

The other front page news included an emphasis by some politicians who warned against “budget savings that might shift costs to our seniors, or parents raising children with disabilities,” (thank you for that) and some hopeful thoughts about a shift in the intractability of a gun control debate. Two positive points out of Washington.

What a good day.

Now about that snow and spring and whimpering …

Posted in COMMUNITY, education, global warming, introspection, minnesota life, politics, writing | Leave a comment

CONVERSATION AMONG STRANGERS

Posted on March 27, 2013 by

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I recently participated in a group where the discussion topic was an examination of spirituality. How to find it? Is it important? What is it like? Where is it? Does it exist?

You wouldn’t have been surprised to hear words like meditation, prayer, and reverence come to mind. And they did to a small degree. But for the most part the sharing centered on what we might deem “the simple pleasures.” The thrill of the first daffodil in spring. The touching gesture of a stranger, as in “random acts of kindness.” My husband bringing me a treat, just at the perfect moment, as I sit hunched over my computer. Hugging my daughter, inhaling her sweet scent, fresh from the playground.

It is those seemingly little things that I relate to, along with mystical moments of collective consciousness.

The quote I liked best from that day was by Pierre Teiland de Chardin – “We are not human beings having a spiritual experience. We are spiritual beings having a human experience.” Amen.

It reminded me of a time on a train. I was traveling alone up the California coast when the voice over the intercom announced that we would be pulling aside and stopping in order to let freight cars pass. And it would be an hour perhaps, or more, as the other train had experienced mechanical difficulty but had precedence.  Annoyance, consternation, it was late at night. We all had friends and relatives waiting at the northern station.

But what occurred as the result of this delay became, instead of a nasty irritation, a transcendental exchange among strangers. Assume that the stars were aligned, just so, that night. Or some highly spiritual being was the catalyst aboard. Or merely that the political science professor who had been my seatmate charmed the steward into pulling out some wine and snacks, for our trouble. Whatever the reason, magic ensued. Something divine happened. Every person on that stalled railroad car connected and I would guess, felt the better for it and would ever after remember it as a spiritual moment in time.

I had been steeped in this remembrance while continuing to contemplate the topic of spirituality this past week, when I received a blog entry from Shelley Odendahl, who I met at a writer’s workshop last year. I have been following her writing ever since. We are both attuned and particularly interested in the nuances which make up a journey through life. Hence her blog, which is entitled – REALIZE YOUR DREAMS.

I asked Shelly if I might share her latest offering. It’s another example of a magical moment in time. It follows:

CONVERSATION AMONG STRANGERS

“You know how it is when you sit in a waiting room at a doctor’s office? Everybody just keeps to their own little space. Sometimes there is a nod of the head, or handing over of a newspaper, but mostly there’s just silence.

Yesterday I was part of a friendly group that kicked the silence model right out the door. It started when two retirement-aged women started talking and comparing notes on something. I put down my Kindle and joined in. A man came in and he participated in the conversation too. One of the women’s husband and daughter entered, so we all introduced ourselves. (Yes, we actually shared names in the doctor’s waiting room…unheard of!) a couple of people noted how much fun we were having, and one called it a party. It was almost sad when the nurse came to call somebody into the examination room and they had to leave. While her mother saw the doctor, the daughter and I had a nice conversation about retailing. After they left, one of the women who had been telling us about her frustrating medical condition popped her head in before she left to let me know she was doing much better. Then I was alone in the room.

Before long, an elderly man came in, preparing to sit in the usual silence. I wasn’t ready to let the conversation end, so I asked him a question. Before long, he was telling me about his life – he was in his nineties and was upset he couldn’t do all the things he used to be able to do. He had a lot of physical complaints and didn’t seem to have much companionship in life. I am hoping that maybe a brief show of interest from a stranger may have given him just a little comfort. I wished him well.

When I went back to college a few years ago, I chose to major in Communication Studies. I became passionate about the power of honest communication and authentic interactions to change the world. Yesterday we might not have made any big, outright changes, but together a small group of people helped make a positive impact on each other’s day. That has to be a contribution to what is right in the world.” Another Amen.

You can follow Shelley’s blog at: “Shelley O. at Realize Your Dreams.Wordpress.com” and order her book on Amazon, “TRAVELING TOGETHER: CLIFF AND ME AND THE MOTORCYCLE MAKES THREE,” which is described as a 1980’s love story.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in COMMUNITY, faith, favorite things, friendship, introspection, spirituality | 1 Comment