This is quoted in a book I'm reading. Time to record it. It's an old Victorian poem.
"Her soul, that once with pleasure shook
Did any eyes her beauty own,
Now wonders how they dare to look
On what belongs to him alone;
The indignity of taking gifts
Exhilarates her loving breast;
A rapture of submission lifts
Her life into celestial rest;
There's nothing left of what she was;
Back to the babe the woman dies,
And all the wisdom thats he has
Is to love him for being wise."
And Olive Schreiner's bitchslap for it:
"...a woman who has sold herself, even for a ring and a new name, need hold her skirt aside for no creature in the street. They both earn their bread in one way."
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Randon happy thought from last night
I was thinking last night before going to sleep (as is usually the case). But I was blessed with a happy thought right before I dreamed about something so awful that I won't regurgitate it in any form besides thought.
So I guess it evens out.
I thought about something Brian said to me the other day. He said that he wanted someone who would care about being fit. I never mentioned that I tend to have the opposite issue. I'll work out even when it's not wise to do so. In Korea, I came to grips with the fact that I have a chemical addiction to cardio work outs. There were times in Korea when I couldn't run. I would go sometimes for 2 weeks without a run. I began to break down mentally. I sometimes worry what will happen and whether or not I'll be able to transition gracefully from a life where I can jog to a more sedentary existence in my elder years.
I missed the "high" that accompanies jogging. I missed the whole experience of feeling my feet hitting the ground rhythmically and my lungs contracting and expanding with effort. I missed the feeling of breathing in the air and pushing it out. I missed the warm sensation in my body and the intensified physical experience of the natural world around me while I was jogging. I didn't realize how important it was to my psyche to have that because I had always thought that it would be impossible for me to become addicted to something that actually takes effort.
Then I thought about how jogging was the only thing besides singing that helped me maintain a sense of connection to myself when I was so far away from anything familiar. That rhythm and pulsing in my legs and arms and the breathing are all the same no matter where on earth I go. I was feeding my body different food and everything else felt so different that I might as well have been looking at the world through its photo "negatives", but my body still knew how to feel the same while running.
When I was jogging also, I could smell the river and the trees. It is more difficult to smell them when walking. I missed natural smells since the air in Korea was fouled by China's yellow air.
There was one day I remember vividly. It rained hard while I was jogging. I laughed because I was flashing the few other people on the trail by the river as I jogged because I wore my white t-shirt. As the river began to flood, I found myself jogging in puddles more often than not. I was drenched, but I was soooo happy. Every step was interesting because each puddle had a different depth. There were almost no people except for me on the path. The rock bridges were all flooding. It was Cat, her legs, sweat, and warm rain. No humans! (except for me of course).
I felt veiled by the dark gray sky, the trees, and the tons and tons of rain. I pretended that I was alone even though I'm pretty sure, people may have been looking out from the sky rises, which had big windows, thinking "What the hell is that girl doing? Has she lost her marbles? The river is flooding fast." Except, they'd be thinking it in the Korean language. There were too many people in Korea. I felt crowded most of the time.
I just kept going that day because it was the first good run that I had had for awhile. I had so much to think about. There were lots of stressful and unusual concerns. But if I was running, then I could breathe it out and then breathe it back in with more confidence that I'd be able to get through it. It's like I was pushing it all out into the air, asking the trees to clean it off so that I could deal with it, and then breathing it back in. Hmmm. Therapy?
I went to the place where I'd usually stop and go back to my tiny-ass apartment, but on that day I didn't. I went onto the rocks as they flooded and went right out to the center. I sat down and let the rain hit my forehead and shoulders. It felt very good. When I propped myself on the rock as it flooded, I felt the warm river waters part at the base of my back. I don't think it was the cleanest river in the world. But I wanted to be immersed in the natural world for awhile. It did not feel dirty to let the natural elements talk to me. Since the rain is so persistent there, I thought I'd cave in and listen for awhile. My efforts were well-rewarded.
Constant change is part of everything, but I saw it most vividly in the natural world in Korea. She never seems to rest. At night, Koreans are all awake. They don't go to bed until late. She has to deal with that. She barely has enough time to dust herself off and be clean and ready for the next day. The early mornings were not restful there. I usually like early mornings because they're still and it's fun to be there when anything good begins. Korea's land just seemed tired. She smelled like work and pollution and seemed to be still struggling to wind down when the morning was just beginning. She's not getting enough sleep.
Or, judging by the way I've written this, maybe I'm the one who isn't getting enough sleep. I sound like I've been hallucinating.
So I guess it evens out.
I thought about something Brian said to me the other day. He said that he wanted someone who would care about being fit. I never mentioned that I tend to have the opposite issue. I'll work out even when it's not wise to do so. In Korea, I came to grips with the fact that I have a chemical addiction to cardio work outs. There were times in Korea when I couldn't run. I would go sometimes for 2 weeks without a run. I began to break down mentally. I sometimes worry what will happen and whether or not I'll be able to transition gracefully from a life where I can jog to a more sedentary existence in my elder years.
I missed the "high" that accompanies jogging. I missed the whole experience of feeling my feet hitting the ground rhythmically and my lungs contracting and expanding with effort. I missed the feeling of breathing in the air and pushing it out. I missed the warm sensation in my body and the intensified physical experience of the natural world around me while I was jogging. I didn't realize how important it was to my psyche to have that because I had always thought that it would be impossible for me to become addicted to something that actually takes effort.
Then I thought about how jogging was the only thing besides singing that helped me maintain a sense of connection to myself when I was so far away from anything familiar. That rhythm and pulsing in my legs and arms and the breathing are all the same no matter where on earth I go. I was feeding my body different food and everything else felt so different that I might as well have been looking at the world through its photo "negatives", but my body still knew how to feel the same while running.
When I was jogging also, I could smell the river and the trees. It is more difficult to smell them when walking. I missed natural smells since the air in Korea was fouled by China's yellow air.
There was one day I remember vividly. It rained hard while I was jogging. I laughed because I was flashing the few other people on the trail by the river as I jogged because I wore my white t-shirt. As the river began to flood, I found myself jogging in puddles more often than not. I was drenched, but I was soooo happy. Every step was interesting because each puddle had a different depth. There were almost no people except for me on the path. The rock bridges were all flooding. It was Cat, her legs, sweat, and warm rain. No humans! (except for me of course).
I felt veiled by the dark gray sky, the trees, and the tons and tons of rain. I pretended that I was alone even though I'm pretty sure, people may have been looking out from the sky rises, which had big windows, thinking "What the hell is that girl doing? Has she lost her marbles? The river is flooding fast." Except, they'd be thinking it in the Korean language. There were too many people in Korea. I felt crowded most of the time.
I just kept going that day because it was the first good run that I had had for awhile. I had so much to think about. There were lots of stressful and unusual concerns. But if I was running, then I could breathe it out and then breathe it back in with more confidence that I'd be able to get through it. It's like I was pushing it all out into the air, asking the trees to clean it off so that I could deal with it, and then breathing it back in. Hmmm. Therapy?
I went to the place where I'd usually stop and go back to my tiny-ass apartment, but on that day I didn't. I went onto the rocks as they flooded and went right out to the center. I sat down and let the rain hit my forehead and shoulders. It felt very good. When I propped myself on the rock as it flooded, I felt the warm river waters part at the base of my back. I don't think it was the cleanest river in the world. But I wanted to be immersed in the natural world for awhile. It did not feel dirty to let the natural elements talk to me. Since the rain is so persistent there, I thought I'd cave in and listen for awhile. My efforts were well-rewarded.
Constant change is part of everything, but I saw it most vividly in the natural world in Korea. She never seems to rest. At night, Koreans are all awake. They don't go to bed until late. She has to deal with that. She barely has enough time to dust herself off and be clean and ready for the next day. The early mornings were not restful there. I usually like early mornings because they're still and it's fun to be there when anything good begins. Korea's land just seemed tired. She smelled like work and pollution and seemed to be still struggling to wind down when the morning was just beginning. She's not getting enough sleep.
Or, judging by the way I've written this, maybe I'm the one who isn't getting enough sleep. I sound like I've been hallucinating.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Daffodil poem by Wordsworth
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
-William Wordsworth
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
-William Wordsworth
Thoughts from UU Service on 2-15-09
During UU service today, I was thinking. One of the poems in the order of service was this one by Peter Mayer.
"In the ever-shifting water of the river of this life I was swimming, seeking comfort;
I was wrestling waves to find
A boulder I could cling to, a stone to hold me fast
Where I might let the fretful water of this river 'round me pass
And so I found an anchor, a blessed resting place
A trusty rock I called my savior, for there I would be safe
From the river and its dangers, and I proclaimed my rock divine
And I prayed to it "protect me" and the rock replied...
God is a river, not just a stone
God is a wild, raging rapids
And a slow, meandering flow
God is a deep and narrow passage
And a peaceful, sandy shoal
God is the river, swimmer
So let go
Still I clung to my rock tightly with conviction in my arms
Never looking at the stream to keep my mind from thoughts of harm
But the river kept on coming, kept on tugging at my legs
Till at last my fingers faltered, and I was swept away
So I'm going with the flow now, these relentless twists and bends
Acclimating to the motion, and a sense of being led
And this river's like my body now, it carries me along
Through the ever-changing scenes and by the rocks that sing this song"
I wanted to know the direction I should take because I was confused with where my life was going. A series of events which included lots of suffering convinced me that I should just give up and do the things that I feel will serve those who are suffering around me. I thought I had all these lofty cerberal ideas of what I would do with myself. Then I entered the world outside academia and POOF! That went out the window and I had to be face to face with the rest of the world outside the college much more often. I was concerned that I was in a world that was suffering so much that "higher endeavors" would have to wait until the suffering subsided a little. My life, talents, and energy would simply have to be used up on "fixing" all the brokeness around me. I lamented that maybe this is a "waste" and that the next generations might have more luck being able to focus on the really important stuff. I was mistaken when I thought that the suffering I had acknowledged since I was very young (like mental illness, lack of basic rights and liberties, violence in the home, lack of education) were things I couldn't do much about and that I was not meant to do anything about it because it is not where my exertise is.
My friend Rachel Stangle said that to be poor is a "priviledged" existence. While I find her statement to be a little bit funny, I also hear some truth in it. I think she was referring to suffering in general more than poverty itself. Suffering sucks. On the other hand, it is great at redirecting people to what's important and away from what's fake.
When I'm dealing with men and relationships, maybe I can let go and allow some suffering to happen. I've played it safe a lot up until recently. I don't like venturing into places that I can't read about. When I'm trying to love a guy, there aren't any books about him or manuals. There also aren't any books about me which will let me know exactly when I'm about to hurt my dumbass.
There have been times when I felt I had nothing else. I depended completely on others to shield me from what I thought might be the end of the world. When I meet those people, I realize that at the "end of the world" are people that I love. When my world was ending in NY, I found Anne Beck. Maybe if I let go myself be with all the fears, assumptions, and mistakes that I have about men, I'll find someone there also.
Of course, since I am starting to get to know someone. I naturally apply any and all information I can to what is going on with him. Last time I was with a guy, I was afraid of just letting myself feel stuff. I was always judging my emotions thinking that I should feel this way or that. And love is supposed to be this way or that. Now, I think that maybe it might be wise to just acknowledge all the assumptions and confusions I have about relationships and just allow it. I thought everyone was just figuring stuff out faster. Brian said something that made me aware that he's sometimes felt that way also. He said something like "I wondered what everyone else was 'getting' that I wasn't 'getting'". Everyone was dating and then there's me looking at it all with a very judgemental (and lonely) eye saying "Are you all on crack!?"
So, I see a challenge before me. I need to avoid the inclination to grab onto something solid or safe when I'm with someone I want to develop a relationship with. It seems so innocent when it's in words. When it's done though, it feels like the first time someone let go of me in the swimming pool while trying to get me to swim. Except for the fact that now I seem to be in the Grand Rapids and there are no flotation devices of any sort (except for carcasses that have been dead long enough to float back to the top).
"In the ever-shifting water of the river of this life I was swimming, seeking comfort;
I was wrestling waves to find
A boulder I could cling to, a stone to hold me fast
Where I might let the fretful water of this river 'round me pass
And so I found an anchor, a blessed resting place
A trusty rock I called my savior, for there I would be safe
From the river and its dangers, and I proclaimed my rock divine
And I prayed to it "protect me" and the rock replied...
God is a river, not just a stone
God is a wild, raging rapids
And a slow, meandering flow
God is a deep and narrow passage
And a peaceful, sandy shoal
God is the river, swimmer
So let go
Still I clung to my rock tightly with conviction in my arms
Never looking at the stream to keep my mind from thoughts of harm
But the river kept on coming, kept on tugging at my legs
Till at last my fingers faltered, and I was swept away
So I'm going with the flow now, these relentless twists and bends
Acclimating to the motion, and a sense of being led
And this river's like my body now, it carries me along
Through the ever-changing scenes and by the rocks that sing this song"
I wanted to know the direction I should take because I was confused with where my life was going. A series of events which included lots of suffering convinced me that I should just give up and do the things that I feel will serve those who are suffering around me. I thought I had all these lofty cerberal ideas of what I would do with myself. Then I entered the world outside academia and POOF! That went out the window and I had to be face to face with the rest of the world outside the college much more often. I was concerned that I was in a world that was suffering so much that "higher endeavors" would have to wait until the suffering subsided a little. My life, talents, and energy would simply have to be used up on "fixing" all the brokeness around me. I lamented that maybe this is a "waste" and that the next generations might have more luck being able to focus on the really important stuff. I was mistaken when I thought that the suffering I had acknowledged since I was very young (like mental illness, lack of basic rights and liberties, violence in the home, lack of education) were things I couldn't do much about and that I was not meant to do anything about it because it is not where my exertise is.
My friend Rachel Stangle said that to be poor is a "priviledged" existence. While I find her statement to be a little bit funny, I also hear some truth in it. I think she was referring to suffering in general more than poverty itself. Suffering sucks. On the other hand, it is great at redirecting people to what's important and away from what's fake.
When I'm dealing with men and relationships, maybe I can let go and allow some suffering to happen. I've played it safe a lot up until recently. I don't like venturing into places that I can't read about. When I'm trying to love a guy, there aren't any books about him or manuals. There also aren't any books about me which will let me know exactly when I'm about to hurt my dumbass.
There have been times when I felt I had nothing else. I depended completely on others to shield me from what I thought might be the end of the world. When I meet those people, I realize that at the "end of the world" are people that I love. When my world was ending in NY, I found Anne Beck. Maybe if I let go myself be with all the fears, assumptions, and mistakes that I have about men, I'll find someone there also.
Of course, since I am starting to get to know someone. I naturally apply any and all information I can to what is going on with him. Last time I was with a guy, I was afraid of just letting myself feel stuff. I was always judging my emotions thinking that I should feel this way or that. And love is supposed to be this way or that. Now, I think that maybe it might be wise to just acknowledge all the assumptions and confusions I have about relationships and just allow it. I thought everyone was just figuring stuff out faster. Brian said something that made me aware that he's sometimes felt that way also. He said something like "I wondered what everyone else was 'getting' that I wasn't 'getting'". Everyone was dating and then there's me looking at it all with a very judgemental (and lonely) eye saying "Are you all on crack!?"
So, I see a challenge before me. I need to avoid the inclination to grab onto something solid or safe when I'm with someone I want to develop a relationship with. It seems so innocent when it's in words. When it's done though, it feels like the first time someone let go of me in the swimming pool while trying to get me to swim. Except for the fact that now I seem to be in the Grand Rapids and there are no flotation devices of any sort (except for carcasses that have been dead long enough to float back to the top).
Monday, February 9, 2009
An effect of Korea...continued
Last week, I saw the woman in my dentist's building again. I chatted with her for awhile. I asked her if Americans generally behave well or shamefully towards her. She said that most of the time, we are good. There are some times when we are rude to her because of her accent.
She also said that her life is good here. She said she works hard. The inflection in her voice indicated that she is glad to have work. Maybe work was not easy for her to find in the other country. She's been here for about a decade and seemed amused when I asked her if her accent was Russian. It is not Russian. lol. I don't even know where she is from, but I caught her off guard when I asked her these questions. She seemed pleasantly surprised that I inquired.
How immigrant-friendly is this immigrant-based culture? My guess is that it's probably more immigrant-friendly than most places on earth, but is definitely not perfect. I've heard of that we turned people away when they saught refuge from various injustices and obvious danger. But that's a whole other topic which I should seek answers to when my head is not throbbing and my back is not aching. :)
She also said that her life is good here. She said she works hard. The inflection in her voice indicated that she is glad to have work. Maybe work was not easy for her to find in the other country. She's been here for about a decade and seemed amused when I asked her if her accent was Russian. It is not Russian. lol. I don't even know where she is from, but I caught her off guard when I asked her these questions. She seemed pleasantly surprised that I inquired.
How immigrant-friendly is this immigrant-based culture? My guess is that it's probably more immigrant-friendly than most places on earth, but is definitely not perfect. I've heard of that we turned people away when they saught refuge from various injustices and obvious danger. But that's a whole other topic which I should seek answers to when my head is not throbbing and my back is not aching. :)
Monday, February 2, 2009
Puffins Pummels Pancakes
Puffins Peanut Butter cereal is the best ceral on earth! Oh it is sooo delicious!
Sunday, February 1, 2009
An effect of Korea 2-1-09
The other day I was getting on the elevator in my dentist's building when I saw a young woman getting out a mop and bucket. She was obviously part of the cleaning staff for the building. She looked Russian to me. She was pretty, but seemed to be on autopilot. She didn't look happy. In the parking lot, she walked slow and didn't seem to be in a rush to get to work.
I began to wonder if she felt the way I did in S. Korea or when I worked as a cleaning maid for a short time in NY. It's drudging work. I remember during the entire week I was a "maid", I went into huge, sterile houses and did what I percieved to be nothing. The houses were spotless. Why they had a cleaning service was beyond me. I sometimes wondered if the cleaning supplies themselves may possibly soil the houses I worked in. lol. It is mild torture to do something meaningless all...day...long. Does she feel that way? Does she dream of other things and sometimes allow despair to creep in? I know that's how I felt.
But I'm off the page. This woman I saw in the dentist's building was surely not from here. I want to ask her how she feels here. Is she happy with America so far? Are Americans cruel to her or do we take advantage of her the way some Koreans tried to take advantage of me when I was there? Does she ever feel as hopeless as I did there? I aim to solicit no pity here. I'm just observing my thoughts on this. Does she ever think the thoughts I thought in Korea? Does she have other Russian-Americans who can talk with her on a daily basis and who help her figure things out? Has her standard of living gone up or down since she made the choice to leave home? I wanted to ask her how welcome she feels here and how much opportunity she feels she has been graced with since her arrival. It matters to me now that I know what it feels like to be on the outside of a culture looking in.
Maybe I'll look at immigrant issues when I study social work.
I know my grandma was just happy to be here and she wanted her family to identify as "American". She went so far as to refuse to speak Italian in her household. She didn't want my dad to have an accent. Understandable. He just learned some...colorful words, but besides that he understands no Italian.
How easy and/or difficult is it for people who come to the US to make it home today?
I know that the family factor is huge. I used to wonder in Korea if I could ever make it a home. I just toyed with the idea. It was nothing serious since I feel that the US would be home no matter what its state of affairs. But I played with the idea and realized that I could never make the transition that I see others making unless my family was with me. How much does the family factor in to immigrant retention rates here? In other words, how much more likely are people willing to stake it out and deal with all the challenges of making a new country a home when their families are with them? My guess is that it affects it a lot. No matter how much opportunity and civil rights exist here, I can understand how some immigrants would still hesitate to remain here if their families could not be brought also. I wonder if it's a major issue (this seems to be a topic I'm woefully ignorant about).
I began to wonder if she felt the way I did in S. Korea or when I worked as a cleaning maid for a short time in NY. It's drudging work. I remember during the entire week I was a "maid", I went into huge, sterile houses and did what I percieved to be nothing. The houses were spotless. Why they had a cleaning service was beyond me. I sometimes wondered if the cleaning supplies themselves may possibly soil the houses I worked in. lol. It is mild torture to do something meaningless all...day...long. Does she feel that way? Does she dream of other things and sometimes allow despair to creep in? I know that's how I felt.
But I'm off the page. This woman I saw in the dentist's building was surely not from here. I want to ask her how she feels here. Is she happy with America so far? Are Americans cruel to her or do we take advantage of her the way some Koreans tried to take advantage of me when I was there? Does she ever feel as hopeless as I did there? I aim to solicit no pity here. I'm just observing my thoughts on this. Does she ever think the thoughts I thought in Korea? Does she have other Russian-Americans who can talk with her on a daily basis and who help her figure things out? Has her standard of living gone up or down since she made the choice to leave home? I wanted to ask her how welcome she feels here and how much opportunity she feels she has been graced with since her arrival. It matters to me now that I know what it feels like to be on the outside of a culture looking in.
Maybe I'll look at immigrant issues when I study social work.
I know my grandma was just happy to be here and she wanted her family to identify as "American". She went so far as to refuse to speak Italian in her household. She didn't want my dad to have an accent. Understandable. He just learned some...colorful words, but besides that he understands no Italian.
How easy and/or difficult is it for people who come to the US to make it home today?
I know that the family factor is huge. I used to wonder in Korea if I could ever make it a home. I just toyed with the idea. It was nothing serious since I feel that the US would be home no matter what its state of affairs. But I played with the idea and realized that I could never make the transition that I see others making unless my family was with me. How much does the family factor in to immigrant retention rates here? In other words, how much more likely are people willing to stake it out and deal with all the challenges of making a new country a home when their families are with them? My guess is that it affects it a lot. No matter how much opportunity and civil rights exist here, I can understand how some immigrants would still hesitate to remain here if their families could not be brought also. I wonder if it's a major issue (this seems to be a topic I'm woefully ignorant about).
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