far, far away from the comfort of home, i find myself so comfortably released from the routines. strange though, that it's all the way over here in southern africa, that i end up finding the time and mental energy to focus on projects long procrastinated on. maybe it's that there are other hyper people madly clappety clappetying away with me on this - the fire of collaboration!
so here i am, safe in the cocoon of the paternal homestead, and that of the academic institution. my initial revulsion - at the fear and tension of rich beside poor and this old canyon between races, is softening. but i am anxious to get back out to that rural place and the people of mine own heart - where restless energies of all sorts can find a home, and impossible, dangerous things come together to turn baby steps into great strides. we shall see, i suppose, just what it is that i will find there, beside the keiskamma river, and the nguni cattle, and the rondavel homes, the funerals, the students and such potent history.
22.7.05
dark flight
staring eye to eye with the full, beaming face of the moon:
9 1/2 thousand metres above the continent that bore us,
or maybe the rocking cradle, pulled by her bright face,
to wash us up against the shore.
9 1/2 thousand metres above the continent that bore us,
or maybe the rocking cradle, pulled by her bright face,
to wash us up against the shore.
20.7.05
biznach...
that is what i invariably talk about when my social skills are too notably lacking.
biznach. business.
on which many of my closest relationships are founded. that which has forged some stellar friendships.
but why are these connections not the stuff of skinny dipping and a love of the moon and the pleasure of cutting a x-country ski trail through untouched snow and of corporeal joys like food and sweat and wind-burned cheeks?
biznach. business.
on which many of my closest relationships are founded. that which has forged some stellar friendships.
but why are these connections not the stuff of skinny dipping and a love of the moon and the pleasure of cutting a x-country ski trail through untouched snow and of corporeal joys like food and sweat and wind-burned cheeks?
18.7.05
15.7.05
lake swimming in the river
here in kingston, some people call the water a lake. others think of it as the st. lawrence river. in any case, it is a generous body of welcome refreshment on these dog days of july.
carrie, who may be the closest thing in my world to a sister (she'd probably laugh to know i'd written that) is leaving kingston to start a new job in her home and native land. since we've been doing new things together for a good many years, what better way to bid her adieu than to take her for her first shore-side dip.
the pier at the water treatment plant is one of those community spots where people are pleased to share in the unsecret when they meet there. strangers like to chat about the water, and everybody smiles. the edge is about 2 meters up - high enough for good plunging, and the water is deep and safe for dives of any sort. today it was positively glorious. we swam and swam and floated and chatted, and it was good.
i am a very lucky girl indeed. a few days ago, lovely meghann bundled us into her mother's car, with lovely doggy in tow, and whisked us out of the city to gould lake. the beach was full of laughing children and the water was as warm as the day. meghann and i barely emerged; i'm sure we were mermaids.
carrie, who may be the closest thing in my world to a sister (she'd probably laugh to know i'd written that) is leaving kingston to start a new job in her home and native land. since we've been doing new things together for a good many years, what better way to bid her adieu than to take her for her first shore-side dip.
the pier at the water treatment plant is one of those community spots where people are pleased to share in the unsecret when they meet there. strangers like to chat about the water, and everybody smiles. the edge is about 2 meters up - high enough for good plunging, and the water is deep and safe for dives of any sort. today it was positively glorious. we swam and swam and floated and chatted, and it was good.
i am a very lucky girl indeed. a few days ago, lovely meghann bundled us into her mother's car, with lovely doggy in tow, and whisked us out of the city to gould lake. the beach was full of laughing children and the water was as warm as the day. meghann and i barely emerged; i'm sure we were mermaids.
9.7.05
on being waterproof
isn't it wonderful to cary a waterproof skin?
i can walk, dance even, in the rain.
i can plunge my entire body into lakes and rivers and bathtubs
i can walk, dance even, in the rain.
i can plunge my entire body into lakes and rivers and bathtubs
8.7.05
let's talk about menstruation
Menstruation is both marvelous, and a bit of a pain. For me, a pad-hating tampon-user since the age of 14ish, the amount of garbage this monthly event was producing bothered me muchly. After all, menstruation is a natural, age-old alternative to manliness - why should it create waste to clog the dwindling waterways and chocked garbage pits of this tiny planet?
A friend of mine, many years ago now, persuaded me that tampon applicators were for chumps, and showed me the light of OB tampons. This pleased me, and I found it to be a much more comfortable option than sharp, stiff applicators. Know thine body, I thought - stick what needs to be stuck where'er it needs to go. But even this option troubled my enviro-mind, after a while. I knew that another internal, but reusable, option was out there, and I kept asking other women if they'd tried it. Well eventually I took the plunge and shelled out the bucks for a little rubber menstrual cup; I've been a proud user of a keeper for several years now.
Why I love my Keeper:
1) no waste
2) no monthly expense
2) i can wear it for a long long long time, and it's comfy
3) perfect for traveling, camping, etc.
4) cute. cute little carrying bag, too
5) conversation piece when left on the bathroom sink
6) get to know the flow - i make it, i see it, i can photograph it, play with it and more!
7) while not officially recommended, i've not found it to pose any impediment to social intercourse of the intimate kind
8) discreet for carrying around; and smaller than a box of anything else
9) no bleaches, dioxins, etc. to wear inside my not-at-all pristine body for nearly 25% of my life
10) that sense of belonging - the keeper family is free and fabulous!
That said, if I were to buy one today (of if I ever give birth and thereby necessitate getting the other size) I'd probably choose the silicone equivalent, since it can be cleaned at higher temperatures. That said, I'm v. happy with what I've got for now. I only wish I'd switched sooner.
Yay gadgets that make bleeding fun!
A friend of mine, many years ago now, persuaded me that tampon applicators were for chumps, and showed me the light of OB tampons. This pleased me, and I found it to be a much more comfortable option than sharp, stiff applicators. Know thine body, I thought - stick what needs to be stuck where'er it needs to go. But even this option troubled my enviro-mind, after a while. I knew that another internal, but reusable, option was out there, and I kept asking other women if they'd tried it. Well eventually I took the plunge and shelled out the bucks for a little rubber menstrual cup; I've been a proud user of a keeper for several years now.
Why I love my Keeper:
1) no waste
2) no monthly expense
2) i can wear it for a long long long time, and it's comfy
3) perfect for traveling, camping, etc.
4) cute. cute little carrying bag, too
5) conversation piece when left on the bathroom sink
6) get to know the flow - i make it, i see it, i can photograph it, play with it and more!
7) while not officially recommended, i've not found it to pose any impediment to social intercourse of the intimate kind
8) discreet for carrying around; and smaller than a box of anything else
9) no bleaches, dioxins, etc. to wear inside my not-at-all pristine body for nearly 25% of my life
10) that sense of belonging - the keeper family is free and fabulous!
That said, if I were to buy one today (of if I ever give birth and thereby necessitate getting the other size) I'd probably choose the silicone equivalent, since it can be cleaned at higher temperatures. That said, I'm v. happy with what I've got for now. I only wish I'd switched sooner.
Yay gadgets that make bleeding fun!
7.7.05
bombs
my friend andrea's message was the first in my inbox this morning, before i'd even turned on the radio, or opened my browser to the news of the world.
she told us she was safe, in london, and not to worry about her if we'd heard the news of the bombings.
not too long ago, a classmate of mine was to have gone to a show in qatar at a venue that was bombed (but she was not there after all).
4 years ago, my friend sara was on a train, taking a crowd of kids to new york to bring their play on peacebuilding to the sec. general of the united nations when 2 planes struck the towers that shattered the american world.
some cbc reporter has just wondered aloud whether canada, the only one on the list del terroristas not yet burned, will be next.
bombs are falling. fear builds.
life continues: unlike our flags flying low on their poles, the stock exchanges, our dollar, all are up today. and i catch myself wondering whether i'll now get a deal on my british airways ticket traveling through london. but if i'd been 'touched' by this note in the chorus of tragedy, i would never have written these words.
violence has been visited on our brothers and sisters, our grandfathers and grandmothers, since first hands were folded into fists, or fingers wrapped around weapons of minor destruction. all of it unnecessary. but then, it seems we can hear pain far more clearly than the sound of words anyways. touch was the first language. it will be the last.
she told us she was safe, in london, and not to worry about her if we'd heard the news of the bombings.
not too long ago, a classmate of mine was to have gone to a show in qatar at a venue that was bombed (but she was not there after all).
4 years ago, my friend sara was on a train, taking a crowd of kids to new york to bring their play on peacebuilding to the sec. general of the united nations when 2 planes struck the towers that shattered the american world.
some cbc reporter has just wondered aloud whether canada, the only one on the list del terroristas not yet burned, will be next.
bombs are falling. fear builds.
life continues: unlike our flags flying low on their poles, the stock exchanges, our dollar, all are up today. and i catch myself wondering whether i'll now get a deal on my british airways ticket traveling through london. but if i'd been 'touched' by this note in the chorus of tragedy, i would never have written these words.
violence has been visited on our brothers and sisters, our grandfathers and grandmothers, since first hands were folded into fists, or fingers wrapped around weapons of minor destruction. all of it unnecessary. but then, it seems we can hear pain far more clearly than the sound of words anyways. touch was the first language. it will be the last.
what mothers do
mothers seem to me to be some other species altogether. and mine is no exception. she just does and does and does for her children. it is lovely to be on the receiving end of such endless support, but it makes me sad as well. i don't think that i should be allowed to become a mother, as i just don't want to ever have to do all that for my kids. i simply cannot imagine giving that much. which is funny to say, considering that a great many of my waking hours are spent working on various activities that are meant to be benefiting other people (but who's kidding who - i get much more out of all of that than can be described). but with kids, there's all this obligation. when they're little, and helpless, they need and need and need - for survival, growth, support. and then they're older and they imagine that they don't need you, and you have to put up with their ungrateful, yet demanding abuse.
i don't know how it is that mothering hasn't yet gone out of style.
i don't know how it is that mothering hasn't yet gone out of style.
4.7.05
various happenings and adventures
i danced and danced in the rain the other day. a visit to k-w, and a storm. the clouds were screaming that i must dance as they would, bathed in our collective sweat, feet bare, hair plastered to my feverish forhead. so i left the dog to her quivering at the ruckus, peeled off most of my layers, and scampered out to the frothing street to be alone in public.
i dominated a dinner party that the octagenarians were hosting with loud talk and politics, reminding myself of my father once again.
we found a lovely patch of cattails - common and thin-leaved and i shook their yellow pollen into a plastic bag and carried it all home from the k-w trail for to bake it into something tasty. and we've been eating many treats from the forests of thunder bay-hey! forests and lawns, that is. lots of dandelions: their young leaves in salad, their young buds fried in lemon-butter sauce, their flowers in pancakes... fiddle-de-diddle heads gathered from the swampy woods which we fed to our friends and hoped that nursing mother and the wee child wouldn't swap their proud, firm poos for something softer. cattail corn-on-the-cob was lovely, especially the boy-bits (at the top - best picked when still swaddled in their papery husk-like shells). painstakingly candied marsh violets. and then those treats gathered but not eaten: marsh marigolds; rock tripe.
our tri-state (minnesota, wisconsin, michigan) and tri-lake (superior, michigan, huron) tour was a fun, if sweltering drive back to southern climes and claire's wedding. swam naked in only 2 of the 3 (and not at all at the wedding, alas), bespectacling ourselves in good doctorly form.
i learned to knit. made an (ug.) hat for me (well, i pretended it would be for steve, but not very convincingly). and then a super-cute little hat for a babe yet unborn. knitting is fun! and kind of addictive. i've found myself wrapping yarn around cold little metal sticks in the wee hours of several mornings already.
of course i worked, and learned all sorts of things about cancer and such, but that's for another day or another page perhaps.
and all this while i've been playing games and laughing and walking and kite-flying and frying fish and garage-saleing and working and learning and making merry and yet no words have been written at all. not a line of haiku, not a paragraph of drivel, not a line of impationed notes on the projects buzzing across my brain. how odd the effect of connected company!
i dominated a dinner party that the octagenarians were hosting with loud talk and politics, reminding myself of my father once again.
we found a lovely patch of cattails - common and thin-leaved and i shook their yellow pollen into a plastic bag and carried it all home from the k-w trail for to bake it into something tasty. and we've been eating many treats from the forests of thunder bay-hey! forests and lawns, that is. lots of dandelions: their young leaves in salad, their young buds fried in lemon-butter sauce, their flowers in pancakes... fiddle-de-diddle heads gathered from the swampy woods which we fed to our friends and hoped that nursing mother and the wee child wouldn't swap their proud, firm poos for something softer. cattail corn-on-the-cob was lovely, especially the boy-bits (at the top - best picked when still swaddled in their papery husk-like shells). painstakingly candied marsh violets. and then those treats gathered but not eaten: marsh marigolds; rock tripe.
our tri-state (minnesota, wisconsin, michigan) and tri-lake (superior, michigan, huron) tour was a fun, if sweltering drive back to southern climes and claire's wedding. swam naked in only 2 of the 3 (and not at all at the wedding, alas), bespectacling ourselves in good doctorly form.
i learned to knit. made an (ug.) hat for me (well, i pretended it would be for steve, but not very convincingly). and then a super-cute little hat for a babe yet unborn. knitting is fun! and kind of addictive. i've found myself wrapping yarn around cold little metal sticks in the wee hours of several mornings already.
of course i worked, and learned all sorts of things about cancer and such, but that's for another day or another page perhaps.
and all this while i've been playing games and laughing and walking and kite-flying and frying fish and garage-saleing and working and learning and making merry and yet no words have been written at all. not a line of haiku, not a paragraph of drivel, not a line of impationed notes on the projects buzzing across my brain. how odd the effect of connected company!
3.7.05
various adventures - part n, out of sequence
Now in London, with the ancestry: the octagenarians, as they like to be called. Today I interviewed MamaSue on medicine and art, though we've really only just got to the art part. We journeyed, over beer and shrimp, through France and Belgium in the 20's and 30's, then Rwanda in the 30's and 40's, South Africa through the second world war (her father wept - the first battle in which he'd spent 4 years in the trenches was meant to have ended all wars). She talked about studying medicine in a language she'd never spoken before. I heard about the petty tirades of sexist administrators and the mysoginist ministrations of senior doc's in the neurosurgical O.R. Why is there so little time for stories? I'm hungry for stories, but she worries that I'll be bored - she is so certain that she should be winding down (her body tells her so, it's true), but then, she comes from a long line of mid-90-survivors...
Our clan has bathed in wine, cognac, beer, champagne, belgian red bubbly, g&t's, and more wine. We have marched our delighted tongues through mounds of St. Andre, brie, camenbert, roquefort, chevre et plus. Chocolate and tea and strong black coffee and espresso have kept us from naps when our eyes would have been heavy. These hot days have been nothing less than a celebration of extravagent consumption. Yet it is all simply a ritual, to keep us face to face, in conversation among us 4 or in the fine company of friends. These are the days my jiggling bottom will never forget!
Our clan has bathed in wine, cognac, beer, champagne, belgian red bubbly, g&t's, and more wine. We have marched our delighted tongues through mounds of St. Andre, brie, camenbert, roquefort, chevre et plus. Chocolate and tea and strong black coffee and espresso have kept us from naps when our eyes would have been heavy. These hot days have been nothing less than a celebration of extravagent consumption. Yet it is all simply a ritual, to keep us face to face, in conversation among us 4 or in the fine company of friends. These are the days my jiggling bottom will never forget!
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