February 13th, 2006

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For Jane's Dad!!

Today, I learn that Jane's dad also died on February 18th.  He died February 18th, 1979.  My mother died February 18, 2005.

Here is Jane's tribute to her Dad!!



I was standing against the wind in a red jacket.
My father held the kite string, showing me how.
Then the ice storm.
Both dogs vanished into a white eclipse.
Afterwards he was gone.
I thought we would all be here longer.


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Morning Flow -

Jane met a man this weekend who informed her he is getting his Ph’D in “Deliciousness” at UCSF.  He is studying neuroscience, but what an attitude that describes a study of neuroscience as deliciousness.  I am enchanted.  Here is my attempt to describe what deliciousness means to me.

 

Deliciousness


Delicious apples,
red, dense, crunchy, mushy,
tucked into lunch boxes,
and picnic baskets,
like pansies,
thoughtful as hugs shared,
while oatmeal steams,
filling the room
with dreams
of matter
warm enough
to probe
this living,
and leap,
into piles
of leaves,
and whipped cream -

 

 

Deliciousness is
the bite into the look
of the bay
as it sizzles
under the sun,
reflecting sky and clouds,
while fish nibble
its legs and toes,
and cormorants dive
like meteors,
and ducks bob,
like apples.

Wobbling moons
to and fro,
like the eating of life
as it fruits and grows -

 

 

Delicious is the tongue,
exploring mouth,
teeth, ridge,
seeping, secreting
layers that birth.
Silent the cave,
from which words emerge,
until they are spoken,
and firmly heard.
They need the tools,
the lever, the pulley,
of throat, heart, gut,
the trumpet that curves,
from mouth to ears,
passing sound,
like hors d’oeuvres,
champagne,
and dessert.

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Rilke Poem for my Mother Today!!

The Swan

Rainer Maria Rilke


This clumsy living that moves lumbering
as if in ropes through what is not done
reminds us of the awkward way the swan walks.

And to die, which is a letting go
of the ground we stand on and cling to every day,
is like the swan when he nervously lets himself down

into the water, which receives him gaily
and which flows joyfully under
and after him, wave after wave,
while the swan, unmoving and marvelously calm,
is pleased to be carried, each minute more fully grown,
more like a king, composed, further and further on.
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and so it is!

Here are some words from Gregory Bateson.

A man wanted to know about mind, not in nature but in his private large computer. He asked it, “Do you compute that you will ever think like a human being?” The machine then set to work to analyze its own computational habits. Finally, the machine printed its answer on a piece of paper, as such machines do. The man ran to get the answer and found, neatly typed, the words: "THAT REMINDS ME OF A STORY..."

-- Gregory Bateson
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Dr. Zhivago -

After posting yesterday about my mother's love of the movie and music of Doctor Zhivago, especially Lara's Theme, I learn from my cousin how much it also means to him. I also learn that he has our grandmother's copy of the book. I am so touched by that. He lives in Australia so that book has traveled a long way. Jane informs me of how much Lara's Theme means to her brother, who has built his own home with his wife in an isolated area of New Mexico. He is a scholar of Cabrillo. What does all this mean to me? Just how very tied we are in the most beautiful of ways. Somehow the music was thrumming through my head, and now, here we all are, uniting around words and music, and what they mean to each of us!
Today, in the bay area we have sun, warmth, and more blossoms. New York has snow, and I see that Alice Springs has excellent visibility and a high of 95 and a low of 71, so their low may not even be our high today, but it feels quite toasty out to me. The sprinklers are back on. Joy to all today, whether rain, snow, and/or sun!!
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Cheney and Quail -

I really am not going to talk about how Cheney could shoot his fellow hunter while "hunting" quail, those friendly, not seemingly very bright little birds, that hop around my yard, and practically walk right into my open hands. I have to shoo them away to get my car out of the driveway. We could have quail for dinner, and it would be easier than opening a cupboard. They flutter around in the grasses around here like little kittens looking to be fed. They are certainly not silent birds, and they chirp in groups, and stand on rocks with a loud and cheerful "qua querko." I am quite fond of the little guys, and I don't quite see how hunting them could be considered sport.

But, then, we know what kind of hunter Cheney is. Look at Iraq!

I really should stop here, because attacking Cheney is like shooting quail. It is not sport!
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comment on Starbucks -

I know I have had quite a bit to say about Starbucks, and so why would I go there? Well, it is walking distance. If we go along Shoreline, it is a 20 minute walk, and if we go the more peaceful, back-way, it is 30 to 40 minutes. I only walk there, and when they snuck themselves into Tam Junction, I was shocked, but I figure if I walk there, it is okay to occasionally frequent their premises. They have a wonderfully clean restroom, and so, it works well with my bladder and, then, I must buy something, and coffee in the morning, does taste just right.

I am tired tonight, and ready for chemo tomorrow. Jeff is here, and we had a lovely dinner out, after checking out more wedding places. One wonders why everyone doesn't just elope. What a production, and I am sure the planning and the event will be loads and loads of fun. : )