Damb!

February 2nd, 2012

Psalm 61

1 Hear my cry, O God;
listen to my prayer.

2 From the ends of the earth I call to you,
I call as my heart grows faint;
lead me to the rock that is higher than I.
3 For you have been my refuge,
a strong tower against the foe.

4 I long to dwell in your tent forever
and take refuge in the shelter of your wings. Selah

Today a dear friend, and favorite bridge partner told me that the news from her medical tests were not good. She’s got a huge family, and is the rock on which many of them stand. Looks like I may be taking the grief train again.

Psalm 61 well read

Colors Dancing

February 1st, 2012

As my boys play with paints and crafts, I get to play too.

New day, rhymes with…. yesterday?

January 31st, 2012

The problems circle,

Making patterns of thoughts and actions

Do I learn?

And a progression since I’m playing with the kaleidoscopic filter again. Fungus Amongus

First transformation

Blogging and photo play just seem to go together.

Still trying to figure this thing out… quoth the wizard

January 30th, 2012

It has been so
long since I tried to blog, I feel like a stranger in a strange land. But I managed to save a photo. It is on a server somewhere in MS and may be available.

The photo is sad, but this is the back to now be
attached to the mystery quilt. It was finished today,
and may finally be the size that I need.

Now I’m trying to recall how I take the blogpost
(wherein word wrap is not acting properly) to the
server so that it will actually post.

Meanwhile, I want to ask about this one. Cameron
used to take a nap here pretty regularly. We had a
game to pick his nap time story randomly with a pick
the number game. When he had a story he liked, he’d
carefully pick the same numbers the next day.

So one story, which was long and dull for me to read,
but that he wanted to have read over and over and over
again was Sleeping Beauty. What’s up with that?! Am
I nuts or is that an allegorical story of female
frigidity? What on earth in the themes of the beloved
daughter asleep in the castle covered with thorns
appealed to his little boy psyche to have it read
over and over again??

I remember a particular attachment to Beauty and the
Beast. I loved that story, as a play, a story book,
or in whatever form. I know it resonated with me
because my father had some anger issues and gave way
to rage now and again. I still have great dread of
any conflicts, because the beast may be on the prowl
again. But of course, the beast is in love with the
beautiful Belle. My beast loved me until…. well
there were some complications in that relationship.
And the denial of those issues have cost me greatly in
my adult life, and my ability to love.

So, a blog post, of sorts. Much too much about me. Maybe I’ll do better next time.

Why Freedom? Whither go we?

December 20th, 2011

A maxim I often quoted as I taught was that “It’s not what you know that causes you grief, but what you don’t know.” In other words, just because you don’t like mathematics is not a good excuse to choose not to learn it. There is wisdom in knowing how little we know. In admitting ignorance we make a small step to wisdom.

The book that is currently languising on my bedstand is Hayek’s “The Constitution of Liberty.” The discussion of ignorance in the first section has a whiff of wisdom to it. What we know is a small subset of what can be known, and much of our knowns are wrong anyway. Hayek suggests that within civilization, we have access to the knowledge of our ancestors. Cultures and civilization didn’t arise out of whole cloth, invented and immutable. Civilization includes many “how it’s done” concepts that have become available to us because an individual’s knowledge serves to assist those who are in contact with him, and improve their efficiency at tasks. This is not conscious, explicit knowledge only, but all sorts of rules for interactions. For instance, walking on the sidewalk, when you meet someone coming in the other direction in my part of the world we both veer right. As we’re southern, we also smile and speak. Much useless discussion of the weather happens thus.

Our knowledge of what makes the civilization work is limited, but our capacity to be effective in achieving our goals within our civilization grows as the complexity of the civilization grows.

One of the functions of civilization is the transmission and communication of knowledge. Knowledge is transmitted through for example the writing of a cookbook, and communicated amongst our peers in the many discussions of how best to season your crawfish, or where the freshest seafood is to be found. Paraphasing Hayek, what is essential to the process is that each individual be able to act on his particular knowledge in his particular situation, and that he be able to use his individual skills and opportunities within the limits known to him and for his own individual purpose.

Thus the case for maximizing freedom of an individual, is that with each finding his own way, in his individual ignorance, he’s able to borrow from those about him who are more efficient. So our ignorance though monumental, is decreased by interacting with people capable of achieving whatever it is that we want to achieve. Without freedom, the incremental improvements that are possible in spite of our ignorance would not happen.

And freedom, that magic which allows an individual to seek for his own ends, also allows civilization to be very dynamic, and able to change as situations change.

Freedom, the opportunity to be blazingly wrong, but “do it my way,” is not just a high sounding goal of a libertarian, it’s the grease that has aided us in the US of A to create an economy vibrant and dynamic in the extreme. Are we pissing it away in mountains of rules, legislation and regulation? How many pages was that Obama Care bill? And the continuing resolution to keep the government going… the one that is the object of current brinksmanship?

So, a random Louisiana shot. Madisonville

Night music

September 13th, 2011

There are no words for the joy of music at midnight as the Kansas air is cooling, and the musicians just bask in another year to enjoy blending their voices and instruments. Festival starts tomorrow, but my soul is blessed tonight.

Photo Play

August 29th, 2011

O
ld Skin Covers memories, wounds, love
New Skin Covers hopes, possibilities
A whole new world.

History visualization

August 25th, 2011

Posted: Visualizing US expansion through post offices. from Derek Watkins on Vimeo.

An amazing visualization using the establishment of post offices to show the settlement (non native) of the land mass we live in. It goes up to 1900, but watch and see the patterns. Takes a while to see much… then I had to watch again and again. Watch the great lakes take shape, and the vast open spaces slowly get some post offices.

Into every life a little rain must fall, even for a princess.

August 23rd, 2011

The first child, first grand on both sides of the family, fair of hair and healthy, a baby by all reports of excellent disposition, is destined to be a princess. The world was my oyster.

Alas, a grain of sand the size of a boulder entered my young life. A scrawny thing hardly able to breathe, pretty much allergic to living came into my life, unbidden. My severely asthmatic baby brother had the audacity to live, if not thrive immediately. He thrives now.

About the same time this unwelcome, invasive intruder slipped in, one of my father’s younger siblings was in a car wreck and barely lived, with extensive head injuries. Mother was busy taking care of the baby with medical problems, helping with the in-law who was barely functioning, and the princess was demoted. Poof! I turned invisible. My sweet nature was a bit of a detriment, because I didn’t know how to cut up and make a fuss for attention. I stewed in my problem, and I saw my opportunity. That runty thing, the attention grabber, started walking and then climbing.

Four years of a head start was an advantage I could leverage. I could plan. I also could stack stools and chairs and send him clambering up to ever higher heights. I remember my glee when the tower we constructed came crashing down. I was almost disappointed that he did no serious damage to himself. What was the wonderful thing I told him he could get to up high in the hall cabinet? That memory is gone. But the anticipation of the crash and the aftermath? I do recall that. My secret guilt. But really I just needed him out of the way so I could be restored to princess!

Just maybe, it wasn’t even my brother’s fault. Both my parents were second siblings to an older child who died around age six. As a parent I cannot imagine my grandparent’s grief. Mother told me that for several years there they really kind of expected it was a family destiny that I wasn’t to survive to adulthood. I fooled them. I survived. I won’t say I wasn’t a bit scarred by alternating neglect and smothering, but survive I did. Sixty years later, I’m still working on thriving.

Another day, Another Quilt

August 5th, 2011

H
ollis Chatellain is one of the names I know from quilting. Her artistry is mostly in using the lines of the quilting thread to create very subtle and wonderful images. Last year at Houston, her work was not displayed in the grand prize winners. But Gayle saw it and loved it immediately and wanted some photos of her work. So I took several.

The detail photos are to attempt to complete the photo.

And some info on the quilt,