Day # 133: More about storytelling

#133

I was just really hungry, I gulped down my shrimp and asparagus and could eat another whole platter.  I just got a full body massage paying attention to my back for a good long time.  I think not only did it relax me, but it stimulated my energy  to pulse   through me.  It is  interesting to be relaxed, ravenous and energized all at once.

I said on Monday I would tell you about the Plan of Concentration for which I acted  as outside examiner.  The  students plan was a psychology, art and writing plan; an interdisciplinary comprehensive study on the development of identity and how stories inform and create identity across generations.  

 Of course it excited me.  It excited me theoretically and artistically.  It fit right into my focus on story telling.  It also made me think about  whether I am using story telling in a way I believe is therapeutic or as a tool that encourages development?  And what is the difference? Can one use a therapeutic tool and not be doing therapy per se?

It may be important to look at story telling or the passing of stories as a means for bringing issues to a meta cognitive level and then to use those stories to try on truths or authentic voices.  In this way they are healing, but not doing the actual therapy, rather are used to illustrate and help one to see and try on change or sameness.  

Day #132: Musing Atop Sugarloaf

#132

I have seen a lot of the beauty of western New England in the past couple of days.  We all know it is these few weeks and a few weeks in October that make living in New England ideal, and  why we all stay here.

All of the flowering trees are in bloom, about ten days behind, yet the temperatures are six weeks early.  Spring has not really happened, but how can you be mad when the world looks like this? The noises are always the same.  Birds dominate, a train in the background, and up here atop this mountain, the sound of the highway is a dull roar in the distance.

A collection of stories is what I am collating; stories that not only tell an individual journey, but combined tell a society's story.  In some respects I would love to do a follow up book from the voices of the adoptee's,  they would bound to be really powerful side by side through two different distinct lenses.

  

Atop Sugarloaf on a humid morning already 80* or so, but a nice breeze is still apparent.  

Day #131: 200 Miles

#131

Welcome back to Monday.  It was a hot Monday and a long Monday.  I drove around 200 miles today and my knees know it.  who can name the towns represented in these pictures?  I also played a lot of different roles today: outside examiner, godmother, soprano, friend, alumna, and picture taker.

Tomorrow I will tell you about the memoirs I was introduced to today.  They are really interesting.  They are written by women who are  bi-cultural and are writing food books.  I'm going to look for one tomorrow and read it.  The student I was examiner for today was looking at identity through stories.  Very exciting work.  I love Marlboro College.  Brilliant place and it renews my faith in education every time I do something there.

Day #130: Proclamation of Peace

 #130

 Outbreak of Peace website

Declaration of  Mothers Day

Let there be an outbreak of peace.  what does that mean for you?  what would an outbreak of peace look like or sound like?

If you are interested in the concept and what this group of musicians and social activist mean by it, go to the above site.  I went to a special Mothers Day concert.  Explore it a little.  

Day #129: Art and Fairies

# 129

Dancing Fairies; by Emma 5/9/15

Our perfect and talented girl.

Almost as talented with a mousse spoon as she is with a tablet.

this Blog is interesting today for those of you interested in the adoption world.  I wrote a year ago in  this for Mothers  Day. Will again tomrorow

Day #128: New Camera Kinda

#128

Learning how to use my birthday present, an underwater Fuji point and shoot.  My Pentax is my best friend so it almost feels like betrayal to use a different camera.  But this was fun.  I went out to the Cove and to Edite's garden, cheat pictures, and played.  I need to read the manual, there are a lot of bells and whistles on it and a video component, and if I could get the nerve up to scuba dive, now that would be cool picture taking.  

 I still haven't fixed my computer.  writing with it is too much of a chore, but I don't want to lose time on this. I am reading a paper on identity development in bi-cultural families.  Id love to be writing in response to it.  It has a lot of commonality with adoption.

my Pentax took this one.

5/8/10

Day # 127: A Poem for Bobby

#127

 Compo Beach at Night

It was never easy to walk in sand barefoot

yet who wore their sneakers?

I don’t know why,

but I remember Compo Beach

in winter, wet and grey,

the wind blowing wet sand

towards your legs, towards your eyes.

The differences  in colors were slight.

Canons sit on the hill by the beach

 left in memory of the march when

General Washington

met up with General Putnam. 

A beach house with snack bar and changing rooms,

outside showers and toilets

painted stark white on grey cement.

Life guard chairs that same bright white,

a pre snowy world of beige and grey

pebbles and shells

small and subtle.

rocks jut out into the Long Island Sound.

Seagulls fly in and out

flocking by snails, barnacles

and seaweed.

We sit wrapped up in blankets

over coats and blue jeans,

scarves wrapped around our ears and we listen

to the herring gull squack, squack – squawck!

I’m not sure what I can latch on to.

Not even your face provides an

unsubtle bit of information

I know you are dying.

I’m convinced if we don’t return

to the snow of Vermont

the bright white and high cold blue skies,

that just maybe this quiet

scene can hold you in place

in time – stop your cells from growing

under your grey skull cap.

  

Compo Beach, I have not seen since 1976.

How odd?

One of those places I went to regularly

To look out upon the world

I moved away from it, just

after you got sick.

Since then so many have passed on.

I’m shocked to look at pictures

realizing how many I’ve lost.

Grey cool damp breeze

smell of sea moving out

small shifts of water rise up

slide back

Starfish hold tightly by

the water’s edge.

In Berkeley one rises and looks

out over the Bay, one can see

the blanket of fog covering

the Pacific and the city beside you,

but you know it will burn off.

Colors will begin to sprout, winter

green or summer Eucalyptus trees

But in December,

on the Long Island Sound

color does not prevail.

Color is prevailing in Massachusetts today.