Letter to my children: On Inspiration, Electronic Distractions, and Boredom

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Dearest Beloveds,

Baba used to tell me when he was faced with a particular quagmire at work he would sleep on it. He would deliberately think of the issue before he fell asleep and, “9 times out of 10,” he would awaken with the solution in his mind.

This, my dearest children, is called inspiration. Sometimes it might take longer than a night. Sometimes it might take a few days. But, in my experience, it always happens. The key is giving the issue space.

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Letter to my children: Greased Pigs and Loud Yawns

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Dearest Beloveds,

We were a puppy pile in bed early on Saturday morning. Two of us were giggling and wrestling while the other two snuggled deep and soft in the expansive warmth. Your father extricated himself from tickling limbs and sat up. “Okay children, it is time to get dressed for breakfast. Who is ready?”

Dragon fired a response, “I am as ready as a greased pig!”

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Homeschool learnings: Snapshot and Math Curricula thoughts

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Homeschool learnings: Snapshot and Math Curricula thoughts

Homeschooling is an adventure. Every day looks different.

Bean and I had an appointment first thing in the morning in Poughkeepsie. On the way home we visited Eleanor Roosevelt’s home (Val-Kill - the only National Historic site honoring a First Lady). Unlike the imposing homes along the river (of FDR, the Vanderbilts. Astors, Livingstons, etc) the place feels people sized. The road wends to a small bridge where a collection of small building sit clustered on a small hill in the curve of the river.

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Letter to my children: Privilege and Poodle English

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Dearest Beloveds,

We are going to dive in right away with a quote from Vershawn Ashanti Young’s amazing article entitled Should Writer’s Use They Own English?:

Cultural critic Stanley Fish come talking bout - in his three-piece New York Times “What Should Colleges Teach?” suit - there only one way to speak and write to get ahead in the world, that writin teachers should “clear [they] mind of the orthodoxies that have taken hold in the composition world” (“Part 3”). He say don’t no student have a rite to they own language if that language them them “vulnerable to prejudice”;

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Convalescing as a Country Mouse

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Yesterday morning, I was admiring the rotund bellies of the robins. A passel of them were spread under the apple trees devouring warm wriggling goodness from the warming earth. Their russet beachball bellies protruded forth, so prominent and cheerful. It was delightful. Clearly, I am now a country mouse.*

A country mouse who didn’t grok until recently that she signed up for an iron man. I thought convalescing from a bone marrow transplant would be a marathon to be sure, I wasn’t aware I was enrolling up for one of those races that last for three days and involve surprise dodgeball games every 20 miles.

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Hic sunt dracones

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Hic sunt dracones

Apparently, the more frequently used phrase during the Medieval era was “hic sunt leones,” to denote areas on a map that were considered unchartered territory. Off the map. Beyond that which was known. There is one extant example of “hic sunt dracones” - here there are dragons from 1504 CE. I am going to use that one.

When I checked in for the Bone Marrow Transplant, they very kindly gave me a schedule of what medicine I would receive what day, color coded, each day clearly demarcated, the two days of receiving cells highlighted in a different color.

Then nothing. Hic sunt dracones.

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Letter to my children: Naps and Petticoats

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Dearest Beloveds,

About a two years ago I had this idea for a collection of musings entitled, Naps and Petticoats. Aside from being a rocking title, I thought the first piece would be a place for me to share some of the methods I use to unwind and some of the things I do to deliberately spark my joy. So here goes - why wait?

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Divine intermediaries, sauna prayers, and cultural appropriation

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Divine intermediaries, sauna prayers, and cultural appropriation

Part of the global nervous breakdown permeating all of our lives comes from the endemic emotions associated with the shattering of traditional heirarchies. My brother-in-law wrote a brilliant book describing this breakdown in the media (shameless plug alert) - but I want to talk about it in terms of God.

Obsessed might be too strong a word, but let us say I am very captivated by Meggan Watterson’s Mary Magdalene Revealed, especially her chapter on Thecla. The chapter is called, “The Girl Who Baptized Herself,” and that pretty much sums up her story…

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Letter to my children: Laughing contests and carnal pleasures

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Dearest Beloveds,

A few days before I headed to the hospital for my Bone Marrow Transplant, we were at dinner.

“Let’s play Animal, Vegetable, Mineral!” Clamored Bean.

“Hmmm, I am not quite sure that Momma can handle another game like last night. What was I trying to guess - a Cheetar?”

“No, Momma, it was a CheePho, half cheetah half phoenix.”

“Right, okay, I think my head may have exploded with that one.”

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The Tale of Gwyn and the Pips - Part 1

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The Tale of Gwyn and the Pips - Part 1

The Tale of Gwyn and the Pips*

This Fairy Tale, though not considered part of a canon as of yet, has aspirations for great things and expects to confound all expectations. Much like our heroine.

Once upon a time there was a princess who grew up in a beautiful land of marble and gardens. She was told she was smart and beautiful and accomplished. She was told to be a good friend, to keep her elbows off the table, and to clean up her own mess. Her education was beyond compare. Our princess was exposed to language, arts, music, travel, and food in addition to her formal education which taught her discipline, curiosity, and the joys of intellectual investigation and creativity. And math.

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