Cher still gets stage-fright.  I don't get stage-fright before I teach or present, but sometimes I wish I didn't have to do it.  It's fun to just sit in a good class, and think about new ideas, watch presentations and so forth, be asked to reflect. 

Even writing on other people's blogs is so much easier than writing my own. 

However, we are called upon to contribute as well as to receive.  In my life, how many college classes have I taken?  Waaaaaaaay more than I had to.  People (ie. family) remarked about my being a "professional student" even though I always worked.  I guess they have different ideas of work and contribution.  I honestly can't count the classes.  There were a lot.  And so, every time I teach one, it's time to give back, and pass the torch along. 

The other day, a long-time assignment paid off.  I ask students to critique the book; to look at it very carefully, critically.  Well, a student finally found an egregious error.  It's such an appalling twist of fact that I'm not using that book anymore.  The claim made in the book is that Jezebel was Black, as in from Africa, that she was exploited and also that she was a sexual predator.  OK, looking it up, it seems she was from Sidon, which is squarely in Hebrew territory.  She was a Hebrew queen.  And allowing for the sake of argument she might have been Black (yes, some Biblical Hebrew family members were Black), the worse error is the assumption that skin color meant the same thing in the same way in Biblical times (or in any other culture or time, for that matter) as it has in America.  Come on!  There has been enough injustice in the world without making some up! 

So, I get to field a discussion about this on Tuesday evening.  But I'm glad someone found the claim.  (The book is really, really boring otherwise.  I don't read every word of it.)  It will make for a very interesting discussion.  Do I look forward to it?  Perhaps.  Certainly there will be easier things to do next week.  But maybe none offering more tangible opportunities to talk about the basic values of scholarship, discernment v. judgment, and even the meaning of life. 

She will be written out of the script after the defenestration scene.  See?  Who knew that this week would offer an opportunity to use this vocabulary word that I've always wanted to use:  Defenestration - throwing a person or thing out of a window.  According to the Jezebel research site suggested by Nicole in her comment on Saturday's blog, Jezebel died when she fell from a window during a struggle.  Her body was then eaten by dogs. 

I was reading in 1 Kings in the Bible that the "eaten by dogs" part was a prophecy.  Now there's a manifestation of wishful thinking, no doubt.  Not to say it didn't actually happen.  Who knows?  But the whole concept...  Jezebel was a powerful woman and a successful military leader.  As a woman taking such a role, clearly she pissed off many traditional Hebrews, and they probably fantasized ignominious ends for her career. 

Today in the Arab world dogs are considered dirty street animals, like rats.  People may use them for work, like herding sheep, but to touch them makes a person ritually unclean, and they then need to wash.  So, I would guess being eaten by dogs would be only a notch up from being eaten by rats...

The talk with the class went well.  I showed them how I found the reference citation the textbook author had used to point to evidence for her claim, then showed them how I back-tracked and found the referenced text.  It turned out that the referenced text is sold on Amazon, and it had a "Look Inside This Book!" thing on it, so I put the word "Jezebel" into the little search window and hit return in front of the class.  (It's sorta like cooking in an electric skillet in front of a class, which is fun!)  Anyway, it worked and the page came up for all to see, and they could all understand that it was pretty much a matter of emphasis.  The original source simply stated that "Jezebel" was the name of a stereotype used in the antebellum South as a way to characterize Black women in particular, as part of an ideology of oppression and subjugation.  That made sense to all of us, and explained to us what the writer of the textbook was trying to say, we think.   And then our guest speaker arrived, so we went on to the next thing, which is pretty much what I'm ready to do now. 

The human experience for me expresses through all colors, of course.  Ever since I can remember, "ALL THE KINDS!" was an expression of joy and enjoyment that I would find myself saying anytime we could have many choices.

And I've usually had trouble choosing a "favorite color."  But it does appear that there is a kind of "theme color" that emerges.  It's the color that I chose for the trim on my house, without really meaning to.  It was just something that appealed at the time.  And then my friends were saying, "Martha, that's really your color!"  And I thought about it.  The color is the one that's right on the cusp between lavendar and blue.  I stare at my house and I can see it either way.  My friends say, "It's a spiritual color!" and they see the colors on the hosue as an expression of sorts.  And although it wasn't all the conscious of a choice in that regard, it is true that I like the color a lot, and I'm glad people think it's pretty or "spiritual."  It's just a color I've always really liked.  Maybe one could say it resonates with me.

when I get itches, I just gotta scratch 'em, and then I remember my Taekwando classes, when Michelle, my teacher, and Mr. Lee, my other teacher, told me that I could relax and not be ruled by the need the scratch.  So I did.  But it was the look in their eyes that I was following then, the look of human wisdom, of experience, of good intentions and the willingness to teach and share, and so I was drawn to them, and learned their stories, gave my mind a permanent pattern in which to keep their stories as patterns of synapses which might possibly, when activated by my will to remember them, glow lovely in the dark fluids of my crenelated mind.  Those stories took me to Mr. Lee's face, and how he looked as he spoke.  He is ex-military, and you can see that in all of his bearing.  He is a man of great strength, you can see it all in each of his movements, and in his sense of humor.  He has a daughter, and she is not like him in any external way, but very loved, very cherished, and I think of my daughter, and of love.  And I think of learning and of strength, of practicing moves over and over, and of getting tired of that.  I think of talking and driving together in cars, me and my daughter.  She is blond, my daughter, but she dyes her hair dark, and I've always wanted to know why.  I can ask, but I get few answers, no clear ones.  And if you want to know what motivates me in life, it is like following an archipelago through the sea, with little jumps from this to that thing, where my heart has been.

I heard on NPR today that Venezuela closed "Bodies, The Exhibition" before it opened.  The exhibit folks have a week to pack up their properties and take them away from Venezuela.  Viva Venezuela. 

Part of me is accusing myself of being small minded, but the majority of me is glad the Venezuelan government said no.  Thinking about it while driving, I felt strong emotions, and a deep sadness, like a weight on my chest, like weeping but not with tears.  There was so much feeling there that I have to now try to unwrap it, draw it out and make some words from it.

The folks from this Exhibition describe their work:  "This Exhibition--which features actual human specimens--allows people of all ages access to sights and knowledge normally reserved only for medical professionals. Take the opportunity to peer inside yourself, to better understand how your elaborate and fascinating body works, and how you can become a more informed participant in your own health care."

The Exhibition came to Phoenix and I didn't go.  Several people I know would not go either.  We talked about it, but it was difficult for us to put our perceptions and emotions into words.  Here I am, still struggling. 

The best I can do is this:  I know that the people whose bodies are used for this Exhibition are people who donated their bodies to science, and who wanted their bodies to be used for educational purposes.  Yet, I feel that the exhibition of these bodies is profoundly wrong. 

I think it is wrong to maintain that a human body can be totally stripped of its humanity.  If the remains have been largely replaced by other substances, that means that the original bodies have melted away, leaving these impressions, which are all that is left.  This person had a life, relationships with people, loves, dislikes, favorite pass-times, memories, beliefs--all the things that make one human.  Their plastic-replacement body is, however, anonymous.  And of course, this is for good reason.  It would be unconscionable to label them, "Harold Smith, from Berkshire, collected insects, loved jam and toast".  But for me, it is also unconscionable NOT to label him! 

It's a deep, deep outrage I feel!  HOW can our society make of humanity this plastic... thing?  This is the ultimate profanity committed in service to the mental attitude called "objectivity."   The human need to see things as separate from ourselves and as dissectable has fostered an alienation so great that we seek knowledge within the flesh of our brothers and sisters whose flesh we have turned into something else. 

I've thought about this for many months, and my mind hasn't changed.  The conviction has just grown stronger.  The feeling I get when I think of the prospect of visiting this Exhibit is that I should prepare myself mentally, emotionally and spiritually as if I were going to visit Auschwitz, or the Hiroshima Peace Memorial.  But there is something else.  In those places, Auschwitz and Hiroshima, we humans understand that we have done terrible things.  These are places where we must remember and admit that there is something inside all of us that we must watch for and deal with, and not let get the best of us again.  But in visiting this Exhibit, the darkness of spirit is much worse, because so many of us don't see what we are doing.

When I wake up in the mornings, some mornings, my alarm goes off and I'm pretty groggy.  I reach over to shut off the alarm, my eyes open, but I'm still asleep.  As I'm reaching for the alarm, I see the room and realize that it looks different.  It is full of these sort of white energy forms that look like Tesla energy in the picture above.  But they aren't transitory and undulating as Tesla energy would be.  They are more like spiderwebs of energy.  It's like these energy patterns are spidery-webby over everything, but very uneven.  Some places have a lot, and some places are fairly clear of them.  Does anyone know what there are?  They disappear, of course, as soon as my mind reaches a state where I can think analytically about them.

Oh!   I encountered Indian in the Machine, an artist's website, when I was farting around on facebook.  Here's an interesting video from there. 

It's time to start the Spring Egg Hunt again!  Last week I was thinking that I just didn't want to do it yet again.  I think this is, like, Year Six or something.  But I'm with it now.  It will be fine.  I'm focussing on getting other people to take more responsibility for it, even "own" it.  A pleasant surprise was two former students want to come back and help keep it going!  And there's the corporate sponsor who donated last year, they're back this year.  Now I've got to go find their name and thump it into my long term memory.  They're an educational software company.  I thought they'd be a one-shot type of thing, but now they deserve a mention, as they're back for another year.  This will be a good year.  It's good to get started.

Speaking of new beginnings, check THIS out:


Yup, your bun in the oven can now be on Twitter.  When the baby kicks, the sensors on the belt send a tweet for you.  Your babe can be tweetin' before it's eatin'!  If you'd like to learn more, you can take a look here.  My son, Max, sent me the article.  He thought it was funny.  The same site offers a $10,000 bullet proof polo shirt from Columbia, and also airbags about the size of small sofa pillows that you can adhese to your grandparents, so that if they become airborn for that "break the hip tumble," the airbag will inflate to break their fall.  What will they think of next?

I brought this idea from facebook because I wanted to post it here.  Please take a look.  I hope that if you like it, you'll want to give it a try...

With huge gratitude to my friends (like Samme, Carla, Pat, and Margo) for the idea, I have committed to making something wonderful for each of you if you, in turn, make something wonderful for 5 other people. It's a way to pay it forward to your friends - just to keep things interesting and make sure our friendships don't go TOTALLY virtual....

So, in the meantime, here's the deal:

The first five (5) people to respond to this post will get something made by me!

This offer does have some restrictions and limitations so please read carefully:

1. I make no guarantees that you will like what I make. None whatsoever.
2. What I create will be just for you, with respect.
3. It'll be done this year (2009).
4. It will be something made in the real world and not something cyber. It may be weird or beautiful. It may be edible. It may be ugly.
5. I reserve the right to do something strange. It will probably not involve cheese.
6. In return, all you need to do is nothing.  Well, a smile would be great.

If you're one of the first 5 people to respond and repost, I will send you a message later to get your mailing address.

In the spirit of creativity, the picture above is one that I really took my little self.

Oh, I'm so excited!  I think this is a great idea!!!  :)