“No one is born hating another because of the colour of his skin, or his background, or his religion. People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite.”
Nelson Mandela
How do you part with love? Love never leaves, but the leader who embodied it will be missed by the world. I want reflect on what Nelson Mandela meant to me. Continue reading
Photo by Larry Schweiger
According to the Irish, my name—Eileen—means “light.” At this darkest time of the year, light is on my mind.
I was aching to see the aurora borealis (“Northern Lights”) when Paul and I visited Churchill, Manitoba in early November. To see them, we learned upon arrival, is incredibly rare, but I held out a fervent hope that our luck would prevail. As an expression of my eagerness to see the elusive Northern Lights, I penned a poem’s first two stanzas just before our plane landed in Churchill: Continue reading
Last week when I was writing my post called “Abundance,” I promised you I would write about my trip to see polar bears in Churchill, Manitoba. I, along with my husband Paul and our longtime friend Holly (who, by the way, created the wonderful illustration in last week’s post) went with a group organized by the National Wildlife Federation during the first week in November, which was part of the annual six-week window when polar bears gather along the southwest coast of Hudson Bay to wait for the ice to freeze. When it happens, they venture out to hunt ringed seals and feed their starving bodies after fasting since the previous July when the ice melted.
A polar bear census in 2000 estimated the bears’ population in the Hudson Bay area near Churchill at 1200. By 2004 this number declined to slightly more than 800. Scientists have recorded that the ice now takes longer to freeze in the fall and, in most years, melts earlier in the spring. Some attribute this to global warming.
We learned upon arrival that a hungry bear had mauled a woman just one block from our hotel two days before. Temperatures were still above freezing, two weeks later than normal. The bears were starving, and with warmer weather they would have three to four fewer weeks on the ice catching seals this year.
I had dreamt for years of seeing wild polar bears and I wanted to witness them before the ice thaws and they disappear. Here is a poem I wrote:
Imagining
I approach you now, white Ursa
of the starving frozen north,
with apologies for the weather.
I see you by the edge of ice
awaiting its arrival like
glass dinner plates with seals below.
Something tells me you know
the origins of your woe.
I come here with head bowed
humbled by your fortitude
and my great fortune
to see you close
enough to smell your sour belly,
and hear it growl.
Ursa, I’m not done with you
or the rising CO2
which I have added to.
Teach me your prayers;
show me your cubs and your lairs
and I will weave your hairs
into dream-weavers
above every child’s bed
and each worker’s desk.
For I see you, polar canary bear
sniffing the warming air,
and standing like all of us, on thin ice.
One of the things I value most about polar bears is the reminder that we humans are not on top of the food chain. They will eat us if given the chance! It keeps me humble to know there are animals stronger and more powerful than humans. I want to make sure they are still around for my grandchildren.
Do you want polar bears to continue on this planet?
If so, here’s how:
1. Expel less carbon by driving and consuming less.
2. Turn down your thermostats.
3. Tell your friends and neighbors to do the same.
4. Vote for representatives who will address climate change and protect life as we know it for our descendants.
When Paul and I were married 32 years ago, he promised me his time: “my only non-renewable resource.” True to his word, most recently, he sacrificed his own work to travel with me on my 9-city book tour. Paul’s devotion holds special meaning to me as I begin to prepare for Thanksgiving, Hanukah and Christmas.
This is normally the busiest time of year for shopping. Questions get asked of loved ones; lists are scribbled, and large and small packages get squirreled away in a closet until the time comes to give the gifts.
We are encouraged daily to shop. The media tells us it’s good for the economy. But is it good for the soul? And does it really make us happy? Continue reading
My first experience of philanthropy was at North Country School in 7th grade. The co-founders, Walter and Leo Clark, taught us to care for our environment by turning out lights when we left our rooms, turning off water while brushing our teeth, and recycling food through composting and feeding scraps to animals. We also saved some of the leftover food to put in our Wednesday midday soup. Instead of a more robust meal like meat and potatoes, we merely had soup and bread. Continue reading
I bought a replacement computer recently to accommodate my overflow of photographs and stories. Since it was simply an updated version of the same model, I assumed it would have interchangeable cords. To my dismay and fury, I was wrong. The newer model has an entirely different connection. I am now feeling guilty for having bought the new one. It saved me time, but in the act of purchasing it, I used more energy than any cords I will ever need.
I take responsibility for my part in consuming resources, and I feel slightly vindicated in having already found a new owner for my old computer, along with the cords. But I have fallen sway to consumer mentality, that the convenience of more and bigger is better. Computer cords are just one small example of this disconnect. Continue reading
Seeing synchronicity adds meaning to life. The more I leave myself open to it, the more I marvel at the mystery of its frequency.
Recently, while talking to a friend about the letter I just received from my third grade spelling teacher (see my blog, “Singing to the Morning Star”), I shared the learning that love was around me even when I hadn’t seen it. She exclaimed: “I can’t believe we’re talking about this. Listen to what I found inserted in my concert program last night.” Continue reading
Click to listen to “Jagged Edges” by Jessie Holladay
The link above will play the song that was the inspiration for this post. It is “Jagged Edges” written and sung by Jessie Holladay which is the stage name of my dear friend from 1st Grade, Holly Duane. To hear more of her songs, you can find her on iTunes or send me an email and I’ll get you her contact info.
I wrote the words of the title for this blog post in my chapter called, “Jagged Edges.” Life is full of them. But today I want to tell you how they bring pleasure to the way I cook.
I love cooking. I learned how as a child, assisting my mother on my parents’ sailboat. We often had forgotten some critical ingredient, such as milk and orange marmalade when making crepes. This was how we came to use buttermilk and substitute the marmalade for freshly made cranberry jelly. The mere mention of this makes my mouth water.
This morning I was in my hot tub before the sun rose. I think I woke the birds from yodeling to the last visible star among the cotton batting of clouds. Why was I singing? Because I’m still exulting in a letter I received this week from my third grade “spelling and word study” teacher at the Chapin School. She had seen me on CBS Sunday Morning, and read my book. Her words evoked a memory as distant as the lone star, but her story illustrates how children can absorb distorted reflections of themselves that sometimes last for the rest of our lives. I came close. Excerpts from the letter below are shared with her permission: Continue reading
I saw my first “mini” sized can of Coca Cola the other day. It was a shock because today most food and drink containers are getting larger, not smaller. The small cans were trendy and eye catching; they reminded me of how most food served in this country comes in obscenely large portions. Here’s my hypothesis of why:
Why does this work? I believe there is direct link between larger food portions and our growing sense of inner scarcity. Continue reading
