Last week I learned that …
For the last four weeks I have been ‘doing’ a Writing and Spiritual Practice Course. It has been good to write poems, share experiences and dabble in ‘other worldliness’. But it leaves me in a bit of a dilemma; wanting to spout lyrical about the world its beauty, abundance and how we should be grateful to Mother Earth,God or whoever we consider provided it. However it is not as easy as that.
For instance we have in the UK recently enjoyed the Olympics; for the last four years we have heard about how marvelous it would be and we are still reminded of the achievements of all involved. When I point out any of the less favourable aspects of the event I am called a party poop, grumbler, negative etc.
My daughter lives in Rio soon to be the venue for the next World Cup and the Olympics. I assume the anticipation and the hype for this wondrous occasion is much as it was here. But; and there are many buts including the infrastructure, the general environment and the destruction of homes and so called rehousing. Many of the less well off Brazilians live in the favelas including key workers; teachers, nurses, social workers; the likes of my daughter and her partner who need to live in the city for the work.
What I am trying to say is, that being spiritually aware is not just about writing poems of roses and their sweet perfume it is more about the horse shit that is needed to make them grow.
This blog was inspired by a poem by A R Ammons called City Limits.
Silent Sunday
Saturday Solace and listening …
The sound of the dove [small voice}
Yesterday I finished a 4 week Online writing and spiritual practice course. I learned a lot but fear I will not retain my new found knowledge. I hear the a little voice say ‘Use it or lose it.’ There is much truth in this somewhat ‘throwaway’ remark. I have never done such a course although I have done similar for work and my own ‘pleasure.’ However they have usually left me with, not only reams of notes and handouts but a feeling that ‘it was ok; but will it last?’ Then the ‘course’ has undergone the scrutiny of my other rather more critical and not so quiet voice.
So I am afraid this recent ‘gem’ did get a bit of this bashing although I did say some nice things which may have come from the other voice of diplomacy and tact!
It is now 5am on Saturday morning the week and the routine of the blog stretches before me. There are feelings and suffice to say the usual speeding heart and fearfulness has gone; there is a feeling of encouragement and hope. This comes not only from that tiny voice but from the facts. Wordpress provides them daily! My blog over the last 4 weeks has had 20% more views and more comments than I thought possible.
So this morning I celebrate that small voice with a small stone.
Each morning on the cushion
in solace place;
the tea, small voice and me.
We muttered, mantra-ed laughed.
Did we weep? We may.
The thoughts they came and came
and went.
Granted thanks and praise
We sang a sacred Sanskrit song
of affinity and space.
And waited.
The ideas will come … later.
Friday Library Snapshot … Feodor Rojankovsky
I came across these children’s books quite by accident this week and recognised them from my childhood; and remembered how different the images were from my other picture books. Perhaps a little more realistic; they still seem fresh and appropriate. I think that my grandsons would like them now.
Feodor Stepanovich Rojankovsky better known as Rojan was born in Mitava now know as Latvia in 1892. He was best known for his illustrations in children’s books and also for erotic illustrations.
He studied at the Moscow Fine Arts Academy and then served in the Russian Army during WW1. Soon after he moved to France and became a student of Esther Averill. In 1942 he went to America and began his career as an illustrator of children’s books. He was particularly interested in animals and natural history. Rojankovsky also wrote books for example the Great big animal book was published in 1952,
In 1956 he won the Caldecott Medal for his illustrations in the Frog went a-courtin’ and adaptation of a folk tales by John Langstaff
It is told, that it was regular visits to the zoo that inspired his love for animals. He also copied the works of his older brothers when they returned home from school.
I could discover little of his later life and he died in 1970.
AlphabeThursday B is for Book
The word book first used to describe a writing tablet, leaf or sheet; generally thought to be etymologically connected with the name of a beech tree. This suggests that the first inscriptions were made on ‘beechen’ tablets or cut into the bark of beech trees.
From about 6th century AD books were produced by scribes; often monks working in workshops known as scriptoria. They worked predominantly on reproduction of liturgical works needed for the learning material for novices and for worship. This and secular texts were written in Latin; on parchment and vellum, folded into pages and ruled with lines and gathered into quires. If multiple copies were needed then the text would be shared among the scribes, who would be responsible for a particular section.
Work was overseen by an armarius who would distribute parchment, pens, ink and rulers. Copying would only be undertaken in daylight hours as candles were serious fire risk. The scribe using black ink would only copy the body of the text; leaving the titles, headings and initials for the rubricator using red ink.
Attempts were made to speed up the process by using different styles of writing. For example Uncial and half-Uncial were developed in the 4th century and used up until the 12th century.
The Irish Book of Kells is a fine example of the script. Emperor Charlemagne tried to improve the standards of writing which lead to the development of the Carolingian minuscule script which became the basis of most European scripts since.
By the 14th century with the Gothic art style came new letter-forms; such as the English ‘black letter, the French ‘lettre batarde’ the German ‘frakyur’ and the Italian ‘rotunda’. The first types were based on these letter-forms.
As literacy increased in the Middle Ages and the demand from universities grew so the manufacture of books changed. Commercial scriptoria were established and pecia system was used; a network of copyists would reproduce sections of a book. Also serving a very lucrative market of luxury book collectors. However; during this time so the monastic scriptoria flourished with the growth of new religious orders such as the Carthusians and the Brethren of Common Life.
Manuscripts commissioned by wealthy patrons, were often decorated or illuminated. Illuminations consisted of three elements: the initial, the border, and the miniature. The miniature was not particularly small but the pictorial part of the decoration.
The initial might be decorated with flourishes or intertwined foliage or part of the miniature with pictures in the loops. The border usually surrounded the text but sometimes it separated the miniature from the text. These drawings could be coloured or had gold or silver leaf applied; thus the book becoming a work of art and a vital collectable.
100 Word Challenge for Grown Ups – Week#68 … Grey
Look below the grey storm laden clouds. The slate roofs moistened by the recent shower. Blue, green and violet undertones shine as the sun rises over the granite ridge. Last night’s moon hangs in a silver glow. See the jeweled breast of the dove as it sweeps back to the cote. The platinum glint of grandma’s hair as she twists it into a tiny hematite clasp at the nape of her neck. Watching the sleek grey Rolls Royce glide up the drive of York stone mottled by the grey green moss to wait for the bride in her grey silk gown.
Wednesday’s Wise Woman … Dona Zica
When I began researching Dona Zica (Euzbia Silva do Nascimento) 1923-2003 with my limited resources I soon became disappointed as there was little information. Except that she was considered to be a major figure in the development of samba and its movement from the favelas to the streets of Rio and then into the main stream. After that it was more related to her relationship and marriage to Cartola; the Brazilian singer, composer and poet. My daughter bought me a CD of the music of Cartola (Top Hat). The cover featured a picture of Angenor de Oliveira better known as Cartola (Portuguese for top hat) as he wore a top hat while working on building sites to protect his hair from brick dust. Beside him in the picture is his wife Dona Zica who performs with Cartola on the CD.
Dona Zica was the old guard of Sambista Mangueira one of the most traditional Samba Schools in Rio which also had international acclaim. Dona Zica was considered to be the symbol of Rio Carnival. Dona Zica and Cartola were childhood friends. At 19 Dona Zica married her first husband and had 5 children and adopted another. She was widowed after 20 years; and was reunited with Cartola; who had also been married and widowed, but without children. Dona Zica and Cartola married and stayed together until he died in 1980.
Following the death of his first wife he left the music scene and he was presumed dead. He was later found, according to a popular story, by Sergio Porto a journalist in 1956 while working as car-washer.
Porto reintroduced Cartola into the music scene by organising radio shows to promote his work. In 1963 after a struggle they were able to take the favelas’ samba to the city streets. It was at this time when Cartola met Dona Zica and her husband Eugênio Agostine who owned the Zicartola a bar-cum-restaurant in downtown Rio de Janeiro, which became known as the most important samba establishment of that time, providing a link between the traditional sambistas and the beginning of the Bossa Nova movement.
I have this romantic idea that it was Dan Zica’s influence that brought Cartola back from obscurity and to become not just as a famous composer but as a performer and recording artist. However I would like to know more about her life.
Small Kindnesses
When I read the prompt for the Small Stone Kindness; I disregarded it, but not without pain. I could not think of a kindness that deserved a small stone and worse I could not think of a kindness that I had performed. Try as I might over the next few days I could not rectify the regretful situation. So decided to ignore it; until this morning when the reminder ‘popped’ up again.
However, this time it came with a gentle voice from deep within and a vision; on a podium, as we have seen recently at the Olympics stood a dozen or so people waving and cheering as if they had won a gold medal. They were all faces I recognised, people who have dragged, pushed and cheered me along for the last two years, from a place of deep grief and despair to a place of joy and achievement.
Busy people with lives and problems of their own who never at any point refused to help;rather they all went more than the extra mile with good humour.
My Line Manager was the catalyst; giving me the idea that I could enhance my career progression. At a time in my life when I was considering retirement ; Lucy encouraged me to take advantage of Digital and Social Media Workshops at work and set up a blog for myself. She introduced me to an experienced blogger who gave me invaluable help, contacts and guidance. Molly was a working mother with limited time; but she never ignored an email or limited her responses. Also, Patrick helped me endlessly and uncomplaining with computer, or not related problems and continues to be supportive. While his partner pulled me from the emotional quagmire on more than one occasion. During this time they and others have bolstered me from adversity, encouraged me to learn and grow and then challenge the so called adversity.
So rather than find myself lonely and on the retirement heap; I have a rich new career in Social Media that advances daily.
My only wish is that I can repay this kindness.
I was encouraged to write a piece for Fiona Robyn who is launching a novel called Small Kindnesses today
Weekly Photo Challenge: Thankful
I am thankful to the shorthand typists who
After ‘taking a letter’ she [or he] at 282 words per minute
in a shorthand notebook.
Would type by touch and muscle memory.
nothing short of 80 words per minute rising to 120
without error!
I learned last week that … I might leave Still Life to Gustave Courbet
Last week I learned that I like photography and able to take a useful picture. But I find the theory a tiny bit dull and tedious although the overall learning experience in the right situation it can be good and rewarding.
On Saturday I had my third photography class with Going Digital South in the City Mill, Winchester. Sadly the traveling to and from was not ideal due to adverse weather conditions and the venue for the same reason was not so comfortable. As a cyclist, weather is not too much of a challenge, if we are dressed for it. However to arrive windswept, cold and disheveled and not in a position to improve the look then; it doesn’t bode well for a good learning experience.
So you get my drift already things were not looking good.
Fortunately things did get better; the workshop was on Closeup and Macro Photography and I learned a lot about the good micro lens, the use of light and the tripod. I think in time and with practice I may be able to take some good shots.
Photography is a science and the language is not for the faint heart. There were 10 men and 2 ladies; while the men took to the language and the tools like ducks to water we girls muddled along smiling and raising eyebrows. We tried not feel inadequate and glaze over when the men found the need to talk other cameras, other lenses and their cost and whichever website sold the best gizmo for whatever. Although I do want to learn and retain the knowledge; I don’t particularly want to take the best picture or employ the best and most expensive equipment.
Weather and creature comforts aside; a good class, lesson or workshop is about support and mutual understanding not just from the teacher, leader or facilitator but from the other students.
Fortunately our teacher was able to maintain this sense relaxation and sent us off for lunch early. While the boys found their way to Jessops, the girls made a cursory glance around the shop and went to the pub, for warm and idle chat. Which incidentally was about the camera my new found comrade was planning to buy at the Camera Exchange on the way home.
The afternoon was spent ‘shooting’ and then comparing notes on our results.
As I have said Macro photography is a complicated science but the end result is still subjective. My mistakes will not be deleted or subjected to a complicated session on ‘paint box’ neither will I be trying to discover what went wrong; long exposure, to much light, too much depth of field, ISO, focus, or was my tripod the finest quality? … NO! life is too short.
Even more sad I think Gustave Corbet did a better job with his paint box!
Coat Hanger Doll's House 