Smile A Little Smile For Me

You know how when an actor portrays a convincing "bad guy," people react viscerally and ooze vitriol? They feel a strong sense of, well, sometimes hatred. But when an actor portrays a convincing "good guy," we don't seem to get the equivalent overwhelming positive emotional state.

I understand that, more than likely, this is because we are already naturally good -- supposed to be good like that -- so it's the default. 

Work with me here.

Thing is, I DO experience that positive emotional response. The "squee" that a lot of folks seem to only get from kittens and baby hippos and ducklings and such. I get those same feelings when I see a very wrinkled old man, or a homeless guy with incredibly kind eyes, or a deformed person with a glow about them.

I'm not special. Trust me. I am no Mother Theresa, or anything close to it. I'm just like you. Maybe -- and this is a maybe -- I just permit myself to open up and respond to the spirit in other people. 

I think you can, too.

I told my son the other night when we were talking about connections to start out making eye contact with other people and give them a big ole warm smile. It makes a huge difference. We all need that connection. Everything in Life seems geared toward connecting to others.

So try it. Make eye contact with the next person you see, no matter who they are. Then smile warmly as if you see the very best part of their spirit. 

Then do it with the next 10,000 people you see. 

We need to reconnect. We all do. I love you. ~~GH

Clean Water - Who Needs It?

I have largely avoided posting my political or social agenda, but the issue of availability of potable drinking water is universal. In Appalachia, many people's water is ruined now due to fracking and/or residual problems from mining. 

Below is a lovely essay written by Becky Park who went for a walk on a spring day and sampled various "freshwater" sites along a waterway, and recorded her findings. 

Please take less than one minute, sixty seconds, and sign the petition asking that the people of Appalachia receive what first world nations take for granted -- clean drinking water. Thank you. ~~Ginger

(CLICK HERE FOR PETITION)

Originally emailed Tues. May 7, 2013:

What an interesting day we had yesterday in the great out-of-doors. I knew we were in for 100% Doug Wood when the first thing he said was, "There's a reason I don't have any eyebrows." Doug had been with his 18th century friends on the weekend and in his American Indian persona he has only a warrior's lock of hair at the back of his head. I'm so used to seeing Doug with a bandana on his head that I don't notice it anymore. And his eyes are so bright and his face such a one-big-smile that eyebrows for him are not an issue.

What is at issue here is drinking salt water. Doug poured us a round of regular tap water and then a round of water that he demonstrated was drinkable, but when we ladies took a swig--BLEH! Sippable maybe, but yuck tasting, no thank you very much!

Now let's think about the critters we just saw from stream #1. When the rain comes down and filters through a site where the soil has been disturbed, an array of elements and compounds enters the streams and increases the level of ions. This can be detected by a meter and read as "conductivity" of electrical current.

These critters are the proverbial happy clams in water with a reading of 100 to 200 micro-siemens.

Now imagine you don't just sip water occasionally, but your entire existence is in water. Their water is like our air. Yuck! The little baby insects and worms and larvae cry out to their mommies "This water is nasty Mommy! Help me!"

The conductivity reading in Davis Creek, above human dwellings, was 117. Much like it would have been in the 1700s.

Then on to the streams draining a watershed whose ridges have been blown to rubble and dumped in the headwaters: Four-mile Fork of Lens Creek--664.

Further upstream and up Bull Creek--982.

It was here in Bull Creek that Doug took our second set of samplings of the Critters Who Live in the Creek.

The first stream with the reading 117 held a fascinating array of crawly squirmy tiny things. We were looking for benthic macro-invertebrates (visible bottom-dwelling critters without backbones) but in addition to that we enjoyed finding salamanders and their babies. Worms, crayfish, mayfly and stonefly nymphs, and my favorite--the crane fly larva I could see through. Its guts looked like another creature moving inside of it.

These are the organisms that break down the fallen leaves and themselves become food for the larger critters, including fish. For a full 30 minutes we were spellbound by this community, knowing this was a small part of the big picture of life in a woodland stream.

Then, as Doug turned out the samplings from Bull Creek where the conductivity reading was 982, we began poking through the sand and leaves, waiting for the wiggle of life. There were a few nymphs and a tiny water boatman but the difference in this community was dramatic. We kept poking with twigs, examining leaf fragments and flat rocks.. after 10 minutes the toll was clear. It seemed to be a mass of rocks and leaves where only a very few resilient babies can live. Like that salty water. No good!

I knew I was with the right group when it started to rain early in the day and no one mentioned it. Thank you, Ladies, for a priceless time together and thank you, Doug, for giving your day to us.

The difference in our samplings presented an image--a lesson--the truth--that is inescapable. I feel like a stonefly nymph running and wiggling to get away from what we must face.

It really is that bad.

Discerning Cats Prefer

Momma says, "There's no doubt about it: Yellow smells best."

Keep Walking

Lawsy, I've walked some lonely paths this past year. Sometimes the only companionship I felt was you, Dear Reader. Thanks for being there. ~~GH

World in a Drop of Water

Do you know what exponential means, and how fruitless Time is? Just now it occurred to me that I could quite literally spend the remainder of my life attempting to describe one sixty-second period of time and never complete the task to my satisfaction. 

Maybe I'd start out telling you what I did, but then to fully inform you I would need to explain why I did what I did. For instance, I sat on the couch to record a blog post. Why did I choose to sit on the couch? Why a blog post? What significance does the blog hold? For me? For my readers? Why a blog anyway? Why the couch? 

Why did I feel the need to record that particular minute? What impact or importance do I believe it holds? All that goes simply to motivation. None of it describes me, the couch, the laptop -- yes, I am typing on a laptop -- the temperature, time of day, month, year, season, humidity, what I'm wearing, the frame of mind I'm in, what my mood is like, my hunger level, if I'm thirsty or need to go to the restroom. 

I never describe settings, but a lot of people prefer those types of details. So I suppose I'd have to tell you about the roar of the air conditioner in the window, and how the big shopping bag from T.J. Maxx trembles from the a/c's air flow moving across it. 

I'd want you to think the room smelled of Gonesh No. 8 incense but the truth is I forgot to light a stick the last time I was up, and the room really smells like onions and something brown -- I don't know what it is, but it's not unpleasant.

The sun drapes across half the living room window, at such an angle to reveal a winter's accumulation of dust and smudges that silently blame me for not having cleaned them before now. 

A red suitcase silently glowers from the big chair. It has been a month since I used the luggage and I still haven't carried it upstairs and put it away in the closet. 

After checking Thesaurus.com for a synonym for suitcase, I discovered today [the day I wrote this] is Shakepeare's birthday as well as Nicholson's, and I wonder what the two of them would spend the evening doing if they got together to celebrate.

It doesn't address the cat between my knees, or how warm she feels. It doesn't weigh whether that heat feels like a positive thing or a negative thing, whether it's comfortable, whether I wish she would leave or am relieved she chooses to remain.

The fact Richie Havens just died and Mary Rodd Furbee died nine years ago today [April 22nd], the fact Jack Nicholson celebrated his birthday, hasn't been mentioned yet. What these three individuals mean or meant to me hasn't been shared yet. 

My youngest daughter just left a few hours ago and I'm still thinking about and basking in my pleasure at having spent time with her -- little waves of joy still lapping at the shores of my consciousness. 

None of this addresses how these relate to my thoughts of the man I am enamored of, and what pops into my head that I want to share with him, and why I don't, and how I feel about that. 

I recall the line I read on Twitter that declares every man who experiences deep stress needs a Libra woman in his life causes a tinge of bitterness to rise, a little bilious resentment at men who use that Libra balm to heal his wounds, then move on to greener pastures.

The term paper due in a few short days that I only began writing earlier has bored me, or better yet, maybe, overwhelmed me with its implications. Perhaps starting with online sexual relationships was a poor choice, because it brought back painful memories of my ex-marriage. 

I briefly think about the tremendous stress my ex operated under because of his deceptions, but I know those were his choices, and my whiff of pity quickly passes like the hint of fried chicken a neighbor has prepared, that wafted in for the briefest of moments, then left just as soon. Or maybe it was only a memory?

Then the term online persona reared its head and caused me to think a lot about who I am and who I portray myself as in online interactions. I am honest but am I wholly honest? Do I reveal the ugly places, or flash my virtual raincoat momentarily and quickly move along, distracting my readers with something amusing, or deep and thought-provoking, or beautiful, in order to keep the focus off my flaws?

Am I honest? Yes. Am I as revealing as I think I could be? No. Is there enough time in the world for me to share all those parts of myself and yet justify my behaviors in a way that makes me feel safe enough to do so? I doubt it. I can't even manage to do this in my offline life. 

No one has the time, or maybe the inclination to know that much about me. And maybe that's good; I don't know. 

All I know is there isn't enough time to describe this minute to you. Even if I tried. ~~GH