To Write or Not to Write: Lessons from the Blog

I’ve been writing my blog for about 5 weeks now. It felt very odd at first to be putting my musings out there, as if anyone would care. But I realized, the more I wrote and posted, the more I cared about finding something of value to say. I realize I may not always succeed, but I diligently work every week to meet my own internal commitment to post something worth reading at least every couple of days. I am also realizing that if I make a promise online that I work to keep it—whether others are actually reading and commenting on my blog or not. The promise of readers—friends or strangers, one or 100—keeps me going. As a former English teacher, I have always been aware of the necessity of audience to help an author really find her voice, but this blogging process is making that platitude a tangible reality.

But there is also a flip side to blogging: I find myself reading the blogs of others more and more every week. I had never explored them before I started writing one and never left comments on the news posts that requested them. But now as I listen to these other voices, I am reminded that the true power of communication is making that connection. Putting the message out there starts the dialog, but it is not complete until it is read by someone else. It is in the reading that one can discover new ideas, shared values, varying perspectives, humor or maybe even confusion or anger. I love it when the readings make me laugh, cry, think, wonder—or feel understood. It is the reading that gives the blog a social edge over the personal diary locked away and hidden in a drawer. In some ways, it is the reading that keeps me writing.

I am not sure how long I will keep writing this blog. But—for now—I am having fun and will continue writing as long as a few people keep wandering through the pages. A few have even subscribed or left comments. But regardless, I am committed to sharing ideas, thoughts, experiences with the promise of readers. Like the practice of sitting in Buddhist meditation, I will just keep on writing, every week, trying to stay focused and authentic in the moment. Then, over time, I imagine I will suddenly be aware of more lessons and realizations, rising from the practice. As they come to mind, I will share them here.

Of course, writing this blog gives the added plus of having a way to share some of my nature photography that otherwise sits on the shelf in the back room. Often the photos themselves generate ideas, more from the solitude and wonder of taking the picture than the picture itself, but still—they often help me write. It is the surprises of nature I like the best:

HAPPY READING! If you have questions, ideas, or comments on your own process, please share.

Don’t You Just Love Quotes? Books?

I love quotes. I love books. So it makes sense that I would love books full of quotes. I have many of them on my shelves: quotes about dogs, friendship, teaching, writing, leadership and quotes by specific people like poets and statesmen. When I was a kid, my mom had a book of quotations that I would peruse for hours, enjoying the wonder of what I found. I would sprinkle quotes into letters and into essays at school. In 6th grade I won an American Legion Essay Contest about what it means to be an American—and, if memory serves, I used a quote by JFK. I’m sure I started collecting my first books of quotes back then too.

Back in 1980—when I was taking my first job after graduate school away from home so away from my mom’s book of quotes—I bought myself Familiar Quotations. It was a little bit of home I could take with me. The book was the 15th and 125th year anniversary edition of the book of quotes first published by John Bartlett back in 1855. I can download this book for free now and easily conduct a search by topic or author, maybe even ask for random quotes to be displayed. But there is something more personal about curling up with the book and diving in.

Today, as I pulled my old well worn tome off the shelf, I randomly opened the book to p. 614. There in close juxtaposition I found, “For the Snark was a Boojum, you see” by Lewis Carroll and “There is nothing harder than the softness of indifference” by Juan Montalvo. I have loved Lewis Carroll for years, and the quote brought a smile to my day. But I do not think I would have stumbled onto Montalvo online—and I had not heard of him before. His words made me think about the hurt that can come from staying quiet too long or from moving on even if something needs to be resolved or defended. His quote reminded me that we are all as fragile as Blanche DuBois, who “can’t stand a naked lightbulb, anymore than. . . a rude comment or a vulgar action.” Or just being ignored or overlooked.

But I also stumbled upon a delicious little book full of wit, sarcasm and some downright mean commentary. The book’s title was almost bigger than the book itself: The Little Book of Venom: A Collection of Historical Insults compiled by Jennifer Higgie. This collection of quotes is only 167 pages long, but it contains a wide world of insight and criticism. There are 12 chapters arranged around various categories like art, music, love, history and politics. The largest chapter takes up 36% of the pages and is “On Writing.” The book’s index lets the reader search for quotes by specific people and about specific authors and subjects. To do justice to this little treasure, I simply have to share some of the quotes:

“Wagner’s music is better than it sounds.”
Mark Twain (1835-1910), on Richard Wagner

“Far too noisy, my dear Mozart, far too many notes. . . “
Archduke Ferdinand of Austria, on Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756-91)

“The American has no language. He has dialect, slang, provincialism, accent, and so forth.”
Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936)

“England and America are two countries divided by a common language.”
Attributed to George Bernard Shaw (1856-1950)

“Reader, suppose you were an idiot; and suppose you were a member of Congress; but I repeat myself.”
Mark Twain (1835-1910)

“He grew up from manhood to boyhood.”
R. A. Knox (1888-1957), on G. K. Chesterton (1874-1936)

“His imagination resembles the wings of an ostrich.”
Thomas Babington Macaulay (1800-59), British historian, on John Dryden (1631-
1700), English poet

“A large shaggy dog just unchained scouring the beaches of the world and baying at
the moon.”
Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-94), on Walt Whitman (1819-91)

“The way George Bernard Shaw believes in himself is very refreshing in these
atheistic days when so many people believe in no God at all.”
Israel Zangwill (1864-1926), British dramatist and novelist, on George Bernard
Shaw (1856-1950)

“He has never been known to use a word that might send a man to a dictionary.”
William Faulkner (1897-1962), on Ernest Hemingway (1899-1961)

“Poor Faulkner. Does he really think emotions come from big words?”
Ernest Hemingway, on William Faulkner

“The Puritan hated bear-baiting, not because it gave pain to the bear, but
because it gave pleasure to the spectators.”
Thomas Babington Macaulay (1800-59), in his History of England

“The more I see of men, the more I admire dogs.”
Marie de Rabutin-Chantal, Marquise de Sevigne (1626-96)

“The majority of husbands remind me of an orangutan trying to play the violin.”
Honore de Balsac (1799-1850)

“He was meddling too much in my private life.”
Tennessee Williams (1911-83), on why he had stopped visiting his psychoanalyst

But as fun as it was to spend time enjoying these quotes, finding the book was actually rather bittersweet. You see, this book was a gift about seven years ago from a good friend. We were really quite alike, so she ended her inscription with “If you laugh at these too. . . ?” and I definitely did/do. We have not been able to laugh together over a book or piece of chocolate or anything in over a year now. It’s complicated. I guess I am just being wistful, remembering that laughter is sweeter if shared with a friend. There’s got to be a quote about that somewhere.

What’s your favorite quote?

Earth Day Then & Now: How “Green” Are You?

I remember the first Earth Day well. I was 15 and a freshman in high school. I was already concerned about the environment. No, I was urgently worried, having just re-read Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring. I was aghast at how we were mismanaging our world and her precious resources.

One day at church, during some sort of Earth-Day Program as part of the regular service, I stood at the lectern and loudly chastised the congregation. After all, God had set the stage for us to take care of the planet: “Then God said, ‘Let us make man in our image, after our likeness; and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the birds of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creeps upon the earth’” (Genesis 1:27). I focused on the word “dominion” and emphasized the connotation of care, responsibility and concern that should be a part of the power and control inherent in having dominion over the world. I was as distraught as an indignant teen could be: Just look what we were doing to the world!

I am not sure the congregation noticed my courageous and daring spirit. My mom did say I enunciated very well. Still, I felt like an activist, and I carried that sense of determination and action with me as I grew. I intended to protect the planet! And then I grew up and got a job and moved away. Life got hectic, and I slowly but surely gave way to convenience over conscience. Oh, I still felt like an activist concerned for the environment, but my deeds did not fully match that sentiment.

Now, 41 years later, I realize that Kermit was right: “It is not easy being green.” After all, green’s specialized meaning is more prevalent these days. It is most often used as an adjective, attached like a badge of honor to an activity, company, or person that works diligently to care for the earth. One is said to be green by respecting nature, preserving resources, and minimizing the impact on the world around us. In an ideal world, we all would consciously work at being more and more green, if not for ourselves, for our children.

I still think of myself as a champion of the world, but—in reality—that is not true. And I do not think I am alone in that lack of commitment. We all know what we could be doing, but it is a challenge to break old habits and give up convenience. Do you recycle, everything? Consolidate errands to one big trip—or explore online shopping? Avoid bottled water in favor of re-useable containers? Buy green products whenever you can? Walk to work, or maybe carpool? Drive an electric vehicle or even an energy-efficient one? Properly dispose of oil and cell phones and such? Maybe volunteer to help clean the beaches and fields that so often are clogged with our refuse? Vote to try and elect officials who will work to preserve our resources and avoid such atrocities as the recent Gulf Coast oil spill?

I know I answer “No!” to way too many of those questions. But I do want to be green! Going green is often one of my new year’s resolutions. It will take more than desire, however; it requires action to truly become green in word and deed. About a year ago, I did take one small step in the right direction: I became a Melaleuca preferred customer.

Melaleuca is a company that has been producing over 350 household, personal care, and wellness products for 25 years now. But, more importantly, Melaleuca has been a pioneer in environmental wellness since its inception. In fact, being green is one of Melaleuca’s core values. The company demonstrates its core value by using sustainable natural ingredients as well as no caustic chemicals, by reducing packaging as much as possible which includes concentrated products and reusable bottles, and by conducting extensive research to ensure they are producing the most effective products.

I have been using Melaleuca products for months now and am finding them very effective. The convenience of online ordering is terrific, and I am spending no more than I was before and sometimes even saving money. The best thing, however, is that I feel a bit more green these days. I think my teenage self would be pleased.

What are you doing to be more green?

NOTE: If anyone is interested in exploring Melaleuca, just go to their website and poke around. The company keeps costs manageable by avoiding national marketing and distribution, which simply means you have to go to them to find their products. You need to be sponsored to become a preferred customer, so if you are interested, just let me know and I can help.

God’s Favorite Color

Alice Walker was right: “It pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don’t notice it.” Over the last few years, anytime I’ve ventured out into the wilds, I’ve been absolutely delighted by purple. Irises regally posing by a dilapidated fence. Wild lupine dancing in the breeze. Tulips running across a field. Even thistle fighting for its spot along the roadside. Yes, purple is a wonder that always demands attention. But it is not alone in its splendor.

Other colors as fervently showoff their wares. Indian Paintbrush hangs on, hugging a steep red wall. Pesky dandelions dance anywhere they can grab hold—a meadow in the Grand Tetons or some tidy lawn in the suburbs—until a gentle breeze or a youngster’s wish sends them off to an encore performance in the next field. The frail pink fronds of the Eurasian Salt Cedar seem so unreal. Surely they must be fans left behind by Puck and friends, discarded evidence of a reality beyond our own? Orange carpets of California Poppies go unswept, hillside after hillside.

The list is endless: precarious pink blossoms, carefully posing atop a cactus’ thorns; the soft purr of pussy willows along a creek; the vast glory of roses; the heavy sweet white of honeysuckle and gardenias; the gentle sway of daffodils; and the ever vibrant parade of day lilies.

But if these colors—purple and red and orange and yellow and white—capture our attention and wonder, there is a sweet and subtle shade that too often goes unnoticed. It’s everywhere, no matter where we look. Green is our constant companion. Green is the foundation that makes all else possible.

And if we stop and notice it—really notice it—the variety is overwhelming. The dusty sea-green of desert sage. The delicate weave of ferns. The yellow green of new aspen leaves, shimmering in the sunlight. The dark rich green of pines and firs, boldly defining a mountainside. The cool sheltering green of a tree canopy, filtering in the sun. And—of course—the continual wonder of green sprouts, valiantly breaking through the earth seeking warmth and light.

It is green that so dramatically lets the more brilliant hues stand out, anchors them so they can be praised. Without green, would we have as much shade, as effective camouflage, or an awareness of the seasons? Green even gives us the very oxygen we breathe. If purple is God’s way of capturing our attention, then green must be a demonstration of love and concern.

NOTE: I wrote this posting years ago as part of a small photo booklet I had created called Natural Musings: Reflections from a Roadside Naturalist. With Earth Day fast approaching, I thought this would be worth sharing at this time.

Spring Is in the Air!

I spent a lot of time this weekend in the LA-area, which means I also spent a lot of time on the road. I typically looked forward to the drive over the Grapevine, but this year the hills and hills of orange poppies were not there yet. I realized they might not make a showing this year, despite all the rain. At first I was rather disappointed at what was not there for me to see. But fortunately I got over that foolishness pretty quickly.

When I let myself view the scenery that was there in front of me, there was much to treasure. The hills are alive with verdant green grasses. White clover and yellow mustard bushes are bright along the roadside and small pockets of lupine are evident here and there. The literal grape vines are also fresh with the lime green of new growth, starting the process that will eventually bring grapes for harvesting. Small blackbirds were darting through the fields, seeking cover or maybe insects as the cars raced by. I also marveled at the clear blue skies and the white puffy clouds that marked the way. It was a gorgeous almost-summer day!

The hawks were even taking flight, playing on the winds that were keeping the drivers alert. They soared and soared, as if they were relishing spring as well. On my next trip down, I vow I will stop at some of the county gardens to see the colors and displays there. From past visits, I know that at the Arboretum, the irises—purple, white, yellow—will be in competition with the strutting peacocks showing off their tails! Fields of tulips and rows of daffodils will be blowing in the breeze at Descanso Gardens.

By the time I got home, I had remembered that Nietzsche was right: “When one has much to put in it, a day has a hundred pockets.” That is one reason I love this time of year—all of Nature’s wonders offer themselves as wondrous pebbles to pick up and tuck away in my pockets to marvel at again later. This weekend’s drive was just the nudge I needed to slow down and really see the glories around me. When I arrived home I marveled at the bushes at my own apartment complex full of lush Apache Roses, the small yellow wild rose that also perches along the Grand Canyon’s south rim. How could I have missed them earlier?

I have new admiration for bees: They never forget to notice when spring has arrived!

Let the Silence In

Let the Silence In

Noises drive me crazy. Not just nails on a chalkboard, but also clocks ticking, faucets dripping, shutters banging, doors creaking, dogs barking or car alarms blaring on and on unattended, or a neighbor’s TV or alarm clock droning on through the walls. Have you ever had one lone cricket lost in your home, chirping out a greeting to anyone who would listen?—chirp, chirp, chirp first here, then there. Nerve-wracking! One time I was staying overnight at my parents’ home, sleeping on the pull-out bed in the den, which is located right next to the kitchen. It took some time, but I finally found the step stool needed to take down the stupid kitchen clock and pull out the batteries, all to stop the incessant tick, tick, tick that was keeping me awake.

But even if these irritating noises could be abolished, it would be rare to experience the total absence of sounds. We do not live in the vacuum of space, after all. There will always be the hum of a computer, the ringing of a phone—with a variety of ring tones to choose from these days, the droning of TV shows, the patter of rain on the roof, and—if you are lucky—the purring of a cat in your lap or the laughter of children. My upstairs neighbors get up every day about 4 am; rather than being a nuisance, their muffled sounds as they start their day are reassuring on the mornings I am awake enough to hear them—they are there and would hear me call out for help, if that need arises.

Music is also a delightful way to fill the quiet, depending on who chooses the station or artist. Often when I drive I sing along with golden oldies—my voice would be considered noise to many, I am sure, so it is good I drive alone. I heard a news story once about how a convenience store owner discouraged rowdy teens from gathering in his parking lot all night long, bothering paying customers just by their presence and boisterous behavior. He started using the parking lot’s speaker system to play classical music rather than a local radio station. The kids eventually decided to congregate somewhere else. I like classical music, jazz too. But if my hangout routinely blared hard rock or rap, I too might move on.

But on the other extreme, too much quiet can be also deafening, overwhelming. Think to when you are carefully listening for a specific sound. Many a parent has breathed a sigh of relief when the car tires finally crunch to a halt on the driveway, when a child is late getting home during a storm. Consider the frustration when waiting for a phone to ring—and the call does not come. The more urgent the expected call—a loved one calling to say, “I am sorry;” results from a medical test; update on a loved one’s condition—the louder the silence. Or consider the time when you moved out on your own for the first time and would have so welcomed a comforting noise or two, that eventually you turned on the TV to banish the quiet. And then there is the quiet that never is broken, even if the house is full of noise, because a loved one has died and her laughter and singing and even snoring will never be heard again.

But the absence of noise is not necessarily silence. Silence is an attitude, an opportunity. In that regard, silence can be rewarding and certainly should not be avoided. Silence—even though often riddled with background sounds—allows so much that it is worth the time it takes to find it these days. Let the silence in. First, turn off the TV, put the iPod ear phones aside, set the phone ringer to off—not vibrate, stop talking—and that includes negative self-talk. Then, just acknowledge the moment: take a walk around the block, say a little prayer, drive a desolate stretch of road, lounge in a recliner at the end of a busy day, be calm and quiet with a friend, start the morning with a hot cup of coffee out in the garden, watch a sunset with a loved one or do any number of other things throughout the day.

Let the silence in. Silence lets you hear your own thoughts, dream a dream, solve a problem, realize priorities, look to what is possible, explore options, just calm down and enjoy the moment. If you are out in Nature, your silence lets you become one with the vibrant life around you that otherwise may go into hiding at your presence. If you let the silence in, you paradoxically might be able to hear the buzz of a hummingbird’s wing, the quiet whoosh of an owl gliding by, the splash of a fish in the river—items that are often overwhelmed by the noise of civilization.

Let the silence in. Who knows, embracing the silence could bring you peace, insight, renewal so that the noises of day to day living will not be so draining. Let the silence in. By embracing the silence and thus accepting the slowing down and calmness that often goes along with that act, you might just connect to the spiritual world around you.

Now that would be something to shout about!

Mono Lake

“Few things under heaven are as instructive as the lessons of Silence.” Lao Tzu

“There is no need to go to India or anywhere else to find peace. You will find that deep place of silence right in your room, your garden or even your bathtub.” Elisabeth Kubler-Ross

“Amidst the splendor of the scene and the silence, I was filled with a wonderful peace.” Basho

Arboretum: Sit in the Shade

Spring Cleaning

You won’t believe what I have been doing this weekend. Housework! Vacuuming. Dusting. Polishing. Boxing. Sorting. Giving Away. All that stuff. If you knew me well, you would know how unlike me such activities are, even though I was named Betty Crocker Homemaker of the Year in high school. That was a fluke that involved getting out of class and taking a test—nothing remotely associated with being domestic. I keep my usual motto regarding housework framed and hanging in the kitchen: “I picked up the house today. It was heavy.”

But it is spring, making it time to dust things off, sweep away the cobwebs, start over. It does not really have anything to do with housework. The activities just sometimes overlap. The heart of spring cleaning is being conscious about assessing what has become routine and shaking things up. It is about looking at things with new eyes and being deliberate in our actions. It is about being brave and courageous enough to try something new or to let go of something old. It’s just that the spiritual spring cleaning is harder to do than cleaning out the cupboards and dusting the top of the refrigerator. I do have three suggestions to help kick start some personal spring cleaning.

Keep an eye out for Nature. Stop and listen to the birds as they welcome each new day, rain or shine. Watch for the glimmer of color breaking out on the hillsides. Work in the garden. Take a walk in the park. On your wanderings, pick up a stone, a feather, maybe some daisies. Bring home a bouquet or two. Notice a butterfly or ladybug. It’s the marvel and wonder over what you discover that brings reminders about what is important in life, about ways to connect with others.

The other day as I was driving to see my mom and dad, I noticed a great sign: Lilacs are in bloom—bouquets for sale! I stopped and bought one. The interruption in my day was fun and brought back great memories of stumbling onto lilac bushes in bloom on various travels. And the glorious fragrance filled my car! Mom was delighted too—lilacs were more abundant in Chicago when she was a girl than they are in Temple City. And the bouquet is lasting a good week or so—and bringing her good memories and love along with it.

Read a good little book. Not the murder mysteries, romances or best sellers you usually read. Not textbooks or news articles. Not even great literature such as War & Peace or Pride & Prejudice. All those pursuits are laudable, but they do not qualify as spring cleaning. It needs to be short enough to finish in an afternoon on the beach, on a park bench or even curled up in a comfy chair with a cup of tea. Volumes of poetry work well. I would suggest some e.e. cummings! Try to find one that will give reminders on being kind, generous, forgiving—lessons we all could stand to practice more.

There are two books I return to over the years. The Little Prince preaches the importance of seeing things anew with the eyes of a child. The Holy Man cautions that treating all with honor and respect is the foundation for spiritual awareness. The messages help me set aside the silly pesky annoyances that can too often upset a day. And the act of indulging in reading for the fun of it, for the luxury of taking time for myself ensures a fresher perspective on whatever comes next in the day.

Take time to play. It does not have to be a literal game such as Monopoly or Scrabble, but it could be. Even Solitaire or Angry Birds would work. So would flying a kite, kicking a can, blowing bubbles. The activity itself is not as crucial as taking the time to play. Indulge in an afternoon of playing hooky. Maybe your break from the tediousness of daily routines and responsibilities is working in the garden, inviting a gorilla to someone’s birthday party, or eating a hot fudge sundae for lunch. Staying up late to watch Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. The point is to take time, to break the routine and just have fun. To do the unexpected. To be conscious and deliberate about what you do with your time and energy. To live in the moment, and hopefully to laugh a bit.

If you follow these tips, your spring cleaning will rejuvenate you, and then maybe your spontaneity will infect others with hope and a sense of adventure. It can be that simple. Tomorrow I intend to play hooky: I might wander into the Lancaster hills in search of some poppies or just poke around outside looking for the hummingbird that has been visiting my patio.

What will you do? Just remember: It’s not about the housework!

Learning in the Information Age

The amount of information produced in the world is growing more and more everyday, at staggering rates. This growth pattern is not new. In 2006, Hal Varian and Peter Lyman, two economists from UC Berkeley, reported their research about the speed of information (http://www.kk.org/thetechnium/archives/2006/02/ the_speed_of_in.php). In their research, they looked at new or unique information, such as the first recording of a new song, not every recorded version or literal playing of that song.

In 2000, Varian and Lyman calculated that the new information produced that year was 1.5 exabytes or “about 37,000 times as much information as in the entire holdings [of the] the Library of Congress.” Then they compared the information generated in 2003 (3.5 exabytes) and calculated that new information was increasing “by 66% every year.” Eric Schmidt, Google CEO, added to this overwhelming picture at a Techonomy Conference in August 2010 when he announced, “Every 2 days we create as much information as we did up to 2003” (http://techcrunch.com/2010/08/04/schmidt-data/).

That’s a lot information. When I think of our ability to create, store, access, and manipulate this huge volume of data, I am impressed. When I think about all that information and how to master its intricacies, I find myself overwhelmed. Where do I begin? What I decided to do was find something specific that I did not know and figure it out. I started with exabytes—what are they really? I plugged the term into a search engine and found a source that promised exabyte could be defined and explained in simple language. Instead, it said: “An exabyte is 2 to the 60th power, or 1,152,921,504,606,846,976 bytes. An exabyte is 1,024 petabytes and precedes the zettabyte unit of measurement” (http://www.techterms.com/definition/exabyte). I was an English major, so that definition is not simple and easy for me. Now, I was not just overwhelmed; I felt stupid.

But I rallied. I do know that a “byte” is a unit of measure pertaining to the amount of memory capacity and storage capabilities on my computer. A typical laptop might have 4.00 GB of memory and 500 GB hard drive capacity. GB stands for gigabyte. A different source helped match what I knew vaguely to the new term in my lexicon: “It is common to say that an exabyte is approximately one quintillion bytes. In decimal terms, an exabyte is a billion gigabytes.
An exabyte of storage could contain 50,000 years’ worth of DVD-quality video” (http://searchstorage.techtarget.com/ definition/exabyte). Okay. Now I really get it. It’s a whole lot of new information, every couple of days. Our ability to produce, store and access all this information is phenomenal.

But I find myself wondering, “Who cares?” I do now have a better sense of what exabyte means, but how does that help me? When I go to buy a new laptop, I will still call my nephew for advice because he really knows this stuff. For a few seconds I deluded myself that I had learned something. But I did not learn about computer storage capacity or information generation—all I did was memorize a definition. I am realizing that my worry has nothing to do with access to all this new information; I am dismayed that people might think that knowing facts or details is the same as learning.

Sure, learning involves knowing things, but it is the use of that knowledge to better understand and maneuver in the world, the application of what is known to make things better that constitutes learning. There is an element of problem solving or discovery and experience that marks true learning. It is the quest or the journey for learning that is important, not the details. As Einstein notes, “Imagination is more important than knowledge, for while knowledge defines everything we know and understand, imagination points to all we might yet discover and create.”

Another concern of mine about this vast amount of information is that it comes at me unfiltered, often times unrequested. I get especially bothered when I remember that information is not synonymous with wisdom or even knowledge. The ever-growing mountain of information certainly includes useful data: scientific research, new medical discoveries, new artistic creations, philosophical or religious treatises, and even political speeches. It also includes details I want to know, so I can be a more informed and engaged citizen of my flatter and more-and-more global world village: the U.S. role in Libya, the outcome of attacks on workers’ rights in Wisconsin, the cuts to education inherent in the proposed California state budget and their impact on students, and how the nuclear fallout is being addressed in Japan. Some of this information helps me decide for whom to vote, where to put my time and money, what events to attend, and how to better control my life and immediate environment.

Other information just totally fascinates me. For example, I was thrilled to have stumbled onto some provocative items that were new to me by reading David Brook’s blog entry “More Tools for Thinking” (29 March 2010, http://brooks.blogs.nytimes.com/2011/03/29/more-tools-for-thinking/?nl=opinion&emc=tyb1). He introduced me to the Edge Symposium, which is a site that questions great thinkers about what they are thinking. The members of the symposium were asked to nominate a scientific concept that should be in everyone’s cognitive toolbox, a concept that would help us all learn about or better understand our world. Brooks shared several examples, including Shifting Baseline Syndrome and Pareto Principle. I did not know about the existence of the Edge Symposium or about these two concepts until I read his blog. I want to learn more. This is information—dare I say knowledge—that would be worth my time and effort to understand.

But the mountain of data being churned out everyday also includes such tidbits as commercials for ShamWOW, Viagra, and Jenny Craig; Charlie’s Sheen’s rantings and people’s comments about those rantings; who was voted off what reality shows; which celebrity has adopted a new child; that Glen Beck is leaving Fox News; that a Nigerian prince needs my help with his finances, and even that Snookie earned more for giving a talk at Rutgers University than Toni Morrison will earn next month on the same campus. I don’t want to know that stuff. I certainly do not need to know that stuff. But it is hard to avoid that information.

Sure, there are other odd tidbits of data that I appreciate, such as tomorrow’s weather prediction, what books are on the best seller list, that taxes are not due until April 18th this year, where to find the best chocolate, even my horoscope on some days. If I try to stay informed on what I want to know by reading or watching the news, using e-mail, searching for specific details via Google or Bing, then this other data sneaks in—and doesn’t go away. But accessing and even manipulating this data is not learning, per se. It could be termed sensory overload, or TMI, if I want to use a new word from the OED.

I guess what I really need to know—regardless of how much information is out there—is how to avoid the silly and annoying sound bites, forget what I did not want to know in the first place, catalog the useful, stumble upon the fascinating more frequently, and then truly master what I want to learn. Search engines can help, of course, but they really just catalog all the growing information into subsets that individuals still need to sort through. I was impressed by Watson, the super computer that performed so well on Jeopardy; its ability to sort through data and play the odds to find the correct answer was impressive. But Watson did not really learn anything, no matter how impressive the demonstration was.

Eventually someone may design a search engine—or perhaps a brain implant farther into the future—that would miraculously help me focus on what I want to know, ignoring the rest. Until then, I need to set the sheer volume of data out there aside and focus on the information of interest and use to me. I need to take comfort in knowing my world and thereby knowing what I don’t know—or at least the boundaries of what I don’t know. Then I can decide what I want to learn, what I want to explore and discover—and learning will become manageable again. This ability to know that no matter how much we know means there is just that much more to know is what keeps the truly learned humble.

Learning, imagination, discovery—that’s what I value, not information for the sake of information. Although I will admit, being able to look up on the Internet where I left my keys would be helpful!

Recharge Your Life!

I better remember to tell my sister “Thank you!” For one thing, she is always there for me: nudging me into action with a kind word or a kick in the pants, collaborating on how to best help our elderly parents, listening to complaints about bills and insurance, or just sending words of good cheer and encouragement. But this specific nod of appreciation is for giving me a great little book: Oil for Your Lamp: Women Taking Care of Themselves (2010, Simple Truths, LLC). The book shares a deceptively simple message, but if taken to heart its truth can be life-changing.

The authors, Lisa Hammond & B.J. Gallagher, present stories, poems, photos and advice to illustrate the wisdom of Mother Teresa’s words: “To keep a lamp burning, we have to keep putting oil in it.” The book is divided into two sections: How & Why We Let Our Lamps Run Low and How to Fill Our Own Lamps. The first section reminds readers how easy it is to let doing too much and doing for others take over our lives. In part, women are socialized to be care-givers—of others, not of ourselves. And we have internalized that expectation too well, giving it more and more control as we master the art of multi-tasking.

For me, one of the best features of the book is the many quotes interspersed throughout from a wide array of sources, including everyone from Mother Teresa & Oprah to Winnie the Pooh & Mark Twain. These quotes trumpet the lessons offered in the second section of the book. The advice on how to recharge is what sounds so simple, as it reminds readers of what we often know but do not put into action in our day-to-day lives. The basics include realizing it is okay to put ourselves first, to ask for help, and to simply do nothing at times. My favorite advice is the challenge to follow the edict so often given to children: Go outside and play! Personally, my playtime usually involves a sojourn into Nature—or taking a nice long catnap.

The book and its simple direct message are great gifts! Think about giving them to others. If someone gives the book to you, be sure you remember to say “thanks.” Paying attention to what is good and right in your life—perhaps through a gratitude journal—can help you keep life’s demands in perspective, which in turn can help you set the best priorities for yourself. So, the next time you are taking a day to detox, laying down for a nap, or saying “no” to a new commitment, also remember to give thanks. Of course, there is a lot in life worthy of appreciation: acts of kindness, words of hope or encouragement, a helping hand, a positive attitude, just an awareness of life’s blessings, or even the beauty of Nature. So count your blessings and jump-start the re-charging process!

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go call my sister—and maybe send some flowers to a friend.

“Don’t under estimate the value of doing nothing, of just going along, listening to all the things we can’t hear, and not bothering.” Winnie the Pooh

“If you neglect to recharge a battery, it dies. And if you run full speed ahead without stopping for water, you lose momentum to finish the race.” Oprah Winfrey

UOP Awards Top Honor to Ross

The University of Phoenix (UOP) announced this morning the awarding of the first ever L.A.R.K. Award to Patricia Ross. Dr. Ross, educational administrator in California—not to be confused with the long-lost heiress of the Dr. Ross Dog Food Fortune—was awarded her degree in November 2010.

The two co-chairs of L.A.R.K. explained the main criteria used to honor Ross rested more on quantity and length of production than the lesser criteria of quality of research and application of findings. According to T. Oolong (professor of research), Ross was surprisingly singled out over others who had been working on their research for over 10 years, even though she completed her project in less than 6 years because “of the sheer volume of work produced.” I. N. Sane (assistant professor of leadership studies) echoed her colleague’s sentiment: “True. Most of the pages are in her work’s appendices, but Ross produced well over 600 pages. Impressive!”

When asked for her reaction to receiving this prestigious award, Dr. Ross exclaimed, “I am delighted. I never dreamed I would be a member of L.A.R.K. (Life After Research Klub). I may have to re-think my follow-up research plans. Maybe I won’t conduct a 20-year follow-up study by interviewing all 15,000 students currently enrolled at the college under review.”

Ross did not seem aware that winning the award did not automatically ensure her membership in L.A.R.K. To be accepted as a member, she first needs to attend a course titled “The Leadership Responsibility of Serving on L.A.R.K.” The course is held at the online university, Room 313K. As an award recipient, Ross can reduce her cost for taking the course with the signed approval of the dean. The actual plaque associated with the award will be presented at sometime in the future. There is no monetary award as part of the honor.

April Fools!

Did I catch you at all? Even for a minute? I have always liked April Fools’ Day. A day devoted to fun and shenanigans just seems like such a good idea. I never have known the origins of this informal holiday, however, so I initiated some online research to find out the facts.

I searched quite a few sites. Barbara Mikkelsen (2009, http://www.snopes.com/) offered the best presentation—articulate, informative, just plain fun. She clarified that the most consistent—albeit unsubstantiated—origin for the holiday took place in France in the 16th century when the Gregorian Calendar was adopted over the Julian Calendar. Apparently, those who did not get the news about the change in the official start of the calendar year from April (Julian) to January (Gregorian) and thus celebrated in April were teased as “April Fools.” Just how this ”event” grew from there to be celebrated across most of the Western world is not clear. But it is a fun celebration, nonetheless.

Further historical research suggests an earlier origin, as reported by http://www.infoplease.com. This research was reported in various newspapers in 1963, based on an interview with Joseph Boskin, a history professor at Boston University. His work noted that the day started with a decree from Constantine, Roman Emperor from 306-337. Apparently, Kugel—a court jester—was named emperor for the day to confirm his claim that he could run the country better than the emperor himself. His first action was to call for “foolishness” all day! This initial royal whim became an annual event. Given the revered status of court jesters at the time, this new holiday was especially significant. Joseph Boskin offered this explanation: “In a way, it was a very serious day. In those times fools were really wise men. It was the role of the jester to put events of the day into perspective with humor.”

There is only one problem with the research report: It was a hoax! It seems that Boskin “April-fooled” the Associated Press with his research and interview—but the story was seriously picked up by many newspapers across the country. Personally, I love this explanation—but no one is asking me. A decree for foolishness is just so much more fun than some ongoing delayed reaction to a calendar change.

I even visited Wikipedia to see what they could contribute. (Give me a break! I am on a fool’s errand anyway.) This popular site concurred that the most accepted origin for the holiday is tied up with the calendar change. However, that “truth” is hard to reconcile with references to “April Fools’ Day” in earlier literature and historical documents. Such discrepancies just add to the mystery. This site did offer some examples of notable pranks from over the years.

In 1969, a Dutch TV news show announced the development of a new device that could detect the presence of a television set within any household from outside the residence. The purpose? To help the government find TV license fee evaders. The spokesperson being interviewed—when asked if there were any way to thwart the device’s accuracy—said, “No. Well, not really. It just took too much foil to fully wrap a TV set.” Within hours, stations reported that many stores had sold out of aluminum foil.

In 1993, a disc jockey in the San Diego area announced that the Space Shuttle Discovery would be diverted to land at a small local municipal airport rather than at Edwards Air Force Base. Soon, thousands descended on the airport—creating many a traffic jam—in anticipation of the landing. There was not even a shuttle in orbit at the time.

In 1998, Burger King ran an ad in USA Today announcing it was offering its newly designed left-handed Whopper. Limited time offer, I am sure. Many customers ordered it. But even more very carefully requested the original right-handed burger. Are left-handed napkins far behind?

Every year National Public Radio (NPR) presents an extensive story that gets more and more ludicrous as it progresses. In 2008, NPR’s story focused on the government’s concern that taxpayers were not going to spend their rebate checks, thus undermining the whole reason behind the action. The IRS, therefore, would not issue the long-expected rebate checks; instead, the taxpayers would receive products, thus ensuring appropriate spending levels had been met. I never did receive a rebate check, but I am really bothered now about missing out on a toaster.

My favorite reported prank was presented by Ian Paul in his article, “Top 10 April Fools’ Day Fake News Items in 2010” (PCWorld, 2010). Google UK announced the availability of a new app for the iphone. This app translates a pet’s recorded utterances—yes, like a dog’s bark or a cat’s meow—into sounds understandable by humans. Right now the translations are only available into English, but other languages will be available soon. I love it! This possibility might just make me go buy one of those phones on which I can download an app. If I ordered a family plan, this app could help me keep in touch with my dog even while on vacation. Well, I would have to teach him the new tricks of dialing and answering the phone.

Have a great and foolish day! If you have terrific pranks to report or maybe a different origin story to contribute, please share by adding a comment. And make sure the tops are carefully screwed onto all of your salt shakers.

“Looking foolish does the spirit good.” John Updike

“The first of April is the day we remember what we are the other 364 days of the year.” Mark Twain