The local library has been a help in my Spanish studying. I have a goal of watching every Spanish language movie in there. The selection of Spanish books is small, but I found some gems.
1) First Spanish Reader: A Beginner’s Dual-Language Book, Edited by Angel Flores
2) La huerta en la casa
If you’re learning Spanish, and are at at least an intermediate level, then I recommend these to you. They are both a little old though. So some of the language might be outdated. The first one is great because it’s in Spanish on the left side of the book, and English on the right side, so you can quickly translate for meaning if you’re stuck. It has Spanish parables and proverbs.
The second book is just in Spanish. I don’t have any more information than the title because I had to take it back to the library. I love the subject of La huerta en la casa. It’s a children’s book about planting a vegetable garden if you don’t have a yard–so keeping it in containers. It’s just a very resourceful and informative book–in simple language. Also the Spanish is Mexican Spanish.
I love this book. It’s out of print though. I wanted to steal it, then I thought that I couldn’t steal anything from the such a wonderful institution as the library. So I’m transcribing the whole book down in a notebook. It’s good practice for me anyway. I have to go check it out again though.
Now I’m trying to find La llama doble by Octavio Paz. My Spanish literature group is reading it together. Our group has met once. Most of the people in the group speak Spanish as their mother tongue. They are from various countries. It is so neat to be talking about peotry and literature again–just like in high school Lit.–but in Spanish! And the people in the group seem to be very into it. It’s hard for me to discuss it with them though becuase of my limited Spanish speaking skills. I mostly listen.
Can you recommend any good books in Spanish, books for learning Spanish, or movies in Spanish?
Grandma Deane…Tutu as she once liked Emily and I to call her. I think it meant “great-grandma” in Hawaiian.
It was a privilege to have my great-grandmother in my life. She really wanted to be involved in our lives too. Once she told me that her happiest times were being a part of me and Emily’s lives. She really loved helping out with my wedding. She took some excellent pictures with her own camera. I love them because all the shots are angled up because she was in a wheel chair. She paid for the chocolate fountains, fruit, and scones that everyone will remember, and also the Greek feast at the reception. That’s something else she loved, was good food. She was taking down recipes from the food network on TV even when she wasn’t physically able to cook.
I enjoyed my times with her at her home in Gresham. I could visit her more often because she lived near me. sometimes I didn’t know what to say or do because it was hard to communicate with her due to her hearing problem. But we did communicate–sometimes with help from a pen and paper. She was always interested in what my family was doing. She always had something to tell me about her life too.
It was particularly touching to me when she talked about seeing her parents. Once she told me that she heard her father talking in the other room and that it was soo good to hear his voice. She really loved and missed her Dad. I think now she is happily reunited with him and others who have gone before her.
Something that I greatly admire about Grandma Dean is her strength to raise two beautiful daughters as a single Mom.
I love how she wanted Hillary Clinton to be president, how she kept track of the market, and like to talk about the economy from an accountant’s perspective, how she was always proper, how she loved fine clothes and couldn’t stand not matching. Then of course her sweet smile- which communicated the most important things to us…her delight in being a part of our lives.
Of course I wish I could have known her better, but I’m so grateful that she was in my life. Thank you Grandma.
I am increasingly convinced that conversion is the individual equivalent of revolution. Therefore every real revolutionary is challenged to be a mystic at heart, and he who walks the mystical way is called to unmask the illusory quality of human society. Mysticism and revolution are two aspects of the same attempt to bring about radical change. No mystic can prevent himself from becoming a social critic, since in self-reflection he will discover the roots of a sick society. Similarly, no revolutionary can avoid facing his own human condition, since in the midst of his struggle for a new world he will find that he is also fighting his own reactionary fears and false ambitions.
The mystic as well as the revolutionary has to cut loose from his selfish needs for a safe and protected existence and has to face without fear the miserable condition of himself and his world. It is certainly not surprising that the great revolutionary leaders and the great contemplatives of our time meet in their common concern to liberate nuclear man from his paralysis. Their personalities might be quite different, but they show the same vision, which leads to a radical self-criticism as well as to a radical activism. This vision is able to restore the “broken connection” (Lifton) with past and future, bring unity to a fragmented ideology, and reach beyond the limits of the mortal self. This vision can offer a creative distance from ourselves and our world and help us transcend the limiting walls of our human predicament.
For the mystic as well as for the revolutionary, life means breaking through the veil covering our human existence and following the vision that has become manifest to us. Whatever we call this vision–”The Holy,” “The Numinon,” “The Spirit,” or “Father”–we still belive that conversion and revolution alike derive their power from a source beyond the limitations of our own createdness.
For a Christian, Jesus is the man in whom it has indeed become manifest that revolution and conversion cannot be separated in man’s search for experiential transcendence. His appearance in our midst has made it undeniably clear that changing the human heart and changing human society are not separate tasks, but are as interconnected as the two beams of the cross.
Jesus was a revolutionary, who did not become an extremist, since he didn’t offer an ideology, but Himself. He was also a mystic, who did not use his intimate relationship with God to avoid the social evils of his time, but shocked his milieu to the point of being executed as a rebel. In this sense he also remains for nuclear man the way to liberation and freedom.
She reads my mind! Should we follow our art? Is it beneficial to the world? My heART says “Yes!”
Art may not seem constructive or practical. It’s not a straightforward way to help the world. But sometimes following our hearts are the best ways to help. We cannot plan our paths to the very end saying, “If I do this, this, and this, I will make a difference in the world.” That’s why we have to listen to the call from God, the Spirit, the universe, and our hearts.
And it is so good for us. Like she says in the video, “If I tell everyone my stories will this keep me healthy and well?” Yes, I think so.
This video was a good reminder that we should not hide our light, our words, our thoughts…our art.
The beautiful ballerina in this video is my cousin, Theresa. Thanks for bringing ballet to the street Theresa!
When’s the last time YOU danced in public, when no one else was?
This dance post was going to be my next, and then I read Magpie talking about the Annual Shyne Like a Star Virtual Dance Party at Starshyne Productions. It’s today! So this dance post is in honor.
Check out this cool site devoted to cultural dance!
I’ve been taking Cuban Hip Hop at Center Space Studio. I just got back! It was really tiring tonight because I’ve been out of shape since my little accident. It’s a beautiful mix of hip hop (which I love) and Cuban dance (which I love even though I have no experience with it). Donna Oefinger is a fun and positive dance teacher, and an amazing dancer. She’ll do something in front of the class, and it looks so cool–then I find out it’s a part of the routine and I’m thinking, “We’re going to do that too?” It’s a challenging class. Most of the dancers in there are really good! During the first class I was lost most the time. I couldn’t do the routine all the way through. Now I can–even if sometimes awkwardly.
Even though I’m not a trained or professional dancer, I am a dancer. It is my destiny. It is in me. I must live it out. Taking a dance class is helping me live it out. I would also like to choreograph dances–I have started a couple, but haven’t finished. I also crave to perform dance–whether it’s in a chorus line, with a dance team, or solo on the dance floor. But…I usually freeze when given the chance.
My favorite way of living out my dance destiny is free style dancing. When I really get into it I feel ecstatic. I feel like I can travel into other dimensions. It can be truly spiritually indulging. I don’t do it enough.
I need to write a post. Hmmm, what should I write about? Oh, I can write about how I was hit by a car today, and live to write about it!
I usually think about this when I bike: Always assume drivers can’t see you.
Today I didn’t…I guess. I can’t remember exactly what happened before the crash. I was on my way to work. I hadn’t been awake for more than 10 minutes. I was having trouble switching gears. I was driving on the wrong side of the street (in the bike lane (it’s what I always do for the first couple of blocks)). I had only gone a block. I saw a car stopped on a neighborhood road, waiting to turn onto the road I was on. I was in clear view, and I just went in front of her. She wasn’t looking. She started pulling out. I thought she would see me then, but to my horror she didn’t. I put out my left hand and said, “No!” She kept going. The front of her car hit the side of my bike. She kept going. I fell on the street, and skidded a bit. She stopped.
I heard voices from down the street say. “Stop! Don’t move her. I’m a nurse!” The driver and her teenage daughter got out of the car. Two nurses who were talking a walk came up to us. Someone called 911. They helped me move to the side of the road, and they moved my bike. They made sure I was breathing alright. The driver kept saying she was sorry. I got my phone out of my backpack and called my husband. I just said calmly, “Can you come down the street. I got into a little accident.” I didn’t want to freak him out by saying I was hit by a car. He later told me he knew I was OK by how calm my voice was.
I was pretty calm. I felt OK the whole time, but didn’t know how bad my scrapes were going to be or if I had other injuries I didn’t know about. I wanted to tell the people around me, “I can’t believe I just got hit by a car.” When Josh came some police were there. Then the fire truck came. A kind man from the fire truck checked me a little bit to make sure I was alright. A police officer talked to me, had me sign a paper that said I refused an ambulence ride, exchanged information with the driver, and told her and her family that it was alright.
Josh walked my bike as we walked home. Then I cried. I stayed on the couch in the trailer for and hour or two. I felt a little nascious. My coworkers had insisted that I not come into work. I didn’t want to miss a whole days pay. I was planning on coming in later, but I took their advice and didn’t go in. I wouldn’t have been able to do my work with my sore elbow and knee anyway. I think it was good to play it safe and just give myself time.
What a beautiful day to miss work though! Soon I was feeling better and limping around the house. Josh and I went to Starbucks and sat outside to read. We had exceptionally warm and sunny weather today. Then I got dinner out of my tragedy from my parents. It ended up being a pretty nice day. I probably had a better day than that lady who hit me.
I do feel bad for getting hit. It was partly my fault. Everyone has moments in driving/biking where they are not paying attention or doing all the things they’re supposed to. We just happened to have our moments at the same time.
The word “language” flows over my tongue like music.
I was talking with a friend the other day about reflexive verbs in Spanish. He said that he wished that he could just be able to translate Spanish to English word for word and have it make sense. My husband, Josh, was there and he said that he likes how there are words in other languages that there is no equivalent for in English. Our friend said, “You like that in theory, or practice?”
In theory it is beautiful and interesting, yet in practice it can be frustrating.
That conversation reminded me of playing the piano. Playing the piano (or any instrument) is like speaking a new language. I remember first learning how to play. First I learned playing with both hands separate. Then I had to put them together! And both hands played two different things. This was really a mind trick!
Then I learned music theory, the rules of the piano language. But only knowing all those rules couldn’t make someone a good piano player. It takes practice, and it takes something intangible and feely to really get it.
Pretty soon, if you stick with it, you’re playing the piano and you realize that you don’t know how this is happening. How is it that now, you can make these sounds come out of this instrument–without really even thinking about it?
It’s the same with speaking a language. You can learn all the rules but that’s not what makes you good at speaking that language. It takes practice and you’ve got to acquire a feel for it. You’re trying to learn something that doesn’t directly translate into your native tongue. It’s a brain trick. It takes letting go of or putting aside old ways of thinking.
Soon, you’ll be speaking a new language and wondering how it’s happening without translating in your head from your native tongue–without thinking back to the text books.
i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
wich is natural which is infinite which is yes
(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun’s birthday;this is the birth
day of life and love and wings:and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)
how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any-lifted from the no
of all nothing-human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?
(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)
This Da’Vinci sketch goes with the last post. I tried to get this up for the last post but had technical difficulties. This is a sketch of the land around where he grew up (Vinci, Italy). This could be the setting for the dark cave he peered into.I’ve been thinking more about how that quote from the last post resonates with me. I’m on an eternal quest for truth. In the dark cave, there is truth. There is much truth that is unrevealed to me. Do I want to go in that dark cave and see what’s there?! It’s so intriguing–I must know! But I’m scared. I don’t know what waits for me in there. Will it ruin me?
