Why do grocery stores play such emotional music; songs that build in ever increasing crescendos to a climatic fevered pitch? Does hearing You Light Up My Life inspire people to buy more chocolate? Or does the sound of I Did It My Way justify buying a 50-pound bag of potatoes, the Titanic size Coke, and a bouquet of slightly wilting flowers as an act of independence? As we brush away a tear to the strains of You’ve Lost that Lovin Feeling do we quickly reach for a bottle of wine? Does Unchained Melody make us hunger for the touch of BOUNCE fabric softer? Or swept away with Ebb Tide do I give into the urge to throw unrecognizable produce into my cart, spending with complete abandon? Did Soul and Inspiration instill this sudden feeling of undying devotion to Smart Balance peanut butter, which is now not to be found on the shelves? Ah, never mind reasons, all I know is that once I have triumphantly passed through the straits of the check-out lane and those electric doors have parted for me like the Red Sea - I can Climb Every Mountain and afford everything in these bags.
12 March 2010
13 August 2009
26 July 2009
Without a Trace
A writer should tell a story with no trace of self; so the reader feels he could have written the story. So too with every thing we do - we should do everything leaving no dust of ego so that we will be delighted when we come across neatly folded clothes, a clean room, or a lovely meal as if done by an unknown person.
23 July 2009
There's No Place Like Home
Since my email address is my only address, the closest thing to home for me is sitting at my computer. This magic box, somewhat like Dorothy's ruby slippers, allows me to return to the land of my birth with a single click. A connection to which I am still very much attached; even as I, like Dorothy, wander in the merry old land of OZ, encountering familiar situations in strange and wondrous surroundings and familiar people who happen to speak different languages and dress in foreign attire.
As a child I clearly remember discovering that the town I lived in was not infinite - all you had to do was drive a little further than I was accustom to and the town ended. Amazingly, here was land without buildings! With this first discovery that not every where looked the same, I became fascinated with the idea of expanding my vision and seeing what else was out there. The 50 some years between this discovery and the abandonment of my physical home to become a wanderer was merely a period of preparation for my present odyssey in search of home.
So as I sit here dripping with the heat of July in a tiny and decaying Istanbul apartment with almost no personal belongs save my ruby slippers - a shiny Mac - and as I listen to street vendors hawking simit, fasuyle, scrape metal, second hand objects, an old man in a long coat and skull cap slowly strolling down the street singing a Turkish song, the clip-clop of a horse as the fruit monger's wagon goes by, and seagulls screaming at each other; I'm sure I've once again passed the city limits and am not even in Kansas anymore.
Beginning with the simple idea of expanding my awareness of physical space, I've been led to seek other realms of expansion. For instance, I am inexplicably and overwhelmingly drawn to ancient archaeological sites, with some the desire to experiencing a time outside the present. But my first real taste of life without borders came with my first solo trip to Germany. This experience was a revelation, without the emotional baggage of a traveling companion connecting me to my normal life, the experience of another land is not merely a backdrop or a stage set in a movie - two people eating dinner talking about their daily lives in Denver with a Paris street scene as backdrop - you can become more engaged in the culture and inhabit the world you are in.
But the biggest leap is stepping outside of myself; and, as it can take place anywhere, I daily pursuit it everywhere. In every increasing circles, imagining myself to be the big bang, I relentless move further towards home.
As a child I clearly remember discovering that the town I lived in was not infinite - all you had to do was drive a little further than I was accustom to and the town ended. Amazingly, here was land without buildings! With this first discovery that not every where looked the same, I became fascinated with the idea of expanding my vision and seeing what else was out there. The 50 some years between this discovery and the abandonment of my physical home to become a wanderer was merely a period of preparation for my present odyssey in search of home.
So as I sit here dripping with the heat of July in a tiny and decaying Istanbul apartment with almost no personal belongs save my ruby slippers - a shiny Mac - and as I listen to street vendors hawking simit, fasuyle, scrape metal, second hand objects, an old man in a long coat and skull cap slowly strolling down the street singing a Turkish song, the clip-clop of a horse as the fruit monger's wagon goes by, and seagulls screaming at each other; I'm sure I've once again passed the city limits and am not even in Kansas anymore.
Beginning with the simple idea of expanding my awareness of physical space, I've been led to seek other realms of expansion. For instance, I am inexplicably and overwhelmingly drawn to ancient archaeological sites, with some the desire to experiencing a time outside the present. But my first real taste of life without borders came with my first solo trip to Germany. This experience was a revelation, without the emotional baggage of a traveling companion connecting me to my normal life, the experience of another land is not merely a backdrop or a stage set in a movie - two people eating dinner talking about their daily lives in Denver with a Paris street scene as backdrop - you can become more engaged in the culture and inhabit the world you are in.
But the biggest leap is stepping outside of myself; and, as it can take place anywhere, I daily pursuit it everywhere. In every increasing circles, imagining myself to be the big bang, I relentless move further towards home.
22 July 2009
Morning on a Street in Istanbul - Harbiye Cayiri Sokak
Like a flamingo dancer approaching her partner, a shiny black crow struts across the street holding a red rose in its beak. Like a passenger in a hot air balloon, a neatly folded newspaper stands-up straight in a straw-woven basket rising to an apartment window and the hands of the puppeteer hauling in the rope. The Devil and Delight are both in the details.
13 September 2008
Newton's Law of Staring
There is a universal law of human observation which states: a person seated or standing along a sidewalk has the right to stare at passersby, but not at other stationary people; where as a person in motion may not stare at either stationary people or at fellow passersby. This all seems to follow the parade principle of spectator and spectacle. As a woman runner in Istanbul, I am not only an unusual spectacle but a potential object of commentary and observation.
The rules of observation being what they are, the stationary people facing the sidewalk have no problem watching me for as long as they please. A simple turn of the head is all that is necessary. But those not facing the sidewalk, such as those engaged in conversation, must devise some method to get an unobstructed view. There are several techniques for accomplishing this view: the unobtrusive method or wait until my back is in view, then turn; the extremely crafty anticipatory method or turn while I am still approaching, as if to look at something else; and the hostile glare method of blatantly turning as I pass.
The rules of observation being what they are, the stationary people facing the sidewalk have no problem watching me for as long as they please. A simple turn of the head is all that is necessary. But those not facing the sidewalk, such as those engaged in conversation, must devise some method to get an unobstructed view. There are several techniques for accomplishing this view: the unobtrusive method or wait until my back is in view, then turn; the extremely crafty anticipatory method or turn while I am still approaching, as if to look at something else; and the hostile glare method of blatantly turning as I pass.
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