Bedtime Reading


 

A habit I acquired years ago, perhaps even during my childhood, is reading just before I go to sleep.  Picking the right books remains key unless you want to stay up half the night either reading or thinking about something horrifying or depressing you’ve read. Lately, my reading has not been conducive to sweet dreams.  Earlier this week I finished Among the Ruins, an Iranian mystery of sorts, by Ausma Zehanat Khan.  It’s fiction but one of the characters writes letters from prison which are anything but cheery.  Now I am reading the Pulitzer Prize winner, The Return.  Since Hisham Matar never saw his father again after he was captured and hauled off to a Libyan prison, sleep inducing it is not.  Last night I decided perhaps for bedtime I needed to find something not exactly boring but somewhat less stimulating.  It may take me all summer given that The Silk Roads, A New History of the World by Peter Frankopan is 505 pages.  If I get bored with that, I can go back to two books I reread off and on and save for bedtime reading, When Women Were Birds by Terry Tempest Williams and Sor Juana Ines De La Cruz, Selected Works translated by Edith Grossman.  Both inspire reflection and contemplation.  For those who do not know Sor Juana Ines De La Cruz, she lived in Mexico in the 1600s.  She became famous for her intellectual capacity, her poetry, and was referred to as “the Phoenix of Mexico” when women rarely rose to such heights.

What are you reading this summer?

 

Two Kinds of People


The novel I finished yesterday described one of the characters as “the kind of man who would find his place anywhere because of how he interpreted the world.”  He was the kind of man who saw the world not as a system of barriers but rather a place of common ground, a man with an openness to the world, an openness to the unfamiliar, a man who welcomed the unknown.

This made me think of people I know and how they react, to where they want to travel, if at all, to what they desire to explore, to know.  Many of my friends travel little and rarely, if ever, outside the United States.  Others, like me, desire to visit places and cultures totally different, unfamiliar, to “know” the unknown.

This lead me to question how these two different types of people come to be.  In my case perhaps it started with family road trips, the earliest of which occurred when I was three and my dad drove from northwest Missouri all the way to Monterey, Mexico, and back.  I still love road trips.

Which kind of person are you?  Why?  Is it upbringing, heredity, environment?

 

Success


A couple of days ago a friend posted research regarding success and high school grades on Facebook.  The research cited indicates that there is no correlation between high school grades and success later in life.  The researchers measured success by the amount of money earned.  Admittedly they discussed innovation and creativity and claimed school mainly teaches obedience to cultural norms.  Although to some extent I agree with their discussion of creativity, etc. and cultural norms.  I do not agree that success equates to the amount of money a person earns.

This evening I attended graduation for the seniors I taught this year.  Both the valedictorian and salutatorian were students in my dual credit class.  To my amazement, in her speech the valedictorian discussed this very topic.  She encouraged her classmates to see success as two things.  First, she cited happiness and encouraged them to pursue what they love, that for which they feel a calling, a passion, and if they do not have that feeling yet, to find it because doing what a person loves brings that person happiness.  Second, she encouraged them to help others discover happiness, to serve.  She never once mentioned money.

 

IMG_1645

Cheating, Stealing


The story that follows keeps running through my mind, disturbing my inner peace.  It occurred several weeks ago while I worked.  As a teacher I take plagiarism seriously.  Repeatedly, I explain that it is cheating and ultimately a form of stealing.  Yes, stealing.  When students cheat, copy another’s work whether from some famous author or from the student by them, they are stealing from that person, and in reality cheating themselves, cheating themselves from learning what may have proven to be valuable information or a needed skill later in life.

Several weeks ago, a former, talented student asked to observe my classes as part of his assignment from a college class.  He sat in on a couple of classes, many of the students already knew him, and I explained his purpose in being there.  At the end of the day, while we chatted about the past and his excellent grades when he attended my English class, he informed me that he frequently writes not only his own papers but also the papers for another student, who was also a former student and perfectly able to write decent papers himself.  He told me that the student for whom he writes these papers pays him either with money or beer.  Too astonished to adequately respond, I kept silent.   However, this continues to haunt me, not only because my opinion of the student plummeted but also because he plans to be a coach and teacher himself.  Will he later realize the unacceptability of his behavior, how unethical and immoral?  Will he change when he becomes a teacher himself?

I also remain unhappy with myself for not saying something to him immediately.  My shock really is not an excuse.  I now promise myself that if I do see him again soon, I will definitely explain my dismay and sadness with his story.  I also wonder why he told me?  Regardless, I worry for the future if this is the type of person who will replace current teachers.  I also wonder how many current teachers find this sort of behavior normal, acceptable.

Celebrating Earth Day–Photos


I decided the best way I should share my reverence and love for nature and this precious planet on which we live is to share photos from various countries, states, and my own little piece of wonder.

IMG_2641

img_2445

img_2454

The three photos above were taken at Palo Duro Canyon State Park in Texas about ten minutes from where I live.

IMG_2617

Above and below the Rio Grande looking into Mexico.

IMG_2607

image

image

image

image

Four photos above — Big Bend National Park.

IMG_2604

Between Marfa and Alpine, Texas.

IMG_2359

The Rio Grande north of Albuquerque on the Santa Ana Pueblo Nation.

IMG_0577

IMG_0592

IMG_0635IMG_0633

The above four photos taken in Simien Mountain National Park, Ethiopia.  The animals are gelada–the only surviving grass eating primates found solely in Ethiopia.  They actually “talk” to each other.

IMG_0266

Menelik’s Window, Ethiopia

IMG_1144

Awash Falls, Ethiopia

IMG_0849

Where the Blue Nile begins draining from Lake Tana, Ethiopia

IMG_2024

IMG_2052

IMG_2070

IMG_1971

IMG_1927

The photos above were taken at various places in Costa Rica.

IMG_1730

IMG_1711

IMG_1718

Northern New Mexico

SAM_1195

Grand Canyon North Rim

SAM_1139

The Missouri River running full.

SAM_1218

California dropping down from Sequoia National Monument

SAM_1342

Near Lake Marvin, Texas

Sunday Sunrise ©Dawn Wink

IMG_1589

IMG_1419

SAM_0483

IMG_2304

IMG_2337

IMG_2323

The above photos were all taken within the last year on my little rim of wonder.

And finally below, my favorite animal.

CA_Cougar24

Spring Break Adventure–3


Today was day one in Big Bend National Park.  This place is huge.  We drove down to the Rio Grande, took a hike up a big hill/cliff above it, and later drove off on a gravel road which became a bit daunting at times–four wheel drive only. We saw people riding horses across the desert, others canoeing down the river, all sorts of mountains, cactus in bloom, ruined corrals from a extinct ranch, and passed a border control check point–nothing new really.  Used to get checked all the time down near the border. Here are photos I took along the way.

 

Frozen


Two weeks ago today, the sickening news came:  my daughter’s father, my ex-husband, suffered a massive heart attack while working.  Rushed to the hospital, resuscitated, then open heart surgery. He never regained consciousness, not yet.  He lies there, part of his brain not working, tube-fed, not breathing on his own.

She drove all night, six hours to get there.  She thought they had taken her to the wrong room, unrecognizable.  Last week end, I drove with her.  Except for his hands, I would not have recognized him myself, so thin, so aged. How could someone change that much in the ten years since I had last seen him?  She went back again late this week, returned late last night.  Moved to a longterm care facility, he remains the same except he no longer even opens his eyes, no more staring into the void.

I feel frozen.  This morning I delivered my grandson to my daughter–he stayed with me this trip.  Checking on her father’s apartment, my daughter found his photos, some from when we were young.  She showed a few to me.  I stared, shocked, dismayed.  My today’s to-do list just sits here.  I force myself to work at it bit by bit, write two peer review assignments for a class I am taking–I do not want to disappoint, vacuum and dust one room at a time, tell myself I need to go out on this 20 degrees warmer than normal day and garden, write this blog post.   I feel frozen.

He had plans neither she nor I knew about, plans to perhaps make him happier, return to the land of his birth.  Will some miracle occur, will he awaken, recover?  Is there some appropriate time for which we wait?

I feel frozen.  When will I thaw?

 

Meeting Phrike: Feminist Theology and the Experience of Horror by Jill Hammer


Today, I planned to write my own blog post this evening after work. Just before I read this post, I mulled over topics, whether I wanted to share a recipe or write about so many disturbing as well as inspiring events I experienced or watched in the past week. Then today a student in one of my classes loudly questioned whether the Holocaust even occurred. This was followed by another student announcing that Jews are not people. As I read through my emails, this blog post appeared. It seemed especially telling given that experience. I refuse to tolerate comments that denigrate the religion, race, ethnicity, gender, sexual preference of anyone.

Jill Hammer's avatarFeminism and Religion

Myself, I saw the numb pools amidst the shadows; myself, the wan gods and night in very truth.  My frozen blood stood still and clogged my veins.  Forth leaped a savage cohort… Then grim Erinys (Vengeance) shrieked, and blind Furor (Fury), and Horror (Phrike), and all the forms which spawn and lurk amidst the eternal shades.

Seneca, Oedipus (trans. Frank Justus Miller)

Horror is not a cognitive but a physiological or affective extra-discursive state of being. Not unlike the state of, say, feeling nausea, horror is a state of being, whose manifestation, based on the etymologies of the Greek φρiκη [phrike] and the Latin horror, may be described, as Adriana Cavarero writes, as “a state of paralysis, reinforced by the feeling of growing stiff on the part of someone who is freezing,” and further, through her mythological reference to the prototypical figure of horror, Medusa, as a state of “petrification”…

View original post 1,420 more words

Hiking Palo Duro Canyon State Park–Day Two, New Year’s Day


In spite of having to run/rush, I enjoyed the first hike so much, I decided to go back down with my son on New Year’s Day, another weather perfect hiking and biking day.  I hiked the same trail but had time to enjoy it, take more photos.

img_2411-1

I headed up Comanche Trail from Chinaberry area toward the same peak in the distance.  Although this trail is not difficult, it is not flat until you get to the bottom of the cliffs in the distance.

img_2423

At this point I have reached the same area where I took most of the rock photos on the first Palo Duro post.  Once again, I took off onto the “new” trail to the north.

img_2432

To get to this point one has to climb down a rather steep trail and cross a dry arroyo and start up the other side.  This is across from where I had previously seen the shovels, etc.  They were still there, but the other equipment had been moved to just below where I took this photo.

This trail contains a lot of loose debris and dirt with large boulders laying every which way.

img_2436

Once I reached the flat top area, I saw those orange/red flags here and there and now wonder where the trail will eventually go.  I headed back toward Comanche.

img_2445

Back near Comanche Trail.

img_2447

At this point I had walked far enough down Comanche to be slightly past the cliff toward which I was originally headed.

img_2449

If you look in the middle distance, you can see the road in and out of the park.  Here I have walked considerably past the peak seen in the first photo.

img_2450

All kinds of rocks of all sizes appear everywhere–layers and layers of time.

img_2452

The trail follows the base of miles of cliffs.

img_2453

Fallen rocks and “caves” everywhere.

img_2454

Looking back from where I had climbed up higher and higher toward the flatter area.

img_2458

Another smaller “cave”.  I seriously considered hiking to it, figuring there might be some rattlesnakes sunning.  They do not react a lot unless startled or out hunting.

img_2459

Along the cliff base where the trail is easy.

img_2460

In this area, huge, white boulders appear to have fallen from the whiter area in the cliffs above.

img_2461

Farther down these boulders appear, more porous, darker.

img_2462

A closeup of this boulder shows baby prickly pear and grass growing from its surface.

img_2463

Farther south along the trail looking north.

img_2464

There are many species of prickly pear, including this one with its bright color.

img_2465

I looked up and saw three aoudad sheep.  See if you can find any of them in the middle of the photo.  They really blend in with these rocks.

img_2466

I did walk a bit off the trail to take this photo of “coffin” rock.

img_2467

Past the flat area canyon colors show up really brightly here–layers of color and time everywhere.

img_2468

Farther along the trail, looking toward the south.

img_2473

At this point on the trail past the long cliff wall, the trail becomes steeper and up and down again.

img_2474

Farther and farther past the cliff wall.

img_2475

Then one comes down farther where a small, spring fed stream runs.

img_2480

Here with year round water and shade the trees grow much bigger.  Farther down the trail more water seeps and the trail above contains steeper switch backs.

img_2481

img_2482

Far past the cliff base, Comanche intersects Rock Garden Trail.  Once again, but not running/rushing this time, I start down Rock Garden.

img_2483

Looking south, I headed down.  Rock Garden gets its name from an ancient rock slide.

img_2485

Giant boulders everywhere.

img_2486

Some even have grass growing from them.

img_2488

I wanted to take a photo of this boulder because it looks like a giant face with ears.  However, it was so late that I could not take it without my shadow so being silly…

img_2489

Almost down, I took one final photo.  Comanche is the longest trail in the park.  It keeps going past the Rock Garden intersection.  My son, who was mountain biking there a couple of days later, rode almost its entire length.  Some day I want to start at Chinaberry and walk to the end.  However, if you plan to do this, find someone to meet you at the south (far) end because otherwise you will have miles to hike back.

Hiking Palo Duro Canyon State Park


Even though I live ten minutes from the park entrance and occasionally work at the gift shop there, hiking is rare perhaps because I have more than twenty acres of my own for hiking.  My son came to visit for ten days during this holiday vacation.  He brought his mountain bike and spent every day the past week mountain biking the park’s numerous trails.  Last week and yesterday, New Year’s Day, I went along and hiked.  The following photos and comments are day one’s experience.

For those familiar with the park or who may want to go there, we parked at Chinaberry.  I decided to cut across to the east and found a trail.  It was not until several days later that we figured out the trail’s name mostly because this trail in not on any map provided by the park or on the official park website.  The trail is Comanche.  It is the longest trail in the park.  If you go to your browser and type in Comanche Trail in Palo Duro Canyon State Park, you will come to a mountain biking website that shows the trail in some detail even with a virtual tour.  The trail is occasionally marked with signs that say Comanche Trail but since it does not appear on the official map, I found it somewhat confusing until I found the above mentioned website.

img_2407

I took this photo at Chinaberry, a parking and picnic area from which several trails start.

img_2408

Day one I had not seen the marker for Comanche partly because it is across from Chinaberry at the very north end.  I planned to head for the peak in the background, thinking I would hit a certain trail–it was not the one I found because Comanche is not on the map.

img_2409

The grassy area before I found the trail.

img_2411-1

You can see the trail by the grass on the right.

img_2414

This is prickly pear country.  There are numerous species.  This is important for mountain bikers more than hikers.  Tipping over into a prickly pear patch would not be a pleasant experience.

img_2417

Here the trail is easy.

img_2419

I started my hike around 3:30, a big mistake, but I did not know this yet.  Numerous stream beds occur along the trail.

img_2421

At this point another trail diverges to the left.  Here giant grey boulders appear everywhere.

img_2423

I decided to take the trail to the left to see where it went, all the while thinking I was on one trail when I was on another.

img_2427

When I looked toward the opposite direction, I could see this small cave.

img_2428

A view from the trail to the left.

img_2429

The same giant rocks looking back from the “new” trail.

img_2430

After hiking down a rather steep incline with tiny orange flags along it, I came across this. It appears this is a new trail in the making.  Yet, given the rust on the shovel, I thought perhaps the trail blazers had just carelessly left their “equipment”.

img_2431

At the bottom of a little draw ready to climb back up the other side.  You can see one of the little flags in the middle of the photo.

img_2432

Palo Duro Canyon is a geologist’s dream.  Layers of time lay visible everywhere.

img_2434

On my way up the other side of the draw lay more equipment.  When I went back New Year’s Day, this had all been moved to another spot.

img_2436

Different rocks looking in another direction.

img_2440

Back on Comanche Trail (even though I had yet to know its correct name and thought I was somewhere else) headed south.  This was just before I realized just how far I had to go and how little time to get there.

img_2441

Little areas like this are everywhere along the trail.

It was shortly after this point that I saw two women–this trail has few hikers or mountain bikers on it. They were the only people I saw for miles.  When I asked them how far to the other end, I realized I was in “trouble”,  not real trouble like lost, but rather trouble like I was supposed to meet my son at Chinaberry at 5:30, and I was not even half way on this trail and I still had to get to the bottom.  I realized where I would come out; I would intersect another trail called Rock Garden and would have to go one mile steep downhill.  Unfortunately, I had not taken my phone because I did not think it would work there and had no way to inform him.  I also realized it would be nearly dark when I got to the bottom.  5:30 came and went and I still had quite a way to go. I quit taking photos and ran when the trail permitted and walked as fast as possible when it was too rocky or steep to run safely.

img_2442

I took this photo on my way, hiking the several miles toward Chinaberry.  Luckily, I met a nice couple who offered to stop by Chinaberry and tell my son where I was.  Unfortunately, I had the vehicle keys and he could not even get in his own vehicle.  The light to his bicycle was in the vehicle so he had to ride down the road in the twilight to get the vehicle keys.  I kept walking.  I was just glad he had waited and I met the couple because an unneeded rescue would have been terribly humiliating.  We made it home safely.

My Fitbit told me I had walked more than 11 miles that day.

 

Note:  Day Two, New Year’s Day, will follow with photos along the entire trail.