All right, just a few more pictures here.Here I am in my classroom, journaling away along with my students.
And here is a picture of me and my roommate, Teresa.
25 September 2005
Pictures!
All right, just a few more pictures here.Here I am in my classroom, journaling away along with my students.
And here is a picture of me and my roommate, Teresa.
Visitors!
My good friends Rita and Ruby drove all the way from Iowa to visit me this weekend. What a full few days we had! This also happened to be the weekend of the Festival of the Book here in Missoula, so we took in a few readings--I especially enjoyed Rick Bass and Sandra Alcosser. We ate lots of yummy food (always a necessity when one is with friends), had a game night (testing the limits of our small living room), and took some long walks along the river trail. The days flew by, and suddenly here it is Sunday afternoon, with Rita and Ruby on their way home and me sitting here realizing I have several hours' worth of homework to accomplish. But one must keep one's priorities straight. Updating one's blog, for instance. Doing so is especially nice since Ruby has a digital camera, so I now have some new pictures to post. Enjoy!
21 September 2005
Sniffles
My first cold of the season hit last Monday at 9:30 p.m. as I sat out on my balcony grading papers. One minute I was fine, and the next I was running for the tissues. So I've been drinking lots of tea (hmm, I think I need to run to the store for some *ahem* medicinal brandy), popping homeopathic pills, and trying to down several more glasses' worth of water than the standard eight. Next comes the Vitamin C!
On Monday afternoon (before I was attacked by the cold virus), I played a little frisbee out on the gorgeous green lawn of the university. And what a day it was! A perfect early-fall day--afternoon sunshine gleaming down, the grass green and smooth, a feisty little breeze to keep us cool, and the high slopes of Mt. Sentinel bronzed in the sunlight. The clock tower watched us, benignly marking off the minutes, and the sunlight bright in my eyes was bright in my heart, too: I felt light as air as I leaped and ran and tossed the frisbee. You know how sometimes your heart is simply buoyed up with happiness, so much that you can't contain it, and it's got to spill out of you? I felt radiant with life.
And then I got this cold. Oh, well. If that's the price I have to pay for a glorious afternoon, so be it.
Today is another exquisite day--the same breeze, same sunlight, same crisp and clear quality to the air. Why, then, am I sitting inside? Because I have my first long essay due for my environmental writing class, and while I have the required number of words, I need to conclude it, rearrange it, and tie it together a bit more. But perhaps I will have to go out and take a bike ride down on the river path, wind in my hair, sunlight on my face, rejoicing in the fact that I'm in a Montana mountain town.
And I'm an official Montanan now! I have a Montana driver's license, Montana car insurance, and lovely Montana license plates--I supported the national parks and spent a little extra for a specialty Glacier National Park plate.
Well, back to my cup of Yogi Organic Throat Comfort tea--and, of course, my essay. Look for excerpts in upcoming posts!
On Monday afternoon (before I was attacked by the cold virus), I played a little frisbee out on the gorgeous green lawn of the university. And what a day it was! A perfect early-fall day--afternoon sunshine gleaming down, the grass green and smooth, a feisty little breeze to keep us cool, and the high slopes of Mt. Sentinel bronzed in the sunlight. The clock tower watched us, benignly marking off the minutes, and the sunlight bright in my eyes was bright in my heart, too: I felt light as air as I leaped and ran and tossed the frisbee. You know how sometimes your heart is simply buoyed up with happiness, so much that you can't contain it, and it's got to spill out of you? I felt radiant with life.
And then I got this cold. Oh, well. If that's the price I have to pay for a glorious afternoon, so be it.
Today is another exquisite day--the same breeze, same sunlight, same crisp and clear quality to the air. Why, then, am I sitting inside? Because I have my first long essay due for my environmental writing class, and while I have the required number of words, I need to conclude it, rearrange it, and tie it together a bit more. But perhaps I will have to go out and take a bike ride down on the river path, wind in my hair, sunlight on my face, rejoicing in the fact that I'm in a Montana mountain town.
And I'm an official Montanan now! I have a Montana driver's license, Montana car insurance, and lovely Montana license plates--I supported the national parks and spent a little extra for a specialty Glacier National Park plate.
Well, back to my cup of Yogi Organic Throat Comfort tea--and, of course, my essay. Look for excerpts in upcoming posts!
17 September 2005
Continuations
Teaching has been going well! I had a very good class session on Friday. I'm finding my students to be talkative and thoughtful, and we've had some good discussions. I'm excited about their willingness to open up in class. There are a few who are very quiet and don't offer answers, but most of them will talk if I ask them a direct question. I need to figure out ways to help them feel comfortable in the class setting so that they are able to contribute to the discussions.
They'll be starting their personal essays soon. I'm having them write about what they believe, and about events in their lives that have brought them to the place they are today. I very much look forward to reading those essays.
We read "The Jabberwocky" in class on Monday, and then I (evilly) asked them to write some poetry of their own, focusing more on the sounds of the words than their meaning. Not all of them were thrilled about it, but they all wrote at least a few lines, and some of them did an excellent job, coming up with funny, crazy words and ideas. We've also been reading some David James Duncan and Wendell Berry. I love having the excuse to discuss authors I most enjoy! Hee, hee.
The weather's turned quite fallish here. It's been raining quite a bit, especially on the weekends. I don't mind this, as I'm more inclined to stay inside and do homework. Not that I've done enough yet this weekend . . . Last night I went with some friends to hear Kelly Joe Phelps play. I've heard more live music these past few months in Missoula than in my entire previous existence, and it's all been wonderful! I'm looking forward to seeing (and hearing) much more of what Missoula has to offer.
Now on to those 110 pages of philosophy reading that I've been putting off . . .
They'll be starting their personal essays soon. I'm having them write about what they believe, and about events in their lives that have brought them to the place they are today. I very much look forward to reading those essays.
We read "The Jabberwocky" in class on Monday, and then I (evilly) asked them to write some poetry of their own, focusing more on the sounds of the words than their meaning. Not all of them were thrilled about it, but they all wrote at least a few lines, and some of them did an excellent job, coming up with funny, crazy words and ideas. We've also been reading some David James Duncan and Wendell Berry. I love having the excuse to discuss authors I most enjoy! Hee, hee.
The weather's turned quite fallish here. It's been raining quite a bit, especially on the weekends. I don't mind this, as I'm more inclined to stay inside and do homework. Not that I've done enough yet this weekend . . . Last night I went with some friends to hear Kelly Joe Phelps play. I've heard more live music these past few months in Missoula than in my entire previous existence, and it's all been wonderful! I'm looking forward to seeing (and hearing) much more of what Missoula has to offer.
Now on to those 110 pages of philosophy reading that I've been putting off . . .
10 September 2005
a few pictures
Besides having a great apartment, I'm surrounded by beautiful scenery. I worked for a month out at the notorious Paws Up Ranch, 35 miles outside of Missoula up the Blackfoot River valley. Note the teepee that my coworker and I labored on so diligently this summer!
Over Labor Day weekend, I went with a group of fellow Environmental Studies students (EVSTers) on a backpacking trip up to Jewel Basin, a half-hour outside of Glacier National Park. Beautiful! Let's just say that I love being here.
09 September 2005
A Pigeon Dying
I touched a bird this week. On Tuesday night, it was; I held gently to my breast a pigeon dying. We were on our way to get ice cream, a nice summery thing to do, and delightful to do in Missoula where the Big Dipper serves up generous cones of huckleberry ice cream or lemon-ginger sorbet. We were a block away, and a sudden fluttering caught Poe’s attention, and she dashed in her loping yellow-lab way to leap upon the flutterer: a pigeon dying.
He was frantic and lopsided. As soon as Poe let him go he flapped crazily upward, only to loop sideways and crash into a lilac hedge, wings still beating wildly. He staggered in uncertain circles around the lawn, a pitiable pigeon who looked as though he’d had a few too many. Jeff moved toward him slowly and wrapped him gently in his shirt, smoothing down ruffled wings and holding him steady. The shirt vibrated wildly with the pigeon’s terrified shuddering, which lessened only slightly as we ordered our ice cream and sat to eat it (and to look up numbers of animal hospitals).
No bird experts being immediately available, we headed home, and Jeff passed the poor quivering creature to me. I could feel the erratic thump of the pigeon’s heart, but the shaking had subsided, and he rested almost quietly in my grasp as I held him to the warmth of my body. I felt his fear, and wondered what had scared him so completely; or was it only his animal sense of imminent death, his instinctive resistance to annihilation?
As we walked through the September twilight beneath wide-spreading maples, his frantic struggle began again, and I tried to calm him with soft words and pigeon coos. And he became still. Too still? Yet I could feel a heartbeat—or was it only my own blood pumping into my fingertips? He remained still, still, and the weight in my hands changed, almost imperceptibly, as a pigeon spirit soared upwards toward the slender crescent moon.
An irrational fear twitched through my heart and down my arms, a deep, dark terror that broke through all the fragile securities with which I surround myself; for an infinitesimal moment I knew, in each cell and sinew, that I too would die, that this pigeon’s death was just a foreshadowing of my own future.
And then I felt his weight in my hands again, felt my heart thumping out an affirmation of life, felt the caress of the breath in my lungs, and knew, in each cell and sinew, that I was alive. The pigeon would be returned to the earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, and I would continue on the side of life. I breathed deeply of the rich evening air.
He was frantic and lopsided. As soon as Poe let him go he flapped crazily upward, only to loop sideways and crash into a lilac hedge, wings still beating wildly. He staggered in uncertain circles around the lawn, a pitiable pigeon who looked as though he’d had a few too many. Jeff moved toward him slowly and wrapped him gently in his shirt, smoothing down ruffled wings and holding him steady. The shirt vibrated wildly with the pigeon’s terrified shuddering, which lessened only slightly as we ordered our ice cream and sat to eat it (and to look up numbers of animal hospitals).
No bird experts being immediately available, we headed home, and Jeff passed the poor quivering creature to me. I could feel the erratic thump of the pigeon’s heart, but the shaking had subsided, and he rested almost quietly in my grasp as I held him to the warmth of my body. I felt his fear, and wondered what had scared him so completely; or was it only his animal sense of imminent death, his instinctive resistance to annihilation?
As we walked through the September twilight beneath wide-spreading maples, his frantic struggle began again, and I tried to calm him with soft words and pigeon coos. And he became still. Too still? Yet I could feel a heartbeat—or was it only my own blood pumping into my fingertips? He remained still, still, and the weight in my hands changed, almost imperceptibly, as a pigeon spirit soared upwards toward the slender crescent moon.
An irrational fear twitched through my heart and down my arms, a deep, dark terror that broke through all the fragile securities with which I surround myself; for an infinitesimal moment I knew, in each cell and sinew, that I too would die, that this pigeon’s death was just a foreshadowing of my own future.
And then I felt his weight in my hands again, felt my heart thumping out an affirmation of life, felt the caress of the breath in my lungs, and knew, in each cell and sinew, that I was alive. The pigeon would be returned to the earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, and I would continue on the side of life. I breathed deeply of the rich evening air.
08 September 2005
Exhaustion creeps in . . .
It has been a tiring couple of weeks. Last night, hanging out with some friends, I realized that I have not had nearly enough quiet time, time in which to BE, time in which to listen to God or even sense the rhythm of my own breath, the thud of my heart. Every minute has been filled with people, tasks, reading, lesson planning--in short, activity. I need some time (insha'allah, today) NOT to be active.
Besides this need for space and solitude, all is going well. My classes are wonderfully fascinating and challenging, and even in these first two weeks are interconnecting and overlapping each other. Now if only I had time to get everything done . . .
Besides this need for space and solitude, all is going well. My classes are wonderfully fascinating and challenging, and even in these first two weeks are interconnecting and overlapping each other. Now if only I had time to get everything done . . .
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