Morpho's Magic

The Morpho butterfly is one of the signature butterflies in Costa Rica. Beyond Central America, I'm not sure where else you'd find them, although I swear I small a tinier version of them in Sonoma this past spring. That might be wishful thinking...

Hard not to think magically when you look at this butterfly. With wings closed, their brown bodies blend into the background. When wings are open and they fly, you then see a completely different butterfly with their blue beating wings. I tried hard to capture their image in flight, yet somehow, I like this blurry version better. They remain magical that way.

I think of the lesson in the Morpho butterfly. When still, they're wallflowers, to blend into the background. There are times in life where that is a necessary function. But if no one ever sees you, they'll miss the beauty of who you truly are. Sometimes you do have to get off the ground and fly, to show the world what you really have.... This is what I'm trying to do in my life right now. I have the blue dye, wire, and tissue paper all ready....

Printable Affirmation Cards

On one of my twitter adventures (or twitteratures, twittertreks, twitternavs, etc., etc.) I found Kind Over Matter, a GREAT blog full of inspiration, fun, and very, very creative items. And they are very generous with them.

Every Thursday there's a giveaway.... Yipee! Plus, you can download affirmation cards. Click on the link at the bottom of the blog and it'll take you to the Kind Over Matter blog. There you'll find step by step instructions on how to download and create these great cards. Happy Affirming!

Dr. Gates stand - is it really black and white?

Colin Powell is the latest bigwig to opine on the Henry Louis Gates v. Cambridge Police Dept. I have the deepest respect for Colin Powell as I do for Dr. Gates. Powell, after all, went against “his” administration to resign over the war. Is there a bigger act of defiance?

Powell commented that he didn’t agree with Dr. Gates actions over yelling at the Cambridge Police in a recent CNN article: http://www.cnn.com/2009/POLITICS/07/28/powell.palin/index.html.

In the article, Colin Powell shares having been racially profiled again and again - he, one of the most respected men in the nation. He questioned Dr. Gates wisdom over making it an issue. My thoughts immediately were, if one of the respected men in the nation suffered being racially profiled numerous times, why isn’t this a huge, enormous issue? Why isn’t he applauding Dr. Gates for bringing this issue to the forefront?

Colin Powell talks about picking the right time for your battles. When is it the right time? Dr. Gates was tired after his long, long, LONG trip back from China. But was it really the China trip – or a life time of the little injustices building up? Did it hit at the right time that he wasn’t going to back down? He was fed up, sick and tired. It reminds me of Rosa Parks saying, that day, she was tired and she didn’t feel like sitting on back of the bus. What if she gave in that day? Played by the rules set for her? Am I stretching it too far by using that analogy or are they part of the same....

In my own life, I try to play nice, but little things stew. Girls are taught to play nice and get along with others. You don’t want to be seen as a nasty bitch – but then again, I’m making this about me. But why not? Is this just a black and white issue or is it a story we all can relate to in our own unique way? Introducing the Gates issue on Countdown with Keith Olberman, Lawrence O’Donnell recounted his own interaction and arrest with the police – a similar situation to Dr. Gates. He mouthed off. Doesn’t that go against our 2nd amendment rights – being arrested for saying what you want to, especially on your own property? Christopher Hitchens of Slate magazine outlines that point here: http://www.slate.com/id/2223673/

When we can’t question authority, here, in the U.S. who are we becoming? An Irish émigré told me that growing up in Ireland, he looked to America and its ideals but America now has to get off its duff and stand up for its original ideals of freedom and democracy. I couldn’t deny what he saying. Freedom isn’t a campaign slogan or something to take for granted while it’s being whittled away for someone else’s gain (i.e. Homeland Security, Patriot Act, etc., etc. and anytime you couldn't say what you truly felt for fear of retribution either by your boss, co-worker or even a loved one). It’s your right to be. And sometimes seeming unreasonable, is the only reasonable way to maintain that.

Watch a Mole San Francisco

Others play whack a mole but in Golden Gate Park in San Francisco, a group of us waited patiently for a mole to come out of his hole to snap his picture....

I squealed when I first saw him which sent him scurrying down to his hole. I then apologized to my fellow watchers. He was just so cute though! He did come out a few minutes later and chewed on his grass while we kept a safe distance. They don't make coats out of these beautiful creatures anymore do they?

Just Never Know What'll Take Sometimes

I’ve been told I have a green thumb. For some plants yes – others, well, they’ve gone to their grave, but not until I’ve exhausted all possibilities for keeping them alive. I love my plants, but sometimes, I have to concede, some weren’t meant to last with me.

I learn a lot watching my plants grow. I’m no expert in plant soils, fertilizers, or even watering. I take them being alive as a bit of a miracle. It’s up to nature or their nature and if I can read them right and give them what they need. I can fuss over some but the plants I work best with I leave alone to do their thing.

I get a few hand me downs – and I usually don’t say no to more green friends. I try to control my urge to buy more and when I do, try to select ones I imagine to have the best success with.

Last June, to spruce up my patio for my birthday party, I bought 4 plants – one fuchsia, two drought resistant plants (the wisest choice for living in parched California) and the last, a hydrangea. The fuchsia I bought for the hummingbirds. The drought plants had wonderful flowers and had the best chance, I thought, for survival in the hot heat. The hydrangea, I considered, was a bit of a vanity plant. I love their beautiful flowers and they always remind me of grand Victorian mansions that they seem, in front of, inevitably planted. I always wanted one but didn’t know anything about them except that their flower petal colors change depending on the acidity of the soil. Would they even work growing in a pot? My desire won over practicality – sort of. My reasoning was that I wanted to buy a bouquet of flowers but wouldn’t a live plant be more practical….

We had a heat wave. The fuchsia tanked. No matter how much shade I tried, the fuchsia couldn’t rebound. The drought plants flourished. The hydrangea lost all its flowers. With leaves still on the plant, I considered that it wasn’t really dead.

A week later I saw a woman complaining to a clerk at Trader Joes about her hydrangea dying. I thought of mine. Was it really the plant, the store, or the owner?

In August, I set to move to Wine Country in Northern California. One of the drought plants became riddled with black bugs I couldn’t get rid of. I made the heartbreaking decision to toss the plant. I didn’t want to risk taking foreign bugs to a new location. I packed the flowerless hydrangea into my car with my numerous other plants. (I actually drove twice back and forth to move all my plants. Did I mention I love my plants?).

At my new place I had all the free soil and pots I could want thanks to my new landlords. I repotted the hydrangea and the drought plant. Winter came. I didn’t realize how cold the Wine Country gets. It got down to 20 degrees. The cold and the rain took a toll on many of my plants. My hydrangea looked barely alive. The stems browned. Most of the leaves had gone. I pondered tossing it but the better part of me told me to wait and see.

Spring came. Most of my plants rebounded. My drought plant bloomed when I first replanted it; it then completely dried up. I had tucked the hydrangea in a corner near the gate. I hadn’t paid that much attention to it until one day I noticed all new leaves on it. They continued to grow. I noticed some leaves browning so I moved it out of the afternoon sun to where it would get morning sun.

This past June, to my surprise, the hydrangea started to sprout flowers. Now it’s in full bloom. Had I tossed it out when it looked dead, I never would have these blooming flowers now. I took that as a great lesson. You never know what will take hold. Last year I would have bet on the drought plant. Then again, I set to live in Mendocino and ended up in Sonoma. You don’t know always know what’s going to pay off in the end. The only true proof is to pay attention to what’s about to flower.

Ya just never know what will take sometimes - it's always best to have an open mind :)

The Twitterings of Twitter

I get it. Twitter has become my new addiction. I didn’t quite get it at first. Just signing up seemed confusing. Once past that, I stared at the starting question Twitter asks, “what are you doing?” Hmm, I paused. The truly literal answer would be, "writing on Twitter". And if that was always the answer, I would get stuck in that loop forever – like a bad Abbott and Costello bit. So, I went a step beyond that and entered into the restrictive text box, "trying to figure out Twitter". I noticed, reading others first twitters that they too had a similar response. A lot of us had to grapple with what exactly this medium was (is) and what the point was – if there was (is) a point.

I spent the first month or so trying to figure it out. What do I say? How often? I followed a few friends but decided on no celebrities. My friends posts ranged from saying the somewhat literal answer to “what are you doing” like, “eating a burrito” to a PR friend’s posts ranging from Hollywood to PR about Twitter. All of a sudden, people, I didn't know, started following me. What to do? Do I have to follow back? I looked at one. His tweets seemed to be mostly social, to his immediate friends, of where he was right then (like what bar he was going to). I didn’t feel I needed to know that. Then I got the followers showcasing their “photos” – ok, wannabe porn stars. So, I blocked them. I blocked a few others on the reason I didn’t feel a connection to them; I wonder now if that was such a good idea. Is it wise to be selective and snobby on Twitter? I’m still learning the etiquette.

This week I decided to take the plunge to build who I’m following and vice-versa. I searched under “green” and “zen”. I added a few groups and people I connected to in that category. What happened? They followed me back. Then I had a few more people follow and I followed them back – after reading their profiles. This phenomenon is amazing to me. In a matter of days, I tripled the amount of people following me. (Ok, it’s now 21) but still, where else can you see such immediate results. I posted a tweet about violins and now I have a Latvian, heavymetal violinist following me. Who knew? (After sharing this with a friend, he told me he tweeted about watching Veronica Mars and now he has the Veronica Mars fan club following him. I tried that but do not as of yet have them as followers).

I get it now. I get why people love it and find it fun, informative, silly, deep, helpful, etc. I get tweets on green news, zen sayings, projects made from recycled products, to fun quips from friends. How you use it depends on you: who you want to follow and in turn, who you want to follow you. Some people want to share news, some to plug products, others to feel connected to a specific community. For me, it’s about connecting to and creating community and finding like-minded people the world over. It’s truly the expression of the Universal. There’s a place for everyone to tell us “what they’re doing”. I love it!

The Politics of Pretty

For silly blog Sunday.....

Never would I have guessed that the good-looking Barrista was an English major. Surfer, possibly. Frat boy, yes. But then I overheard his consternation over the way these kids today are using language, or lack thereof. Since it’s one of my pet peeves (see words matter post) I honed into the conversation. He told me about his little sister and how annoyed he was in her high handed usage of the word “like.” “Oh yeah,” I said, staring into his eyes. I probably should have told him I used to use like, more than I drank water or even breathed air before I graduated Laguna Beach High School. Then, on purpose, I eradicated it from my vocabulary so that no one would think I was an idiot when I moved to Northern California to go to college. (I still use like on occasion but I’m more guilty of using um or you know as space fillers). I would tell him there’s hope but I gathered post high school, his sister is still speaking without thinking – i.e. using catch phrases everyone else does. I told him my biggest peeve phrase, “you know riiiiiiiiiight”. He shuttered as he poured my decaf. Sorry I said. We talked a bit and then he chose to close the conversation about telling me about the afternoon discount. Was he paranoid that my cougar “ness” was flirting with him? That I would ruin his cool? Why – because he’s good looking? I did the unthinkable as he gave me the receipt. I thanked him with, “oh nice!” I shirked off.

Why do these pretty people alarm me so and thwart me from my usual wittiness? It was like I like was in high school or something. Is it really that easy to digress? Or did I not like get over high school or something?