It’s raining. I like the rain as it melts the icy, brown snow piles. But it does make things more – dangerous? Slippery? – (and then there is the imminent danger of melting dog poo).
I am reading student stories. I wonder of I forgot to teach some things.
I am reflecting on philosophical differences that I have with some of the people with whom I work.
I’m wondering when I stopped fighting the good fight and started wondering if I have the energy to fight.
I do have two posts in my drafts folder. One an old piece of writing. The other on stories and storytelling. The second goes to this question of autonomy and choice. Which also returns to the philosophical differences that I have with some of the people with whom I work.
Back to stories.
Photo by D’Arcy Norman (again)
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I remember well, in Cleveland during my youth, when the snow in the backyard would melt — revealing all that my dog, Bernie, had deposited. Thank you, Katie, for calling back that image. Then again…
Gak! We have two northern breed dogs (husky, shepherd-husky-wolf mix) and the piles are epic this year. Four months of frozen dog deposits. Defies understanding.
Saw Terry Jarvis tonight. Our daughters are in a circus ensemble together (fate? probability? six degrees of Steve?). We will be at SPACE on the fifteenth the of May.
And Paul, any time with those images….
It is, of course, the danger that appeals to some of us, even defines us. Not a great evolutionary strategy in stable times, but a real drive nonetheless.
The tolerance for danger may help define how autonomous we can be; it also makes for great stories as we age and lose a bit of our energy.
So more stories, you.
The peas have my attention this week. The ground is soft enough for me to poke a stick into, so pea planting is here!!
Danger is of course not my middle name, though I have risked the center of the metaphorical pond at school this past week. To say the ice cracked beneath me would be an understatement. But I’m still afloat.
So – to stories. I’m going to post something I started last week. It’s not a story, but I have one of those too.