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3-2-1: Hopemongers' Edition
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Hope: A User's Manual is out in the world, and has been the #1 new release in Christian Faith for a week! (Don't tell Amazon that I talk about the Avengers and Lord of the Rings at least as much as I talk about Jesus. Still, I am most grateful.)
A reviewer on Amazon called me a hopemonger (have you written a review yet? It's a vital way to juice those algorithms), and I'll take it. Today is one of my hodgepodge posts, as I find hope lurking in the hodge and the podge of life.
THREE THOUGHTS
Compost Corner: It's been several weeks, and Juno the Composting Gonk Droid is still ingesting stuff and it's all slowly breaking down. I've learned three things so far, all of which begin with P:
-Composting is PATIENT. It's hard to see what's happening, but the composting people I read say that sooner or later, pretty much everything decomposes if you give it enough time.
-Composting is not about PERFECTION, which means it's not about PANICKING either. If the pile gets too dry, add "wet" items. If it gets too gross and sludgy, add dry stuff and/or spread it all out in the sun to dry out.
Composting offers good wisdom for life as I prepare to exit sabbatical. I'm trying to lean into patience and do away with perfection. And panicking never helps!
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A loved one recently lost her mother-in-law, and her entire family traveled to the funeral in another state. When she returned home, she discovered her kids' school district doesn't count funerals of grandparents as excused absences in its policy. Only immediate family: parents or siblings.
Set aside how ridiculous this is–as my loved one put it, "Even if you don't think a grandparent's death is a big deal, the child's primary caregiver has lost a parent. Are they supposed to leave their kid home alone and go to the funeral?" The whole thing makes my heart hurt. The last few years have been unbelievably hard. Nothing will make a global pandemic and millions of deaths "worth it," but we could decide it's the opportune moment to remake the world more humanely in large and small ways. Alas. Are we really so insistent on returning to the dysfunctional "before"?
As an aside, my loved one knew the teachers wouldn't hold the absences against her kids–they'd be able to make up any assignments missed. But I long for structures that are as kind as many of the individuals within them. How can we imagine better ones together?
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Speaking of grief and funerals: I recently rewatched season 2 of Ted Lasso in preparation for the leadership cohort that begins this month, and noticed something interesting in the funeral episode. When the team gets off the bus and greets Rebecca before her father's funeral, they all say some variation of "Sorry for your loss." Nate, however, spouts a canned line about how "fathers are the training wheels of life" or somesuch. He catches himself, seeming to realize how inane the comment is, but defends himself by saying he wanted to say something different than everyone else.
Having presided over a number of funerals and walked with families in grief, let me affirm the lesson in this scene. Don't get cute. At best, it will come across as canned and inauthentic; at worst, it can do great harm ("God needed another angel in heaven?" WTH??).
Only upon rewatching did I realize that the episode shows an example of what to do in addition to what not to do. Contrast Nate's response with Ted's. Ted says "sorry for your loss" but then goes beyond it, not with a platitude, but by sharing a fond memory of Rebecca's father that made them all smile. It's specific, personal, and from the heart. He succeeds where Nate's clumsy attempt fails. (As if we needed more evidence that Ted is more emotionally mature than Nate.)
Moral of the story:
-I love you, I'm sorry, I'm here for you is perfectly adequate in the face of grief.
-Stories succeed where cliches fail.
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TWO QUOTES
…My heart is moved by all I cannot save:
so much has been destroyed
I have to cast my lot with those
who age after age, perversely,
with no extraordinary power,
reconstitute the world.
-Adrienne Rich
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Edmond McDonald wrote that when God wants an important thing done in this world or a wrong righted, [God] goes about it in a very singular way. [God] doesn't release thunderbolts or stir up earthquakes. God simply has a tiny baby born, perhaps of a very humble home, perhaps of a very humble mother… and then–God waits. The great events of this world… are babies, for each child comes with the message that God is not yet discouraged with humanity, but is still expecting goodwill to become incarnate in each human life. And so God produced a Gandhi and a Mandela and a Harriet Tubman, an Eleanor Roosevelt and a Martin Luther King, Jr., and each of us to guide the Earth toward peace rather than conflict.
-Marian Wright Edelman
[photo of my friend Elizabeth's sweet baby Andrew]
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ONE QUESTION
What is your next most elegant step?
(borrowed from Gibrán Rivera, courtesy of Emergent Strategy)
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What I'm Up To
I'm speaking at Faith+Lead's Book Hub in a couple of weeks: Hope, In Vulnerable Bodies: Addiction, Illness, & Exhaustion.
Introducing… the Manuals Series! 👀
Normally I post to my blog on Tuesdays, but this good news just can't wait. I shared this with my newsletter today.
I've kept this thrilling news under wraps for a little while, but it's high time to share it with the world!
As you've already heard, my next book Hope: A User's Manual is available for pre-order and will be released late summer. I'm so grateful for my publisher's ongoing support and trust in me. But we've got bigger plans than just a single book! I'm ready to announce the Manuals series–an entire set of books that will provide wisdom and guidance for many of life's challenges. I'm so excited to share a preview with you.
First, we're planning a sequel to my improv book. You remember yes-and? Well, just as important as being able to say no. Presenting:
But there's more. I love a good self-help/empowerment book, and will be taking a crack at the motivational genre myself with a book of my own. It's a cheeky, lighthearted guide to helping people stop pouting and Get It Done:
Self-care is quite the buzzword these days, and a vital part of that is good exercise. Y'all know I'm a runner, but there are all kinds of sports to help you stay fit and get the most out of life. The key is picking something you really enjoy, that can become a lifestyle. To that end:
How about our physical spaces? After two years of quarantine, a lot of us are thinking about our homes and how to make them more peaceful and comfortable. That includes picking the right colors for calm and well-being. Therefore, I give you:
But that's just the beginning! We're already planning additional titles, including my critique of classic daytime television (SOAP: A Viewer's Manual), a guide for engaged couples (ELOPE: A Uniter's Manual), and my smoothie cookbook (CANTALOUPE: A Juicer's Manual).
Now I know what you're thinking: shut up and take my money! Here's just the link you need.
Thank you one and all for the support. Happy reading!
Special thanks to Caroline Dana and Mel Dana for assistance with today's announcement.
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What I'm Up To
We had a great Hope Notes conversation about Parable of the Sower with Patrice Gopo. Listen to the recording here, and watch that space for more Hope Notes–I'm planning three more before my sabbatical this summer.
Speaking of Hope Notes, my podcast episode on Lord of the Rings and Ukraine has been the most downloaded since we debuted. Don't miss it.
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Link Love
This piece about marathon running (especially in middle age) nailed the whole ludicrous thing and made me wistful that I will (probably?) not be running 26.2 this year.
Sleuthing for Joy
Hi there. It's Tuesday, which is blog day, which typically means a written reflection from me, a quote from someone else, or a list of links.
I have none of these to offer this week. Life is just ragged and TOUGH right now. There's tears and blowups and snark and stress eating and kids spending sooooo many hours on screens and coasting along OK in school and then all of a sudden where did all these missing assignments come from???
But there is also beauty. Today I'd like to share a few things that are bringing me joy, in the hopes that you will share yours, or at least do your own sleuthing for joy in a year when joy may be hard to find.
In no particular order:
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The way daylight takes on a silver smudginess in the late fall and winter.
Also, this upcoming celestial event on the longest night of the year.
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The Christmas song draft my extended family will take part in this Saturday via Zoom. We've got rules (once a song is chosen it's off the table for future rounds) and categories (best song from a Christmas movie/special, best Christmas classic, best rendition of Rudolph, etc.). It's nerdy and silly and I can't wait.
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And on my husband's side of the family, I loved this interview with my in-laws for NPR Illinois about their support for the Service of Nine Lessons and Carols, broadcast worldwide from Cambridge England on Christmas Eve. It's a delightful interview if you're a church music aficionado.
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Having older kids means the advent calendar gets assembled in quirkier ways. I asked whether this angel was a sign of Christmas distress, like flying the American flag upside down. I was informed that they were turning cartwheels.
As for the cloud behind the donkey, that inspired an impromptu story, destined to be a Christmas classic, called Carlos the Farting Burro, who saves the day when his propulsive flatulence gets Mary and Joseph to Bethlehem so she doesn't give birth by the side of the road.
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We're in waiting season for our daughter's college applications, but we'll soon start to hear, which will provide both clarity and excitement. I can't wait to see who she continues to become in this world. She's worked really hard in just about every way a kid could work: intellectually, emotionally, creatively.
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This poem.
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Hosting a gathering of our middle kid's friends to watch holiday specials. We converted our parking lot into a socially-distanced theater:
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Taking part in the Twelve Days of Yeti, an ultrarunning event involving a different challenge each day through Christmas. We receive our instructions via email the night before. On the day you read this, I'll be doing a 5-mile progression run, in which every mile must be faster than the mile before it, and if you fall short of one of these benchmarks, you have to start over at mile 1. (My ultrarunning efforts this fall are benefiting Bright Stars of Bethelehem. Donate here.)
What's the secret to completing a progression run? Starting off very slow and extra easy and pacing yourself. And if you like it when these posts have a deeper lesson or a connection to real life, there it is: Take it slow, pace yourself, so you can finish strong… or at least stronger.
What's bringing you joy?
Keep It Small and Wonderful
A couple Christmases ago, I bought Robert a wooden puzzle from Liberty Puzzles. They're pricey, but a friend recommended this brand as challenging and fun, with unusually-shaped pieces and lots of repeat value. I can vouch for that--Robert just put together this 484-piece beauty for a second time, with a little help from the rest of us:
Why did I position the box as I did? Well…
Yes, we lost a piece. (Looks like Woodstock, doesn't it? Especially against the backdrop of our canary yellow puzzle mat.)
Liberty will replace pieces for a small fee, and it's been a charmingly manual process to order. I emailed them a picture and my address, and they sent back a message asking if I preferred to call them with a credit card number or use PayPal. Their website says, "If you admit that your dog or cat chewed/took the piece, you also owe us a photo and name of your pet" for display on the Wall of Shame. I sent along this pic of our cranky boy, who let's face it is probably to blame:
Puzzle sales are up some 300% in 2020, for obvious reasons. Liberty has seen such a spike in interest that they've set up an online customer queue. Give them your name and information and they'll contact you when it's your turn. You'll have 24 hours to complete an order, and you can only buy one puzzle. The current wait is 53 days. They write, "We know this is unpopular. We are trying to be equitable and serve as many customers as we can."
Unpopular? Actually I think it's great. First, because everyone has an equal opportunity to buy a puzzle. I can imagine a different company having a more opaque or unfair ordering process, one that advantages predators who stalk the site until they find a short window of availability, then order a bunch of puzzles to sell on eBay.
And second, I love that this Boulder-based company is maintaining its small and friendly vibe. They're actually in the process of building out a large new production facility, but in the meantime, they're keeping standards and service high rather than lowering quality or sacrificing their workers' health and work-life balance in order to meet new demand.
Why am I telling you this? Because it feels so refreshing in an economic system that prizes infinite growth above all else. It's the same "bigger is better" mentality that encourages anyone with a creative hobby to find a way to monetize it (you should totally sell these cute scarves! Or this bread! Or these hand-turned wood rolling pins!). In small ways, Liberty Puzzles and companies like it invite people into a community, and in the process they create loyal customers.
No grand conclusion here, just a couple of questions: What's your favorite company that brings this ethos to their business? (Let's support them in this gift-giving season!) And/or, what might your own organizations learn from this example?
Happy (?) 200 Days of Quarantine
Yesterday was the 200th day of quarantine for our family. It seems so long ago, and yet it boggles my mind that it's been 200 days. I remember making the decision to keep two of our three kids home back on March 12, a day before the school district officially closed. (The third kid had a test that day and really wanted to take it, so we relented.)
We decided to mark day 200 for a few reasons:
-the wisdom in this article, about how children (and all of us) can build memories and resilience during the pandemic
-I'm a pastor… I believe in ritual and the marking of time
-2020 needs as much frivolity as we can stuff into it, and fun things are fun.
We kept it pretty simple and improvisational. Since quarantine, my brother and I have been collaborating on a monster Spotify playlist called Dana Dance Party, full of upbeat and/or silly songs we've used over the months to mark the end of the workday. We kicked off the evening with some of those songs. We also gave a few gifts, such as donut pans for our aspiring baker, and a how-to book of cocktails for my spouse. The kids wanted sushi, so we got takeout from our favorite place, and my older two made cupcakes. They chose a chocolate/vanilla marble recipe, mainly for the yum factor and the aesthetics, but the design also seemed fitting: the last six months have been a mixed bag—certainly not great, but not altogether terrible either. A swirling together of a lot of stuff:
The other parts of the evening centered on the cathartic and absurd. Our curbside recycling program doesn't accept glass anymore, and we'd accumulated quite a large bin to take to the county collection site, so we made a group effort of it, taking turns chucking jars and bottles into the dumpster and admiring the resulting crashes. I highly recommend this activity. So viscerally satisfying.
Our final activity of the night involved fire—another thing I'd recommend if you have the means. While purging some shelves a few weeks ago, I found an old package of wish paper, on which you write messages, then light them on fire and watch the paper float and disintegrate. My idea was for people to write things they wanted to say goodbye to from the last 200 days. Well, when we opened the kit, we laughed when we realized there were no wish papers left. (Very on brand, 2020.) All we had was some regular paper, and an old piece of magician's flash paper I'd bought for a long-ago worship idea I never followed through on. So I got suggestions from the peanut gallery and wrote them all down on the flash paper. It was so old that we weren't sure it would burn, but it did, with no residue left:
Then we decided to burn the regular paper—why not—so we wrote down hopes and wishes for the future. I was a little surprised everyone participated, but then again, setting things on fire. Always a hit with kids.
We went back and forth as to whether to call this a celebration. Two hundred days in our homes, and 200,000 lives lost, is nothing to celebrate. And yet we're still here. Yes, our family is fortunate and has advantages and privileges others do not. Still, we've learned some stuff and acquired some skills, and realized we can do hard things. We finally settled on calling it a commemoration. It felt right.
What are you commemorating right now?
What's Making Me Happy This Week
NPR's Pop Culture Happy Hour podcast always ends with the panelists asking the question, "What's making you happy this week?"
Here are a few things, large and small, making me happy:
It's International Coaching Week! OK… not exactly a Hallmark holiday. But it's a good moment to reflect with gratitude on the work I get to do. I just entered my fourth year as a coach, and am as busy as I've been in a long time, with two leadership cohorts beginning this week, two next week, and more in the works. And I continue offering Care and Comfort in Stressful Times every Tuesday to any and all comers. Life is chaotic and the future unknown—for so many of us. I'm grateful to offer the tools of coaching to help people get grounded, stay focused, and find clarity.
Extended Family Connections. My siblings, mother, uncle, and cousin have been getting together on Zoom a couple times a week, usually to talk movies. We've watched everything from The Three Amigos to Dial M for Murder. I hate that my mother is in DC and we can't see her—so close and yet so far—but these gatherings remind us all of family dinners of yesteryear.
Making Do. My daughter and her boyfriend enjoyed a makeshift prom night this past weekend. We arranged a sushi picnic on our back patio, then they video conferenced with friends. (Boyfriend lives five houses away so they see each other often. He's a part of our family and she's a part of theirs.)
I ache that these kids didn't get a proper junior prom, but it was special to provide this evening as her family. It felt very… old fashioned, somehow?
Granola. Comfort is found in simple things these days, including this granola recipe I've been tinkering with for many years. This one is wholesome, though not exactly health food… and to me is what granola should taste like. It's very easy and I could make it in my sleep by now.
MAMD's Granola
1/3 cup maple syrup
1/3 cup brown sugar (2.3 ounces on a kitchen scale)
1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil
4 tsp vanilla extract, or substitute one or more tsps almond extract, especially if you use chopped almonds
1/2 tsp salt
2 cups chopped unsalted nuts—any kind you like
5 cups rolled oats
Preheat oven to 325. Whisk together syrup, sugar, oil, vanilla and salt in a large bowl. Mix in nuts and oats, coating thoroughly. Press firmly and evenly into a rimmed cookie/sheet lined with parchment or silicone. Bake 25-30 minutes until golden brown. Let cool thoroughly before breaking into large chunks.
Chai-spiced variation: use only 1 tsp of vanilla and add 1/2 tsp each of:
cinnamon
cardamom
cloves
ginger
What's making you happy this week?
Ten for Tuesday: "Coastal Elite" Edition
I call it that because a lot of this week's links come from the WaPo and the NYT... so be it. But don't be bothered by the source ;-) 1. God Says Yes to Me
I had forgotten about this poem by Kaylin Haught, but I recently rediscovered it during a re-read of Patty Digh's Life is a Verb:
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2. Stunning Science Photos
Lots at the link. Here's just one. Whoa!
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3. How the Scarcity Mindset Can Make Problems Worse
NPR: When you really want something, you start to focus on it obsessively. When you're hungry, it's hard to think of anything other than food, when you're desperately poor, you constantly worry about making ends meet. Scarcity produces a kind of tunnel vision, and it explains why, when we're in a hole, we often lose sight of long-term priorities and dig ourselves even deeper. Here's Sendhil.
MULLAINATHAN: What if it's not that poor people are somehow deficient but that poverty makes everyone less capable, that it's the - that it's you and I tomorrow, were we to become poor, would all of a sudden have the same effect, that poverty is in some sense changing our minds?
VEDANTAM: Of course, if this hypothesis is true, then...
MULLAINATHAN: The same person, when they're poor, should have very different cognitive capacity than when they're rich.
So critical for empathy. Also helpful to understand as we discuss policy solutions to poverty.
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4. Waking from Hiberation, The Hard Work of Spring Begins
Several animals profiled here! I'd never given much thought to what happens when animals emerge from hibernation.
Arctic ground squirrels hibernate farther north than any other animal. They enter torpor in August or September, and stay in suspended animation underground for up to 270 days, reducing their metabolism by well over 90 percent to survive.
To achieve this, males shrink their testes and stop testosterone production, which means they must experience puberty every spring. When they awaken in mid-March, they live off a cache of seeds, berries, mushrooms and willow leaves while sexually maturing and bulking up.
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5. People in Prison Stay Connected to Loved Ones Through App
The article profiles Marcus Bullock, the chief executive of Flikshop, an app that helps people in prison connect with friends and family. He also leads apprenticeship programs for former inmates through the nonprofit Free Minds Book Club.
He got the idea for the app when he himself was in prison. For me the key insight is here:
Do you have any regrets?
No. Because my failure has been my tutor my entire career. And the thing is, I never would be able to be in the markets I am, with this technology, had I never gone to prison. Obviously, I wouldn't, you know, give anyone advice to go to prison so you can come home with a good idea. [Laughs.] But what I will say is I was able to somehow take the adversity of a situation and really build out the next steps of my life.
I think it's OK for people to feel regret. But what he's describing is improv, people. Yes-and.
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6. How to Start Running
You've probably picked up the fact that I love running. It has given so much to my life, mentally as much as physically. Click the link for a whole collection of articles to help you get started. I'd love to cheer you on!
Pro-tips (from me, but many of them echoed in the article)
- get fitted for shoes at a running store
- start slow and easy--slower and easier than you think you should
- listen to your body--pain does not equal gain, especially in the beginning
- don't believe the hype that running ruins your knees--that's been debunked.)
- if running really doesn't work for you after giving it a decent effort, move. Do something.
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7. We Get to Carry Each Other
Speaking of running, I never tire of videos like this. This one's from this weekend's Philadelphia Half Marathon:
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8. I Loved My Grandmother. But She Was a Nazi.
The article is poignant and important, but I especially want to highlight one of the comments on the article. (Side note: the reader- and NYT-curated comments are a worthy exception to the rule never to read the comments. They are frequently insightful.)
Read the article, but here's the comment:
A few years ago I inherited papers from some German relatives, whom I had come to know as gentle and lovely people. The elder relatives claimed they were never Nazis. I did not argue with them but also did not believe them. I assumed they were among the so-called ordinary Germans, who later re-wrote their own role. I asked a student of mine to please translate the papers, and that is how I made an incredibly moving discovery. Buried in those papers was a letter they had received from the Nazi party, upbraiding them for failing to do their duty and join the party. The letter was obviously a form letter sent to anyone who had not joined. The letter concluded with a line that chilled me to my center--it said something like this: "You will be judged in the future by what you fail to do today". The letter's intent, obviously, was to shame recipients into joining with a triumphant cause. Instead, a great granddaughter wept as she read a letter confirming the fact that some Germans indeed did refuse, as long as possible, to allow shame to shape their actions. Just as the courageous author of this op ed shows, our seemingly innocuous decisions in the midst of confusing times may haunt or profoundly influence our descendants. Today's actions matter not just for today.
"The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing." - Edmund Burke
Or for good people to gradually, incrementally, go along with terrible things.
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9. With Friends Like These--Interview with Adam Savage
I continue to appreciate Ana Marie Cox's podcast about difficult conversations. A description of this week's episode:
Disagreeing about facts is one thing, what if you disagree about reality? Adam Savage ("Mythbusters," Tested.com) joins to help a WFLT listener whose sister has embraced right-wing conspiracy theories. MTV's Ezekiel Kweku comes by to discuss how America's dystopian future could be based on its dystopian past.
Our family looooooooves Adam Savage and misses Mythbusters every Sunday night during our basement pizza picnic when we watch a show together. He was very wise on this episode, and Kweku was also insightful in explaining the appeal of conspiracy theories--on both sides.
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10. Adorable Humans
This was charming:
Go be adorable!
Ten for Tuesday
Ten for Tuesday: Pure Unbridled Joy and Hope
I hope I'm not overpromising here. But I think there's especially good stuff this week. 1. Jake Gyllenhaal sings "Finishing the Hat," and does it well. (Hat tip to Michael Kirby, my source for all things musical.)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EuITxZnzRrw
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2. 'I know they are going to die.' This foster father takes in only terminally ill children
Radiant. Excruciating.
"The key is, you have to love them like your own," Bzeek said recently. "I know they are sick. I know they are going to die. I do my best as a human being and leave the rest to God."
The man is a Libyan-born Muslim man, by the way.
This is Islam.
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3. Photos of Waves Crashing in Australia, by Warren Keelan and featured on Colossal.
It's a beautiful world:
Many more at the link.
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4. Mari Andrew's Instagram feed is full of drawings conveying simple wisdom. Her recent rendering of grief is right on:
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5. This Dictionary Keeps Subtweeting Trump and Here's the Full Story. This is about way more than the Trump administration's creative (some would say sinister) use of language, and how Merriam-Webster is handling it. It's about creating a social media presence that's sharp and authentic. The descriptivist stuff at the end is interesting too.
As anyone who studied linguistics in college may remember, most modern dictionaries embrace what is known as a descriptivist view of language. Rather than insisting on the so-called proper usage of a word or phrase (an approach known as prescriptivism), today most lexicographers (i.e., people who work at dictionaries) study the way words are actually being used and make note accordingly. That's how you end up with, for example, dictionary entries for "they" in the third-person singular form or "heart" as a verb.
Inherent in this descriptivist approach, then, is the notion that a dictionary is a rather passive creature, monitoring the public conversation but not injecting itself into it.
That, of course, is being somewhat challenged by Merriam-Webster having a Twitter account with such a forceful public voice.
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6. Mary Oliver reads "Wild Geese."(h/t Brain Pickings)
https://soundcloud.com/brainpicker/mary-oliver-reads-wild-geese
Make this poem your mission statement. My personal one is The Journey, but this one's a close second.
"You do not have to be good..."
7. A Longtime Fitness Editor Does Some Soul Searching (h/t my friend Alison)
Our culture is drowning in listicles and fad approaches to nutrition. The truth is, we know what constitutes a healthy life, and the rest is commentary (and maybe even clickbaity propaganda).
In an email, Michael Joyner, a physiologist at the Mayo Clinic, told me that we overcomplicate everything when it comes to health. He then pointed me to an obituary in the New York Times of Lester Breslow, a researcher who, the Times reported, "gave mathematical proof to the notion that people can live longer and healthier by changing habits like smoking, diet and sleep." Breslow identified seven key factors to living a healthy life:
Do not smoke; drink in moderation; sleep seven to eight hours; exercise at least moderately; eat regular meals; maintain a moderate weight; eat breakfast.
The rest is commentary.
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8. Book Pairings for Every Flavor of Ben and Jerry's I've Ever Eaten, by Tracy Shapley on Book Riot.
Yes, I just posted a link about fitness like three seconds ago. But there's physical health and there's spiritual health.
I love that the list is presented without commentary, prompting me to make the connections myself.
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9. How Black Books Lit My Way Along the Appalachian Trail, by Rahawa Haile.
I'm still making my way through this beautifully-written essay about books, blackness, femaleness, and hiking. But I feel confident recommending it because it was recommended by Linda Holmes on Pop Culture Happy Hour and she's never steered me wrong.
For many, the Appalachian Trail is a footpath of numbers. There are miles to Maine. The daily chance of precipitation. Distance to the next campsite with a reliable water source. Here, people cut the handles off of toothbrushes to save grams. Eat cold meals in the summer months to shave weight by going stoveless. They whittle medicine kits down to bottles of ibuprofen. Carry two pairs of socks. One pair of underwear.
...Few nonessentials are carried on this trail, and when they are — an enormous childhood teddy bear, a father's bulky camera — it means one thing: The weight of this item is worth considerably more than the weight of its absence.
Everyone had something out here. The love I carried was books. Exceptional books. Books by black authors, their photos often the only black faces I would talk to for weeks. These were writers who had endured more than I'd ever been asked to, whose strength gave me strength in turn.
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10. "Let America Be America Again," by Langston Hughes.
Behold, the only version of #MAGA I'm on board with. Excerpt:
O, let America be America again— The land that never has been yet— And yet must be—the land where every man is free. The land that's mine—the poor man's, Indian's, Negro's, ME— Who made America, Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain, Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain, Must bring back our mighty dream again.
Sure, call me any ugly name you choose— The steel of freedom does not stain. From those who live like leeches on the people's lives, We must take back our land again, America!
O, yes, I say it plain, America never was America to me, And yet I swear this oath— America will be!
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Hughes gets the last word this week.
Source: https://www.maryannmckibbendana.net/mamdblog/category/Just+for+Fun
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