each one with her own strength
kinder figure out how to solve the puzzle
by working as a team.
—
‘be curious, not judgmental.’
- walt whitman
Nov25
Author Archives: beth
Nov24
words are thoughts.
that moment when the apple crisp you made
is finally ready to eat
and you learn how to write a new word
because you need to tell people something.
‘apple.’
—
“words are but pictures of our thoughts.”
-john dryden
Nov23
a plan.
fancy dinner and sleepover celebration with friends
our plan.
not exactly sure what it was
but it seemed to make perfect sense at the time.
Nov22
little pockets, big ideas.
where did your snack go?
it’s all gone.
where did it all go?
just a big smile
and very full pockets.
clever really.
never hurts to be prepared for anything.
—
“you have to create little pockets of joy in your life to take care of yourself.”
-jonathan van ness
Nov21
different.
Nov20
doorknob confessions.
it is said that no matter how long a conversation has gone on
the most important truths are revealed
as one touches the doorknob and turns to leave.
I find this phenomenon so interesting
and have experienced it firsthand.
have you ever made,
or been the recipient of,
a doorknob confession?
—
“all confessions are Odysseys.”
-raymond queneau
Nov19
scout.
scout (in the original), walks home dressed as a ham.
—
I was cast to play scout
in a scene from ‘to kill a mockingbird’
as a favor for my friend
who was in an oral interpretation class
during her later in life college days.
the scene was the one
where scout was dressed as a ham
walking home through the woods
and the victim of an unknown attacker.
as I’m an incredibly horrible actress
I double-checked to see if she was sure
about wanting me for the role.
she was desperate and had no one else
so I was perfect, and was in!
she also cast my boyfriend at the time
as my brother
and our about to deliver a baby any second friend
as the narrator
that was it.
the only actors in the scene.
we were the holy trinity of non-talent.
one important thing that I needed to know
in spite of knowing my few lines
to be delivered in a frantic southern accent
with lots of screaming and thrashing movements
was that my attacker was not going to actually exist on stage
it was all interpretive
I had to imagine and act
like I was being attacked
as I wrestled with my invisible assailant.
at last the big day finally arrived
the curtain rose
I drawled and shrieked out my part
rolling around, slamming into the walls
and fighting my attacker who did not exist
all while dressed in my ham costume.
once it was over
we all took our bows
happy when the curtain finally went down.
after, I asked my friend’s husband,
(who was kind enough to have been in the audience
so we would be sure to have someone who clapped)
what he thought of my performance
and while his review was not exactly as expected
it was probably right on the mark:
‘you were like a cat in heat!’
my friend got an ‘a’ on the project.
—
“drama starts where logic ends.”
-ram charan
—
image credits: ‘to kill a mockingbird’ -universal pictures
Nov18
vin and tang.
i bought both of these
on the same shopping trip
if I drink the two of them
can I call it
even?
each is fermented after all
can i call it
a truce?
perfect balance?
harmony?
—
“there’s eternal opposition between yin and yang.
no third party at all, but treason occurs sometimes.”
-toba beta
Nov17
300 club.
Membership to one of the most exclusive clubs in the world takes place around a short red and white striped pole in Antarctica. Only those who endure an atmospheric difference of 300 degrees Fahrenheit are granted entry.
To join the elite 300 Club, residents at the Amundsen-Scott South Pole Station, where on winter days the outside temperature dips below -100 degrees, must bare it all. It’s an odd tradition, one that comes with a high risk of frostbite in rather sensitive, traditionally clothed areas.
To join the exclusive group, the scientists must first spend time in the station’s 200-degree sauna. Once they’re fully cooked, they dash outside (at a brisk walk, because running is dangerous) wearing nothing but shoes and an optional neck gaiter to circle the ceremonial South Pole marker, which is hundreds of feet from the station. They then get back into the steamy sauna, which helps thaw their outsides while a bit of alcohol warms them up inside. Those who complete the challenge even earn a commemorative patch.
Though the thought of a naked scientist racing across the ice in dangerously cold temperatures to circle a pole may seem simply absurd, it’s actually a beloved ritual. The temperature only gets low enough a handful of days each year, giving the wacky tradition an almost ceremonial feel. Participants are usually cheered on by bystanders who use flashlights to guide them to the pole during the perpetual winter blackness.
The marker isn’t even the true location of the South Pole. Antarctica is blanketed by massive chunks of moving ice sheets that move about 30 feet each year. The ice’s inability to sit still makes pinpointing the world’s most southern spot with permanent precision impossible.
Finding and marking the accurate geographic South Pole is an annual (fully clothed) New Year’s Day tradition for those staying at the station. Every year since 1959, South Pole residents erect a new temporary marker at the spot and retire the old one into a display case inside the station. The ceremonial South Pole remains where it is, flanked by the flags, awaiting the next group of winter scientists hoping to join one of the world’s weirdest clubs.
—
“we take to the breeze, we go as we please.”
― E.B. White
—
story credits: Atlas obscura, kerry wolf
photo credits: martin wolf – national science foundation,
craig knott – national science foundation, alan light
Nov16
in praise of ironing.
Poetry is pure white.
It emerges from water covered with drops,
is wrinkled, all in a heap.
It has to be spread out, the skin of this planet,
has to be ironed out, the sea’s whiteness;
and the hands keep moving, moving,
the holy surfaces are smoothed out,
and that is how things are accomplished.
Every day, hands are creating the world,
fire is married to steel,
and canvas, linen, and cotton come back
from the skirmishings of the laundries,
and out of light a dove is born –
pure innocence returns out of the swirl.
—
–in praise of ironing by Pablo Neruda, translated by Alastair Reid
I didn't have my glasses on.... 
