Tag Archives: Nature

A Snowy Birthday – 2019

Carol A. Hand

The super moon brightened the sky
on the night before my birthday
despite increasing cumulus clouds
promising another imminent storm

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February 19, 2019

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The snowiest February on record
was older than me on my birthday
yet the sight on the morning after
brought this year close to a tie

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February 21, 2019

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It seems all I’ve done is shovel snow,
grade student papers, and prepare classes
My yak trax are wearing thin with use
and my little car, White Pony,
is surrounded by growing piles of snow

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February 23, 2019

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Given the weather forecast for this week
we’re likely to set a new record
Ah, my aching back and shoulders
make me hope the meteorologists are wrong…

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Yet I am grateful for so many things
The chance to work with colleagues
who genuinely care about students and teaching
The opportunity to work with students
who are eager to learn and think critically
Virtual friends whose creativity, passion, and kindness
bring blessings of beauty, laughter, and new knowledge
A long life that has brought me to an old house
in the northlands where I can marvel
at the beauty of tiny crystals and wonder
how many billions it takes to blanket the earth
for hundreds of square miles under three feet of snow
And the health and strength to shovel
and shovel
and shovel
wondering
if spring
will
ever
come
again

 

PS – If you’re curious to know how my car got the name “White Pony,” here are some links to older posts that tell pieces of the story:

https://voices-from-the-margins.blog/2015/01/01/reflections-on-winters-past/

https://voices-from-the-margins.blog/2015/07/25/la-joie-de-la-vie/

January Ramblings – 2019

Carol A. Hand

Sometimes my creative muse moves to the background

in order to free-up space for the critical analytical realist

making it hard to focus on beauty and hope

as awareness of the suffering of the world takes center stage

This time, the transition has been almost more than I could bear

bringing to mind other times in my younger years

when pursuing new possibilities and starting over felt possible

***

I remember the lessons my mother taught me through example:

Reflections about Time (January 9, 2019)

These days, past, present and future

seem to flow seamlessly together

in dreams and waking hours

highlighting how past actions

have contributed to precious gifts

I never could have predicted

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My mother meeting her great grandson for the first time – March, 1999

 

Unbeknowst to me, my mother’s example

taught me a powerful coping strategy

for surviving times of adversity

that continues to serve me well

It helps to focus intensely on creating

something kind, healing, and hopeful . . .

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My grandson’s 20th birthday – January 10, 2019

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I remember setting off on a journey for the sake of my daughter:

I Remember … 11/10/2014

I remember other storms approaching – the wind silent but the air filled with the electricity of threat and possibility. I survived. But have I worn the grooves of hope and love deeply enough into my spirit to weather the storms that I know are coming? As I sat on my doorstep watching the first of the snowflakes begin to fall in the darkened landscape, I wondered what the winter of these times will bring. I can feel the beat of my heart quicken with a mixture of fear and exhilaration.

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Duluth Morning – November 10, 2014

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My thoughts are transported back to an earlier time, the first warning of storms to come. I was standing in the Connecticut cottage where I lived with my infant daughter looking out of the picture window toward the trees and down at the river that flowed past the front of the cabin. Then, as today, the air was filled with the electricity of an approaching storm. Yet in the past, I awoke from a dream remembering some of the images and insights of a guide who sometimes speaks to me through dreams. “A storm is coming,” the guide said.

“Times ahead will be hard. The earth has shifted on its axis and the polarities of the earth’s gravitational fields are changing. People will not know they are being affected by these shifts, but polarities will be amplified. Those on a path of light will glow brighter while those on a path of darkness will grow stronger in their quest for control and destruction. You have a choice. You may leave now. You don’t have to stay to face the storm.”

How could I leave an infant to face the coming storms without a mother who loved her? I certainly wasn’t a perfect mother, but I loved my daughter enough to choose to seek the light again and again. I would fail again and again, but decades later, I know I did the best I could. I’m not a perfect grandmother either, and I’m unsure what I can do to help my daughter and grandchildren prepare for the coming storms, but I trust that whatever comes, love for others and for this wondrous and beautiful world and universe are what will matter most in the years ahead.

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Now, I feel compelled to face the reality that there are difficult times ahead. During the weeks it took me to reconfigure the research course I have been teaching from a one- semester course to a two-semester course, I remembered my mother’s example and the message in the dream I had when my daughter was a baby. I kept working despite deepening alarm about the state of the world.

As I reviewed videos to rebuild the online content for the 50/50 face-to-face and online hybrid course, I found myself wishing I could set off as I did decades ago to find a safe space for my family. To find a community of thoughtful people working together to build an inclusive community like the ones I romantically imagine my Ojibwe ancestors created.

Reviewing videos that I used to think of as anomalous examples of the cruelty some humans express, The Deadly Deception and The Stanford Prison Experiment, only brought to mind the brutality of our current treatment of migrants, refugees, and asylum-seekers.

Ripping children away from their families and placing them in prison-like institutions while adults were placed in tent cities or abandoned warehouses that are reminiscent of concentration camps. I felt and feel powerless to change such obvious evil. This brutality and the inaction of those who see themselves as enlightened “leaders” cause me to wonder if the dream I had might, in fact, be true.

Several of the other videos I reviewed added to my realization that disregard for life has been and is still inextricably built into the predominant values and institutions in many nations. If you have the courage and stomach, here are links to a couple reminders that presage even harder times to come for people and the earth.

Poisoned Water:

https://www.pbs.org/video/poisoned-water-jhhegn/

Cancer Alley, Louisiana – Victims of Environmental Racism:

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But the cruelty and disregard for life are nothing new and they’re not confined to one nation, religion, or culture. Still, looking at the super moon a couple days ago helped me find the strength to continue this sometimes heavy and lonely journey.

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Super Moon – January 20, 2019

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In the Depths of Winter (January 21, 2019)

In the depths of winter on a cold dark night

the super blood wolf moon is a welcome sight

a reminder of blessings beneath her comforting light

 

She reflects the sun for all whether they see her or not

inspiring me to repeat a Reiki prayer

“Just for today –

“I will refrain from anger
“I will not worry
“I will be grateful
“I will do my work diligently
“I will be kind to myself and others”

realizing the best I can do is to try to be conscious

and disciplined enough to make these choices

moment to moment…

***

Speaking of choices, I do find reasons for lighthearted laughter as I join Richard Simmons and the Silver Foxes every day.  I hope some of you will join me and remember to find reasons and time to laugh and to play even in the darkest of moments.

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Blowing bubbles – 2002

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December Reflections – 2018

Carol A. Hand

Reasons To Be Thankful – I

Pinto’s pre-adoption photo (He’s a Papillon-Chihuahua Mix, or “Chion”)

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I know I’m not what you were looking for
to ease the loneliness and sadness of loss
I’m too little and the wrong gender
but I really am meant to be your friend
I promise to make you laugh
and touch your heart with my cuteness

I’ll raise my head in song

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and trot down the sidewalk
with my waving tail held high

I’ll lick your feet
even though you don’t like it
just to remind you I care

Please be kind and take me with you
to a new forever home
I promise you that you won’t regret it

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Ready to go for a walk on a cold rainy day – October 7, 2018

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I know you love me but, oh, the indignity
of this cobbled-together winter suit you make me wear.

***

Reasons To Be Thankful – II

Endings are often exciting new beginnings. So it was last evening as my colleague and I listened to the students we have been working with during the past semester share their final research and community practice presentations.

This past semester, we focused on the connections between access to clean water and community health. The assignments involved exploring prior research, proposing and conducting a small study, and planning a community event to raise awareness about issues surrounding their community’s drinking water and waterways.

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Lake Superior, the source of drinking water for many surrounding communities – June 17, 2017

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Although final classes often mean saying goodbye to people one has learned to care about, there is also a sense of gratitude for the chance to encourage others to celebrate the wonders of life. Learning how to “do research” can help us remember the wonder and curiosity we felt about life and the world around us as children.

There is no way of predicting what the future effects of these lessons will be, but my colleague and I have done what we can to open hearts and minds to possibilities.

“I didn’t realize how much I learned until I looked back at where I started.”

“I never thought about the importance of water before.”

“Doing this study helped me learn so much more about the issues in my community.”

We ended our final class by sharing part of the Haudenosaunee Thanksgiving Address:

“We give thanks to all of the waters of the world for quenching our thirst, for providing strength and nurturing life for all beings. We know its power in many forms – waterfalls and rain, mists and streams, rivers and oceans, snow and ice. We are grateful that the waters are still here meeting their responsibility to the rest of Creation. Can we agree that water is important in our lives and bring our minds together as one to send greetings and thanks to the Water? Now our minds are one.” (as cited in Kimmerer, 2013, p. 108).

I am truly grateful for the opportunity to teach in partnership with a dear colleague who has worked hard to create a liberatory space and to our students who give me hope for the future.

“In the end, we will conserve only what we love; we will love only what we understand and we will understand only what we are taught” (Baba Dioum)

Some links to explore for more information about the  Haudenosaunee Thanksgiving Address:

Source Cited:

Robin Wall Kimmerer (2013). Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous wisdom, scientific knowledge, and the teachings of plants. Minneapolis, MN: Milkweed Editions.

50 / 50 ≠ Unity

Carol A. Hand

As I watched the electoral maps change when the election results were tallied this week, the micro-divisiveness within and among states was so obvious. So much for “the united states!” I was momentarily saddened because the “blue wave” that was supposed to end poverty, war, hunger, homelessness, imprisonment of migrant families, police brutality, and oppression didn’t happen. And then I realized that many of the races, especially at the national level, were almost equally divided between the “blue wave” and the “red tide.”

2018 U.S. Electoral Map

(Interactive maps, Huffington Post)

From the perspective of someone who has witnessed the divisive effects of 50/50 “democracy” for Indigenous forms of consensual governance, that’s not surprising.

While watching the maps change, I thought about the students I have taught in the past and continue to work with now who come from many of the slightly tinged “red” or “blue” communities. It’s a nation divided. It’s not what I want the next generations to inherit.

To be honest, I don’t have time to write a thoughtful well-researched analysis. But I do want to make a point about the value of education. Hopefully, education can help pass on the knowledge and skills that enable us to reach across divides to understand each other and build common ground. We do, after all, need to work together if we really want a peaceful world and healthy environments and communities.

These reflections bring to mind Jane Addams and the women of Hull-House. Their legacy is often unknown, even among newer generations of social work students. Together, they demonstrated how to work with knowledge, empathy, and passionate compassion to build solidarity and create respectful, inclusive alternatives to discriminatory, divisive, and punitive policies. They lived among the poorest new immigrant arrivals in Chicago. Instead of fostering divisions, they brought people together to learn and share. Among the issues they successfully addressed were child labor, unfair treatment of workers, infant and maternal mortality, tenant rights, city sanitation, and the creation of juveniles courts.

My hope is that the students I work with will learn from the examples of the Hulll-House women. Students are already familiar with life in divided communities in the forgotten little towns of this nation.

These are the kinds of students I prefer to teach. Early in my late-life career when I entered academia to become a scholar and educator, I made an important decision. Instead of choosing to work in prestigious research universities that served students from privileged backgrounds like the schools I had attended, I chose settings with students from backgrounds similar to mine. My father had a 9th-grade education, and although my mother did have a degree as a Registered Nurse from a prestigious university, she grew up poor on an Ojibwe reservation. Her education was made possible by the kindness of a wealthy Euro-American woman who owned a resort where my mother had worked as a teenager.

My mother repaid this gift by sending me off to school in the city where she studied decades before. Chicago. It was there that I met the educator who showed me how to teach, Sister Lorita. I wrote about her gift in an older post, “The wonder of life in a blade of grass.” Her example and caring affected me more profoundly than I realized at the time. I was my grandson’s age then, 19.

I am much older now. And I am very fortunate to still be able to teach a subject that is perhaps the most important foundation for life, research. As a former colleague, Maxine Jacobson,  observed, we are born researchers, inquisitive about the world around us. We lose our sense of wonder and curiosity as we age, though, through the processes of socialization. My job as an educator is to try to unlock those gifts once again, to help students remember how to be curious. To notice, explore, observe, reflect, and test the limits of what they’ve been taught and what they know.

I wonder what would happen in all of the “red” and “blue” communities if the people who lived there had a chance to be curious. The phenomenon I would like them to consider and explore is the miracle of life in a drop of pure water. Water is something that connects all life on our plant. We can’t live without it. I wonder if there is a way to refocus peoples’ attention on things that really matter.

***

Amity Creek – September, 2018

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This semester, my colleague and I are trying an experiment. Students are working as teams to explore the quality of water in their communities by designing little research studies, talking to community members and staff in local agencies in charge of water treatment about the quality and threats for this resource, and planning community awareness activities. As “emic” (insider) researchers in their communities, what they learn is more likely to be useful to other residents including their own families.

I also wonder what would happen if education focused on awakening curiosity sooner than college. Youth would grow up more aware about the health of their communities. That is exactly what happened in a Photovoice study of water that involved Indigenous youth. I wonder if similar initiatives during elementary and high school years could bring the children from red and blue families together to understand, care about, and protect a precious resource they all need in order to live.

I do envision the possibility of a “blue wave” in the future, but it isn’t one that divides people along political ideological lines. It’s one that unites us to care for each other and the “pale blue dot” we all share in common.

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A Trip to the Park

Carol A. Hand

Skyline Drive – October 14, 2018

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We set off for a visit to Enger Park

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despite a sky growing increasingly dark

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passing by rocky cliffs

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and winding shore

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Engler Tower – October 14, 2018
My Daughter and Granddaughter at Enger Tower -, October 14, 2018

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toward Enger Tower to explore

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beneath trees adorned with autumnal glory

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A Dusting of Snow – October 15, 2018

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just before winter snow in northern territory

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Neither One Thing Nor Another

Carol A. Hand

 

Catfish or Eagle Clan? (drawing by Carol A. Hand, photo of drawing edited)

***

Born in between
neither one thing nor another
a mercurial shape-shifter
one moment flying high
above the clouds
the next plunging
to the murky depths
of nutrient rich swamp bottoms
where the roots of water lilies feed
experiencing both
the freedom of flight and far-vision
and swimming deep
surrounded by the rich abundance of possibilities
exploring alternatives and seeking wisdom
rather than choosing
to remain in the darkness
constrained by conforming ignorance
and spirit-freezing fear

 

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Morning Greeting – October 10, 2018

Carol A. Hand

Greeting a blustery morning
through rain-dusted lenses
witnessing and listening to the storm
blaring sirens barely audible
above the sound of roaring wind
Trees twisting, bending, and bowing
in the fierce gusty northeast blow
still-green leaves covering the earth
ripped prematurely from their branches
a blessings perhaps given the coming snow

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Stormy Morning – October 10, 2018

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Sending healing purple light
to my relatives, the trees
the cottonwoods, willows, and maples
the spruces, birch, and aspens
the crabapple and mountain ash
heavily laden with ripening fruit
may they all survive this and coming storms
until their life’s purpose is complete

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Heavy-Laden Crabapple Tree – October 10, 2018

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Grateful for a simple little house
that stood through the stormy night
an often taken-for-granted luxury
in a world where so many are without
safety, sustenance, or shelter
Reconfirming my intention
to remember moment to moment
to live with wisdom, compassion, and joy
despite the storms along the way

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