December 2020 Reflections

I remember reading something years ago when I worked on elder issues, although I honestly no longer remember who wrote this:

“People really don’t change with age. They just become more of who they always were.”

Today, as I get ready for my last day of Saturday classes after an incredibly challenging semester, that statement seems to ring so true.

Following is the photo of the place where I’ve spent most of my time during the last month – sitting in front of my computer. Sometimes I was grading papers online in the “Review” mode of Microsoft WORD, and sometimes I was meeting on Zoom.

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Learning how to teach on Zoom has been a difficult journey. It reminded me of the fist time I saw myself on video. The experience was truly memorable and continues to exert its influence each time I see myself on camera before I begin accepting students who are in the Zoom “waiting room.”

Here’s an excerpt from something I wrote a while ago that has helped me remember both the humor and humility needed to face this daunting but necessary challenge.

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October 26, 2020 – Reflections about Zoom:
Trying to maintain social connections in an era of physical distancing

I wonder how many people have seen themselves on video. I didn’t see myself on video until I was in my early 30s. It was a shock! All I could see were my imperfections. Mostly, the size of my nose! I remember the aftereffect vividly. As I climbed the stairs from the basement video lab in the social work building after watching my first taped interview, I wondered why my nose wasn’t bouncing off the walls three-feet away as I turned the corners of the winding stairway.

I laughed at the thought later, but it only made it harder for me to face another video-taped interview, or even worse, a public speaking event. And as luck would have it, I had to do a lot of public speaking in the first job I had after completing my master’s degree. Luckily, experiences before and after my first video taught me the power of humility and humor. They also taught me to face my fears head on.

Rather than continue suffering for days before each speech, unable to eat, I enrolled in a public speaking training course. Participants were required to present information on a variety of topics to other enrollees as the camera rolled. Then, we analyzed our own and other’s videos to identify both strengths and suggestions for improvement. I didn’t notice my nose. What I did notice were a few surprising strengths I had never noticed before.

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Screenshot of 1989 TV interview about American Indian Logo Issues with John Pepitone, Newscene 15 (a Madison, WI ABC affiliate)

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No one would be able to tell that I was scared and nauseous. There were no “tell” signs of anxiety – no stuttering or deadly space fillers of ums or ahs, no red neck or flushed cheeks, and no hands uncontrollably shaking. My presentations were animated by movements, facial expressions, and hand movements, and my voice was pleasant to hear, modulating appropriately with changing topics.

The experience also taught me some techniques to deal with fear.

    • Research your topic well. Know who your audience is. And choose the best ways to present information.
    • Take time to breathe and center.
    • Remember the purpose of your presentation. This is not about you or your ego. It’s about communicating authentically and effectively in order to convey crucial information on some topic that is important to the audience.
    • Don’t sit or stand behind a podium. Move! Use the extra energy from fear and anxiety to create a sense of presence.
    • Make eye contact with everyone in the audience.
    • Don’t take yourself too seriously and be ready to adapt to unforeseen glitches and opportunities with spontaneity and grace.

Fast-forward to four decades later. It’s not the size of my nose that bothers me most these days when I see my image reflected back to me on the Zoom screen. But honestly, I try not to notice the way the camera highlights the two front teeth that were the victims of bad dentists, or how the headphones I need for audio make my scraggly, thinning, graying hair look even more disheveled. Let’s not mentioned the wrinkles or the lenses on my glasses that either reflect light from the window or computer screen or distort the size of my eyes. These are a small price to pay for a long life spent on gaining knowledge and compassion that I hope to pass on to others.

The most difficult part of Zoom, though, is not being able to sense or change the energy in a room. All I have are words that don’t flow as easily when I have to remain stationary and speak to small images of student faces, or blank screens with their names when students turn off their video cameras. I can’t even tell if the Zoom camera ever shows that I am looking at them directly when they’re speaking.

Yet I try to communicate as effectively as possible anyway, because in these times connections matter even more. Although human connections with students are over a distancing medium, it’s the best we can do right now. I try to focus on the things that matter despite the vulnerabilities that are exposed in the process. A sense of humor and humility help…

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The most difficult challenge now, though, is the fact that I have so little time to write or keep up with the photos, poetry, stories, and reflections that you all post on lovely blogs. As I face the beginning of a new semester all too soon, I wonder when I will ever find time to blog again. I have a new online platform to learn and courses to significantly modify in order to incorporate what I have learned about online teaching through trial and error.

One of lessons from the past semester is the importance of closing each class with a meaningful message. The PowerPoint slide I often share at the end of my research classes is posted below. (The photo on the slide is the “Beaver Moon,” taken on November 28, 2020.) 

Remember to take time to observe

what’s happening within and around you.

Remember what you focus on

and the lens you look through

affect what you see.

“Life isn’t just about just choosing between

this or that,

it’s about perceiving and embracing

all the possibilities between.” 

https://www.huffpost.com/horoscopes/pisces

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Just in case I am unable to post again this year, I want to wish you all wonder-filled holidays and a peaceful, hopeful transition to a new year.

Early-November Musings 2020

 

November 2, 2020

Sunset – November 2, 2020

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November 6, 2020 – A Nation Divided

The last four years have exposed with undeniable clarity how easy it is to exploit the fault lines and fissures in our communities to divide us by ancestry, class, age, gender, sexual orientation, abilities, and political ideologies. In the coming years, we will need to find common ground to survive. It will take all of us to face the threats that affect us – diseases including COVID, technological disasters, and climate change.

All I can do in these times is to try to help family, friends, and students keep hope alive.

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November 7, 2020 – Class Day

What I noticed this morning –

Instead of looking out of my upstairs window at the gardens below and then greeting the morning on my side porch as I do almost every day, I ran downstairs to turn on my computer so I could check the news about the election.

The past week has been a rollercoaster ride between two contrasting choices – dread, despair, and disappointment or cautiously hopeful optimism. I didn’t find a resolution to a polarized nation on news sites. What I did find, though, was helpful advice from horoscopes for the two astrological signs associated with the time of my birth – Pisces, an emotional water sign symbolized by two fish swimming in opposite directions, and Aquarius, an analytical air sign represented by the water-bearer. The horoscopes both offered what seems to be sage advice for all of us during challenging times.

“Your ability to arm yourself with knowledge and a calm demeanor will help you to shut down any chaos or negativity.” (Aquarius horoscope, 11/7/2020, Huffington Post)

“Your presence of mind and patience will help you out tremendously today.” (Pisces horoscope, 11/7/2020, Huffington Post) 

In class, I chose to follow that advice. Rather than drone on and on about the differences between qualitative and quantitative research methodologies, I asked my colleague to join me to check-in with students to give them a chance to talk about how they were doing and find out from their perspective what we could do to help them.

PowerPoint Slide – Class 9 – November 7, 2020
    • What have you noticed about yourself in the learning process this semester?
    • What have you noticed about our learning community cohort this semester?
    • What did you learn about your ancestors’ struggles last year that offers ideas about how to survive during difficult times?
    • What story will your grandchildren tell about the way you came through these challenging times?

One of the final questions we asked was

“Why are you here?”

We added an observation.

“Showing up for four or five hours of classes via Zoom on a Saturday, especially on one of the last warm, sunny days we are likely to see for many months, is noteworthy. We’re grateful that you are all here.”

Students told us “connections matter.” That’s what helps them survive during these times.

Being there for family, students, colleagues, pets, and the gardens I planted takes almost all of my time and attention these days. Too soon, the snow will make that more challenging…

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November 11, 2020

Sunrise – November 11, 2020


Still, I want to take this moment to say chi miigwetch (thank you) to all of the WordPress friends who have continued to bring so much beauty into my life.

Fog – September 26, 2020

Today I arose early, 5 o’clock in the morning, to work on my presentation for class today. Because we always begin class by sharing something we noticed in the morning, I decided to peer out the upstairs window just in case I saw something interesting. I did. The earth was shrouded in silence and mystery, enveloped in thick fog. Of course, I didn’t have my camera, and I had no intentions of writing anything. Yet as I greeted the morning from my side porch after making a cup of coffee, the words that flowed through me demanded to be written before I could focus on finishing my Power Point about research methodologies.

 

Fog

Gazing out my window this morning
at the world surrounding my house
enshrouded in stillness and fog
before anyone else has awakened
I sense the divide between heart and mind
dissolving and blurring as well

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Fog – it feels like a metaphor
for these times when it’s hard to see
anything clearly beyond
this one place on the earth
and beyond this moment only

The blessed silence – a welcomed respite
from the daily news of tragic loss,
suffering, and cruelty
that encircle the globe

Yet, there are also inspiring examples
of courage and everyday kindnesses
that touch my heart ever deeper

Reflections about Connections – September 2020

September 17, 2020

I wish to begin with the humorous side of life in these times…

I spent much of yesterday harvesting, and this morning, after beginning to draft this reflection, I put some of my little tomatoes on a cookie sheet in the freezer. Then, I went out to water the little arbor vitae in my backyard, planning to water the gardens in my front yard next. (We’ve had very little rain here this year, making watering an essential part of gardening.) Instead, I decided to squirt my 14-year-old car in the back driveway while the hose was on to see if some of the dirt would come off. It’s been covered by nine-years of burning embers and soot from my neighbor’s bonfires.

Despite trying to scrub the dirt off by hand-washing my car every year in the past, the soot and burn scars remained. I finally gave up earlier this year and just started taking my car to an automated car wash. The process never really cleaned the car, but at least it was coated with multiple layers of a protective wax cover. Today, though, I decided to test out whether some of the soot would come off if I just rubbed it with a paper towel when it was wet. Lo and behold, much of it came off. It took me several hours to finish. Then, it was time to walk Pinto.

Where does the time go? Soon it will be Pinto’s supper time (my little papillon-chihuahua dog) which requires my presence in order for him to eat, and lately, to be prepared to hand-feed him if necessary. Then, it’s Queenie’s movie time (my parakeet), a computer-based endeavor. While Queenie’s busy, I will have time to wash the chard I harvested yesterday. I think I’ve figured out a way to do it safely.

A boring tale of ordinary reality! The things we do to eat and live. But I did take time to read something quite funny: https://www.theguardian.com/science/2020/sep/17/frozen-poo-and-narcissists-eyebrows-studies-win-ig-nobel-prizes. In my defense, though, it does deal with research! And I’ve also been busy working on my courses, which brings me to the title for this post – connections.

When I looked at the afternoon sun in the sky today, here in northeast Minnesota more than a thousand miles from Oregon, California, and Washington state, it was clear how connected we all are despite geological distances.

5:42 P.M., September 15, 2020

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September 20, 2020

The courses I’m teaching this semester began on Saturday, September 12 – research and community practice. Preparing has meant significant adjustments to respond to a world that has changed drastically since the cohort of students began their studies several years ago. Many are the first generation in their families to attend college. Yet most were able to successfully shift to completely online classes mid-semester in the spring. This year, the courses for our hybrid satellite program are all online. Our bi-weekly classes that were once face-to-face will meet via Zoom.

This semester, I’m also co-teaching community practice with a dear friend and colleague. My colleague and I decided to focus on one issue – the connection between access to safe water and community health, the focus of my research class as well.

Why focus on our work on water? Why not?

“When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the Universe” (John Muir, My First Summer in the Sierra , 1911, page 110). 

The community where we live is located on the southwest shore of Lake Superior, one the five interconnected freshwater Great Lakes of North America that comprise part of the border between the United States and Canada.

“The Great Lakes—Michigan, Superior, Huron, Erie, and Ontario—form the largest-surface freshwater system in the world, together holding nearly one-fifth of the Earth’s surface freshwater” (The National Wildlife Foundation).

My colleague and I met during the summer to discuss how and what to teach students so they will be able to work with communities in a future world we can’t even imagine. What will they need to know to weather the challenges they will face? What knowledge and tools will provide a foundation for them so they can help their families and communities come together to adjust to ever changing difficulties and possibilities?

During these days of “social distancing,” it is becoming ever more obvious that many people are no longer willing to reach out to bridge differences with others. Polarities divide us in these times. Yet addressing the serious issues we are facing now will require all of us to understand and respect others despite differences, to care enough about the future of our world to be able to put differences aside so we can work together. Those who engage in community practice need the skills to bring people together for productive dialogue to explore possibilities for finding common ground.

I shared an experience with my colleague that I had as a participant/observer of a polarized community exchange, described in an older post, “Alternative Futures – Who Chooses?.  Six years ago, I attended a public hearing designed to give community members a chance to voice their views of a proposed expansion of the amount of tar sands oil that could be pumped in a pipeline along the southern shore of the Great Lakes. Looking at the issue from a purely logical perspective, it’s a very bad idea. Tar sands oil is laden with toxic chemicals and the corporation that owns the pipeline has a troubled safety record. The location already threatens the safety and quality of the Great Lakes.

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“… important perspectives were voiced to support and oppose the proposal.

“I listened, observed, and took notes. Today, I am trying to sort out my overall insights. First, I need to reflect on the opening remarks of the administrative judge. He explained that the meeting room was set up with a table for speakers so everyone could speak to each other as neighbors and community members. I’m not sure that happened. Half of the audience would applaud after those in support of Enbridge spoke (the woman seated next to me was among them), and the other half would applaud for those who presented their opposition (I was among that half). Although many spoke with passion, their words did not touch my heart because I didn’t sense their hearts in their words. Perhaps it was fear of speaking in public, but even fear is ego-motivated. Only one woman had the presence of mind to stand and face the audience as she testified, with her back to those at the front tables. Her words came the closest to touching others who expressed differing views.

“As I reflect on the perspectives of those who spoke in support of expansion, I realize that no one offered viable alternatives to meet their legitimate economic concerns. They need Enbridge to support their families. Do we have viable alternative energy businesses to absorb businesses and workers reliant on old oil technologies? Do we have universities and technical colleges that can help them retool? Their support for the continuation and expansion of our reliance on old technology is understandable, but no one in the room who opposed expansion acknowledged this, so the room remained divided. It seemed as though the supporters of expansion were forced into a position of denying climate change to defend a perspective that was characterized as ignorant and self-interested. Opponents could leave and feel self-righteous and blame their failure to reach others’ hearts because the others were ignorant and self-interested, not really a part of our community…

“This is the challenge of being between cultures – the need to understand different perspectives from an empathetic middle. It doesn’t answer the larger questions of what I can do, but I can begin to explore ways to address legitimate concerns and bridge cultural divides.”

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My colleague and I discussed how we might help students develop the skills they would need to create environments where community members could explore common ground around polarizing issues and developed the following assignment.

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Perspectives Assignment

Given that we cannot meet in person to undertake the work that lies ahead, we are organizing three dialogue groups of students that will provide opportunities to learn and practice dialogue and group skills that are foundational to effective and respectful community practice.

Each of the three groups will focus on different community values and beliefs associated with water and healthy community that are present in Northern MN, and will embark on the community assessment process from that general lens. Each member will be asked to understand the mindset and values of those who fit into one of the following three perspectives:

i. Profit from the water or land adjoining waterways
ii. People in tribal communities who depend on water
iii. Preservation of the Natural Environment as a primary consideration

Groups will then use that lens to assess a specific community. We are hoping that the group assignments will be made by consensus in our next class meeting.

The expectations for each student are that best efforts are made to negotiate and dedicate time in the weeks ahead to connect and engage with the respective dialogue group in the community assessment process. As a group you will be given assignments and introduced to tools for planning and carrying out how each will gather and contribute information needed for the assessment. Together you will be sharing and analyzing the individual discoveries and reflecting on the implications for communities from the particular ideological vantage point of the group’s assigned perspective. The group dialogues and collaborative work should support the collective and individual learning and development, and contribute to information each person can draw from in the final Community Assessment Report.

The final challenge will be for each of the groups to present what they learned about a local water issue and themselves when they looked through the lens of “Profit, People, or Preservation.” Understanding how others see the world and why is essential for building inclusive communities. My colleague and I hope the discussion that results will reflect suggestions for how we can better bridge “cultures” in more effective, respectful ways to establish inclusive partnerships on firm common ground.

Water issues connect us all and are in the news almost every day – too much water due to hurricanes and deluges, too little resulting in catastrophic fires, and too unsafe to drink or swim in due to undeveloped or aging infrastructures and widespread pollution. Without water, all life as we know it will cease.

In an increasingly polarized world, it seems impossible to bring people together to figure out how we can work together to address the issues that affect us all. There’s nothing I can do alone to help put out the fires in the western states, or even stop a small city on the southern shore of the lake that provides drinking water for my community and thousands of others from dumping thousands of gallons of sewage in the lake every year

But I can work with others to raise awareness by writing and teaching, not only about the issue, but also about the need to find ways to promote bridge-building among groups with strongly held values that get in the way of understanding and inclusive collaboration on solutions.

Ever sensitive to the metaphors nature provides, I was able to catch the wonder of an evening sunset.

7:03 P.M., September 20, 2020

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September 22, 2020

The sun will rise again tomorrow, of this I’m sure. I’m also certain that the world it greets in the morning will have changed yet again in ways I could not have imagined when I witnessed this wonder. Hopefully the things I have learned will provide the foundation I will need to work in partnership with my family, colleagues, students, and friends to continue working toward a day when the sun will rise on a verdant, peaceful planet where all life is respected and nurtured for the irreplaceable and invaluable wonders all represent.

April Reflections 2020

A comment from a dear friend, Migo, from Unnecessary News from Earth, inspired me to finish and share a post I have been working on in the few free moments I have had this month. 

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April 10

No words flow through me
to ease a heavy heart
or bring comfort or joy to others

I’ve absorbed a plethora
of muddled thoughts
and far too many
powerful emotions
not my own

I remember to breathe
and muster discipline
knowing integrity
means fulfilling
responsibilities one carries
to ease the suffering
of others in troubling times
by being present, listening,
and caring



Fleeting moments of wonder
are a precious reminder
why it matters to care

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April 13

My little dog has been sick for the past week,

sometimes struggling to breathe or pee

Some days, he seems to be better, but others, not

We still take brisk walks at least twice daily

on residential streets that are relatively empty

 

This morning, there were only two people out –

one woman on the sidewalk in front of her house,

The other in her idling car with her window down.

Neither acknowledged our presence

as my dog and I walked by giving them wide berth

They merely kept talking, their conversation troubling

and impossible to ignore as they shouted to each other

across the requisite social distancing

I don’t trust anyone now,” said the woman on the sidewalk.

I don’t either,” was the reply.

 

At least they could give voice to their fear

and find a little comfort through an increasingly

rare sense of human and community connection.

Their fear encouraged me to finish a task I had begun

not out of fear to protect myself, but as a signal to others

that I care enough about keeping them safe

to be willing to look and feel ridiculous

Note:

Not the best of pictures… 🙄

A student showed me one of the face masks she was making for elders on her reservation during our video conference. She inspired me to pull out my sewing machine, find an online pattern, and make some, at least for myself, with long-neglected skills and clumsy hands. Fortunately, I had fabric thanks to another student from long ago who bought way too much material to make tobacco ties to thank participants in a research project we were working on together with a multidisciplinary team.

For information about the effectiveness of home-made cloth face masks, you can checkout this NPR link.

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April 18

Pandemic Reflections

 

While washing the cup

my son-in-law, Billie,

gave me more than a decade ago

when he visited me

in Missoula, Montana

I wondered …

Where do people go

when they die?

 

I miss him and

so many others

who have passed on

Is there a consciousness

that survives the transition

from one state to another?

Or do the molecules

of our being merely disperse

into the cosmos unaware

of all the lives we lived

as essential elements

of the many other forms

that contributed to our being

for eons untold before

we were born?

 

Perhaps those who fear death,

as I sometimes do,

sense that we may simply

cease to be

making all of our petty concerns

so pointless in the end

 

Maybe we only live on

in the memories of others

because of the kindness or cruelty

we shared during the short time

we were here…

My granddaughter’s first birthday with her mom and dad, March 5, 2008. Her father died just before Christmas in 2018 when she was 11.

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Sending my best wishes and hoping you are all finding moments of peace and meaningful connections during these challenging times. 💜

 

Digging Out from November 2019

Carol A. Hand

A few days ago, I wrote these words in the morning.

Please tell me that all of the craziness in the world has a purpose
– that clouded eyes will once again be able to see that the mad rush
to own things comes at the cost of life’s wonders
as piles of garbage and toxins fill the earth, waters, and skies
– that closed hearts will open with compassion for the suffering of others
as children are ripped from loving families seeking refuge and put in cages
while farmlands flood and forests burn and bombs destroy people’s homes
– that people really are learning something that will help them become wiser
and more aware of both the beauty and ugliness of their immediate surroundings
by gazing nonstop at facebook, twitter, google, youtube, and instagram
Please show me something meaningful I can do now
to make a positive difference while I am here

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When I came home after walking my little dog, an idea came to me. Why not share the play I wrote about Ojibwe child welfare a few years ago with the tribal college where I teach? Of course, my amateurish effort would need a lot of work, but it could make a difference. I called a friend to see what she thought of the idea and discovered the power of synchronicity. She had just met with a former student who wanted to use theater as a way to engage tribal youth. So I spent that day and the next editing and rewriting. The new draft still needed an ending when I had to put it aside for Thanksgiving.

It has become a family tradition to have Thanksgiving dinner at my house. I am the eldest member of my family now. There are so many reasons why I could be cynical about a fictive national holiday, but I really do count my blessings every day, and my family is at the top of the list. So I began the multi-day tasks of cleaning my house and cooking. This year, I decided to do something a bit different after dinner. Last year we all read parts of the Haudenosaunee Thanksgiving Address. This year, I asked each family member to read something special I wrote in the past for each of them. My daughter read a poem I wrote for her daughter, my granddaughter, A Song for Little Rose. My granddaughter read a story I wrote for her brother, The ‘Tinky Bush Story. And my grandson read a story I wrote for my daughter, The Lesson of the Butterfly and the Message of the Wind. The little room was filled with light and love and laughter.

The reflections some of my students posted early are a blessing as well. They described important things they learned about themselves and their communities in the research course that will be meeting for the last time this coming weekend. They will all be graduating soon and hopefully will remember and use what they learned about the importance of observing life and thinking critically from a social justice perspective.

I am also deeply grateful to all of my friends in the blogging community. I have not been able to respond to comments or visit other blogs very often. My life has been an emotional rollercoaster ride during November. My way of coping is to stay busy trying to do what I can here and now to live according to the three principles I mentioned in a previous post – compassion, patience, and integrity. It is impossible for me to predict when I will have time to blog regularly again. I have new courses to prep during our brief semester break and a play to finish soon. Please know I send my best wishes to all of you.

Let me end with some photos of November’s lingering gift as I begin the slow heavy task of shoveling snow on this first morning of December.

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Autumn Reflections – October 21, 2019

Carol A. Hand

Golden moments in October

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A golden moment when I got home after meeting with my class – Saturday, October 19, 2019

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help one keep balanced
when life presents
too many responsibilities
to complete
before the winter snows

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Preparing to process a bounty of carrots

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Harvesting gardens and preserving food
Celebrating joyous family events

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Celebrating My Daughter’s Birthday – October 18, 2019

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Grading student papers in ways
that build knowledge and confidence
providing encouragement for all
to continue on the path
of life-long learning

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Please know that I appreciate all of my virtual friends. I apologize for missing your recent blog posts and failing to reply to comments in a timely fashion. Despite rising early many days and going to bed in the wee morning hours, I am having a hard time finishing everything that needs to be done. I honestly can’t remember a busier time. The list of assignments that need to be graded keeps growing each day while gallons of carrots await processing in bags and containers that leave little space in my refrigerator even though I have given many away to neighbors and friends.

Maybe I’ll have some time to catch up between semesters… In the meantime, on this rainy, blustery day, I send my best wishes and hope you all experience golden moments, too.

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Autumn Reflections – October 9, 2019

Carol A. Hand

When I arrived here

in the world of humans

all the rules had been written

and all the roles had been assigned

save one – the role of outsider

reserved for others like me

who couldn’t conform

to cultures and religions

claiming to be the only

True Way

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The curse of being born between cultures is to always enter each new setting to discover the enduring discomfort of being an outsider. Finally, I have learned to be grateful for the freedom that role confers, even though my spirit longs to connect with people as easily as it does with dragonflies, birds, trees, and bumblebees bending flowers as they feed.

I feel the imminent danger we all face, yet I remember a saying from Lao Tzu that seems to be true to me – “the way to do is to be.”

I have no answers for others, but decades ago I was blessed by the example of Sister Lorita, my college adviser and botany professor. She humbly endured being mocked by many of her privileged students. One day, she shared her secret with me.

“It doesn’t matter what people think of me if they learn to see the wonder of life in a blade of grass.”

Every morning and most evenings, I sit outside on my little porch looking toward the western sky. I observe and listen to the nature around me – both “natural” and human. Some of what I see and hear touches my heart with wonder, while other sights and sounds weigh heavy on my spirit. Both inspire me to honestly reflect on the things I do that add to the threats for all life. And I try to do better. But it’s hard to do it alone.

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Sunset – October 9, 2017

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Still, I try to do better. I plant and tend gardens, spend time with my daughter and grandchildren when their busy schedules allow, and teach part time. I try to raise the awareness of my grandchildren and the students I work with in gentle ways, creating a space for them to learn to be present and inquisitive, to question what they have learned in the past, and to think critically about what they encounter in the present.

It’s impossible for me to know if anything I say or do will make a positive difference in their lives, but teaching by example has made a difference in mine. It’s helped me learn to live with fewer and fewer immutable answers and many more questions which I may never be able to answer with certainty.

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Reflections about Puzzles

Carol A. Hand

There are so many things I would like to write about but the truth is, I don’t have time. I am too busy doing something I have always loved to do. Solving puzzles.

It’s a trait that helped me survive jobs in overly politicized competitive bureaucracies. When I worked for state government, it involved mediating conflict in creative, unexpected ways. Like designing a solution for an outdated funding formula for county programs that was overly dependent on ever-shifting demographic data. When working for an inter-tribal agency, it meant figuring out how to exert tribal sovereignty over exploitive university researchers or state administrators who used divide and conquer tactics to create competition among tribes in order to limit funding for necessary services. In academia, it meant learning how to teach the most unpopular courses in ways that engaged students and provided information that would be helpful in a future I might not see.

Figuring out how to keep experimenting with more effective ways to teach research this semester is keeping me busy. Some days, it takes a lot of discipline to sit at my computer all day and into wee morning hours redesigning assignments or grading student papers with comments intended to both encourage and educate.

Interestingly though, doing other types of puzzles helps me transition between different topics, research methodologies, and styles of communicating. I am grateful for free online card games, or the digital jigsaw puzzles I can create with my own photos. (I doubt that the one posted below would be interesting, though.)

Cryptogram Wisdom

Solving cryptograms before I fall asleep helps me let go of any other puzzles that might otherwise keep me awake.

There are puzzles I don’t like to solve, though, that have to do with technology. Sadly, I have to rely on technicians or time. This week, I was locked out of WordPress. Fortunately that challenge was addressed by someone last evening. I don’t need to know who or how or why. I am just grateful that others find it interesting to solve technological puzzles.

All of this is meant as an explanation for my very infrequent visits to blogs these days, including mine. I want to let you know that I value what you all share and will return again as soon as I can. In the meantime, I send my best wishes to all.

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In case anyone is interested, I have typed the cryptogram quotes below:

“One must learn by doing the thing, for though you think you know it, you have no certainty until you try.” (Aristotle)

“The surest sign that intelligent life exists elsewhere in the universe is that it has never tried to contact us.” (Bill Paterson)

“I am enough of an artist to draw freely upon my imagination. Knowledge is limited. Imagination encircles the world.” (Albert Einstein)

“Love is a medicine for the sickness of the world; a prescription often given, rarely taken.” (Karl Menninger)

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“Healing the Spirit …”

Carol A. Hand

As I took a moment to reflect
about the online course content
I need to develop and load today

(always difficult for someone
who’s technologically-challenged)

a thought flowed through my mind
as I looked at the cloudy sky
asking the clouds to release needed rain

Places of life and light need to survive
in times like these for the sake of all

A memory followed about the closing ceremony
for a conference I attended decades ago
“Healing the Spirit Worldwide”

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from Lighting a Candle for the Four Directions (12/13/2014)

… I was working as the deputy director of health and human services for an inter-tribal agency. It was not an easy job for many reasons, primarily because of the enduring legacy of colonialism that continued to impose dominant cultural paradigms on tribal communities and use divide and conquer tactics to foment conflicts between “traditional” and “progressive” tribal factions. Resolving conflict was a central part of my job, and it often put me in the middle of powerful competing interests. At a particularly challenging time, I needed to travel with one of my staff to a conference on worldwide healing for Indigenous people held in Edmonton, Alberta. The conference helped me realize I was not alone. Rediscovering the candle on my bookcase reminded me of the conference’s closing ceremony.

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More than one thousand of us, representing many cultures and nations, stood in a circle within a large auditorium holding hands. Then, one elder walked to the center. She explained that the closing ceremony was intended to remind us that we were not alone. Because we were in a government building, we couldn’t use candles (fire ordinances prevented it), so flashlights would have to do. And then, the lights in the room went out as her flashlight went on in the center of the circle. She signaled to the four directions, highlighting one person from each of the four directions to walk to the center – first the east, then the south, the west, and the north. The representatives were all given a flashlight. As they touched their darkened lights to the elders “candle,” their flashlights were turned on. They were instructed to carry their light to the four directions and light other candles in their part of the circle. The elder explained that it would not be easy to keep the candle fires burning, but if the light went out, people could always return to the center to light them once again…

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The rain I asked for hasn’t come yet
but perhaps it will if I keep my focus
on weaving life and light into the course
despite the technological challenges
I will most likely encounter …

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