What is insanity? Albert Einstein once said it's "doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results." This is precisely what I was doing all morning - unplugging and plugging in power chords, switching power strips off and on, and flipping breakers back and forth...all in a futile attempt to make Apple computers turn on so that we could continue with mind mapping our science projects!
It is my second week teaching at Aleknagik School. I'm substituting for the Principal/5th, 6th, 7th and 8th grade Math and Science teacher - yes, this is a single position! Everyone at this quaint village school multitasks - which is partly why I found myself in such a predicament. There was no one to call for help - no media (wo)man, janitor or electrician technician. So there I was, caught in a conundrum.
I consulted with the K/1st/2nd grade teacher, as well as Mrs. Schiaffo and Mrs. Burke; our secretary was gone and her replacement had no clue, and so, as a last resort I asked the school boat/four wheeler/bus driver for his assistance - but, had no luck.
Anyway, after all of this jumble jamble morning hooplah, at lunchtime I noticed the classrooms are not listed in order! Going down the hallway, classrooms are listed: 4-1-2-3. And so, whereas I thought I was in #1; it turns out I was actually in #3 - meaning, I was totally flipping the wrong breakers. Isn't it funny how we can miss a most simple cue in a frantic quest to make right something wrong? Ah...(sigh), and this is Elise, signing out from Dillingham, Alaska.
p.s. Happy Alaska Day! Here is an interesting tidbit: many AK businesses have opted to keep their doors closed today instead of last Monday, Columbus Day.
19 October 2009
18 October 2009
An excerpt from Eckhart Tolle's - A New Earth...
"When you are aware of space, you are not really aware of anything, except awareness itself - the inner space of consciousness. Through you, the universe is becoming aware of itself!
When the eye finds nothing to see, that no-thingness is perceived as space. When the ear finds nothing to hear, that no-thingness is perceived as stillness. When the senses, which are designed to perceive form, meet an absence of form, the formless consciousness that lies behind perception and makes all perception, all experience, possible, is no longer obscured by form. When you contemplate the unfathomable depth of space or listen to the silence in the early hours just before sunrise, something within you resonates with it as if in recognition. You then sense the vast depth of space as your own depth, and you know that precious stillness that has no form to be more deeply who you are than any of the things that make up the content of your life.
The Upanishads, the ancient scriptures of India, point to the same truth with these words:
What cannot be seen with the eye, but that whereby the eye can see: know that alone to be Brahman the Spirit and not what people here adore. What cannot be heard with the ear but that whereby the ear can hear: know that alone to be Brahman the Spirit and not what people here adore...What cannot be thought with the mind, but that whereby the mind can think: know that alone to be Brahman the Spirit and not what people here adore.
God, the scripture is saying, is formless consciousness and the essence of who you are. Everything else is form, is 'what people here adore.'
The twofold reality of the universe, which consists of things and space - thingness and no-thingness - is also your own. A sane, balanced, and fruitful human life is a dance between the two dimensions that make up reality: form and space. Most people are so identified with the dimension of form, with sense perceptions, thoughts, and emotion, that the vital hidden half is missing from their lives. Their identification with form keeps them trapped in ego.
What you see, hear, feel, touch, or think about is only one half of reality, so to speak. It is form. In the teaching of Jesus, it is simply called 'the world,' and the other dimension is 'the kingdom of heaven' or 'eternal life.'
Just as space enables all things to exist and just as without silence there could be no sound, you would not exist without the vital formless dimension that is the essence of who you are. We could say "God" if the word had not been so misused. I prefer to call it Being. Being is prior to existence. Existence is form, content, 'what happens.' Existence is the foreground of life; Being is the background, as it were.
The collective disease of humanity is that people are so engrossed in what happens, so hypnotized by the world of fluctuating forms, so absorbed in the content of their lives, they have forgotten the essence, that which is beyond content, beyond form, beyond thought. They are so consumed by time that they have forgotten eternity, which is their origin, their home, their destiny. Eternity is the living reality of who you are.
Some years ago when visiting China, I came upon a stupa on a mountaintop near Guilin. It had writing embossed in gold on it, and I asked my Chinese host what it meant. 'It means "Buddha," he said. "Why are there two characters rather than one?" I asked. "One," he explained, means "man." the other means "no." And the two together means, "Buddha."' I stood there in awe. The character for Buddha already contained the whole teaching of the Buddha, and for those who have eyes to see, the secret of life. Here are the two dimensions that make up reality, thingness and no-thingness, form and the denial of form, which is the recognition that form is not who you are." (Tolle, Eckhart. A New Earth: Awakening to Your Life's Purpose, pages 218-221)
When the eye finds nothing to see, that no-thingness is perceived as space. When the ear finds nothing to hear, that no-thingness is perceived as stillness. When the senses, which are designed to perceive form, meet an absence of form, the formless consciousness that lies behind perception and makes all perception, all experience, possible, is no longer obscured by form. When you contemplate the unfathomable depth of space or listen to the silence in the early hours just before sunrise, something within you resonates with it as if in recognition. You then sense the vast depth of space as your own depth, and you know that precious stillness that has no form to be more deeply who you are than any of the things that make up the content of your life.
The Upanishads, the ancient scriptures of India, point to the same truth with these words:
What cannot be seen with the eye, but that whereby the eye can see: know that alone to be Brahman the Spirit and not what people here adore. What cannot be heard with the ear but that whereby the ear can hear: know that alone to be Brahman the Spirit and not what people here adore...What cannot be thought with the mind, but that whereby the mind can think: know that alone to be Brahman the Spirit and not what people here adore.
God, the scripture is saying, is formless consciousness and the essence of who you are. Everything else is form, is 'what people here adore.'
The twofold reality of the universe, which consists of things and space - thingness and no-thingness - is also your own. A sane, balanced, and fruitful human life is a dance between the two dimensions that make up reality: form and space. Most people are so identified with the dimension of form, with sense perceptions, thoughts, and emotion, that the vital hidden half is missing from their lives. Their identification with form keeps them trapped in ego.
What you see, hear, feel, touch, or think about is only one half of reality, so to speak. It is form. In the teaching of Jesus, it is simply called 'the world,' and the other dimension is 'the kingdom of heaven' or 'eternal life.'
Just as space enables all things to exist and just as without silence there could be no sound, you would not exist without the vital formless dimension that is the essence of who you are. We could say "God" if the word had not been so misused. I prefer to call it Being. Being is prior to existence. Existence is form, content, 'what happens.' Existence is the foreground of life; Being is the background, as it were.
The collective disease of humanity is that people are so engrossed in what happens, so hypnotized by the world of fluctuating forms, so absorbed in the content of their lives, they have forgotten the essence, that which is beyond content, beyond form, beyond thought. They are so consumed by time that they have forgotten eternity, which is their origin, their home, their destiny. Eternity is the living reality of who you are.
Some years ago when visiting China, I came upon a stupa on a mountaintop near Guilin. It had writing embossed in gold on it, and I asked my Chinese host what it meant. 'It means "Buddha," he said. "Why are there two characters rather than one?" I asked. "One," he explained, means "man." the other means "no." And the two together means, "Buddha."' I stood there in awe. The character for Buddha already contained the whole teaching of the Buddha, and for those who have eyes to see, the secret of life. Here are the two dimensions that make up reality, thingness and no-thingness, form and the denial of form, which is the recognition that form is not who you are." (Tolle, Eckhart. A New Earth: Awakening to Your Life's Purpose, pages 218-221)
12 October 2009
Planes, Boats, Four Wheelers...and Dog Mushing
The ways in which people move from one place to another here in Alaska continues to amuse me. As a spin off from the movie, Planes, Trains and Automobiles, this entry is appropriately titled according to the methods I've used to transport myself from point A to B to C and so on this past week - well, with the exception of the first and the last. I'm still waiting for a chance to get lost in clouds, and, would have to wait until winter for any luck with mushing.
Aleknagik School called me to substitute teach last Wednesday. To get there, I drove Rex's rubicund Nissan truck to the south shore boat landing, where I met the "school bus" lancha to take me across the lake. After disembarking, I still had a short walk uphill to the school, and on the way there, the "school bus" four wheeler toting a teetering wagon full of little wavers passed on my right. I wished I would have had my camera out and ready to catch the fleeting moment.
Jeff Ambrosier, Aleknagik School's Principal, told me "Aleknagik" literally means "wrong way home". The back story to this name all began once upon a time when a group of natives lost their way. Re-playing this conversation, I'm thinking a lot about the conceptions we hold of our homes; what is home? Where is home? Is it a physical location, a feeling or emotion, and/or a person or people?
A sailboat from Corsica docked in Dillingham's harbor about a week ago. There were eight people on board, and they've made their home together on the boat for five months - sailing the Mediterranean Sea, north around Spain and Portugal, through the English Channel, skirting Norway's east coast and into the Barents Sea and Arctic Ocean above Russia. There are six adults and two children on the mission; their primary objectives are to research the effects of global warming in the Arctic, and to share their observations and insights with interested parties - like me! - along the way.
On a final note, I couldn't possibly end this entry without making mention of the most interesting mode of transport I've seen so far - dog mushing, which is also coincidentally, Alaska's State Sport. Last Saturday I got to see my first full-fledged mushing team on the streets of Dillingham! The dogs were the centerpiece in a three minute - five float parade; it was indeed, the shortest but one of the greatest promenades I've ever seen. Alaska celebrates 50 years of statehood in 2009 and festivities are well under way. This is Elise, signing out from Dillingham...
Aleknagik School called me to substitute teach last Wednesday. To get there, I drove Rex's rubicund Nissan truck to the south shore boat landing, where I met the "school bus" lancha to take me across the lake. After disembarking, I still had a short walk uphill to the school, and on the way there, the "school bus" four wheeler toting a teetering wagon full of little wavers passed on my right. I wished I would have had my camera out and ready to catch the fleeting moment.
Jeff Ambrosier, Aleknagik School's Principal, told me "Aleknagik" literally means "wrong way home". The back story to this name all began once upon a time when a group of natives lost their way. Re-playing this conversation, I'm thinking a lot about the conceptions we hold of our homes; what is home? Where is home? Is it a physical location, a feeling or emotion, and/or a person or people?
A sailboat from Corsica docked in Dillingham's harbor about a week ago. There were eight people on board, and they've made their home together on the boat for five months - sailing the Mediterranean Sea, north around Spain and Portugal, through the English Channel, skirting Norway's east coast and into the Barents Sea and Arctic Ocean above Russia. There are six adults and two children on the mission; their primary objectives are to research the effects of global warming in the Arctic, and to share their observations and insights with interested parties - like me! - along the way.
On a final note, I couldn't possibly end this entry without making mention of the most interesting mode of transport I've seen so far - dog mushing, which is also coincidentally, Alaska's State Sport. Last Saturday I got to see my first full-fledged mushing team on the streets of Dillingham! The dogs were the centerpiece in a three minute - five float parade; it was indeed, the shortest but one of the greatest promenades I've ever seen. Alaska celebrates 50 years of statehood in 2009 and festivities are well under way. This is Elise, signing out from Dillingham...
04 October 2009
Plane Talk
Could you please explain the VMC in a multi-engine plane? What are the standard auto rotation procedures in a rotary wing aircraft? These are just a sampling of questions which have been tossed back and forth at the Alaskan Espresso Shop beside Dillingham's airport runway.
In the last week I've been mixing lots of lattes and mingling with plenty of pilots. In general, I'm totally lost with aviation lingo, but I do find myself repeating random words I've overheard in conversation about fixed wings or float planes, for example. Although, when recycling these terms I've picked up, I haven't a clue whether I'm actually using the words correctly or not. In an ego-boosting sense, it can sound somewhat impressive to spout on about this or that in pundit language. I'm trying not to be so preoccupied with protecting my ego though, which is why my plane talk is inevitably followed with an expanding guffaw. I can't even begin to think I could fool another, when I cannot even fool myself.
All of this banter reminds me of a comment I once made to my dentist when he asked about my teeth at a check-up. I said "all is alright, well, with the exception of the oclusal of nineteen that has been slightly sensitive to cold." After a pregnant pause and incredulous look we continued on as normal, until I belly-laughed so hard that Doctor Steve had give me a minute to pull myself together.
Rex is a pilot and we're crossing our fingers for a blue bird day to fly. It's been raining non-stop here, but, hopefully we'll get up in the air this week. Dillingham is only accessible by plane or boat, and it seems like everyone who lives here has got wings of some sort. People own airplanes like they do cars. This almost makes me want to take flying lessons.
If I do do flying of any kind, though, it will most likely be fly fishing. I met a woman nicknamed, "Pudge", who is perhaps the best fly fisher in Alaska. She has fly fished and taught all over the world, is an accomplished author, an ambassador with Patagonia for women's fishing apparel, and took thirty minutes of her time to chat with moi. I openly admitted I'd only fly fished once while I went to university in Morris, Minnesota, and, that I only really went that time so that I could wear waist-high rubber waders with flashy suspenders, and be next to a very cute guy. What we women will do in search of love.
All of this said, I now have a genuine interest to try fly fishing again. And, Pudge and I may well do that at some point in the future. We exchanged cards, after all.
In the last week I've been mixing lots of lattes and mingling with plenty of pilots. In general, I'm totally lost with aviation lingo, but I do find myself repeating random words I've overheard in conversation about fixed wings or float planes, for example. Although, when recycling these terms I've picked up, I haven't a clue whether I'm actually using the words correctly or not. In an ego-boosting sense, it can sound somewhat impressive to spout on about this or that in pundit language. I'm trying not to be so preoccupied with protecting my ego though, which is why my plane talk is inevitably followed with an expanding guffaw. I can't even begin to think I could fool another, when I cannot even fool myself.
All of this banter reminds me of a comment I once made to my dentist when he asked about my teeth at a check-up. I said "all is alright, well, with the exception of the oclusal of nineteen that has been slightly sensitive to cold." After a pregnant pause and incredulous look we continued on as normal, until I belly-laughed so hard that Doctor Steve had give me a minute to pull myself together.
Rex is a pilot and we're crossing our fingers for a blue bird day to fly. It's been raining non-stop here, but, hopefully we'll get up in the air this week. Dillingham is only accessible by plane or boat, and it seems like everyone who lives here has got wings of some sort. People own airplanes like they do cars. This almost makes me want to take flying lessons.
If I do do flying of any kind, though, it will most likely be fly fishing. I met a woman nicknamed, "Pudge", who is perhaps the best fly fisher in Alaska. She has fly fished and taught all over the world, is an accomplished author, an ambassador with Patagonia for women's fishing apparel, and took thirty minutes of her time to chat with moi. I openly admitted I'd only fly fished once while I went to university in Morris, Minnesota, and, that I only really went that time so that I could wear waist-high rubber waders with flashy suspenders, and be next to a very cute guy. What we women will do in search of love.
All of this said, I now have a genuine interest to try fly fishing again. And, Pudge and I may well do that at some point in the future. We exchanged cards, after all.
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