Finally!

Finally!

Comments 0 Comment

We woke up to five inches of the white stuff, a steady snowfall that has transformed the entire region. Often we’re poised right at the snow-rain line, or the snow-ice line, a result of our particular geography and topography — some parts of the region near the coast, others near the mountains. 

It’s been a while since we’ve had this much snow, and with temperatures in the 20s and 30s, it may even hang around more than a few hours. Right now I’m looking out my office window as the bamboo slowly loses its burden and pops back into place, freeing up more views of the yard beyond. 

I’m not a big sledder or outdoor winter sports enthusiast, just a snow appreciator. I like how white winter weather turns humdrum landscapes into other worlds. 

I’m Hooked!

I’m Hooked!

Comments 0 Comment

I noticed it as soon as I finished the project, a baby blanket. I knew then that I would have to start crocheting something else before too long. 

It’s funny how I can go for years without needlework but then it blossoms back into my life and I can’t live without it. The crochet hook between my fingers, the yarn moving through them, keeping it taut (or trying to). Seeing a skein of wool become an afghan.

Crocheting siphons off energy that would otherwise become rumination or worry. Crocheting calms and soothes. I’m due for another project. Another blanket, two colors at least. One of them pink. 

Puddle Jumper

Puddle Jumper

Comments 0 Comment

Last night’s deluge tapered off by morning, leaving plenty of puddles in its wake. They presented a small challenge to the early-morning ambler. 

Despite the burbling, hard-working storm drains and runoff ditches, water was still pooled on walkways and streets.

Some puddles were best navigated by stepping around them, partly on tufted islands in the saturated grass and partly on the slightly raised edge of the macadam path. 

Other puddles were small enough for me to jump. Luckily, there weren’t too many of those. 

Spreadsheets, Schmedsheets!

Spreadsheets, Schmedsheets!

Comments 0 Comment

I’m sure it’s psychological, just one of those quirks, but whenever I work with a spreadsheet, I have to take a deep breath. I tell myself that I’m typing characters on a keyboard just as I am when I type words, but that doesn’t help. 

I think it all goes back to the ancient typing class I took in high school. It was a last-minute elective, and still one of the most valuable classes I’ve ever taken. But for some reason (senioritis?) I dropped it when we came to the numbers section. It was my last class of the day and I didn’t need it to graduate.

It was a bad decision. With a few weeks of numbers practice — and a few missed phone calls with friends (don’t know what else I was doing after those early dismissals) — I would have been able to touch-type numbers as quickly as I do letters. 

Who knows? Staying in that class might have changed my entire career trajectory. 

But I doubt it. 

Taizé Prayer

Taizé Prayer

Comments 0 Comment

I’d heard about it for years but usually have a conflict on the night it happens. Last night I didn’t, so I drove to the church in the dark and walked into a shimmering, candlelit chapel that scarcely resembled its everyday self.

There were icons on the altar and candles flickering around the sanctuary, illuminating the rough-hewn brick walls. There were two tables of thin tapers for lighting to elevate your prayer intention. There were many in attendance, but a hush filled the room. 

Taizé is an ecumenical monastic community in France with worship services of repetitive chanted prayer. Its model has become popular around the world. 

We sang in Latin, we sang in English. We were accompanied by piano, organ, violin, oboe and clarinet. The melodies were like plainsong, and in their repetition was the music of the ages.  

Silence punctuated the service: a silent entrance, a silent exit, and a stretch of silence in the middle, time for quiet contemplation — “essential to discovering the heart of prayer,” the handout told me.

I left feeling renewed, inspired, quieted. 

(Photo: courtesy Arlington Catholic Herald.)

Double Digits

Double Digits

Comments 0 Comment

January takes its time. It does not rush. It dawdles. It sashays down the runway of months with all the model moves. The turn, the pivot, the pout, the graceful sweep. 

I don’t want to be rude, but get moving, Jan. We know your power — your winds, rain, snow and cold. We know what you can do. We know you have the days to do it in, too: a full complement of 31.At least we’re in the double digits now.

In my house the Christmas tree has come down, the decorations are boxed and shelved, the living room corner is dark and boring. 

Spring has been known to peek around the edges of February, but there’s one long month in its way. A month that feels like it should already be over. I’m talking about you, Jan.

Artificial Intelligence

Artificial Intelligence

Comments 0 Comment

I’m thinking about artificial intelligence this morning, about what it knows and how it knows it, about its regulation, about the world we’re creating with it. 

Because I’ve built a career on words, and bots can now string words together so well that most of us would be hard-pressed to tell the difference, I want to think there’s a level of creativity, a depth of soul that human-generated content has locked in. But because bots use creative, soulful work to build their models, that’s not necessarily the case.

Some writers work with AI to perfect their prose style. Others rail against it with sentences not as felicitously crafted as those they critique. Who will win this battle? That’s a question we can’t answer now — and won’t be able to answer for a long time. 

(These books are filled with human-produced content. Will future books be able to say the same?)

Two Minutes

Two Minutes

Comments 0 Comment

The tea has two more minutes to steep. I have things to do. Can I write a two-minute post? Yes, I can, though it will not be one of the best ones I’ve ever written. It may not even be mediocre. But it will be completed.

This is not the way I typically commune with the page, but I’m deadline-driven enough that when necessary I can put on some speed.

There’s only one thing about a two-minute post — or at least this two-minute post. It’s only about writing a two-minute post. Nothing else.

Sharing Epiphany

Sharing Epiphany

Comments 0 Comment

Today is Epiphany, celebrated as Christmas by some and as a day of wonder and awe by others. I’m one of the latter. For me, this is a day to celebrate the aha moments of life.

Which brings me to an op-ed I read in yesterday’s Washington Post. In it, James Naples, a surgeon and medical residency program director, shares how he conquered the yips, an unexplained loss of skill that affects high-performing athletes, performers and, apparently, surgical residents. 

Early in his training, Naples explained, he began to struggle through even basic procedures. “My head had gotten in the way of my hands.” Then he met a new senior surgeon, Dr. E., who in the three minutes it took the two of them to scrub for an operation, totally changed the younger surgeon’s trajectory. The older doctor was warm and open and approachable. There was only one thing to avoid doing in the upcoming procedure, he said. “Everything else is fixable.” 

The effect on Naples was profound. The younger surgeon realized it was okay to make mistakes, that it was part of the learning process. Now he’s mentoring new doctors, encouraging them to share their fears and doubts. ‘

I’m not a surgical resident, but the lesson that “all mistakes are fixable” resonates with me, too. “What thing worth doing — in our jobs, families or communities — is not susceptible to the folly of perfectionism?” Naples asks. “With honesty and empathy, we all can help others find peace with fallibility.” I’m grateful that Naples had his epiphany and shared it with the rest of us.

(A photo not of surgery but of an Epiphany surprise.)

Slow Snow Going

Slow Snow Going

Comments 0 Comment

It’s not that I want a blizzard, nothing as extreme as that. But a few inches on the grass, enough for the neighbor kids to build a snowman — that would be nice. 

There was a flurry of snow talk earlier in the week, safely couched in disclaimers: It could be rain, or snow, or sleet … 

But the latest forecast for tomorrow sounds more definitive: It will start as snow and turn to rain. If we lived an hour west in the mountains it would be a different story. But here, in the suburbs, we won’t have the white stuff for long. 

It’s early in the season, though. There’s still time.

(The woods in snow five years ago.)