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HeartWood
A blog about cultivating
creativity, connection and contentment
wherever you are

Last Wednesday Wisdom for October 2017

10/25/2017

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This month's collection of wisdom is a mixed bag, a reflection of what I've been thinking and doing since we returned from vacation. First came the obsessing over all the things I needed and wanted to catch up on, then the realization that I didn't need to do them all at once. When I settled down enough to set priorities, it was with a renewed commitment to my creative projects, both ongoing and new. 

I also spent some time reflecting on our travels and on the benefits of travel in general. And then, because my daily at-home routine involves at least a little attention to the news of the day, I sought guidance to help me keep distressing events in perspective.

Finally, travels over and routine restored, I found comfort in being right where I am, right now.
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We have to fight them daily, like fleas, those many small worries about the morrow, for they sap our energies.
​-- Etty Hillesum
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I believe that if you do not answer the noise and urgency of your gifts, they will turn on you. Or drag you down with their immense sadness at being abandoned.
-- Joy Harjo, ​Crazy Brave
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Work is love made visible.
​-- Ama Ata Aidoo
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We see achievement as purposeful and monolithic, like the sculpting of a massive tree trunk that has first to be brought from the forest and then shaped by long labor to assert the artist's vision, rather than something crafted from odds and ends, like a patchwork quilt, and lovingly used to warm different nights and bodies.
-- Mary Catherine Bateson
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You throw an anchor into the future you want to build, and you pull yourself along by the chain.
​-- John O'Neal
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The more I traveled, the more I realized that fear makes strangers of people who should be friends.
​-- Shirley MacLaine
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We say, "Seeing is believing," but actually . . . we are all much better at believing than at seeing. In fact, we are seeing what we believe nearly all the time and only occasionally seeing what we can't believe.
​-- Robert Anton Wilson
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I have striven not to laugh at human actions, not to weep at them, nor to hate them, but to understand them.
-- Baruch Spinoza
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Perhaps the most radical thing we can do is stay home, so we can learn the names of the plants and animals around us; so that we can begin to know what tradition we're part of.
​-- Terry Tempest Williams
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The little things? The little moments? They aren't little.
​-- Jon Kabat-Zinn
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What's on your mind as this month draws to an end?
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Golden Moment

10/18/2017

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​I had barely stepped out of the truck when . . . "GOOD MORNING!" 
​​The voice filled me with warmth on that damp morning when I'd stopped for a better look at an unusual roadside assemblage along New Mexico's Turquoise Trail, between Albuquerque and Santa Fe.
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This roadside assemblage caught my eye and drew me in
​​"Come on in! Take all the pictures you want." The man with the welcoming voice emerged from behind a rustic fence of planks and crooked tree limbs, decorated with railroad spikes, old tires, metal barrels, cast-off toys and colorful bottles and jars.
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Visitors are always welcome to stop and explore Leroy's world.
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Cast-offs become parts of his creations
​Come in I did, and that's how I came to meet Leroy Gonzales, self-proclaimed mayor of Golden, New Mexico, population 37 at last count. Once the site of the first gold rush west of the Mississippi, Golden has been considered a ghost town since 1928. Leroy, on the other hand, is alive—and lively—as can be. With a showman's flair and a comedian's pacing, he gave me a guided tour of his property, starting with the adobe cat and dog sprawled in the yard. The dog is plumbed with a fountain-like spout of colored water, which Leroy obligingly demonstrated.
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Leroy's well-worn card
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Leroy Gonzales
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Leroy demonstrates the fountain in the adobe dog (which looks more dog-like from the front)
​​From there, he hustled me over to the "gold mine," a mirror-backed tunnel that Leroy winkingly told me extends all the way to the Ortiz Mountains in the distance. Then a stop at the cantina, another trompe l'oeil façade of corrugated metal and cow skulls.
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The gold mine
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The cantina and "tattooed tree."
​When he invited me to step inside a small structure behind the cantina, I didn't hesitate, even before he assured me, "Don't worry, it's perfectly safe." Inside, the walls were covered with tacked-up notes that previous visitors had left in the spiral-bound guestbook Leroy keeps on a table out front. I read a few, then he showed me a plastic storage tub filled with more notes and letters and a collection of photos visitors have taken of him and his surroundings.
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Leroy treasures notes and photographs from visitors
PictureEverywhere you look, Leroy has left his mark



​​"Stay as long as you want," Leroy said as he headed off to tend to his creations. "Just let me know when you're leaving."

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Bottles everywhere!
​By the time we said goodbye—me with a bunch of photos in my camera, Leroy with a few bucks I left in the tip jar, along with my promise to send him some pictures—I was in high spirits. 
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A visit with Leroy will brighten your day
​In just a short visit, this man whose main mission in life seems to be welcoming people into his world, had cast a colorful light on my day. I hope I carried some of that color and sparkle away with me.
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Classy Mates

10/11/2017

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​We're back from our travels, and do I have a lot to tell you! In coming weeks, I'll share stories of people, places and experiences on the road, as well as some closer to home.
PictureFifty years since graduation: Cause for celebration!

​​First stop: Stillwater, Oklahoma, my home town, where we attended my graduating class's 50-year (!!!) reunion. I reconnected with friends I hadn't seen since high school and strengthened ties with those I've stayed in touch with. 

​Every time I meet up with these schoolmates, I feel comforted by our shared past. Many of us have known each other since kindergarten or first grade. We lived within blocks of one another, knew each other's parents, siblings and pets, played countless backyard baseball games and croquet matches, and giggled through many a sleep-over. Other longtime friends I came to know through church groups, scout troops and other clubs, where we learned values that shaped us into the grown-ups we became. 
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Classmates at the reunion
PictureBill, Olive Ann and Coyle reminisce over old pictures
​At the reunion, my school friends and I pored over old pictures, remembering carefree days, favorite teachers and a few who were definitely not our favorites. That was fun, but I got just as big a kick out of finding out what my classmates are doing in this current phase of our lives.

​Many, I was delighted to learn, are using the freedom of retirement to explore their creative sides. 
​Terry, who retired from the florist business a few years ago, now applies his artistic talents to stained glass. His wife Robin stitches stunning quilts. The couple hosted one of the informal open houses that are my favorite events during our reunions, and Robin showed us the sunny studio they recently added onto their home. That's where Robin's quilting group gathers and Terry does his glass work (probably not at the same time, I'm guessing).
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Former florist Terry now applies his talents to stained glass. (Photo: Stillwater News Press)
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Two of Terry's creations on a sunny windowsill in the studio he shares with Robin
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Robin fashions beautiful quilts
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Robin quilted this likeness of their home, complete with intricate flowers
​At another open house hosted by Keith and Holly, Keith told us he spends his time these days "fixing things and making things." When we asked what kind of things he makes, he took us to his workshop and showed us the wood and metal creations he's working on, as well as a few finished pieces. A former CPA, Keith always yearned to work with his hands. Now he's satisfying that desire, and from the way his face lit up when he showed us his projects, it was clear how much pleasure they've giving him. 
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Keith with a piece of cedar he plans to use in a new project
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One of Keith's creations graces the deck where we gathered during the open house that he and Holly hosted
​Kay, a former school library media specialist, spends many hours tending to her flowers at Lily Hill, a 13-acre spread north of Claremore, Oklahoma. Somehow she also finds time to make lovely things, like the striped socks she knitted for me. The colors are inspired by the peacocks that roam around Lily Hill, and the package she surprised me with was decorated with a few of their feathers. Those colors just happen to be my favorites, and the socks were a perfect fit.
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Kay tends flowers and makes lovely things . . .
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. . . like these socks!
​Cindi, a longtime dear friend, insists she's not creative. Yet her talent for nurturing friendship takes just as much energy and attention as making physical things. Over the years, we've diverged in many ways, but Cindi's steadfast allegiance has kept us close, and for that I'm eternally grateful.
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With Cindi in Stillwater
​Which brings me to another thing I want to share about my classy classmates, another thing for which I'll always be grateful. 
PictureWith Cindi at graduation from Stillwater High School. (The wind inflated our gowns -- we really weren't that big!)
​
​Our last year of high school was a challenging one for me. I wasn't even supposed to be in Oklahoma, attending Stillwater High School. A year earlier, my parents and I had moved to American Samoa, where we planned to live for two years (that's a whole other story, and trust me, the memoir will be published someday). I was supposed to graduate from Samoana High School and then return to the States for college.

PictureJust before my return to Oklahoma from Samoa
​

​My diagnosis with a life-threatening illness cut short our stay in Samoa, and we returned to Oklahoma at the beginning of my senior year. All of a sudden I was not only the girl who'd lived in a faraway place and returned with a weird accent and strange habits, I was also the girl with the scary disease.

​My classmates could easily have shunned me, not out of unkindness, but out of fear. I was a reminder that life was not all parties and pep rallies, that even our young lives could be in jeopardy. But not once did I feel anything but unconditional acceptance. My Stillwater friends sent me cards when I was in the hospital and welcomed me back when I was able to return to school.
​Looking back, I realize now just how much open-heartedness it took for them to treat me the way they did. Talking with some of my old friends at the reunion, I expressed my wonder at their compassion.
​"It never occurred to us to treat you any other way," one said. "We were just so glad to have you back."
​See what I mean about classy?
19 Comments

A Life Lesson from the Lab - Guest post by Mark L. Winston

10/4/2017

1 Comment

 
While I'm taking a break for relaxation and recreation, I've invited some of my fellow bloggers to fill in with guest posts. This week's is from scientist and author Mark L. Winston, who blogs at The Hive. Mark's story takes place in a scientific setting, but I think you'll agree that the underlying message applies to all sorts of situations in life. 

Everything I Know I Learned From Hermit Crabs
by Mark L. Winston

PictureMark L. Winston (Photo by Belle Ancell)

​​I'm a university scientist reaching the end of my career, and recently calculated that I've had 115 co-authors on research papers over a 45-year period. Clearly partnering with students and colleagues was a signature element of my research style, but my first experience collaborating was not auspicious, almost destroying a friendship and derailing my career before it really got started.

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​I was living and working in Woods Hole, Massachusetts in 1973 after graduating from Boston University with a B.Sc. degree in which my performance was considerably less than stellar. The "Hole," as we called it, was home to the renowned Marine Biology Laboratory (MBL) and the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution (WHOI), both sources of the short-term research jobs that paid my bills for the next couple of years.
 

PictureGypsy moth caterpillar

I worked as a research assistant investigating chemical orientation in lobsters, and then landed a summer job for the nearby U.S. Department of Agriculture Gypsy Moth Laboratory, evaluating the use of pheromones to confuse gypsy moths, a serious forest pest. I also had an opportunity to work with a professor in Mexico for two months who was studying wasp social behavior at various latitudes.

PictureMark in his student days

​​I filled the in-between times with a few weeks of warehouse work here and there, and a three-week stint as a substitute teacher for high school biology classes.

​Two years of this insecure work in varied underling capacities convinced me that I needed to go back to school if I was to ever rise above being someone else's assistant. I decided to pursue a Masters degree in marine biology, and enrolled in the Boston University Marine Program, based in Woods Hole.

PictureA hermit crab emerges from its shell

​​I soon was focusing in on a thesis topic, stimulated by conversations with a postdoctoral fellow at WHOI, Stu, to consider hermit crabs. Stu was loquacious, with an excellent moustache, a productive seaweed-fertilized garden and a young family that was exceedingly generous in inviting me over for meals.

​We talked often about science, and one day he pointed out a research opportunity we could collaborate on, probing whether hermit crabs could recognize each other as individuals. This was a hot topic at the time, inhabiting the border between animal behaviour and psychology. Many researchers were convinced that even lowly invertebrates could distinguish one individual from another, a remarkable cognitive feat if true.
PictureHermit crab
​Stu and I designed an experiment to test whether hermit crabs recognized each other individually, or just recognized the general dominance state of the other crabs they encountered. We agreed that this would make an excellent thesis topic for me, and thought up a clever study in which we allowed crabs in small dishes to establish dominance orders, then switched individuals of equal dominance states.

​We reasoned that switching crabs of the same rank would heighten aggressive behaviors in the dishes if the crabs recognized each other as individuals, but there would be no increase in aggression if they only recognized their place in the hermit crab pecking order.
PictureMark put in long hours in the field and in the lab


​Very excited, I got to work, collecting crabs in the field and spending many long days and late nights in the laboratory recording their behaviours. I forgot just about everything else, including Stu, in my fervor to get some results. Night after night I worked late, observing the crabs and recording their interactions, building up an array of data that would definitively prove or disprove our hypothesis.

One night my housemate and fellow student Mary, also a good friend of Stu, came in to the lab. She unloaded a diatribe filled with words my young daughter used to politely refer to as "swears." Mary roundly and colorfully roasted me for how I had taken a fine collaboration and run it into the ground, cutting Stu completely out of the process.
I was devastated, seeing immediately that she was right; I hadn't talked with Stu in weeks. While I had no evil intention, I had been carried away by enthusiasm to make the project mine, not ours, possibly destroying not only a professional relationship but a good friendship as well.
I went to see Stu the next morning, apologized profusely, and insisted on dumping out the crabs and finding some other topic for my thesis. Stu, wiser and more experienced than I, replied that the nuclear option wasn’t necessary, he just wanted me to include him in my enthusiasm, and bounce ideas about the project back and forth.
PictureProject and friendship saved, paper published
Considerably chastened but now wiser, I completed the research, sharing the results and my excitement with Stu, who had much to contribute in interpreting and analyzing what we were finding. We did eventually publish a paper in Animal Behavior together, "Dominance and effects of strange conspecifics on aggressive interactions in the hermit crab Pagurus longicarpus (Say)," indicating that hermit crabs recognized dominance but not individuality.

More significant than the publication, I had learned a valuable lesson. Collaboration is hard. There is no proper balance between individual achievement and the communal good, only choices we make as to where to position ourselves on that spectrum. I had fully intended the project to be collaborative, yet due to over-enthusiasm more than selfishness I found myself on the individualistic end of that continuum.
PictureHoneybees, too, collaborate
Perhaps it was that early experience that attracted me to the idea of collaboration, but I did move on from hermit crabs to spend the rest of my scientific career studying bees, particularly honeybees. They inhabit the most collaborative of societies, with colonies whose members are guided more by communal goals than solitary pursuits.

For me the satisfaction of collaboration has been much richer and deeper than any individual achievement, the relationships I built through working with others more meaningful than any personal accomplishment.
​I'm forever grateful to hermit crabs, and then to bees, the vehicles for teaching me that "ours" is a much richer word than "mine."
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    Nan Sanders Pokerwinski, a former journalist, writes memoir and personal essays, makes collages and likes to play outside. She lives in West Michigan with her husband, Ray.

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