Two things today. First- I have been unsuccessful in reading the protected blogs even with the password. I get a blank screen when I attempt to look at them. If anyone else has had this problem or knows how to fix it regardless, I would be interested in some assistance. I am curious about who passed.
Secondly- about the Myers-Briggs. What I would like to do with these is more of a self-analysis piece. I think it would be really interesting and possibly a growth experience to be able to compare how we see ourselves compared to how our close friends see us. So with the information provided by the tests (which I must add, I am not qualified necessarily to interpret), I would encourage each of you to read the descriptions provided in the connected sites and find a few things you agree strongly with about yourselves and some things you might disagree with and, if willing, submit those to the rest of us to dialogue about. My thinking is that this will provide a little information to others about what we percieve about ourselves and also some feedback; so it may be beneficial both ways.
Another interesting thing I have come accross lately has to do with the show Gilligan’s Island. Which character do you most identify with and why. Will provide more on this later.
I hope we hear from Jeff on his Mental Health posting, personality tests, and our group dynamic. Everyone has submitted their Meyers-Briggs test, and I think I speak for all of us when I say we’re excited to read the results and Jeff’s analysis.
No pressure but friendly pressure. I don’t want to lose that thread here on the site.
Here’s a poetry post for Valentine’s Day. I recommend this one to give or read to your respective loves. Sadly, my beloved is in India for work, so we’re celebrating, as we can, from afar. I’ll be somewhere with a Guinness, remembering Galway…
Here’s to all of you and yours. –Shotts
Sonnet XVII by Pablo Neruda, translated by Stephen Mitchell
I don’t love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as certain dark things are loved,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that doesn’t bloom and carries
hidden within itself the light of those flowers,
and thanks to your love, darkly in my body
lives the dense fragrance that rises from the earth.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you simply, without problems or pride:
I love you in this way because I don’t know any other way of loving
but this, in which there is no I or you,
so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,
so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close.
Good morning, all in Hollow Men Land!Â Hope these tunes find you well…it’s extra long this week.Â I combined the extra tunes I’ve been collectingÂ over the past three weeks.Â Hopefully, there’s one or two songs you find to your liking.
I read this (below) at the end of an article, “Unhappy Meals,” in The New York Times Magazine, January 28, 2007. It is by Michael Pollan, whose most recent book, The Omnivoreâ€™s Dilemma, was chosen by the editors of The New York Times Book Review as one of the 10 best books of 2006.
This is just the very end of a much longer piece, but these are worth sharing and considering. Two things that struck me, as far as HM discussions have gone:
1. Peters had mentioned wanting to go back to caveman ways in terms of diet and exercise, etc. J. E. disagreed with that, saying we should take advantage of what we know now–because we don’t live (thankfully) like cavemen anymore. Pollan suggests eating foods that our great-great grandmothers would recognize as food. That seems an interesting rule of thumb. I have to admit, in my own case, my great-great grandmother would not recognize a vegetarian diet for the most part, especially the soy products that I eat fairly frequently now.
2. Ned had brought up not wanting to go to the farmer’s market or local food co-op because it’s too expensive. Fair enough: it is more expensive. Pollan responds interestingly, I think, on that point below, and makes the case that it’s worth the extra cost. Pay more; eat less. Unfortunately, for myself, I’m probably paying more and eating more. And that’s certainly the case when we go out to eat, rather than cook at home.
Some more thoughts on our continuing conversation about food and health. Here’s to all of you, from the very, very cold northlands. We have been below zero degrees for the last four days.
I would say the most continuous discussion on this site has involved food, health, vegetarianism, fasting, etc. Kind of intriguing, so I thought I would add this to that conversation. In the January 22, 2007 issue of The New Yorker, there is an article by Steven Shapin about the history of vegetarianism. Here are a few interesting if not startling items:
“A recent report by the U.N.’s Food and Agriculture Organization reckons that at least eighteen percent of the global-warming effect comes from livestock, more than is caused by all the world’s transportation systems. It has been estimated that forty percent of global grain output is used to feed animals rather than people, and that half of this grain would be sufficient to eliminate world hunger if–and it’s not a small if–the political will could be found to insure equitable distribution.”
That’s just a bit of the article, so I don’t want to say this characterizes the whole piece, which also stresses some of the importance of eating locally, including local, free range meats. So it’s not necessarily a polemic on the virtues of vegetarianism, but I have to say the sentences quoted above stood out significantly, to me. I thought they were worth sharing, as we continue thinking about vegetarianism and our individual and collective global footprint.
Here’s a poem by Carl Phillips, one that I’ve especially admired, from his book The Rest of Love.
There is a difference it used to make,
seeing three swans in this versus four in that
quadrant of sky. I am not imagining. It was very large, as its
effects were. Declarations of war, the timing fixed upon for a sea-departure; or,
about love, a sudden decision not to, to pretend instead to a kind
of choice. It was dramatic, as it should be. Without drama,
what is ritual? I look for omens everywhere, because they are everywhere
to be found. They come to me like strays, like the damaged,
something that could know better, and should, therefore–but does not:
a form of faith, you’ve said. I call it sacrifice–an instinct for it, or a habit at first, that
becomes required, the way art can become, eventually, all we have
of what was true. You shouldn’t look at me like that. Like one of those saints
on whom the birds once settled freely.
I’m sorry for not getting a Music Thursday up last week. As a way to make it up to everybody in Hollowmen Land, I’ll be following up this album posting with a Mix post in the next couple of days. I’ve just been busy, and from the looks of the web site, we’ve all been.
Also, hopefully I’ll be able to respond to posts with comments I’ve been itching to write. Petes and I saw Pan’s Labyrinth two weeks ago when he was at a conference in KC, and it’s now one of my favorite movies of the last 5 years or so. I want to post some thoughts and comments (and I probably will make the discussion filled with spoilers).