Chips are Okay Now

I was scrubbing dishes this morning and noticed something out of the corner of my eye. Some of our plates are chipped. I also noticed stains on plates that had been a bit harder used.

A younger me would have wanted new dishes. Something shiny. Unmarked. Closer to fine.

Today, I'm okay with it. In God's cupboard I am a chipped dish.

Like the things in the drainer beside me, parts of me have not held their color well. Reapplying the color is a temporary fix. The base material is what it really is. Happily, I am free to experiment with all sorts of shades and hues if I want to. My head is now another palette for self-expression.

Other parts of me are now lined. In the mirror, my image is gradually moving to the bottom of the frame. It's just a little distorted. Like the window panes in an old building. Much as I would like to deny it or defy it, I am wearing marks similar to those that add character to things I like.

Let's be candid. I admire a fancy purse or briefcase made of unblemished leather. Items that cost hundreds of dollars and give the impression of prosperity and competence. But I prefer an old set of saddle bags scratched by brush, spotted by rain, and carefully oiled so they are supple enough to be useful.

That's the key. My values have changed. I used to value the new. I still like it. But which would you rather wear if you know nobody is looking? New jeans--slightly stiff and perhaps a bit snug, or old jeans--softened denim that gives your legs a happy hug as they slide on, letting you know they're ready for any adventure you have planned for the day?

And on that day--the day nobody's looking--would you be wearing new shoes or old shoes? Or even no shoes?

I'm finding I prefer older things well made and shaped by use to their intended purpose. Like me.

Nature is Jazz

Country music lays claim to the outdoors, but I think Nature is
at heart a jazz tune. A suite. A collage of joyful noise
from the largest band ever assembled. If I’m right, know this.
Good jazz challenges. You may have to listen until you’re ready to hear.

There is whirring. There’s chirruping. And soft, long notes
from a blowing breeze. That’s the strings. Bowing through
the treetops, whispering through the grass. Now pianissimo,
then a terrifying crescendo with staccato, percussive rain.

Your next move takes guts. You’ll invite cacophony. Every player
in Nature’s band is fearless. Totally devoted to their own time
signature. Willing it to be THE time. The one you hear. Eager
musicians demanding you to be their audience and share their song.

But there isn’t just one song, is there? Well, there may be, but it’s
on so many levels and in so many venues that you have to stop hearing with your ears and open your heart. Somewhere, all the little songs blend. There’s a place they all make sense. We hear the struggle.

We hear scrappy virtuosos asserting their version of the song. We hear little combos, certain they share the melody, shifting the beat and hoping we’ll tap our foot in time. We hear soloists screeching and preaching, proclaiming the true music is theirs. But they’re still just players.

And players serve the song. It’s beautiful music. It’s an infinite number of voices singing and screaming and growling. It’s rhythms thumping and booming and scritching along. You wonder where the conductor has gone. Don’t be fooled. The conductor hears it all. And it is good.

One day, we’ll be removed. Pulled from the noise. Distanced. And then the jazz stylings of Nature will make sense. The vocals and instrumentation will blend. This composition isn’t terrestrial. It’s universal. Yes. THAT universe. It’s coming from and playing to places you can’t even imagine. It’s jazz. Cool, baby.

Bold Image

How do you sign your work? We all do things that bear our mark. Our skills are on display in everything we do, but especially in the things that bring us income or feed our passions.

J. Bourgholtzer, a photographer in Washington, Indiana in the first half of the 1900s, advertised with a flourish.

He mounted photographic prints to card stock imprinted with his bold signature, monogram, and location. And that was just on the photo side. The reverse was even more impressive.

The heavily inked signature is graced with stylish embellishments and lettering that leaves no question about his profession. The town name is printed in small capital letters along an arc, touting not only its prominence but also staking its claim as a lively burg.

That's how it was done years ago. Are you getting ideas about your own message? When people see your work, do they associate it with you? What clues are you giving them? Absolute quality? Completeness? Delivering on or before scheduled due dates? Perhaps it is all of the above.

I challenge each of us to approach our callings with the boldness of Bourgholtzer. Let's proudly imprint each thing we do with pride of ownership.

Stumbling Upon the Hoosier-ness of Volusia County

On a recent vacation we visited a local gem of a museum. Among the exhibits of fine art, Rockwell sketches, indigenous handiwork and a really big sloth. I'm talking bigger than your old man big. Over 9 feet tall of sloth. Amidst all that was a display that would make any Indiana museum proud.

The Daytona Beach Museum of Arts and Sciences is very worthy of your visit. TripAdvisor ranks it ninth among over 100 things you can do in Daytona. I agree. It has wondrous variety. It is very professionally curated. It has a planetarium feature. They even display the items they don't have on exhibit. And if you go in late July, it's air conditioned. That's probably true throughout the year, but it is an important consideration on a mid-summer day. In Florida. If you're a pale white guy. Or gal.

Fig. 1 - Sign pointing sun-blinded Yankees to the Doorway of Coolness.

Since I want to share some of the features of MOAS with fellow museum volunteers here in God's country, I fully intend to bore you with things I found interesting. Things like signage.

Fig. 2 - Exhibit sign

This exhibit sign has a lot of information, but not too much.

It admits the unknown and provides as much detail as is known.

It acknowledges the donor and includes the accession number, so volunteers can tell where it is kept when not on display, and where to look for more research data on the artifact.

All that on a small, neatly printed foam core board.








Things like seating.

I just found this cool. Versatile.

Fig. 3 - Crate Bench

Fig 4 - Crate stools showing construction

This bench is really four three-sided stools put together for convenience. A couple or small family can stop and sit together for a moment to view a particularly interest display. The stools can be borrowed and moved to another point in the room if you want to sit alone to admire another display. Staff can probably safely stand on one if a step is needed.

Bonus. They stack on a rolling cart.

Fig. 5 - Cart of stacked stools

Things like lighting.

A butterfly collection is illuminated to intriguing effect.

Fig. 6 - A butterfly collection is illuminated to intriguing effect ...

Fig. 7 - ... using LED strip lighting hidden behind the display frame.

Fig. 8 - Small items that would be lost on the bare, high wall are framed by lights from the track bars.

And finally, top lighting through a glass-topped case and onto an open lateral file drawer presents these unlabeled displays very pleasingly.

Fig. 9 - Glass tops and sides allow overhead lighting to illuminate displays

Fig. 10 - Flat file for storing small items

Now, about the Hoosier-ness.

Indoors in Florida is the last place I expected to see a familiar historical marker. The Root family has donated so many items to this collections and has been very generous in ensuring they are preserved for future generations to enjoy.

Fig. 11 - Historical marker

The collection includes vehicles, elements from an old drug store, and Coca-Cola memorabilia. 

Fig. 12 - Delivery vehicle

Fig. 13 - Signage over parlor booth

Fig. 14 - Coca-Cola clock advertisement

Fig. 15 - Coca-Cola dispensers and signage

One of the things I enjoyed about touring this museum was the sense of space. There was much to see, but it generally was not crowded. When a collection was crowded, it was intentional and it worked well for me. 

Fig. 16 - Stuffed animal display

 The final thing I want to share about this trip was the idea of displaying stored items. You saw that in the picture of the file drawer above. The following figure explains the concept.

Fig. 17 - Helene B. Roberson Visible Storage Building

Here are some other items displayed on glass shelves, on sliding wire walls, and as small static displays. 

Fig. 18 - Furnishings

Fig. 19 - Bowls and vases

Fig. 20 - Artwork

These items are unlabeled. We know nothing about them except they are part of a large collection. They are simply arranged and lit to show their beauty while they are kept in a locked room with glass walls and doors. MOAS makes the most of them while they wait to be brought out as future exhibits, complete with full explanations.

And I share the following just because they are pretty. This depiction of the Cinderella story is done by Lladro.

Fig. 21 - Lladro Cinderalla 

Fig. 22 - Nameplate

Fig. 23 - Cinderella and carriage detail

incompletely true

there’s something we should realize about our point of view.
and that is that it is only incompletely true.
it is a perspective. nothing more.
it’s suggestive—a part score—
of the incredible totality
of a comprehensive reality.

all that is is. that is all.
but who can take it all in and make a clear call?
all that we see is a part. just a part.
we can’t see what we don’t see,
and knowing that’s a start.

whoever claims more is just bluffing.

so it’s a wonder to me we accomplish anything
when not a single one of us can ever truly bring
a fully formed perception of exactly what is happening.
and everybody’s talking at one time and it’s so maddening.

part of the solution is to look for more.
not to be omniscient, like we know the score.
but to be the person who can share the floor
and gather people’s insights. bring them to the fore.

most of us were taught some type of golden rule,
but it seems to me to be the most forgotten tool.
it’s laid aside in deference to a personal agenda.
a path on rails so hard and straight and difficult to bend. a
closed file. a shut door.
an attitude that nothing more
can be said. or heard. no thought. no word.

when did it become a good idea to ignore the quiet voices?
when we do that aren’t we only limiting our choices?
why don’t we listen to those who don’t see what we see?
why don’t we include their sight in our reality?

i don’t agree that the loudest voice should win.
i don’t think victory should be decided just by din.
i think there’s room for much more humility.
for accord. for rewarding polite civility.

there’s something we should realize about our point of view.
and that is that it is only incompletely true.
but it can become a better thing and I think I know how, too.
for just a moment you be me while i am being you.

Anagram of Scared

My friend Terry just made me think. Very annoying in that way, Terry is.

We are given so many opportunities to be scared. Turning off the news damps it down a bit. But we are scared for each other. More troubling, we often are scared of each other. We are scared of the coming election. We are scared of the economy. We are scared about job security. We are just plain fearful.

It looks like we have everything we need. It's just in the wrong order. What if instead of scared we realized we have so many opportunities to be sacred? God is love. If you're not feeling particularly sacred at the moment, stop and love somebody. There you go. You're doing just fine at sacred. Now be sacred for somebody else. Change it up. Pick somebody you don't know. Even better, pick somebody you believe can't do anything for you. You're probably wrong, but go for it.

If we look for ways to be a light for somebody, we have less time for fear. If somebody is returning the favor, well then there are two lights, aren't there? Fear doesn't do well in the light. If you're of a mind to, share this. One person at a time let's generate a gajillion megawatts of light and send fear scurrying for a dark corner that is nowhere to be found. 

I'll start. I love you. If you are reading this, you are special to me. I want no fear between us. If you feel any, let's talk. 

That's one light. Please make another.

Come to Your Senses

How are you reinforcing the lessons you want to learn well? Do you trigger more than one sense?

I was listening to my father teach Sunday School this morning. We talked about a lot of things. Most of them had to do with Paul challenging people to live what they believe. But we also talked about communion. 

In my faith communion is a sacrament. It’s a sacred act that reminds us what we believe. In particular, it reminds us what we believe about our relationship with our God.

Communion involves eating a wafer of some sort and drinking a liquid, often dark juice or wine. These two elements are symbols of significant acts that we want to remember. Until today I had not thought about what a remarkable lesson this is. It involves all our senses.

During the ceremony surrounding communion we are reminded to look within. To examine ourselves. We hear the important lesson. 

Many times, we must rise, leave our seats, and walk to the front of the room. That is not one of the five senses, but acting intentionally is another good method of reinforcing a lesson. 

When the wafer is presented, we reach and pick it up. We touch it. It is a tangible reminder of an intangible concept. Likewise, when we drink we feel the liquid on our tongue. 

We smell the sweetness of the juice, and sometimes the fresh smell of newly broken bread as we bring the elements to our mouths.

We taste both the wafer and the liquid. We literally ‘take them in’ to our bodies. It is truly a multisensory experience.

I know I have friends of many different faiths here on Facebook. Do you have similar traditions or ceremonies? 

The lessons don’t have to be faith-based. Do you have examples of important life lessons that you are continually re-learning or re-celebrating? Do you use multi-sensory triggers to keep the lesson close? And if you and I don’t, how can we incorporate this lesson that I’ve taken for granted for more than half a century to make sure we hold onto the things worth keeping?

Thanks in advance for sharing!