Tis the Season

My daughter has a fantasy about living in Antarctica. 
"Because they never have to wear sunblock there.  Right?"

Right.  Because in Antarctica, death comes before sunburn.

Applying this stuff daily is not one of my favorite tasks.
It involves a lot of stiffening and tears and accusations. 
You hurt me!
Done?
Done?
Done?
DONE.
DONE!


Here is where art is so beautiful.  It takes something that makes me cringe and turns it into something that makes me laugh.

"Inspired by seeing his niece resist his brother's attempts to apply sunscreen, the photographer Nolan Conway visited parks in New York City in late April and early May, looking for parents and children who were engaged in similar battles."

I feel your pain, River, and Phoebe, and the hands that are accosting them. 

 

Studying History

“The only thing we learn from history is that we learn nothing from history.”
― Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel

Morning Thorat Song

Yesterday on the radio I heard this incredible ensemble of throat singers, Alash.

I had never heard throat singing and it made me laugh, not at the sound but at some joyful thing it touched to hear such a guttural vibration. 

Some of the most amazing things happen in solitude, not in loneliness, but in solitude.  Solitude being a place of being alone but feeling entirely connected, and loneliness being a place of being with others, or alone, and feeling entirely disconnected.

Hearing throat singing on the radio is one of those moments for me.

This morning I heard the same sound again when my 6 year old daughter stretched and tried to talk at the same time.  Her morning call is 1:09, that one right there.

This song is called Good Horses.  But I might re-title it Good Morning.

Faith begins as an experiment and ends as an experience. 

---William Ralph Inge