Like many people, I have a morning ritual. The highlight of this ritual is the pilgrimage to the java temple, otherwise known to me as Starbucks. Sure, I could brew my morning tea at home for a fraction of the cost but I appreciate having a small, achievable goal to start my day off. "If I get out of bed today, I get to go to Starbucks. And after that, I get to go to work." Do you see how the prospect of work becomes appealing with the intermediary step?
So there I stood in line yesterday morning, still sleepy-eyed and slightly groggy. I never acclimate well to early morning starts, and this morning was a particularly early one.
The customer at the counter paid for her beverage, turned, and regarded those of us crammed into the available standing space of the small caffeine chapel.
I stepped to the left just as the woman in front of me stepped to the right. Lo! The sea of pilgrims parted before her like the sea in front of Moses.
The moment struck me as a mundane mystery. After all, how often does one get to be the parted sea, both separate and confluent all at the same time?
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Monday, February 22, 2010
Open Letter From The White Witch to Facebook Executives
To Whom It May Concern (and it does concern you, CEO Mark Zuckerberg and VP of Technical Operations Jonathan Heiliger):
When I first stepped from The Wood Between Worlds into Narnia (hereafter referred to as Oregon State), my breath caught in my long, pale throat. I had never seen such a brilliant lapis blue sky or the rich, lush foliage of evergreen foresting lands. To me, this gorgeous place was a lily and as an artist I immediately set about to gilding the place with snow and ice. Of course, being the Queen of Oregon State would make such a task feasible, so first I had to set about conquering this foreign land.
Since ascending to the throne, I've received an influx of visitors from the lands of Google and Microsoft. Through some savvy negotiations and diplomacy, we reached an agreement allowing those visitors to set up data centers here in Oregon State to help their businesses run more efficiently. In return, those two companies have agreed to power their centers on clean energy and pay me for the use of the hydroelectric power used to run their centers.
Recently, we have also received visitors from from the land of Facebook. I have welcomed the opportunity to host a data center for them, which I think is a fantastic idea. Hosting the data center will give some of those pesky talking animals jobs so that they can do something other than plot insurrection against me. However, I have learned through my spies that you intend to power your center by burning coal.
As you may be aware, in order to produce coal the land must be strip mined or tops of mountains removed to get at it. In addition, burning the coal will release billowing clouds full of particulate matter into the atmosphere.
There is a prophecy that after my rein, two Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve will sit on the thrones of Cair Paravel and rule Oregon State as sovereigns. I will do my best to prevent that, but should they win that ultimate battle, I do not want them saying that they have inherited a burned-out lackluster shell of a land. They can slander my name, but I will never let it be said that I destroyed the land with unfriendly environmentalist practices. Furthermore, with all of the slatey-smoke covering the land, I'll have to change my moniker to "The Grey Witch". How ridiculous does that sound? It doesn't have nearly the ring that "White Witch" has, and people will think that I am attempting to imitate that silly old man in Middle Earth.
I urge you, Facebook, to reconsider the powering of your data center by burning coal and instead follow the examples of the lands of Google and Microsoft by employing hydroelectric means. I have signed the petition at Change.Org. I have also sent an email addressed to you at info@facebook.com since your email addresses are not easily publicly available.
Sincerely,
Her Imperial Majesty Jadis, Queen of Oregon State, Chatelaine of Cair Paravel, Empress of the Lone Islands
When I first stepped from The Wood Between Worlds into Narnia (hereafter referred to as Oregon State), my breath caught in my long, pale throat. I had never seen such a brilliant lapis blue sky or the rich, lush foliage of evergreen foresting lands. To me, this gorgeous place was a lily and as an artist I immediately set about to gilding the place with snow and ice. Of course, being the Queen of Oregon State would make such a task feasible, so first I had to set about conquering this foreign land.
Since ascending to the throne, I've received an influx of visitors from the lands of Google and Microsoft. Through some savvy negotiations and diplomacy, we reached an agreement allowing those visitors to set up data centers here in Oregon State to help their businesses run more efficiently. In return, those two companies have agreed to power their centers on clean energy and pay me for the use of the hydroelectric power used to run their centers.
Recently, we have also received visitors from from the land of Facebook. I have welcomed the opportunity to host a data center for them, which I think is a fantastic idea. Hosting the data center will give some of those pesky talking animals jobs so that they can do something other than plot insurrection against me. However, I have learned through my spies that you intend to power your center by burning coal.
As you may be aware, in order to produce coal the land must be strip mined or tops of mountains removed to get at it. In addition, burning the coal will release billowing clouds full of particulate matter into the atmosphere.
There is a prophecy that after my rein, two Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve will sit on the thrones of Cair Paravel and rule Oregon State as sovereigns. I will do my best to prevent that, but should they win that ultimate battle, I do not want them saying that they have inherited a burned-out lackluster shell of a land. They can slander my name, but I will never let it be said that I destroyed the land with unfriendly environmentalist practices. Furthermore, with all of the slatey-smoke covering the land, I'll have to change my moniker to "The Grey Witch". How ridiculous does that sound? It doesn't have nearly the ring that "White Witch" has, and people will think that I am attempting to imitate that silly old man in Middle Earth.
I urge you, Facebook, to reconsider the powering of your data center by burning coal and instead follow the examples of the lands of Google and Microsoft by employing hydroelectric means. I have signed the petition at Change.Org. I have also sent an email addressed to you at info@facebook.com since your email addresses are not easily publicly available.
Sincerely,
Her Imperial Majesty Jadis, Queen of Oregon State, Chatelaine of Cair Paravel, Empress of the Lone Islands
Friday, February 19, 2010
Sanctum
If I had known about the field of environmental psychology back in high school, my whole life may have turned out very differently. The book House Thinking by Winifred Gallagher introduced me to the idea of environmental psychology, a discipline which focuses on the relationship between humans and our surroundings. House Thinking addresses an inherent area of fascination for me: space. Not "space- the final frontier", but space as an important representation of the human psyche and as part of the human experience.
Space has always been important to me. From a few moments alone, locked in the bathroom to gain some respite from a parental confrontation, to carving out some personal space in a shared apartment, the proverbial "room of one's own" has always provided me with a feeling of comfort and creativity.
Recently I faced a space-related challenge. With my work space placed in the shared "game space", writing creatively (or doing anything productive at all, really) proved challenging. All space in the apartment was shared space, and I need to emulate the archetypal Hermit in order to really dig down and pull out something that I can transmute into compelling story.
After some contemplation and discussion with my fiance, we moved my desk into a spacious corner of the bedroom. Suddenly, the space began to transform, and with it my own feelings. The addition of a matching cabinet provided and extra arm to the desk, making the desk into an "L" shape, and on this arm I set up my muse shrine.
The muse shrine contains a nymph statue that belonged to my grandmother, a ceramic bowl made my best friend in Oregon, an etched carafe that belonged to my mother, and various other bits and bobs that have struck my fancy over the years. It also hosts a few statuettes of powerful ladies of myth and faith-- Bast, Kwan Yin, and Kali.
The current configuration sends a powerful and uplifting message to me. It tells me that my work space and my sacred space are not separate. It reaffirms that my work is important (to me) and creative, spiritual and whimsical at the same time. (One can see the whimsy in the little silver plaque reading "Follow your dreams" which hangs from the desk lamp next to my computer.)
Most importantly, it establishes a personal sanctuary to which I can retreat for introspection and the creative process. Though the space is shared, my fiance rarely spends time outside of sleep in the bedroom, so it's a wonderful compromise. What did he get out of it? He got an office of his own with a delightful reading nook. As he said to me this morning, "There are worse things than sharing my office with cats and books."
My fiance is pretty wise, don't you think?
Space has always been important to me. From a few moments alone, locked in the bathroom to gain some respite from a parental confrontation, to carving out some personal space in a shared apartment, the proverbial "room of one's own" has always provided me with a feeling of comfort and creativity.
Recently I faced a space-related challenge. With my work space placed in the shared "game space", writing creatively (or doing anything productive at all, really) proved challenging. All space in the apartment was shared space, and I need to emulate the archetypal Hermit in order to really dig down and pull out something that I can transmute into compelling story.
After some contemplation and discussion with my fiance, we moved my desk into a spacious corner of the bedroom. Suddenly, the space began to transform, and with it my own feelings. The addition of a matching cabinet provided and extra arm to the desk, making the desk into an "L" shape, and on this arm I set up my muse shrine.
The muse shrine contains a nymph statue that belonged to my grandmother, a ceramic bowl made my best friend in Oregon, an etched carafe that belonged to my mother, and various other bits and bobs that have struck my fancy over the years. It also hosts a few statuettes of powerful ladies of myth and faith-- Bast, Kwan Yin, and Kali.
The current configuration sends a powerful and uplifting message to me. It tells me that my work space and my sacred space are not separate. It reaffirms that my work is important (to me) and creative, spiritual and whimsical at the same time. (One can see the whimsy in the little silver plaque reading "Follow your dreams" which hangs from the desk lamp next to my computer.)
Most importantly, it establishes a personal sanctuary to which I can retreat for introspection and the creative process. Though the space is shared, my fiance rarely spends time outside of sleep in the bedroom, so it's a wonderful compromise. What did he get out of it? He got an office of his own with a delightful reading nook. As he said to me this morning, "There are worse things than sharing my office with cats and books."
My fiance is pretty wise, don't you think?
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