Power Animal

I always thought that a hippo should be my power animal. I didn't think it really fit because it's weird to think that I am guided by something that looks sweet (at least in the cartoons), but is really a violent, brutal, wild thing. It wasn't the best inspiration during runs (or really anything else), but I couldn't decide on another animal... so hippo it was.

But two recent experiences with hawks might sway me to this medium sized-bird of prey.

The first was in New Jersey over Christmas. We were all lounging around (read: Katie, Mom, Sister watching tv) when Dad (who was probably rewiring the house or something productive like that) said, "Come here and check this out!" Below the bird feeder, a hawk was promenading around like she was in a square dance without a partner. She was scoping out the chipmunks and sparrows who also hang out around said feeder. If the wall weren't there, I could have tossed a stone and hit it. (Not that I was going to throw rocks at the bird, but I'm not that good of a shot so it shows how close she was...). I think I said, "Wowie."

The second incident happened the other day at UNCA. I was walking along the quad (that's what we co-eds do: walk around the quad to class) when a brownish and whitish hawk flew directly at me at eye level. I stopped. It continued. I didn't flinch and it soared up past my left shoulder and landed on a branch by my side. I looked at it and thought, "Wowie!"

I didn't want to say it this time because there were 18 and 19 year olds around wearing rad clothes like tight black jeans and little leather jackets. I think one of them had a Euro-mullet. As I watched the bird, the people blurred out-of-focus in my periphery. The hawk and I locked eyes and had a moment together until I had to go to class. I thought about yelling, "Nous rencontrerons encore un jour mon cheri!"* But I didn't. (See above for explanation... also, by the way, I was wearing my pea coat with a little Outward Bound Blue Peter pin on the label. Preppy 27 year old dweeb yelling in French to a tree?)

I have thought about that hawk for the last couple of days.

While I'm not trying to read too much into it, I think that coincidences are strange and important to recognize. Pay attention. Wake up. My everyday drama is not the world.





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*(By the way, that means, "We'll meet again someday, my dear!" I knew how to say "we will meet a day my dear," but had to look up the phrase to get the right verb tense and remember how to say "again." Credit goes to the internet: http://ets.freetranslation.com/, not my high school French classes.)

Strong Women

It was Virginia Woolf's birthday the other day.

I didn't really have an opinion about her before taking a seminar on her during college. Then I decided that I really liked her. I liked the Dreadnought Hoax that she played with Duncan Grant, Guy Ridley, and Anthony Buxton in which they fooled everyone by pretending to be Ethiopian Royalty. She was sexual, sad, and intelligent. I liked her nuance and style in writing and living.

I took that class with my pal tinytinbird, and for some reason, Virginia Woolf always makes me think of that little bird's mom. Not the depression or lesbian side of Woolf, but that side of her full of spunk and independence.

Throughout college, my friend's mom would send poems and words about being confident women. One poem by Martin Edmunds has this great image, "I am sweet tea, I am these red seeds on a white plate..."

She once sent an excerpt from Sylvia Plath's journal about being lonely amongst boring and fake people while she was away at school. Before I met my great Colby friends, this felt too familiar as I would often go to parties just to fight loneliness. I should have followed Ms. Plath's lead as she wrote, "No, I won't try to escape myself by losing myself in artificial chatter: 'Did you have a nice vacation?' 'Oh yes, and you?' I'll stay here and try to pin that loneliness down." I still have that photocopied page in a box next to my bed.

This mom is a writer and an inspiration. She told us that we were strong and beautiful women who should be self-assured, especially with men. I work to remember that.

Here is a quote from Mrs. Dalloway that I love. It reminds me of the times after having a great cry... those times when I've had those low and wide breaths. I can take care of myself. It feels meditative.

“So on a summer’s day waves collect, overbalance, and fall; collect and fall; and the whole world seems to be saying ‘that is all’ more and more ponderously, until even the heart in the body which lies in the sun on the beach says too, That is all. Fear no more, says the heart. Fear no more, says the heart, committing its burden to some sea, which sighs collectively for all sorrows, and renews, begins, collects, lets fall.”

Eyes, Tails, and a Wispy Snowball Fight

I am hesitant to put close-up photos of my students on my blog- even though they are posted on our Asheville TAASC website. I want to respect their privacy.

However, I also want to convey the feeling of our trips through my photos. Our little ones had a great time last weekend playing in the snow, hiking up and over Gingercake and Sitting Bear mountains, and climbing with the Morganton teenagers at their clubhouse. At times, I put my camera on continous and moved it around to capture the snowball fighting and happy energy. Here are some glimpses that I hope will illustrate that energy without revealing too much...

I'd love to know others' thoughts about this.