Kinetic Arts

I have been absent, I know; I will not speak to that.

Last night and this morning I began exploring artists from other countries and time periods, methods and media. Several of the sites were not in English and did not need to be for, as you know, art and music transcend barriers.

What we have is a privilege of connecting around the world to  intuition, to inspiration.

Milan Dobeš Museum in Bratislava Slovakia has a video on its homepage, the music of which is transcendent and the images captivating. I suppose that makes museum curators not just students of art but artists as well.

May this find you well and deep in revelation.

©2013 Sandra Davidson

The Farther Star

It is simple to be a bright star in a dark sky.

The rarer success is to be a bright star in a blue sky, able to withstand the nearer sun and still reach a beholder, should there be any who will lift their attention from the paths at their feet and the surround of distraction.

There then a reward to lay lightly to a touch and reveal your truth: Resourcefulness is the seed set upon the wind, freedom is offering up everything you are to the risks, and tenacity is finding purchase wherever you next set to ground.

©2013 Sandra R. Davidson—photo and text.

Make Space

Last night I saw a box with negatives and a few photos. I took it with me when I went to bed and used my husband’s light tray to examine the images; many negatives were more than twenty years old. I went through every set and kept none. I tossed and recycled, then shredded the negatives to dump as trash.

It was something my husband didn’t understand, “All of them?” Yes, they were from a time that is no longer part of me. My momentary regret was to be unable to return any to the subjects of the negatives. Too many years ago to know

Melatonin and Lack of Data

“…people exposed to high levels of EMF have lower levels of the anti-convulsive melatonin, leaving them prone to so-called “micro-seizures” and the resulting hallucinations this can lead to.” via Magnets, Mental Health, & Me: Down The Rabbit Hole | Depression Time.

Electromagnetic fields and hallucinations. Hmm. This is concerning. I live alongside multi-line, high-voltage power poles. According to the National Institute of Health, power lines are non-ionizing and the electromagnetic field strength plummets within even short distances. “If you are concerned about EMFs emitted by a power line or substation in your area, you can contact your local power company to schedule an on-site reading. You can also measure EMFs yourself with the use of a gaussmeter, which is available for purchase online through a number of retailers.” (National Institute of Health)

I take the supplement melatonin to help regulate my circadian rhythm as I’m prone to insomnia. I’ve heard of limited studies about melatonin being used to help people who are blind regulate their sleep cycles since they do not have light and darkness cues, though it seems to work in only half the participants (more studies underway). Melatonin decreases with age and often the elderly experience irregular sleep/wake cycles, so perhaps a supplement makes sense.

Electromagnetic fields is a new one. I have been diagnosed with periodic limb movement disorder (restless legs but involving more than just the legs) and melatonin is reputed to help with this seizure-like problem, though there is little data to prove or disprove this notion. The Mayo Clinic has a grading system, A through F just like in school, regarding melatonin’s rumored effectiveness, as well as cautions. This is a drug (yes, drug) with little testing to its claims.

The only reference I could find to (hypnagogic) hallucinations has no direct connection to EMF or melatonin. Rather the condition is a complex mechanism—just as we are. This was an interesting jaunt though and what helps some, helps some.

The Ideal Tracking System

Here’s yer swab…

The Supreme Court has decided to take on a case involving the process of arrests. Identified—check. Photographed—check. Fingerprinted—check. Cheek swabed—uh, wha? Yeah, it is done before conviction in some places. See, the law has been closing a lot of cold cases this way, too. DNA.

The law figures you can voluntarily take a cheek swab (or perhaps they’ll have you drink a root beer and get your saliva that way). Enter it into a database and you have a bar code of DNA with a name, photo and fingerprint to match.

And now I wonder about those offers that claim to trace your ancestry with just your saliva for $100 to $150 bucks. So you can pay for your bar code, too, since these companies would have to fork over to the law any records the lawmen require.

And here we are, griping about social media tracking and browser tracking, what companies do with information we submit—because it’s all voluntary, you see. You don’t have to use the product. © 2013 Sandra Davidson

The Matter of Trust

Today I read a post that pegged me and fostered self-examination. So of course I have to try it out on you. The post is Trust.

Ritual abuse, the sort that is in the name of religion and cult, is quite real and I am relieved to be informed without having to have had first-hand experience.

When I was young, I trusted everyone I met with everything about me. Frightening, isn’t it? As an abused child, I wasn’t a discerning adult; I wanted and craved close relationships instead of superficial ones and silence.

I’m still learning to trust and how to trust, not just whom to trust. After a particularly disastrous choice to trust, I no longer trusted my own judgment. I began eliminating friends, family, co-workers and anything that appeared to be an attempt at a relationship. I did well and soon had no one to which I could turn—or hurt or be hurt by.

After seven years of isolation, I am relearning the skills of small talk, which I despise. My counselor and I discussed having a group of friends to meet with and laugh with; this is foreign, intimidating. It was my brother who put it into perspective: Start with “hello” to the checkout clerk and “thank you” to someone who guided you in some small way. When you meet someone for the third, fourth, fifth time, it is okay to ask how their day is going.

There is an older gentleman who works at a national chain store near me. I see him nearly every time I enter the store. He speaks to everyone and I used to just nod. Then I began to respond quickly as I pushed my cart past him. One day he wasn’t in uniform; he was hanging out at the store on his day off. I immediately recognized he was lonely. He said he was checking his schedule—while standing in the middle of a main isle of the store. I had an actual conversation while waiting for my husband to join me.

No commitment there for me, and he appreciated the recognition that he was a part of the store’s culture.

I’m no master, and I’m learning.

Inagural Inspiration

“One sky, toward which we sometimes lift our eyes
tired from work: some days guessing at the weather
of our lives…”
From the inaugural poet Richard Blanco’s poem

Done Deviled

My husband asks if there’s anything he can get me at the store. I shrug and say some sort of protein I haven’t eaten a dozen times this week. I’ve had food apathy for a while now.

I have never had Deviled ham or Deviled chicken before. There’s a red-and-white paper wrapper on each. Hmm, the chicken would probably be an easy start since chicken is rather innocuous as a flavor. Off comes the wrapper.

Uh. Here’s where I get stuck.

The can

Time Outs

My time is running out «. Fantastic post from a new-to-me writer. She touches on a topic that drives me, has driven me my whole life.

Her post elicited my (edited) response below.

I have been too aware of time’s passage since about the age of three, before the hands on the clock meant anything. I tried to wear a watch and gave it up before junior high school. With the addition of microwaves in homes, I grew impatient with myself for watching the seconds count down. My home has no clocks; it needs none. There are time keepers on my computer, cell phone, microwave, oven. My husband has the alarm clock for moments when it is necessary.

It is an urgency. For me it is a questioning of myself. Am I giving more than I’m taking, in all sense of the word—resources, ideas, perspectives, understanding, love, compassion.

Writing is frightening. It should be. With everything we write, we open ourselves to a little more transparency. I’m terrified of being known in this way but I cannot stop the flow. I have only the choice of whether my words appear or hide away someplace. More are hidden than revealed, I confess.
©2012 Sandra Davidson

A Little Closer with Joy

Misunderstandings based on uninformed patterns can be joyous in their resolution.

For about a year I’ve been collecting data on a certain tradition a loved one has. My data led me to a logical conclusion: the tradition occurred only when I wasn’t around, so I presumed my absence was the key to the tradition. I knew I could not always be present. It wasn’t healthy for either of us.

Let’s use a simple, obvious example from my past