Tag: Culture

TURNING THE PAGE FOR ANOTHER ANNUAL RITUAL

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 2 Comments

Now that the Christmas season’s over, we’re getting out the seed catalogs. Gardeners know what this means. Traditionally, they start coming in the mail about now, although some seed companies have tried to jump the gun, just like the Christmas decorations and music that now proliferate around Halloween rather than Thanksgiving. No, don’t rush us. This is to be taken thoughtfully, leisurely. Now, in the depth of winter — especially when it’s bitterly cold and snowy in places like the one where we live — our imaginations fly off to springtime and high summer. We evaluate the new varieties we ordered last year to decide whether we’ll get more (if we used up all of last year’s packet) or we’ll try something different.

Some of the catalogs are simply gorgeous. Others, including our favorite, are black-and-white and photo-free. The descriptions are fun to read and have led us to delightful harvests.

One thing I know: we’ll be ordering a certain chard we tried last year. The one that doesn’t taste like beets. No, it’s much more like spinach and so much more reliable where we live. Just don’t ask me to reveal its name. We want to make sure the supplier doesn’t run out. It’s something that happens, you know. As I recall, last year it was a kind of early pea. And before that?

It’s all part of the ritual, I suppose. Along with the intricate maps of our garden my wife draws to determine just how to fit it all in.

ON THE TWELFTH DAY OF CHRISTMAS

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 1 Comment

Contrary to the proclamations of many retailers in their countdown to December 25, today is the Twelfth Day of Christmas.

In many parts of the world, January 6, also known as the Feast of the Epiphany or Three Kings Day, is the day for unwrapping gifts and similar Christmas celebration. In our circle, it was time for a party where all the kids who had made gingerbread houses early in December would reunite, bringing their gaily decorated structures to be festively … smashed to pieces! Initially, I was aghast at this custom before learning that it’s real purpose was to liberate all the candy and frosting that had been used to decorate the little dwellings. There was also a cake with three almonds hidden away to determine that year’s Three Kings. Alas, the kids are all grown and the next round hasn’t yet appeared.

Thanks to my wife and her traditions, I’m among those who advocate observing Advent as a way of toning down the holiday stress and hysteria. The commonplace letdown is replaced by a slow easing into winter. Since our Christmas tree wasn’t even cut down and brought indoors till Christmas Eve, we’ll leave it up and decorated until Groundhog Day or later. It brightens those chilly mornings.

So here’s to the gifts of the three Magi.

WALKING AROUND TOWN, MOSTLY

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 1 Comment

A typical New England neighborhood will mix a range of architectural styles and history. Dover is no exception.

One of the joys of living where I do comes in the variety of architectural periods you can encounter even within a block or two. While little in Dover remains from the first half-century of settlement here – a consequence, in part, of King Philip’s War along the Colonial frontier – that still leaves three centuries of development. Because my community was spared the ravages of big-city development, housing filled out neighborhoods over time as owners one by one sold side lots and pastures where new houses were then built. This makes for a rich tapestry, especially while strolling down a side street.

Throughout this year, the Red Barn will feature snapshots of some of these distinctive touches, especially in the housing styles. Hope you stroll along.

January2 046

THANKS VERSUS MERCI OR GRACIAS … AS ONE, TWO, OR THREE SYLLABLES

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 3 Comments

I’ve heard that English is the international language for air traffic control, even at the Paris Charles de Gaulle Airport (what happened to Orly?), because it’s shorter than the others. Spoken French, you see, is considered too slow for a jetliner’s pilots and the tower.

Wondering about that the other day, I looked at the multilingual instructions included with the supplies for our new shower-surround walls. Sure enough, the English was about 20 percent shorter than either the French or the Spanish.

Anyone else been pondering this efficiency issue? How do German or Russian, compare to English, for instance? Or Chinese or Japanese? Just for starters …

IF YOU’RE CALLING FOR REAL, JUST SAY SO

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 1 Comment

Here in the midst of presidential primary season, I’m especially grateful to have caller ID on our phone. Yes, the voice part can be amusing, “Call from Chick-O, Chee Eh,” for instance. That’s Chico, California. Nobody we know.

We don’t pick up on the Unknown Caller, either. If they won’t leave a voicemail, we won’t deal with them. Period. Same for Wireless or Cell Phone, which has become another way for candidates’ campaigns and polling services to try to get through to us again.

Having a registered number adds to the problem. As more and more people switch to cell phones, the phone book gets slimmer – even before the printer switched to the tiniest type in existence for the White Pages. So the pollsters are sampling a shrinking pool of the public, which means, well, the same folks again and again.

Hey, usually the folks we want to hear from are shooting us emails anyway. So when are you using the telephone these days? Or how? And then? Does texting count, too?

RAILSCAPES

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

From the rails, the landscape threads together quite differently than it does from a highway or water passage.

The tracks pass sidings, graffiti-tagged warehouses and low factories, storage yards of all varieties, rundown housing, apartment clusters – and once out into the farmlands, grain elevators as well.

Clicking along, you can’t help but wonder how many of the enterprises are legit or how many, in their decrepitude, cover questionable activities.

For a maverick intellectual gone incognito, they might even be an ideal location to go underground for a while – a place to work uninterrupted.

In my novella With a passing freight train of 119 cars and twin cabooses, English Bible translator John Wycliffe shows up in a railroad crossing on the American Great Plains, where he’s soon joined by Hieronymus Bosch.

As they discover, once you’re lost in time and space, anything just might happen.

~*~

Train 1For more of the fantasy, click here.

HOW MANY FAVORITES?

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 2 Comments

Looking at a volume and realizing it’s one of my “keepers,” meaning the ones I keep close at hand, had me wondering if I could name a Top Ten list of books.

Nope, definitely not.

How about Top Hundred?

I turned to my mostly Quaker bookshelf and realized it has more than that alone.

So nope, definitely not.

Five hundred? Maybe, but it would be tough.

RIDING THROUGH REVERE AND SAUGUS

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

Taking the bus to and from Boston for my choir’s caroling performances was far more civilized than trying to fight traffic and find parking. I should add that this is a commuter bus that makes only two stops before hitting Logan airport and then South Station. It’s clean, quiet, and comfortable, with free coffee and newspapers at the terminal. By the time you factor in tolls, gasoline, parking fees, and subway fares, it’s probably cheaper, too, at least for just one person.

Freed from driving and then sitting high above the auto traffic, I found myself observing much that’s normally out of sight, and for parts of the route, I’m afraid to report the cluttered landscape was rather dismal. For one thing, I was surprised by how much of the development in the suburbs we traversed was cleaved from rock. Nothing natural, much less harmonious – brute force, mostly. And then there was the jumble of retail boxes along busy highways, leading to the question of just who really patronizes the enterprises, much less whether there’s enough revenue to meet the bills. How many discount mattresses do Americans buy, anyway, or how many palm readings? A winter coat outlet I can understand, but, well, memory fails.

Perhaps if these were along pedestrian byways I’d be more sympathetic. Having to drive from one to another to browse or buy just eludes my understanding. For once, I’d even give Internet shopping the edge.

I also felt a pang in recalling a reply I made to a comment that remarked on the beauty of the town where I live. As I recall, I said that beauty can be cultivated anywhere, but that’s not what I was seeing along this route with its oil-tank farms, treeless suburban housing tracts, and construction machinery garages.

And then, to my amazement, as I looked down to the level below the overpass we were ascending, I saw a green park set gently on the earth. Here was a pocket of relief in spite of the noisy traffic overhead. Children from nearby houses could play, adults could stroll or sit. I’m still in awe of the designers who advanced this – and those who brought it to fruition.

Just thinking along the way. If you’re traveling over the holidays, here’s wishing you safe and comforting journeys. And keep an eye open for those unexpected beauties, too, wherever you land.

 

LEARNING FROM THE MONGOLIAN REINDEER HERDERS

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 5 Comments

With my plunge into yoga discipline early in my adult years, I came to an appreciation of non-Western ways of perceiving the world around us. For someone rooted in scientific, empirical , Aristotelian logical thought, this came as a jolt. Or, as Gary Snyder has argued, every poet must have an appreciation of some archaic system of awareness, be it astrology, I Ching, tarot, palmistry, well, you get the picture. Just listen and look.

What I’ve come to appreciate is the alternative wisdom carried by Native American elders, gurus of all sorts, and the range of those labeled shamans, East and West.

And so, at last summer’s sessions of New England Yearly Meeting of Friends, I was intrigued by an opportunity to view a movie on Mongolian shamans. It’s a remarkable work, by a registered nurse who has worked for two decades with nomadic reindeer herders in Mongolia. Having earned their trust and respect, and realizing their own vulnerability in the face of global changes, the shamans allowed her to film their healing ceremonies.

As I viewed the documentary, I was struck by how much of what she observed leads into Tibetan Buddhism, too.

This is remarkable work. What is healing, anyway? From a Christian point of view, I can say healing can differ from a cure. So just what happens in a shaman ceremony? And where can Eastern and Western health care interact? How much of our physical state is a reflection of our emotional and spiritual conditions.

We might wonder, too, how the Nativity stories would appear from the world view of the  herders, how much their insights would inform us about shepherds and angels. Would a stable be that much different from the homes where the shamans enact their rites? As for the Magi? Or the heavenly wonder? Or even an oppressive political and economic presence? As the Gospel message insists, the world needs healing, no doubt about it.

To learn more of the reindeer herder perspective, go to Nomadicare.