size matters

the man who does not know the dimensions of his being can be unintentionally dangerous.

the impact of documentaries

of the many words that were strung together at lucy walker's presentation tonight on the power of documentaries the set I took away was this:

these forms of virtual reality [documentaries, etc.] can prompt people to take the perspective of people unlike themselves and to expand their circle of sympathy.

she seemed to be precise with words used on her slides. I found it interesting that she chose the expansion of sympathy as an impact of documentaries. I'm curious to explore this more - what value does sympathy have? perhaps the first stage of empathy?

witness

be my witness.
confirm my existence.
help me identify a point of comparison.
a point of focus.
appreciate my growth. yes, appreciate my growth.

be a keeper of my memory.
a source of my humility and strength.

introduce me to your world.
I will introduce you to mine.

when we get to that point.
I will ask of you,
to be your witness.

inspire

a friend of mine tonight asked of me, "kate, I want to be inspired."

(this was written awhile ago and just edited now, today.)


On a Sunday two weeks ago, my Grams passed away. The Friday before my sister and I debated on whether to return home. Our ride bailed on us four hours before our departure time. She had papers to write and microfilms to copy. My car was our only hope and the belly of its hood hadn't seen the light of day (nor an oil change) in over seven months. I was nervous about the brakes.

And still, we went. Grams believed she saw us perched on her couch the week prior. Our dad was in the room listening to her talk to us, watching as she went to hug us and then wondered why we left so quickly. Mom told me she had been asking about me. She missed me.

The week prior, Grams entered hospice. The hospice worker assigned to my Grams gave my dad a sheet of paper listing the stages of death. People have lived for thousands of years. And death has yet to evolve.


My mother told me my Grams wasn't afraid of death. All her life she never feared the end.

And then it was the end. The day before, I watched the Woman who had never feared death, struggle with the weakness of her body and head. We watched her try to get off the couch, unable to lift her body and infuriated and hopeless knowing that to be true. "What will I do?" she pleaded. "What will I do?"

A punch hit my gut and a hand held tight twisting my organs, leaving me breathless. That was goodbye.

ooze

my dear, music is oozing from your soul. you need to put it to use!
- chelsea's mom, july 2011

my brightest diamond

if I were queen
then you and I'd be neighbors
I'd take you out ritually
for doughnuts and tea
. . .

I like these lyrics from shara worden's song by the same name as the first line

the people we surround ourselves with become our history keepers and sharers.

my people are my memory.

iteration of relationships

what are the few experiences we are able to iterate again and again and again and again on to the point of perfection.

we become the master designer thinking of ins, outs, viewpoints, user feedback, simplicity and elegance.

iteration #22.
incubus is not attractive.
lesson learned.

re-iterate.

aaron schleicher

a dear friend of mine composed and recorded a song for me as I was leaving milwaukee two years back. there are days when the warm welcoming arms of people I know and love call me back. the comfort beckons.

it's days like this when aaron's song hits a tender chord in my memory.

here's the link.

- -

the history behind some of the lyrics

the quilt. in milwaukee, a group of us had a literary quilting club - which sounds more formal than it was. our first (and only) attempt at making a quilt involved researching the history of quilts. we found stories of slavery and quilts made of scrap cloth as the only way to keep warm, stories of pioneer women exchanging quilts as a keepsake and reminder of the strength of their friendship, and of modern quilts hung up as a collaboration to raise awareness around AIDS.

when we all agreed to make a quilt piece that was 3x5, I assumed the unit of measurement was inches. it was feet.

the pocket. the group of us at 800ceoread published a book. and I envisioned a clothing series to accompany the book. the series would be t-shirts with customizable giant pockets fit to carry The 100 Best along with you.

the compass. the crew of colleagues and friends bestowed me with a compass as I left milwaukee.

rib cage gates

hearts knock at rib cages, eager to sneak a peek and set foot on the untravelled lands of other hearts. and rib cages creak open their gates when the brain salutes the request, "yes, now; this time, try again."

adaptation

adaptation is the most frightening and most incredible human trait.

we adapt to what is and it clouds our ability to see what could be.
we adapt to what is and it opens our ability to see what could be.

to which end, adaptation?

on people

So I don't like to choose people that everybody knows; I like to choose people that just do small things and yet somehow hit me in my heart.
- Margaret Kilgallen on heroes and heroines

(thanks for the tip, chip thomas)

remember and remind

how we came to be in this place are blurred by the noise of what is now. it is easy to forget that what is is a result of what was before.

remember what was \ appreciate what is \ keep moving towards what can be.

better here than in my email drafts

when I said goodbye to milwaukee, there was a gathering of the kindred types.

joe said.
I wish I had something for to take with you. but I don't.
so take my wishes and put 'em in your pocket.

the amount of time I've spent with you relative to the big wishes I have for you are completely disproportional.

- - -

jack said.
you can come back in three weeks.
you're going to feel like you need to do all this.
but you can come back in three weeks.
and we'll have a welcome home party for you.


- -

and you, dear friends, drew on my mirror.
and made the canvases look bright.

- -
from the milwaukee goodbye in 2009

of note

hey hope. you are not ridiculous.

strength of a promise

Expect of me what I do of you. I will not fall short.

unkept history

I need to get these words out of my head. I feel with them is the root of human hope and faith that humanity is equipped with everything it needs to move beyond our misplaced energy towards things and identities. The human spirit can be broken and damn the people who break it. We must uplift and amplify the good in the human spirit.

I sat atop this hill for years now. The branches and bristles biting at my ankles as if they might suffocate me by starting low.

Every day goes by and I imagine what the next will bring. I have seen communities torn apart by sheer incompetence and stubbornness. The leadership here is hollow. Dig. Dig. Dig. And all is hollow.

The histories of whys are unkept - why the gibbous? why the bruised? why the people on leashes? why the proud and the humble? Damn us all if we cannot learn to understand and create room in our memories for the answers.

- - - - - - -

The sisters in the padded room whisper of a cabinet in the middle of the forest where history is stored. A cabinet sits with millions of drawers dusty with age. The birds with red ink on their chest keep these drawers full, they say.

But no one cares of their contents, one passerby said. The sisters are crazy to believe people care for the contents of the cabinets.

- - - - - - -

Damn me if these words don't make it onto pages with lasting ink to share their message.



- - - -
this is fodder for the beginnings of the bird boy book. thoughts are welcome.