Christmas Morning

ISBN ### What is your water saying?

ISBN-13: 978-0-7432-8980-1

I recently posted about my friend's gift of Masaru Emoto's "The Hidden Messages in Water" and now I can post to say I've finished the book. I enjoyed it and I'm glad I finally read it. In many ways, I sort of alluded to this in my previous post, it was more to me than just reading an interesting non-fiction text. I made my own memories and created my own meaning for these crystals, instead of only remembering our memories and our meaning. Very cathartic and also very appropriate for an approaching new year.

For those not familiar with Emoto's work, his basic premise is that all energy is vibration. "The entire universe is in a state of vibration, and each thing generates its own frequency, which is unique." He goes on to say that water visibly responds to words, music, and other vibrations by forming crystals. Positive words, music, images, vibrations, etc. form whole, clear crystals; while negative words, music, images, vibrations, etc. form incomplete, murky blobs. Emoto has photographed these crystals, or non-crystals in some cases, and he includes pages and pages of photos in this book (and more in two previous books he self-published years ago).

Human beings are about 70% water and from there it is his proposition that we are impacted by words, images, vibrations, etc. just as the crystals. Furthermore, we in turn impact the entire planet (also mostly water) by our own words, music, vibes, and so forth. It's a beautiful concept and one by which I already live my life...but not with an understanding of the chemistry of crystals. It was interesting to read about his experiments and to see photographs of the perfectly-formed crystal that heard "Thank you" and the completely deformed blob that heard "You fool." One of my favorite moments was seeing the crystal that heard "Let's do it" compared to the one that heard, "Do it." I loved that.

He says that we start out as fetuses made of 99% water. Perhaps that is why babies en utero respond to Mozart piped through headphones on the mom's belly? Interesting thought. Another interesting point is his answer to the question of how to live a happy healthy life. He says, "purify the water that makes up 70% of your body. Water in a river remains pure because it is moving. When water becomes trapped, it dies. Therefore, water must be constantly circulated. [...] So when your emotions flow throughout your body, you feel a sense of joy and you move towards physical health." Nothing new to those who study chakrasana yoga or even some meditations, but I like how simply he phrased it. My interpretation of circulating emotions is giving and creating. In other words, getting the energy/movement/circulation outside your own body. "The opposite of war isn't peace, it's creation!" (Jonathan Larson, anyone?)

Emoto's message that it's up to us to pro-actively make a positive impact really resonated with me (no pun intended). He writes, "Pollution originated in our own consciousness [think the collective unconsciousness taught by Jung]. We started to think that we wanted a bountiful and convenient lifestyle at any cost, and this selfishness led to the pollution of the environment that now affects every corner of the globe."

A Closet Scrapbooker

D.I.Y greeting cards, by yours truly. Hours and hours of cutting, glue gunning, mixing and matching funky paper, sorting orphan buttons and scraps of ribbon...who knew? I'm not a scrapbooker by any stretch of the imagination. I find it perfectly useful to store old photos in shoe boxes and new photos in digital iPhoto albums...and yet here I am home for the holidays playing arts and crafts in my mother's office all night. I cranked up Regina Spektor (Begin to Hope rocks my socks and if you can listen to "Us" from Soviet Kitsch without bobbing your head, you have no soul), grabbed a glue stick, and went to town. I have to admit that I do think some of these cards turned out pretty well. I've always enjoyed creating collage and mixed medium pieces, so I may have to suck it up and admit that there's a closet scrapbooker inside me just waiting for permission to break free.

Something about the mix of grandmother's couch flowers and punk polka dots is endearing to me.

I love the anarchy of three different prints and a ribbon that doesn't match any of them. "Anarchy," says the dork rockin' a glue gun and die cuts on a Saturday night.

I don't care where you're from, it does not get more scrapbooky than this card. But come on, tell me those colors aren't yum-my.

The colors and texture didn't turn out well in this photograph, but imagine this as a brown/rust/pink rose on antique parchment-like paper. It's so granny with the lace and buttons I can smell moth balls just looking at it.

Aesthetic Awakening

I posted about the gift from my friend that shocked me out of my creative stupor; however, it wasn't until we finally closed up shop for winter break and my time was my own that these re-awakened creative impulses began to manifest. Regular readers of this blog know that I've been overhauling my bedroom and redecorating top to bottom (Thank you, Baby Jesus, for fulfilling my every Christmas wish when on the eighth day you created IKEA). While combing the wide isles of the mother ship I found this delicious treat. Alright, so it's hanging in my living room and not exactly part of my bedroom beautification bonanza, but it is so me and so perfect for my space. My bellas will know what I mean when I say this, but I saw it from across the store and ran to it singing, "This one time, in Rome..."

Just having this painting hanging in my home was enough to inspire me to create create create. I've had two small canvases hiding in my "random box of creative arts and craft crap" for well over a year now. A few days ago I decided it was time to paint. I'm not claiming to be an artist and I'm not claiming these acrylic trinkets are headed for Tate Modern, but I will say that they are also now hanging in my living room and they make me very happy.

ISBN ### Forgiveness is all I have to offer

ISBN 1-4019-0896-9

About a year ago I was watching a Wayne Dyer special on PBS. He was promoting his new book slash speaking tour, "Inspiration: Your Ultimate Calling." At one point he told everyone that he wanted to introduce someone who inspires him. A strikingly beautiful African woman walks on stage, confident but quiet, stands front and center and proclaims: "My name is Immaculee Ilibagiza. This is the story of how I discovered God during one of history's bloodiest holocausts."

Immaculee is a rare Tutsi survivor of the 1994 Rwandan genocide. One half of one percent of Tutsi women survived. The Rwandan government estimates that more than one million people were killed in approximately 100 days. The historical and political story of the genocide are well published, but in superficial summary: Hutus staged a government coop and country-wide ethnic cleansing campaign, slaughtering their Tutsi friends and neighbors, men, women, and children. Immaculee survived 91 days hiding in a Hutu Pastor's home with seven other Tutsi women in a closet-sized bathroom. She shares her story in "Left to Tell: Discovering God Amidst the Rwandan Holocaust." In her own words, the story of "Left to Tell" is her realization that "being spared is much different from being saved...and this lesson forever changed me. It is a lesson that, in the midst of mass murder, taught me how to love those who hated and hunted me - and how to forgive those who slaughtered my family."

"Left to Tell" creates an incredible arc, leading the reader from Immaculee's memories of her childhood, her family, and their village here Hutus and Tutsis lived in peace, to her formative days at university, to the genocide, and finally her life 13 years after the genocide. The book does not shy away from the difficult, bloody details of those three months in 1994. I respect that it doesn't gloss over these events or even give readers a break from the intensity. I couldn't put the book down, finishing it in about three days. As painful as it is to read, there is a power in the book that compels you to not only reach the end, but reach the end quickly. Even though the general history of the event is well known, something in the book calls you to discover what happens to Immaculee, her country, her friends, her family.

The women hiding in the bathroom could not speak and could only move to re-situate themselves once each day for fear of being discovered. Hutu soldiers searched the Pastor's house a number of times and, based on rumors circulating through the town, called Immaculee by name as they hunted specifically for her. The picture on the left shows Immaculee ten years later in that same bathroom, clearly amazed that seven women survived three months in that tiny space. As described in "Left to Tell," throughout the 91 days she spent in the bathroom Immaculee prayed 10+ hours a day, worked her way through her rosary again and again, read the Bible over and over, and trudged through an intimate argument with God...all trying to make sense of what was happening. Reading about her experience in that bathroom is life changing, but it is the closing chapter of the book that shook me to my core.

Within weeks of the end of the genocide Immaculee was living in the capitol city of Kigali and working for the United Nations. She had begun to look toward the future and imagine a new life. She realized, however, that try as she might she could not yet move on. To this end she visited her friend Semana, a politician in charge of arresting and detaining the Hutu killers, and arranged to meet Felicien, the person who killed her family.

"Semana pushed Felicien into the office, and he stumbled onto his knees. when he looked up from the floor and saw that I was the one who was waiting for him, the color drained from his face. He quickly shifted his gaze and stared at the floor. 'Stand up, killer!' Semana shouted. 'Stand up and explain to this girl why her family is dead. Explain to her why you murdered her mother and butchered her brother. Get up, I said! Get up and tell her!' Semana screamed even louder, but the battered man remained hunched and kneeling, too embarrassed to stand and face me. His dirty clothing hung from his emaciated frame in tatters. His skin was sallow, bruised, and broken; and his eyes were filmed and crusted. His once handsome face was hidden beneath a filthy, matted beard; and his bare feet were covered in open, running sores."

Can you imagine what you might say to this person? What emotions would you have surging through your mind and body at meeting this man? Immaculee writes, "I wept at the sight of his suffering. I was overwhelmed with pity for the man. [Semana] grabbed Felicien by the shirt collar and hauled him to his feet. 'What do you have to say to her? What do you have to say to Immaculee?' Felicien was sobbing. I could feel his shame. He looked up at me for only a moment, but our eyes met. I reached out, touched his hands lightly, and quietly said what I'd come to say. 'I forgive you.'"

Naturally, Semana was stunned. He returned Felicien to his cell and then approached Immaculee, "How could you do that?" She replied, "Forgiveness is all I have to offer."

Ramblings from the Route | Musical Meanderings

I was fortunate this week to enjoy two UTA commutes. I don't have much of a Ramblings from the Route post for my first trip, being that I was too busy wiping tears from my eyes and snot from my nose as I worked my way through the final chapters of Hosseini's "Kite Runner." My friends ask me every so often, "Are you still riding the bus? How's the Parade of Crazy?" Well amigos, I joined the crazy parade this week as I broke down into my paperback.

My second UTA commute is today, a gorgeously rainy Friday. I was in a musical mood this morning as I cranked on my iPod and sloshed toward the bus stop. My rambling today is a WTF Music Mix, more commonly known as iPod Shuffle. I'm completely addicted to party shuffles and smart playlists. I'm already looking forward to my ride home when I can finish the second half of this cacophony.

Lisa Loeb | Falling in Love (live version from Lilith Fair)
Various Artists (Hairspray) | You Can't Stop the Beat
Sufjan Stevens | Chicago
Royal Bliss | Devils and Angels
The Byrds | Spanish Harlem Incident (covering Dylan)
Doris Day | Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps
Ellis Paul | Give In, Give Up
Pete Yorn | Life on a Chain
Dar Williams | Iowa
Toad the Wet Sprocket | Dam Would Break
Frank Sinatra | Dancing in the Dark
Ryan Adams | Chin Up, Cheer Up
Guster | Demons
I Fiamminghi & Rudolf Werthen | Fratres for Eight Cellos
Indigo Girls - Scooter Boys
John Mayer | Slow Dancing in a Burning Room (acoustic Village Sessions)
The Shins | Girl Inform Me
Gustav | We Shall Overcome
Animal Collective | Did You See the Words?
Phantom Planet | Lonely Day
Ani DiFranco | Evolve
Mahala Rai Banda | Tabulhaneaua
Better Than Ezra | Allison Foley
Big Bang | Girl in Oslo
Old 97s | Indefinitely
Abdel Ali Slimani | Moi Et Toi
Justin Timberlake | FutureSex/LoveSounds
The Flaming Lips | What is the Light?
Citizen Cope | Let the Drummer Kick
Counting Crows | Friend of the Devil (covering The Grateful Dead)
Howard Zinn | Langston Hughes, The U.S., and Imperialism
John Gorka | The Gyspy Life
Bill Withers | Ain't No Sunshine
Glen Hansard & Marketa Irglova | Trying to Pull Myself Away
Eminem | 'Till I Collapse
Cecilio & Kapono | Feeling Just the Way I Do

First Friday Films | Take Four

First Friday Films | Take Four
The Oscar Race continues...



I'm still enjoying the run of substantive scripts and political plot lines gracing our megaplexes. It's only a matter of time until movies stop grasping for Oscars, go back to sucking, and I retreat back to the Film Society and obscure world cinema waiting to be discovered on the library shelves, but for now...

Into the Wild
When the film ended and I sat glued to my seat, tears in my eyes, and a knot in my stomach, I knew the experience would haunt me. I didn't expect, however, that it would still be haunting me weeks and weeks later. The genius behind this haunting experience is most definitely Sean Penn (the film's screenwriter & director, and a golden idol worshiped by yours truly), but not to be overlooked is Emile Hirsch who nailed the role of Chris McCandless.

For me this is a love story. It's a love story about Chris's passionate affair with nature, his fling with the freedom of the open road, and the eternal quest to find an authentic self. I have a wanderlust in me that will not be satiated, but I believe that deep within every person is the desire to be free and live authentically. For Chris McCandless that meant hitchhiking, living off the land, spending years of his life virtually alone and in search of...something. Not many take it to that extreme, but there is something profoundly, universally human about this film. I've heard from friends that have read Krakauer's book (I haven't yet) that it's a bit different than the film. It's definitely on my to-read list. Oh and Eddie Veder's soundtrack, it should be noted, is a character in the film in its own right.

Dan in Real Life
Cute, funny, lame, plays out like a poorly written sitcom, but Steve Carrel is sweet, super good looking, and quite charming. Because of him, even this mildly inane film is worth watching. Dane Cook, however, WTF? Doesn't he have beer cans that need crushing against a forehead or something? Run along.

Lions for Lambs
"Rome is burning, son!" Rome is burning and I'm glad this movie stepped into the fray. This movie is such an awesome surprise. Knowing that Cruise produced it (his first project as head of United Artists), Redford directed it, and Streep acted in it, one would assume it's a liberal flick preaching to the liberal choir. Not so much. The brilliance of this film is that it's perfectly balanced. Perfectly. If you go into this movie thinking George Bush is right, America is infallible, and we're taking the right approach in the "war on terror"...you'll leave feeling validated and represented by this film. If you go into this movie thinking George Bush is doing incredible harm, America deserves better, and we need to pull out of Iraq yesterday...you'll leave feeling validated and represented by this film. Brilliant.

The three stories told in the film take place simultaneously and all in the course of about one hour. You watch a conservative senator have a heated conversation with a liberal journalist. You watch a passionate university professor have a debate with an apathetic young student. You watch two U.S. soldiers stranded in the snowy mountains of Afghanistan, eventually both killed by Taliban fighters. Redford is never shy about cramming metaphors down your throat and this movie is customarily thinly veiled. The message? "The problem is not with the leaders who started this, the problem is with us. They bank on your apathy. The build entire strategies around it." The point? Have the conversation. This movie doesn't provide answers, it only starts the conversation. It doesn't tell you if the soldiers died in vain. It doesn't tell you what the apathetic young student decides to do with the challenge posed by his professor. It doesn't tell you what story the journalist publishes. It only starts the dialogue that every person in America, if they would stop consuming long enough to be citizens again, should be having.

In the film, in a debate about consumerism in our culture, a college student flippantly asks: "When did Americans not want big homes and high walls?" The profound response came from a classmate: "July 5, 1776. December 8, 1941. September 12, 2001." We need to have this conversation now. The immediacy created by telling all three stories in real time in about an hour is Redford's not-subtle way of telling us the time is now. In the time it takes you to watch this film, two more soldiers, albeit fictional characters in a film, have died. And yet...how many soldiers and citizens have lost their lives in the time it took you to read this post? Start the conversation. Start by seeing Lions for Lambs.

American Gangster
I can't get enough Russell Crowe. I really like him and I really like the films/roles he chooses (A Good Year as a possible exception). This script is so tight and so perfectly woven that even though the movie feels eight hours long, I couldn't take my eyes off the screen. I honestly cared to know what happened to each character and it's a rare film that can hook you like that. What's more is that I'm not terribly interested in gangster thriller films...and yet it held my attention through to the very end. Well done.

Beowulf
As an undergrad I trudged through this epic in its original old English verse and when I first heard Hollywood got its hands on it I was interested in the way we're interested in car accidents. You don't want to look and but you're oddly compelled to rubberneck. From what I understand, Beowulf is supposed to be seen in 3D. I didn't watch it in 3D and perhaps that explains the annoying half-animation slash half-human situation I was faced with. Very confusing. And yet, like a train wreck, oddly compelling. The cinematic style grew on me and sometimes, when I let my eyes relax and cross a bit, it got better and was almost 3D. Angelina Jolie, it goes without explanation, is wicked hot in her gold body paint (and CGI hips). My goodness. But even my crush on her, I'm sorry to say, wouldn't get me in the theatre a second time.

Reign Over Me
I realize this came out eons ago...but it was another Redbox impulse rent. I like Adam Sandler in dramatic roles. I think that when he wants to, he can make pretty decent movies (Punch Drunk Love, for example). Not to say that Happy Gilmore isn't a modern classic among the likes of Gone with the Wind. I thought Reign Over Me is tastefully done. It's a quiet, sweet movie about friendship and grief. I've posted before about my fascination with films portraying male friendships and this is another good example. Don Cheadle is flawless and completely steals the show.

Enchanted
I didn't do nearly enough blow in preparation for this bizarre flick, nor was I drunk enough. I attended a free sneak preview and once I figured out how to block the noise of sticky children running up and down the aisles (I guess their parents dropped them off and were back home in the barn), Enchanted was pretty funny. I mean, let's be honest, it's stupid and contrived, but somehow it ended up being really funny. You have not lived until you watch a hamster play charades for three minutes straight. What?!

I'll never say no to Patrick Dempsey (even in a ball gown) and Susan Sarandon is wicked hot (not pun intended) in her witchy get-up. I also like that it tried to turn the tired fairy tale on its head. In other words, not to ruin the suspenseful ending for those of you dying to see it, the princess kicks ass and saves the prince's life. That's what I'm talkin' about.

August Rush
Cynics beware, don't bother with August Rush. If you're not willing to suspend judgement and let yourself be swept up in a dazzlingly magical story, spend your money on American Gangster. If you are willing to let yourself be charmed, romanced, and flat out seduced by the idea that anything is possible, you must. see. this. movie.

The fact that there is a harmonic connection among all living things on this planet (harmonic patterns throughout the entire cosmos, for that matter) is nothing new or controversial. What is beautiful to me is the way that this film took that harmonic concept from the abstract universal and translated it into something extremely specific and personal. In the case of August Rush, two musicians fall in love, have a one night stand, a child (put in an orphanage), and a passionate emotional connection even though they have no contact with each other outside their one night together. Ultimately, it's music that brings all three people (the musician lovers and their child) together after 11 years have gone by.

I knew what I was getting into with this movie and I was very willing to be charmed, romanced and flat out seduced by a happy ending. So between Jonathan Rhys Myers (ranked securely in my Top Five Sexiest Men on Planet Earth. Match Point, anyone? Don't make me gush about the Tudors (Google an image search and I promise you won't be disappointed)) and this refreshingly sweet script, I was not disappointed. Lovely all around.

High School Musical 1 & 2
Before your mouth gapes in shocked horror at the fact that until 23 November 2007 I had never heard of High School Musical, consider that: A) I'm not a bubble gum popping thirteen year old; B) By intentional choice my only media outlets are PBS and NPR; C) I don't read Rolling Stone, Teen Beat, or InTouch; and D) I'm not a bubble gum popping thirteen year old. To reiterate. And yet, as of 07 December 2007, I have sincerely requested that both DVDs be stuffed in my Christmas stocking.

So I'm at my parent's house for Thanksgiving weekend and having just finished a non-fiction memoir about the Rwandan genocide I found myself detoxing by flipping through no less than 500 channels on the boob tube. With approximately two seconds on each channel I can't say I caught much of anything...until I fell in love with Zac Efron. Two seconds. That's all it took. Turns out the Disney Channel was playing High School Musical 1 & 2 back to back all. day. long. All! Day! (And no, I won't tell you how many times I watched them). Not only were they airing these addicting treats back-to-back, there were little pop-up bubbles displaying random behind-the-scenes facts about the cast, crew, and the experience of making the movies. So yes I'm like three years behind, but I bet you can't tell me that the milk cartons in the cafeteria were actually filled with Sprite or that the stairs in the high school were not painted red, but covered in sticky vinyl.

So speaking of my tasty jail bait, Zac has an overly-acted but rockin' dance solo in the second film and it's totally Footloosesque (floppy haired Kevin cracks open a cassette tape case, beats the steering wheel with his fists, shakes his little acid washed booty...I'm flushed at the thought). Speaking of, the world wide web told me Zac is working on a deal to remake the classic dance flick and play the Ren McCormick role. Cute as he is, not quite sure how I feel about that. I will tell you how I feel about the confirmation of High School Musical 3, however. Giddy as a bubble gum poppin' tweenyboppin' school girl.

Creative Coma

I've been in a creative funk lately. I haven't had energy to create my own visuals and so instead I've resorted to a slew of movies (First Friday Films post coming in a few days). I haven't had energy to create my own words and so I've been reading voraciously the words of others (ISBN ### posts also coming soon). Over Thanksgiving weekend I read "Left to Tell: Discovering God Amidst the Rwandan Holocaust" by Immaculee Ilibagiza, I needed a mindless break so I cruised through David Baldacci's "The Collectors" in two days, and just this morning on my UTA commute I finished "The Kite Runner" by Kahled Hosseini. I usually look forward to writing my ISBN ### posts and processing my thoughts, but this funk has paralyzed me.

Ironically, it was the thoughtful gift of a book from my friend that snapped me out of this creative coma. I haven't read it yet. I haven't even cracked it open. I've done nothing but read her sweet card and put the book on my night stand. The amazing thing, however, is that the moment I saw the cover of the book, I felt my funk snap. It was gone. My mind was immediately alert. My emotional center made riotous noise, upset that I've been ignoring it. "The Hidden Messages in Water" by Masaru Emoto brought with it not only an appreciation for my friend, but also a flood of memories from a past relationship, conversations, love letters, pillow talk, all of it washed over me in a single instant. My bond with him was the most creatively charged growth experience I've ever had. The same was true for him and our energies combined was a powerful cocktail. The memory of what it feels like to be constantly turned on to the world came rushing back to me.

I'm grateful for my friend gently showing me, even without intending to, that it's time to let this creative coma slip away.

My front yard | Saturday afternoon

And lest you think winter is all grey and glum...look what I found poking out from behind the thick blanket of powder.