Graduation 2013

  "Dr. Philos."

I have have been slowing working on my PhD for many years and finally, I can now say "I've finished!" I still don't quite believe it. This writing project has been an albatross around my neck for many years and has interfered with and/or influenced all sorts of other activities both work and personal. When someone would ask, "Can you work on this project with me?" or "What are you doing for the weekend?" I always thought, "I'm working on my dissertation."

The anvil-like weight of this unfinished project continually interfered with my freedom. I suddenly feel lighter (though I certainly weigh more!!) because now I can move on.

Oh happy me! On to the exercise mat!

Memories Re-visited

Memories Re-visited

Mother and Daughter 2009

Life is a surprise. It's full of forgetting and remembering but when you forget, you don't remember. Okay. Take that thought slowly. It is only when you remember that you realize that you forgot something. It's like that with most lost memories...they come rushing through your mind after some triggering moment. It is also possible to remember factual events, but still forget the accompanying feelings that those events entailed. So I ask myself: Do you remember if you don't feel the experience again? Lately, my memory is inundated with past experiences that come upon me, suddenly. And too, I'm aware of the feelings of another time. They sweep through my mind alive with the fragrant and bittersweet breeze...

Morning Memory

White lace flower curtain
Growing round and close.
Late morning heat, cooled,
Again the earth breathes sky.

Brushed by the damp and
Dead leaves, I walk.
Head-wind determined...
Old fears dry and peel off.

Oh memory wind, oh friend
I open the door to your
everything and all -in
this once-was breeze

Heavy stuck leaf-prints
Evaporate and crumble
Soil-rich with promise-
Newness yet to come.

Cynthia Pittmann
2009

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What causes this upsurge of memory? It could be a certain age, or having time to reflect? Perhaps it is a combination of turbulence and slow thought all in the context of a relationship? I am a mother who has a daughter- and "we get along" my daughter would say. Lately, when the breeze of her life blows through mine, I remember what it was like to live many years ago. I don't mean that I experience what she experiences (though that happens too) I mean that I remember myself as a teenager. I think back on my own high school years and I remember what it felt like to be devoted, absorbed and swept away by another-in the "teen way"- which is not usually accessible to my ordinary task-oriented adult self. Lately, I surprise myself with tears when I listen to the uncomplicated music of Taylor Swift. Suddenly, I remember/realize the pain of early unrequited love when I hear this song (Don't judge me!!! :-) :

Letter to Sweet-Sixteen Me

Dearest young Miss C,

Going as you are into this life with
Anger, joy, loss, and hope swirling in
A kaleidoscope of poetry and dreams, riding on
a Ferris wheel, "Carousel" and "Brigadoon"
"June is busting out all over..." but

Michigan winters are cold...
Spring arrives early in Ohio...
It's a trip all night to reach down and
find a muse alive in the apple blossoms...

A wild but careful you, an
overfilled-lilac-purple-budding-in-vase you,
set on the mantle and likely to fall.
Oh, I would catch you if I could.

Still wild horses will buck and break that
country-roads-take-me-home innocence.
Should I tell you the secrets of your future?
The crystal ball has gone smoky.

You must have your time...uncomplicated
Drama with Romeo while you play Juliet or
A Christmas Pixi who sits on Santa
Claus's lap beaming over-bright
smiles into the camera.

Cynthia Pittmann
1950s Musical Playlist

"The old dreams were good dreams;
they didn't work out, but I'm glad I had them."

Robert James Waller, "The Bridges of Madison County"


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Hey there, Cynthia (on the far left), how are you doing? It's been a long time; and, it's so nice to see you, again!








 
Post Script:

Thank you, blogger friends, for taking this trip down memory lane with me. I know we stayed up all night talking but the sun is rising and I feel renewed! xxoo

 (Note: Sections of this post are updated from 2009)

Puerto Rican Christmas Food: Pasteles

Christmas in Puerto Rico: Plantains!

I'm not sure if the bananas in this truck are plantains but they look about the right size. Plantains are called platanos in Spanish but when I lived in San Diego, California, I often saw them on the shelves at the now defunct Alpha Beta grocery store under the name of "macho bananas". ( I wonder what that referred too?)

During the holiday season in Puerto Rico, which starts just before Thanksgiving Day, these large green bananas are in high demand principally because the favorite holiday dish features a mashed banana paste (masa). I usually order mine from Dona Christina because she makes them without meat upon request. If I ever motivate myself enough, I will adapt a version of the following recipe(please follow the link for exact directions).

Puerto Rican savory cakes in banana leaves:

"Pasteles are Puerto Rican special occasion food. The whole family usually gets together assembly-line-style to make large numbers of these starchy parcels and get them ready for the boiling pot. No Boricuan Christmas is complete without pasteles."

If you prefer, you can watch this YouTube video on how to make pasteles. It shows an adapted recipe that is made by a Puerto Rican woman in the United States.  
Feliz Navidad to all!

Animal Farm Revisited

Many Changes Both Great and Small

Dear Readers, Since this post appeared we have undergone many changes. Our dear Michelle (in the photograph) has died of a liver ailment. We moved to the animated and transformative beach. Benicio del Toro, the perky black dog and Miss Junie are living with us in our beach side apartment. We found a small farm for a few of our adopted dogs, several were placed and the less fortunate were taken to a shelter. It was a painful time. I send you all a most lovely wish for both joy and compassion in your lives. Sincerely, Ms. Oasis (Cynthia)

Oasis Animals: Michelle's Eyes



Michelle, ma belle, sont des mots qui vont tres bien ensemble-

tres bien ensemble...

(The Beatles/Paul McCartney)



What is so compelling about our animal friends? I love Ma Belle, Michelle's, face. I love to press my forehead against hers and send her all my love. Contact with Michelle gives me such a feeling of profound well being. I know this is not unusual. Many people have a special connection with an animal friend.

I also feel great warmth (and sometimes anger) toward Miss Junie. She claims all flat surfaces with a sense of authority that defies all boundaries.

Lately, we have been having a territory battle over the large table that I use as a desk. She determinedly knocks over my pile of research books and brushes her paw across the carefully stacked and ordered mail while she makes herself quite comfortable as owner of the table. But what can I do? She's the queen of the house, and is likely to punish anyone who attempts to constrain her. (These punishments are unspeakably naughty! If you have a territorial cat, you completely understand. If not, it's best not to go into it.

Recently, she has allowed me to pick her up and hold her in a close hug. Her tolerance of my affection has made me so much more permissive about her eccentricities.

This lovely yogi cat (Lionheart, Temple Cat) is from the Seven Centers Yoga Arts in Sedona, Arizona (photo credit and to read the latest newsletter click here.)

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A love song to our animal friends...



Only You by Ringo Starr's quirky video expresses this sentiment! (Click to watch the video!)

Only you, can make this world seem bright.

Only you, can make the darkness bright.

Only you and you alone can thrill me like you do

and fill my heart with love for only you

Only you can make this change in me.

For it's true, you are my destiny.

When you hold my hand, I understand the magic that you do.

You're my dream come true.

My one my one and only you.



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Introducing Benicio del Toro (AKA Beni' and 'Nicio)!

He is the classic dog. Completely loyal. Completely protective. He is our oldest stray. One day, his mother, Ms. Nellie, arrived at our gate and just waited. She waited until the night. She waited until the next morning. She found her way into the fenced in back area and settled in. We fed her and then it was all over. Little Ms. Nellie was pregnant. The following day, she had our little bull- headed, Beni!



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A few words of love by the renowned (and occasionally sardonic) poet, Billy Collins:



Dharma

The way the dog trots out the front door

every morning

without a hat or an umbrella,

without any money

or the keys to her dog house

never fails to fill the saucer of my heart

with milky admiration.



Who provides a finer example

of a life without encumbrance—

Thoreau in his curtainless hut

with a single plate, a single spoon?

Ghandi with his staff and his holy diapers?



Off she goes into the material world

with nothing but her brown coat

and her modest blue collar,

following only her wet nose,

the twin portals of her steady breathing,

followed only by the plume of her tail.



If only she did not shove the cat aside

every morning

and eat all his food

what a model of self-containment she would be,

what a paragon of earthly detachment.

If only she were not so eager

for a rub behind the ears,

so acrobatic in her welcomes,

if only I were not her god.



"Dharma" by Billy Collins, from Sailing Alone Around the Room. Random House, 2002.



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And if that is not enough, here is a story that you can read to your little ones:



I’m a Big BoyIt was time for bed, but Joey was afraid of the dark.

“Go to bed Joey”, his mom said.

The room was dark. A big shadow moved on the wall.

“Mom” Joey yelled, “Mom!”

“What is it son?”

“There’s a big shadow on the wall!”

“A shadow,?” His mom asked “It’s from the big tree outside your window!”

Joey wanted to be brave but when his mom left, the shadow grew!

Joey could not fall asleep and only by holding his stuffed animal, Buster Brown, could he quiet his fear.

The next morning Joey went to the park with his mom. He had dark shadows underneath his eyes. He was cranky.

He met his friend Suzy.” Hey Joey, do you want to play ball?” Joey didn’t answer.

You look sad. She asked him, “What’s wrong, Joey?”

Joey said, “I’m sad”.

“Why are you sad?” asked Suzy.

“It’s a secret. I’ll tell you if you promise not to tell.”

Joey told Suzy everything, even the part about the shadow and how his stuffed animal, Buster Brown helped him fall asleep.

“I think I know how to help you, but it’s a surprise. I’ll come over this afternoon.”

Later, Suzy talked to her mother and then, they came over to Joey’s house with a gift.

When Joey and his mom opened the door, they saw that it was a soft fluffy puppy!

“Oh mom, can I keep him? And can he sleep in my room?” Joey asked.

She smiled, “Yes dear, but only if you are a big boy.”

Joy said to his new brown puppy, “I am a big boy, Buster Brown!”And everyone laughed.

Joey knew he was a big boy because he took care of a real puppy and big boys are not afraid of the dark!

Here's wishing you all the puppy love you want!

Oasis Feature (re-post): A Series of Local Views #1

Good morning, friends. Have you ever looked again, with appreciation, at the place you live? Recently, we met with some visitors from California and while we talked, I started to remember the early impressions I had of Puerto Rico, la isla enchanto-the island of enchantment. Won't you be a tourists with me as we take a look around this beautiful island? To start, we are taking a little tour of the beautiful Old City, El Viejo San Juan.

Please sit down and join me with a cafe con leche at El Convento Hotel before we get started on our little walk. Sipping locally grown strong coffee accompanied by hot steamed milk is a must for the beginning of an active day.

El Convento Hotel is one of the oldest hotels in the city and used to be a convent. It is graced with lovely arches, thick cool walls, and remarkable works of art informally placed around. If you ask at the front desk, the bar, or the waiter about the pieces, it is likely you will get this response from the young attractive bilingual employees, "No, I don't know. I should because we get a lot of questions about it from our guests. But I don't really know much about it." After living here for fourteen years, I have a theory about these answers. Puerto Rico is an accessible unpretentious place where art and artistic talent are considered ordinary. Why make a big deal about these mystery musical monks? (Who is the painter???)

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Creative expression is more of a lifestyle here rather than a career path. Of course, I love Puerto Rican people and like bloggers, they all are excessively talented.

Let's go up one level to the Cana restaurant and bar to look at this impressive sculpture created by Botero, a work that is just casually observed as you sip your pina colada on the outdoor patio. The name Cana, has a special significance to me because when moved to Puerto Rico fourteen years ago, we lived in Cana, a community outside of Bayamon. Also, if you have read Jan Karon's Mitford series of books, you probably have come across the the title, Out to Canaan? And have you heard "Camidano haica Cana" (accent on the letter a or else it means white hair)? It's a lively church song here, "Walking Towards Cana", which suggests a pilgrimage to the promised land-maybe a Puerto Rican paradise? This piece was sculpted by the Columbian artist, Fernando Botero Angulo (born April 19, 1932 in Medellín, Antioquia) He is a well known Colombian figurative artist whose work is often on exhibit in the Museo del Arte in Ponce as well as other places around San Juan.

This early piece reflects a gracefully slim young woman but his more popular work focuses on the large curves of voluptuous women-here is Botero's drawing/
painting
The Love Letter (2003).












I cannot resist posting another one, Rosalba (1969):
Actually, the people at El Convento Hotel know who Botero is ...
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This antique filled hotel also has some beautiful botanical prints and here is one of the Ceiba tree flower by Agustine Stahl ...



Interestingly, he had a leading role in the Independence movement in Puerto Rico. He was remarkably talented in the natural sciences and made important contributions in the fields of archaeology, botany, ethnology, medicine and zoology. Dr. Agustín Stahl (1842-1917) is one of the first celebrated and acknowledge Puerto Rican scientists.
I'm glad I did this bit of research. The next time I go to the El Convento Hotel, I will pay my respects to the series of three accurately rendered botanical watercolors on the external wall leading up to the Cana Resturant and bar...
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Let us step out into the antique cobalt blue cobble stone street.















Oh, what a lovely park just out the door! I just want to sit there and do some light summer reading... maybe one from the Mitford series?Or maybe I could draw this tree? I love the iron work detail, too.
When we walk out the front door and look down beautiful purple flowers grace the entrance.
Such a sunny day for a walk in El Viejo San Juan.

Fear or love?

Choose love or fear..."There are two basic motivating forces: fear and love. When we are afraid, we pull back from life. When we are in love, we open to all that life has to offer with passion, excitement, and acceptance. We need to learn to love ourselves first, in all our glory and our imperfections. If we cannot love ourselves, we cannot fully open to our ability to love others or our potential to create. Evolution and all hopes for a better world rest in the fearlessness and open-hearted vision of people who embrace life." ~ John Lennon

Oasis Feature: Re-post Self-disclosure and Honesty

How do you react when someone "over" shares?

Though I no longer live in the country, I think this post invites relevant introspection about our sharing boundaries.

 

Yes, it's true, I have lots of it! Seriously...at least three bags in the bedroom. See, it's been raining on the weekends and I wash all of my dirty clothes outside in the sun. Why? Yes, I have had modern conveniences but whenever they break, I take a break from the 21st century. Washing clothes outside reminds me of women washing by the river; I feel connected to the past and linked to an unbroken chain of peasant womanhood. Of course, women still wash clothes outside by a water source in many countries. (And, yes, it seems to be gender specific.) I look at this washing as my karma yoga, for all of you (sparse!) yogi bloggers out there. I kind of imagine myself out in another country, say India, next to the spiritually renown and polluted Ganges or in Peru, next to the Parana infested mystical water of the Amazon. Or on a Caribbean island, Antigua say, where author Jamaica Kincaid describes her childhood as she was growing up in the 1950's and I see her mother's pile of bleaching stones. I also see myself: There I am washing, and lifting the wet clothes. I swat them at the stones, breaking the clinging mud from its hold on the once lovely soft fabric. Rinse in the cool flowing water. I carefully spread the white clothes on the pile of bleaching rocks and allow the sun to bear down into the fabric until it is white again. If you do feel inspired to wash clothes outside and do your bit to save the planet, you should keep the weather report close at hand! Still, I'm not talking about that kind of dirty laundry.

I'm talking about the kind of secrets that people are not suppose to say unless there is a significant degree of real intimacy in the relationship. I was trying to come up with a list of socially taboo subjects...

• physical and mental disabilities


• same-sex gender preferences


• terminated pregnancies


• a murder in the family


• financial problems


• unmarried parents


• bodily functions


• criminal record

I know these are not all of the potentially "forbidden" subjects, but I think the above list is enough. Notice when someone begins to reveal something personal from the above list there can be a kind of moral physical retraction and the accompanying emotional feeling, 'Oh no, over-share! Make-it-stop. We want to know secrets and we don't want to know secrets. Why else would we avidly read about celebrities infidelities, and other domestic and personal indiscretions? Why would office gossip be so popular? Maybe we just don't want direct contact with those who tell their own secrets? What makes something wrong to share? How did we make these rules?

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I've been thinking about this disclosure issue because some of you know that my mother was murdered. Whenever, I share this fact, it's a risk. Some people just want to run from this sort of bare fact. I've noticed the same concern addressed in other confessional modes. Consider, the Twelve-step Program which is designed to help people confront the desire to deny and soften the truth by beginning every testimonial with, "Hello, I'm (insert name here) and I'm an (insert condition here)." Why would people judge you when you tell them the biographical detail of your life? I've read many autobiographies and several of the classics which are titled, Confessions. (Rousseau, Leo Tolstoy and St. Augustine.) I've noticed that what was private has changed over time.(The three "Confessions are from the more recent past and go back to the 1600's) Also, I have worked for a number of years in counselor type positions (military, prison, and college). From these various experiences, I can assure you of what you must already know, people are not really so different. Everyone has secrets. My own dear grandmother would not talk about her missing father. I don't know if he was really 'killed in the war.' Were her parents really married? Did she feel shame? I would like to know. I'm sure you also have some family secrets you would like to know. Many of our questions remain unanswered, either they are buried in silence or buried underground. We just have to accept the fact that we will never know. It's a secret.

We assert or reveal who we are or what our values are through 

personal sharing.

In our time, I think we should pave the way of connecting by honestly (and without pressure)sharing our own life experience. And if someone shares with us through our everyday interaction or through the blogosphere, I think we should say (or at least think) in a nod to the sixties:
 
Let it all hang out!
Right on, baby!

You tell it like it is!

We should let those brave people who risk self-disclosure know that what they have shared has been honorably received. We should embrace them in an accepting atmosphere. I say this because recently, I've read some confessions in blogland and the commenter(s) seem to be frightened away. Sigh. I wonder why? I think our lack of response is interpreted as society's voice echoing the familiar warning:

Don't go airing your dirty laundry out in public.

Here's a quirky little video, I thought you might enjoy. Also, it makes me think of my mom's positive vision. I see her on her motorcycle. (Like other trail blazing women of her day, she was a proud trophy carrying member of the Motor Maids, Inc.) This is for you, "Mama Sue."



More about my clean laundry:

If you would like to know more about my mother's story, click on the highlighted links. Also, there is a documentary film that is being made by Brian Alexander about the life and death of my mother and her partner, Christine, just click here.


 photo credit