Through the Prism

After passing through the prism, each refraction contains some pure essence of the light, but only an incomplete part. We will always experience some aspect of reality, of the Truth, but only from our perspectives as they are colored by who and where we are. Others will know a different color and none will see the whole, complete light. These are my musings from my particular refraction.

11.19.2022

Obscure & Inscrutable


Recently I shared on Facebook:
"Some 300 years ago, a slush fund referred to extra funds sailors made from selling bacon fat, or what they called slush."

 - Entertaining ourselves with random ponderings during a slow night at the library. Now we know. Source.
I love odd little bits of information like this.

And, as I shared previously in Just Saw My First Rabbit of Spring, I like random "thing" generators--random words, facts, thoughts, and the like.

This random word generator just gave me the "fake" word ebriated. I like it. If inebriated means drunk or intoxicated, then it makes sense to think I spend most of my time ebriated.

Some random sentences and a paragraph from the same source:
Had he known what was going to happen, he would have never stepped into the shower.

The fish listened intently to what the frogs had to say.

The random sentence generator generated a random sentence about a random sentence.

Brock would have never dared to do it on his own he thought to himself. That is why Kenneth and he had become such good friends. Kenneth forced Brock out of his comfort zone and made him try new things he'd never imagine doing otherwise. Up to this point, this had been a good thing. It had expanded Brock's experiences and given him a new appreciation for life. Now that both of them were in the back of a police car, all Brock could think was that he would have never dared do it except for the influence of Kenneth.
And one random fact: Lemurs use millipedes as an insect repellant and to get high.


I love this thought that randomly showed up in my feed:
Calm down, edgelords, the whole point of society is that it's not survival of the fittest. Literally the point is that we're leveraging our collective strengths to lead to better outcomes for everyone. We've been doing it for a couple thousand years now.

The survival strategy our specie dumped all its skill points in is cooperation and community. Don't like it? Walk into the woods and die mad about it.
That says it so well. We are social creatures by nature, and cooperation is self-interest.


There are three [Degolars] who work in my building. Today I received an invitation to a meeting called "Coordinating Naming Conventions." Upon arrival, each [Degolar] was presented with a new magnetic name badge. Mine was "Good [Degolar], which, I have to admit, feels a bit bland and disappointing next to "Evil [Degolar]" and "Pirate [Degolar]." But I am consoled by the fact that Evil [Degolar] said we can temporarily switch badges should I ever have need.

When I shared on Facebook, a friend, former coworker and supervisor, responded: "Pirate and Evil are right on. I'm not buying Good, though. I'd say Inscrutable." It reminded me of the time someone else at work called me an "enigma." I proudly embrace both labels. It makes me happy to be (somewhat) inscrutable.


Speaking of work, I just discovered my library keeps a bag full of trauma at the desk.

(To go along with the active shooter training they got me for my birthday today.)


My favorite two additions so far to our "What are you thankful for?" board in the Kids area at my library: "my hippo" and trampoline flips.



Last weekend I carved and crafted myself a little wooden "worry stone" so I have something in my pocket to fidget with when my hands get restless. I realized I was instinctively drawn to making it for my thumb in the same way I operate a smart phone.




My contribution to the Halloween cloaks this year: a wizard staff for each boy.

It challenged and stretched my newly begun wood carving skills and used all my free time in October.




"[Older], someone has challenged us for the throne!"

"Who?"

"Fart. I can't believe Fart has challenged us for the throne."

Overheard dialogue as the boys walked through the kitchen one morning. The best thing about their Halloween costumes is they can be used anytime for imaginative play.

The other day in the car, [Younger] said, "[Older] the voice you use when you're wearing your cloak really creeps me out. I can't tell if you're good or evil."

"Oh, I haven't heard that voice yet. [Older], can you say something so I can hear it?" I said.

"No, I can only use it when I'm wearing my cloak. We'll have to do it later," he responded.

Though I do remember the evening [Spouse] finished it, the first time he got to wear it. I overheard him as he paced around the yard, lost in thought, muttering, "No one can tell if I'm good or evil," over and over to himself.



"Ai yai yai! Who knows anything these days?"

[Older], expressing dismay that characters in traditional role-playing games like Dungeons & Dragons don't know how to craft their weapons and tools from scratch, like they do in Minecraft. He was disappointed to learn they start with basic equipment and skills instead of absolutely nothing. This was during a conversation with [Uncle] about the elements he and [Younger] would enjoy if [Uncle] created a setting for them to adventure in. It started with things like, "Lots of biomes. All the Biomes. Plus some imaginary ones, like mushroom forests." Then he took a deep dive into crafting, the need for characters to find raw materials and make every possession from scratch. That's when we tried to explain adventuring usually involves the things that come after the crafting, which led to his disparaging comment about people "these days." It was the first time, I think, anyone has ever uttered "ai yai yai" in our house.


Recently in the car the boys were talking about a game they play on the playground at school, gaga ball. At one point [Older] said, " . . . I use a different strategy, which some call cheating . . . " And his reaction to [Younger]'s strategy: "It's not cheating, but that's just mean!"

I can tell [Older] was sick and feeling lousy when he tried to entertain himself by starting this story.

The Wasted World

In a far away place called the Wasted World, the first place a civilization tried to live . . . 
A Facebook post from [Spouse]:
DEEP THOUGHTS BY [YOUNGER]

I was driving Elliot to school from a doctor's office yesterday and he said "Mom, I think Dad and I are related to Jesus. I really think Jesus is our ancestor."

Me: "Ummm, what makes you think that sweetheart?"

E:. Well, because Dad wants to be kind and take care of everyone and so do I.  Like Jesus."

Me:. Well, that makes sense, except Jesus lived in the Middle East and Dada's ancestors are from Northern Europe.  Those parts of the world are really far from each other."

E: "Yes, but Jesus must have had a family because he was so loving and kind and his family or their family, like his great-great grandkids could have traveled to "Northerly Euros" and eventually made Dad's ancestors and passed on all of Jesus' kindness into Dad and then me."

Me:. "I definitely see how you could think that. But, most people think Jesus didn't marry.  I definitely agree with you though, it would be strange for someone with so much love to give to not have a family to share all that love.  Remember though, you don't have to actually be descended from Jesus to love others and want to take care of them."

E "Maybe, we're all descended from Jesus and don't know it.  Maybe we all have lots of kindness in us, but some people forget that they have it and do mean things because they don't see their kindness anymore.  I don't want to forget my kindness."

Me: "Ell, I do not think it would ever be possible for you.  Kindness is your superpower."

Ell:" Yes, I get it from Dad...and probably Jesus, if he's our ancestor."
Maybe we all have lots of kindness in us, but some people forget that they have it and do mean things because they don't see their kindness anymore. I don't want to forget my kindness. <3


And from another one:
And now [Younger]'s temp is 103.8 and I had the start of a Long Covid relapse last night (basically feels like I have severe flu). Sorry to whine....  

[Younger]'s main concern "I wonder how badly things will deteriorate in my class without me there."

Me: Ell, I'm pretty sure your teacher can handle it.  She's an excellent teacher.

Ell:. I don't know.  Our class is really just chaos.  Mrs... and I can barely handle it together most days!
Both his kindness and his eagerness to be a helpful for his teacher have come up previously in recent posts.


A couple of poems about the importance of small things that have come across feed lately:
Dion O’Reilly


You know those moments
when you’re young, dumb-
struck by the sight of something,
the air undone by mist and naked
sunlight as you pace the tracks
in Seattle for no reason,
save the oily light,
the peel of moon, coy
between the clouds.
Sure, you feel the same
old disaster, the same sadness
about sadness.
That’s a given, but then,
you’re hit by a fit
of chromatic blue. Hunger-
blue, blind-blue, squeezing
the high fence
like a host of baby-faced
pythons, so cerulean, so rare,
in the dripping freeze,
so necessary and painful
after months of gray
restraint, gray as the gray hair
around your mother’s near-dead face,
your hand released, finally, from her
pressed fingers, her furious fist.
It’s the first time you notice—
like the open throat of desire,
the tapped vein—
how much you want the world.
 
September 2022, Artist’s Choice


Alisha N. Wright (age 15)


It’s 5:00 p.m. on a never-ending Friday night.
A lovely lady in a pink and blue blouse
claims she has a pick-up order for “Ashley.”
I grab her food,
cash her out,
and stress about the next customer
tapping his feet awaiting this lady
to get out of his way.
She compliments me saying, “I love
your makeup Ma’am.”
As a fifteen-year-old it feels so
Refreshing to be called Ma’am.
My grandma says it makes her feel old.
But it makes me feel alive.
Ms. Ashley did not leave a single
dollar in our jar,
but the only tip I needed was her compliment.
By 7:00 p.m. I’m already dreading
this night to be over.
When customers sit down and look
at me it makes me nervous
as if they secretly know me and
before they leave they’ll tell me they’re
my long-lost sister.
I drag my feet walking to the bathroom
to check my makeup.
My makeup seems to be as tired as I am,
Leaking colors down to my eye bags.
I don’t have my makeup with me
which leaves me to have glitter
staining my face in places I didn’t apply it.
It’s 8:00 p.m. now.
I take care of one more customer
before my side work awaits me.
This man just standing there makes
me angry that he wants to eat our nasty pizza.
I give him his food and tell him to have a lovely evening.
Before leaving he says, “Just for how
beautiful your eyes look, here.”
And leaves a $10 tip behind.
Of course my coworkers cheer me on for our tip,
but it makes me feel sorrowful
that my makeup is the only thing these
people find beautiful about me.
It’s 9:30 p.m. when my father finally gets
back from his last delivery.
He tells me it’ll be another five minutes
as he goes to smoke one last cigarette
before we leave.
I groan as my back aches.
We get home and I swipe a makeup
wipe across my face.
It takes off the beauty everyone so loves.
I sleep knowing glittery eye shadow
is what my life has come to rely on.
Of course I’m only fifteen.
You’re probably thinking “god this
poem just drags on and you’re overexaggerating.”
But I definitely am not.
Fifteen-year-olds only have to think about
the small things that matter
until working has made you realize
life is just an exaggeration of a wonderful
thing and the person you could be if you tried.
But I’m tired of trying.
I’ll stick to a simple job and blue eyeliner.
Because those small things matter.
 

Small things matter.


Speaking of small things . . . 

A study recently published in Animal Behavior suggests that bumblebees, when given the chance, like to fool around with toys. . . . 

The finding suggests that like humans, insects also interact with inanimate objects as a form of play. Also similar to people, younger bees seemed to be more playful than adult bees. . . . 

"This research provides a strong indication that insect minds are far more sophisticated than we might imagine," . . . 

"There are lots of animals who play just for the purposes of enjoyment, but most examples come from young mammals and birds," said Chittka. . . . 

"They may actually experience some kind of positive emotional states, even if rudimentary, like other larger fluffy, or not so fluffy, animals do. This sort of finding has implications to our understanding of sentience and welfare of insects and will, hopefully, encourage us to respect and protect life on Earth ever more," she said in the statement.



Scientists at the University of Tokyo found that rats' beat synchronicity came from the time constant of their brains, not their bodies, which is similar across species.

"Rats displayed innate — that is, without any training or prior exposure to music — beat synchronization most distinctly within 120-140 bpm (beats per minute), to which humans also exhibit the clearest beat synchronization," said University of Tokyo Associate Professor Hirokazu Takahashi.


This video from Facebook, How Oak Trees Manipulate Squirrels:


If you're like me and would rather read about something than watch a video, the gist is that every ten years or so communities of oak trees will all have a banner yield of acorns. Having a smaller yield most of the time controls the population of squirrels and other predators who eat the acorns, so that the banner crops are guaranteed to be bigger than the local population can consume, thus ensuring that some of the seeds will be hidden away somewhere they can take root and grow into new trees. It's a coordinated reproduction strategy--which means the trees have some means of communicating and coordinating.
Other forms of life are not so different from us. We are all part of one world, related and connected.


I like this thought from The Stonecutter’s Credo - Farnam Street newsletter No. 498 — November 13th, 2022:
Eventually, everyone loses the battle with willpower; it’s only a matter of time. Consider my parents. Neither of them smoked when they joined the armed forces, but it didn’t take long for them to join their smoking co-workers. At first, they resisted, but as the days turned into weeks, the grind of saying no when everyone else was saying yes wore them down. Decades later, quitting proved nearly impossible when they turned to willpower. Everyone around them smoked. The very same force that encouraged them to start was preventing them from stopping. They were only able to kick their habit when they changed their environment. They had to find new friends whose default behavior was their desired behavior.

What looks like discipline is often a carefully created environment to encourage certain behaviors. What looks like poor choices is often someone trying their best to use willpower to go against their environment.

The people with the best defaults are typically the ones with the best environment. Sometimes it’s carefully chosen, and sometimes it’s just plain luck. Either way, it’s easier to align yourself with the right behavior in the right environment.

The way to improve your defaults isn’t by willpower but by creating an artificial environment where your desired behavior becomes the default behavior.

Joining groups whose defaults are your desires is an effective way to create an artificial environment. If you want to read more, join a book club. If you want to run more, join a running club. If you want to exercise more, hire a trainer.

Your environment will do a lot of the heavy lifting for you if you align it with where you want to go.
I've come across many sources that say similar things. Don't worry about "willpower," because other factors factor much more.


One more poem, this time about connection.

by Ted Kooser

Maybe an hour before sunrise, driving alone
on the way to reach somewhere, seeing,
set back from the highway, the dark shape
of a farmhouse up against deeper darkness,
a light in one window. Or farther along

into a gray, watery dawn, passing
a McDonald’s, lighted bright as a city,
and seeing one man, in ball cap, alone
in a booth, not looking down at his table
but ahead, over the empty booths. Or

maybe an hour farther, in full daylight,
at a place where a bus stops, seeing
a woman somewhere in her forties,
dressed for cold, wearing white ear muffs,
a red and white team jacket, blue jeans

and Muk Luks, one knit mitten holding
a slack empty mitten, her bare hand
extended, pinching a lit cigarette,
dry leaves—the whole deck of a new day—
fanned out face-down in the gutter, but

she’s not stooping to turn over a card,
but instead watching a long ash grow
even longer at the ends of her fingers.
Just that much might be enough for one
morning to make you feel part of it all.
From The Path to Kindness: Poems of Connection and Joy, edited by James Crews, which I am slowly making my way through.


Finally, something I just created for my work team. We have a new member, and all got to be together a few days ago for the first time. Someone started a friendly interrogation of the new person to learn about them, so I suggested we all share some facts about ourselves to get to know each other better. It started me thinking, and I was inspired to write up something a bit longer to share with them. Here it is, slightly edited to preserve my pseudonymous authorship a bit.

Obscure & Inscrutable: A Chronological Collection of Facts Concerning [Degolar], Many of Which Are Perhaps Surprising

I lived my first seven years in Harrisonburg, Virginia, in the Shenandoah Valley.
  • See: John Denver (who, I’ve been told, had Mennonite relatives in rural Kansas).
  • I understand Harrisonburg is Maggie Stiefvater’s hometown and her Raven Boys books (and possibly others) are set in a fictionalized version of the area.
  • My dad worked at a small, Mennonite high school, where he was the athletic department—he taught all the PE classes and coached all the sports teams. I grew up tagging along to a lot of events, practices, and locker rooms.
  • I spent my first seven summers living in cabins at Highland Retreat, a Mennonite camp, where my parents directed the summer program. Lots of hiking, every afternoon in the pool, etc. I could swim before I could walk and went off the high dive my second summer, around 18 months old.
  • I have a brother 19 months younger and a sister 7 years younger.

We moved the Hesston, Kansas, when I was seven, and lived there about seven years.
  • Both my parents were from Hesston, so I had both sets of grandparents and a number of aunts, uncles, and cousins close. (My dad was one of four; my mom was one of seven.) It’s where most of my formative childhood memories happened and I consider it my hometown.
  • My mom was nine months pregnant when we drove across the country to move. In August. In record setting heat. Without air conditioning.
  • If memory serves, Hesston had four Mennonite churches and one Methodist when we lived there. My family went to the progressive Mennonite church, the one on the college campus.
  • My dad taught and coached at Hesston College, a two-year Mennonite school. His dad taught there some as well. One of my mom’s brothers taught psychology there for a time and another was the international student recruiter/coordinator for his entire career. My mom’s mom taught at Hesston Elementary School and my mom returned to her teaching career once we kids were old enough.
  • My dad’s parents were missionaries, and they lived in Argentina from the time he was age three to fourteen. When he needed an alternative job opportunity, my dad taught Spanish for the second half of his career. His oldest brother became a Spanish professor at Wichita State University. Grandpa once had a college class where the only other student was Richard Nixon.
  • My mom’s brother who worked with international students moved his family to live abroad many times when his kids were young for a year or two at a time. I know Jerusalem, Cairo, and Tokyo for sure, and there might have been others. One of his former students and good friends. The cousin I was closest with was his oldest (and is now a college professor of Reformation history in Canada).
  • My mom’s youngest sister had Down Syndrome, and her parents helped lead the way in Kansas for care options besides the state mental hospital.
  • My dad tried out for the Olympic soccer team one time, but it went badly because he’d never played on artificial turf before. He served as a conscientious objector when drafted for Vietnam.
  • Though we lived in farm country, I’ve always thought of my family as those who taught the farm kids.
  • What I most identify as my Mennonite heritage is the teachings of pacifism and love for everyone, expressed in openness to difference and social justice. (And personal humility. I think I was told my dad got my mom a silverware set as an engagement present because a ring was considered too impractical and showy. And we are the progressive vein of Mennonites. Calling someone “common” was a compliment in many communities.)

Job needs (coaches are judged by wins and losses, and it’s hard for a small liberal arts college to compete against schools with different missions) moved us to [nearby small town], Kansas when I was in high school. My family has lived there ever since. My brother and sister still do.
  • I don’t have a lot of fun facts about my middle and high school experiences. I did well enough in school. Enjoyed most subjects. Did art club and vocal music. Lettered in three sports. Never had very many friends or fit in very well. I love the land in Kansas; I’ve had more trouble with the people.
  • Though I still vividly remember how bad my oral report to the class on Tolkien’s Silmarillion went in 8th grade. And how much mocking I received for taking my D&D books to school. And how upset my parents were that I kept spending all my paper route money on D&D books.
  • Most of high school, I was reading 1-3 fantasy novels of my choosing each week while taking pride in reading as little of the assigned work as possible. I also displayed a contrarian streak, writing papers like “How to do your homework in front of the TV” and creating fractured fairy tales.
  • There were no Mennonite churches in the area, so we started going to the Presbyterian church.
  • After high school, I lived at home and started at the local community college to save money. I had a vocal music scholarship and was part of that program. I took a variety of classes that interested me; after two years I found myself with an Associate of Science degree.
  • I joined my dad’s house painting (and sometimes shingling) crew of teachers in the summers to make money in high school and college. (Along with part-time gigs at McDonald’s and a few things like that.)
  • After two years I had a degree, but no direction, so I took a semester off to paint houses and wait tables at Applebee’s. One semester was enough time to convince me to go back to school.
  • I decided I would do another semester at juco then transfer to Emporia State University in the fall, where I would major in Wildlife Biology in the hopes of eventually becoming a park ranger.
  • The first meeting of my Chemistry II class, which lasted three hours, I remembered how much I’d hated Chemistry I. At the halfway break, I walked across campus and dropped the class.
  • The other random classes I’d taken for fun to fill out my semester included Shakespeare and Oral Interpretation of Literature. I realized I needed to be an English major. I decided to keep my ESU plans but switch to Secondary Education (even though I had been resistant to following in my parents’ footsteps).
  • For a year or two during this time—on my first car, an 80s Dodge Colt—I had a personalized license plate that read PLAID. In reference to the scene in the movie Spaceballs where they hit plaid speed (the plate was ironic).

I spent three years at Emporia getting my secondary education degree in English.
  • I walked on to the cross country team and ended up as co-captain.
  • I met someone from Kansas City, KS from a Hmong refugee family from Laos (by way of Thailand, Florida, and Houston). We married the summer before our senior year in her church in KCK with two pastors, one from her Hmong congregation and one from the El Dorado Presbyterian church, with a bilingual ceremony.
  • It ultimately didn’t work out, but we were married for 15 years.
  • I had thought I might spend a couple of years in the Peace Corps if I graduated college with no debt, but getting married changed those plans.
  • I spent three summers as a camp counselor, one by myself at a Presbyterian camp in the middle of Kansas and two with her at Wildwood Outdoor Education Center south of Kansas City.

After graduating, we moved to Kansas City. She pursued and eventually got a teaching job in Kansas City, KS. I spent three years in seminary getting a Master of Divinity degree.
  • Saint Paul School of Theology, a Methodist school in Kansas City, MO. (Well, it used to be, in the late 90s, in the northeast, urban part of KCMO; I just checked the website and it seems they’ve moved.)
  • 90 graduate hours of full-time school. More academically demanding than my later library science degree.
  • I took all my electives in social theory and social ethics. My favorite two professors were Tex Sample and Emilie Townes, especially the classes they co-taught (give the links a quick look).
  • I worked with youth groups in a couple of different churches, did a stint as a hospital chaplain, and had a number of new experiences to make connections between what we were learning and the practice of ministry.
  • I looked into some ministry positions as I was graduating, but it never felt quite the right fit for me. I also considered an academic path and pursuing a Ph.D. Ultimately, I ended up in education alongside my wife. I dusted off my teaching certificate, and her principal at Wyandotte High School offered me their librarian position.
  • Our first year in the Kansas City area, we rented a third-floor apartment in the Hyde Park neighborhood of KCMO. Then we bought a house in urban KCK.
  • We spent some of our summers and after-school time working for a wealthy suburban family, looking after their two boys and driving them to activities at their country clubs and such.
  • Seminary ruined me for church for many years, as I couldn’t sit through a service or sermon without analyzing everything from the academic perspective I’d been taught. (If you’re curious for a longer read, this is how I feel now.)

After nine years of college, I finally became an adult and joined the real world. I spent four years as the librarian at Wyandotte High School.
  • I spent my weekends and evenings getting my Master of Library Science at Emporia State University.
  • We joined extracurricular activities and tried to be involved in the community.
  • Eventually, we both needed a change of scenery. She found a different position in the district. . . . 

In August 2002, I started as the Youth Services Librarian my current library system. They haven’t managed to get rid of me yet.
  • ‘Nuf said about that. This part of my life is less “obscure” from a work perspective.
  • Except that I’ve always called my private folder on the shared drive “The Secrets of Tom Riddle.”
  • We started doing triathlons somewhere along the line. Put a lot of time and energy into it for a good number of years. I never got anywhere approaching my college cross country weight, but still managed to be competitive (top 1/3).
  • While on a casual bike ride in late 2004, I managed to crash in such a manner that I broke a couple of ribs in my back, collapsed a lung, and crushed my C1 vertebrae. I spent 3-4 months in a neck brace (though returned to work after about 3 weeks).
  • Our marriage ended in 2009. After a couple years single, an acquaintance and I realized we wanted to be together. It was a fresh start on a “second life” for both of us.
  • My dad died about ten years ago; my mom about five.
  • We have two sons, ages nine and seven—nineteen months apart, almost the same birthdays as my brother and me.
  • My sister majored in music theater in college, then moved to New York to make it on Broadway. She was just having some success when her life went a different direction. My niece’s dad is a sound engineer, and she spent some of this past summer traveling with him to help get the sound set up for the three different touring productions of Hamilton.
  • I’m not crazy about crowds or concerts, though I’ve been to my share. My one exception is They Might Be Giants, who I have seen in concert many times as an adult. They are a passion of mine. Unrelated to my initial interest, for many years giant cardboard cutouts of the face of Emporia’s own William Allen White were seen at TMBG concerts, TV performances, and music videos. They’ve always been cryptic about why. I discovered the band on Dr. Demento’s most demented video countdown on MTV. Their video from it, Don’t Let’s Start, includes the giant heads.
  • Recently, on work chat, someone described my sense of humor as “equal parts sardonic, absurdist, & fuzzy teddy bear.” I love that. I like being an enigma.
  • Some of the things I like to do for fun include reading books like this and writing things like this. 


posted by Degolar @ 1:34 PM

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