Celebrate With Verve

It's only the 10th Day of Christmas -- don't stop celebrating yet!
I just couldn't resist matching up these fabulous holiday paintings
by Carl Larsson
with some of my favorite celebratory passages from AVA.

Name Day at the Storage Shed"Each holiday celebrated with real extravagance.
Birthdays. Independence days. Saints' days.
Even when we were poor. With verve."
(from Ava, by Carole Maso, 3)

Christmas Eve"It was Christmas Eve Day. I wore bells."
(from Ava, by Carole Maso, 53)

For Karin's Name Day"How we celebrated each holiday, each saint's day. With verve.
Touch then this moment. Caress it with your mind. . . .
How we celebrated each Epiphany, each Bastille Day."
(from Ava, by Carole Maso, 84, 108)
P.S. For more Carl Larsson on my blog, see St. Lucy & Kitchen Windows

Gender Equity

Singing People by Debra Frasier
from On the Day You Were Born

Excerpt from new post on Kitti's Book List
Rainer Maria Rilke: pp 77 - 78 . . . someday there will be girls and women whose name will no longer mean the mere opposite of the male, but something in itself, something that makes one think not of any complement and limit, but only of life and reality: the female human being. ~ 1904, from his Letters to a Young Poet

Carole Maso: p 37 . . . All the personal pronouns -- j/e, m/o, m/a, m/es -- are split to emphasize the disintegration of the self that occurs every time women speak male language. ~ 1993, from her novel AVA

*******************************I wonder if Rilke would be disappointed to see what a lengthy and hard - fought transformation it has become? I appreciate Maso's description of the so often unacknowledged and wearying disintegration. First comes the exclusive language; then comes the taxing enterprise of pulling yourself back together again, putting yourself into the picture, the self - integration that is not a given. Like hearing "father" and thinking "and mother." Or "brother" and "sister too." "Men" -- "and women." "Mankind" -- "oh yeah, that means me."

I think the beautiful song "Let There Be Peace On Earth," (sung here by Gladys Knight in 2008 at the National Memorial Day Concert, Washington, D.C.) is a perfect example of what Maso is talking about here. I've loved this song since Junior High when we sang it in Girls' Chorus (emphasis added for irony!), but it requires some mental gymnastics to repair the damage done by the gender exclusivity of that key phrase:

"With God as our Father, brothers all are we
Let me walk with my brother in perfect harmony."
These words are chosen as a fitting observance of a National event, yet by their very nature, they omit half the people in our country. Okay, I can fix that in my head; but should I have too? I can try to believe that "when you say "men" you mean "women" too; that doesn't always work. But one thing I know for sure, without Gender Equity, there is never going to be Peace on Earth.

Read Before Thinking

"Access to knowledge is the supreme act
of truly great civilizations.
Of all the institutions that purport to do this,
free libraries stand virtually alone
in accomplishing this mission."
~ Toni Morrison ~



If you're looking for something to read, here's
what I've posted lately on Kitti's Book List:

Fresh Insights & Bursts of Clueness

Holiday Thoughts from Powell, Rilke and Maso

Another Year Over

And a New One Just Begun

Book Haven

Thanks to my sister Peg for sending me
one of these cool readerly shirts from Wonder Book!

March Begins: The Heart's Desire

Some poems for a new month & earliest hints of Spring . . .

Jenny Kiss'd Me

Jenny kiss'd me when we met,
Jumping from the chair she sat in;
Time, you thief, who love to get
Sweets into your list, put that in!
Say I'm weary, say I'm sad,
Say that health and wealth have miss'd me,
Say I'm growing old, but add
Jenny kiss'd me.

Leigh Hunt (1784 - 1859)

March
from A Shropshire Lad, #X

The Sun at noon to higher air,
Unharnessing the silver Pair
That late before his chariot swam,
Rides on the gold wool of the Ram.

So braver notes the storm-cock sings
To start the rusted wheel of things,
And brutes in field and brutes in pen
Leap that the world goes round again.

The boys are up the woods with day
To fetch the daffodils away,
And home at noonday from the hills
They bring no dearth of daffodils.

Afield for palms the girls repair,
And sure enough the palms are there,
And each will find by hedge or pond
Her waving silver-tufted wand.

In farm and field through all the shire
The eye beholds the heart’s desire;
Ah, let not only mine be vain,
For lovers should be loved again.

A. E. Housman (1859-1936)

P.S. Happy Mardi Gras!
Click here for a chart showing how rarely
Mardi Gras falls on March 1st,
coinciding with Martisor

"Mardi Gras. The farewell to flesh.
I dressed in feathers.
Pointed beak and glitter.
How we danced, through lights and confetti.
The good-bye to the body.
Not forever, but for now."

~ Carol Maso ~

P.S.
Instatoon

Things Can Always Get Worse

I do not know—
If I go from here to some
Yet more hateful place,
Perhaps even these lodgings
Will stir nostalgic regret.

~ The Emperor Go-Uda ~
(1267 - 1324)

****************
It's Paschaltide, and our thoughts turn to Moses & Peter, who figure prominently in the Old & New Testament stories associated with the season.

Moses:
"He is on the track of Canaan all his life; it is incredible that he should see the land only when on the verge of death. This dying vision of it can only be intended to illustrate how incomplete a moment is human life, incomplete because a life like that can last forever and still be nothing but a moment. Moses fails to enter Canaan not because his life is too short but because it is a human life" (100 & 259).

Not specifically about Moses,
but pertinent to his dilemma:
"What I am really afraid of, dearest Ava, is to die with the feeling that the abundant blessings which the Lord has bestowed on me will have been wasted. I feel as though I have not fulfilled my promise or my mission. That is cruelest of all. . . . I wish I could find a way so that whatever meager gifts I have as an artist might feed me, keep me in the world, give me meaningful work and community. But truthfully . . . I fear that it is no longer possible, that I derailed myself somewhere back there, not willingly and somehow not even unconsciously, but stupidly, blindly ruled somehow by my excessive passion and not by what you generously call my formidable intelligence" (200).

from Carole Maso's novel AVA
(more on Kitti's List & Quotidian)

Peter:
"And about the space of one hour after, another confidently affirmed, saying, Of a truth this fellow also was with him: for he is a Galilaean.

And Peter said, Man, I know not what thou sayest. And immediately, while he yet spake, the cock crew.

And the Lord turned, and looked upon Peter. And Peter remembered the word of the Lord, how he had said unto him, Before the cock crow, thou shalt deny me thrice.

And Peter went out, and wept bitterly."

Luke 22:59-62 (KJV)

****************
See also: "Confession & Cancelation" by Nadia Bolz - Weber

"But I’d like to suggest that Jesus didn’t choose Peter because he was the first to confess Christ…after all, Peter’s moment of glory lasted about 10 seconds before he said something stupid enough for Jesus to say get behind me Satan.

I don’t think that Jesus chose Peter because Peter understood everything or because Peter had the best prayer life or because Peter had the mildest personality and he just “seemed” like a pastor. And Peter wasn’t exactly chosen because of his loyalty - lest we forget, it was Peter who denied Jesus. Three times, if you recall. And here’s the real kicker: I don’t think Jesus chose Peter DESPITE the fact that Peter would deny Jesus three times on the night he died. I think Jesus chose Peter BECAUSE Peter would deny him.

Jesus knew that only a forgiven sinner could really preach the Gospel. It’s always been that way so I’m not sure at what point the church decided it’s leaders were to be sinless examples of perfect piety. I might not give them the keys to my house but only a forgiven sinner can be really trusted with the keys of the kingdom."

****************

For more about
Peter's strengths and flaws,
listen to "Peter the Rock"
Words & music by Gerry McCartney
(click title to locate CD & click on the playlist at 33:58 to listen)

This Year's Paschal Moon

Review of the Miniature

Miniature tree & cardinal from Katie
Miniature french horn, jug, and fan from Nancy
My dear friends and colleagues Heather and Nancy asked me to share what I had discerned after years of studying "little things," as Nancy so lovingly refers to them. Most immediately, I would say that humans seek out the miniature in search of the secrets of the universe. It is often an inward quest toward the heart of the doll or the center of the dollhouse, whereas the outward manifestation is a tiny perfect world, such as the Christmas Village, or even a single item — a diminutive lamp, house, or globe — fashioned in quaint imitation of its larger counterpart.

We are drawn to those qualities so elusive in real life: perfection, wholeness, and — yes, in all honesty we have to admit — control. The miniature represents a seamless universe and a seamless body where nothing leaks or slips away. Completion without loss.

the miniature vs the gigantic
small vs large
inside vs outside
inanimate vs animate
seamless and contained vs messy and unpredictable

**************

"You can think of the universe as a set of wooden Russian matryoshka dolls, with each doll having a smaller one inside of it. The entire visible universe is the outermost doll, and nested inside it are galaxies, solar systems, stars, planets -- right down to the smallest doll, which is you. But inside of you is an even smaller doll that somehow has the biggest doll inside of it. When you figure out this riddle, you will have discovered the key to your ascension!"

by Elizabeth Clare Prophet
Reincarnation: The Missing Link In Christianity

**************
"The Infinity of Your Interiority. The human person is a threshold where many infinities meet. There is the infinity of space that reaches out into the depths of the cosmos; the infinity of time reaching back over billions of years. There is the infinity of the microcosm: one little speck on the top of your thumb contains a whole inner cosmos, but it is so tiny that it is not visible to the human eye. The infinity in the microscopic is as dazzling as that of the cosmos. However, the infinity which haunts everyone and which no-one can finally quell, is the infinity of their own interiority. A world lies hidden behind each human face. . . .

"Another infinity, as yet unborn, is dimly present. . . . It is such a privilege to be embodied. You have a relationship to place through the body, it is no wonder that humans have always been fascinated by place. Place offers us a home here; without place we would literally have no where. Landscape is the ultimate where; and in landscape the house that we call home is our intimate place. The home is decorated and personalized; it takes on the soul of the person who lives there and becomes the mirror of the spirit" (41 - 44; see also p 40).

" . . . the desire to bring subject and object together . . ." (60).

by John O'Donohue
from Anam Cara: A Book of Celtic Wisdom

**************
" . . . It is the week before Christmas. In the apartment across the way, a man works on a dollhouse. So what if we are doomed? He will die rubbing a small chair smooth" (199).

by Carole Maso
from AVA

**************

**************
The dollhouse: " . . . the most consummate of miniatures . . . A house within a house . . . the dollhouse's aptest analogy is the locket or the secret recesses of the heart: center within center, within within within. The dollhouse is a materialized secret; what we look for is the dollhouse within the dollhouse and its promise of an infinitely profound interiority. . . . even the most basic use of the toy object -- to be 'played with' -- is not often found in the world of the dollhouse. The dollhouse is consumed by the eye" (61, 62).

" . . . a monument against instability, randomness, and vulgarity. . . . Worlds of inversion, of contamination and crudeness, are controlled within the dollhouse by an absolute manipulation and control of the boundaries of time and space" (62, 63).

" . . . the seamless body of the doll. . . . The diminutive is a term of manipulation and control as much as it is a term of endearment" (124).

" . . . the miniature typifies the structure of memory, of childhood . . . from its petite sincerity arises an 'authentic' subject . . . . (171 - 72).

by Susan Stewart
from On Longing: Narratives of the Miniature, the Gigantic,
the Souvenir, the Collection

**************
Yule Log: Interestingly enough, these miniature cakes are now better known than either the gigantic originals that they represent or the historical tradition of Bringing in the Yule Log. In her fascinating study of the miniature and the gigantic, folklore scholar Susan Stewart has written of the human impulse to transform nature and quaint rural customs into art. The resulting souvenirs and miniatures become the objects of our desire for "an elusive and purer, yet diminished, past."

I can't help thinking of the old - time Yule Logs (meant for burning on the hearth) and the contemporary Yule Log Cake or Buche de Noel (intended for eating) when Stewart says that the antiquarian's "search is primarily an aesthetic one, an attempt to erase the actual past in order to create an imagined past which is available for consumption" (Susan Stewart, On Longing, 143).

In this case, not just metaphorical consumption! But actual consumption, as in "Hey, who's ready for a piece of cake?"

**************
Gingerbread House: Even Martha Stewart (no relation!) weighs in on the topic: "What is more tantalizing -- at a child's eye level -- than a gingerbread replica of the house you're standing in?" Reading Martha's insight gave me goosebumps! Why? Because she is talking about the secrets of interiority! Within within within. Likewise, the most basic use of gingerbread -- to be eaten -- is not the case with a gingerbread house, which is to be consumed by the eye, not the taste buds, edible though it may be. The transcendent vision offered by the gingerbread house or the dollhouse, "the most consummate of miniatures," can be known through visual apprehension alone.

Martha goes on the describe "The whimsy and . . . the thrill of . . . playing with scale and expectations: What's big is rendered small (the house) but with such an eye to detail that it uses three shades and flavors of cookie, and the roof and chimney have the realistic look of shingles and bricks. Meanwhile, what's small (the teddy bear) is presented as life - size . . ." (Martha Stewart Living, December 2012, 130 - 31).

**************Some Days

Some days I put the people in their places at the table,
bend their legs at the knees,
if they come with that feature,
and fix them into the tiny wooden chairs.

All afternoon they face one another,
the man in the brown suit,
the woman in the blue dress,
perfectly motionless, perfectly behaved.

But other days, I am the one
who is lifted up by the ribs,
then lowered into the dining room of a dollhouse
to sit with the others at the long table.

Very funny,
but how would you like it
if you never knew from one day to the next
if you were going to spend it

striding around like a vivid god,
your shoulders in the clouds,
or sitting down there amidst the wallpaper,
staring straight ahead with your little plastic face

Billy Collins (b. 1941)
Poet Laureate of the United States, 2001 - 2003
New York State Poet, 2004-2006

I love the way it looks as if the
princess is holding the bronze fan!

More Small Chairs

Ripening Like A Tree: Arbor Day

Being an artist means: not numbering and counting,
but ripening like a tree, which doesn’t force its sap,
and stands confidently in the storms of spring, not afraid
that afterward summer may not come.
It does come. But it comes only to those who are patient,
who are there as if eternity lay before them,
so unconcernedly silent and vast.
I learn it every day of my life,
learn it with pain I am grateful for:
patience is everything!

from Letter Four
23 April 1903 [Shakespeare's 339th Birthday!]
by Rainer Maria Rilke (1875 - 1926)
in Letters to a Young Poet
[click to read online]
Additional Excerpts
from Letters to a Young Poet:

Mental Beauty
Ancestors
************
Live the Questions
Gender Equity
************
Rilke and Maso
Holiday Thoughts

P.S. StoryPeople for Arbor Day

Take Me to the Mardi Gras

Illustrations from Carl's Masquerade by Alexandra Day

"Mardi Gras. The farewell to flesh. I dressed in feathers. Pointed beak and glitter. How we danced, through lights and confetti. The good-bye to the body.

Not forever, but for now" (66).

from Carole Maso's novel AVA

******************
Take Me To The Mardi Gras

C'mon take me to the Mardi Gras
Where the people sing and play
Where the dancing is elite
And there's music in the street
Both night and day

Hurry take me to the Mardi Gras
In the city of my dreams
You can legalize your lows
You can wear your summer clothes
In the New Orleans

And I will lay my burden down
Rest my head upon that shore
And when I wear that starry crown
I won't be wanting anymore

Take your burdens to the Mardi Gras
Let the music wash your soul
You can mingle in the street
You can jingle to the beat
Of Jelly Roll
Music and lyrics by Paul Simon