Category Archives: Great Work

In A World Far Away

Spring                                                                   Waning Bee Hiving Moon

Spent the day in the world I’ve created, Tailte, a sister world to earth, but separated by several thousand light years.  It’s strange to spend time there, a place that exists only in my mind, yet populated with people, creatures, landscapes, mountain ranges, oceans, islands, gods and goddesses.  Strange, but in a good way.  It’s one of the joys I experience in writing fiction.  It takes me to a place I can’t reach in any other aspect of my life.

I’m still typing in work I did at Blue Cloud Monastery though I’ve also advanced the word count by a few thousand words.  Plugging away.  Just have to keep at it.

We only have a month left to go in the 2011 session of the 2011-2012 legislature.  The number of bad bills, outrageous legislation and outright strange bills (like cutting down walnut trees in State Parks to save the State Parks continues to pile up as the party out of legislative power for years flexes its muscle.  The callous disregard for the future of our rivers and streams, lakes and forests, wildlife and prairie’s just doesn’t make sense to me.  I don’t understand the political calculus that trades temporary economic gain for permanent disfigurement and toxification of wetlands, cutting down old growth forests, polluting the Minnesota, the Mississippi and wetlands around and possibly within the BWCA.

Mark and I watched Salt, an Angelina Jolie spy flick.  Not bad, not great, but entertaining even with the cliches.  We also started watching a three part made for tv movie called Archangel.  It was good; we’re about half way through.

Daffodils Are Up. The Bees Are Coming. Growing Season Is Underway.

Spring                                              Waning Bee Hiving Moon

Tomorrow afternoon is the day the bee’s come to their new home.  They will have traveled by truck from Chico, California, spent a night at Jim’s Nature’s Nectar and will leave Stillwater for Andover around 2:00 pm.  Back home here at Artemis Honey they will go into their colonies, one per package, a tuft of grass tucked in the entrance reducer for the first 12 hours to keep everybody home the first night.  Sounds like 3 folks will come for the festivities.

Today is the first Latin day in three weeks.  I’ve had an unusually full period that eliminated the full day slots I like to use for translating Ovid. I find I have to get into a flow with it which takes some time.

In addition to bee hiving I have vegetables to plant this week, too.  Succession planting plus new veggies, cool weather veggies like peas and carrots.  My potatoes came two days ago.  They’re on a cookie pan while the eyes grow a bit more before I cut them up and plant them, probably late next week.

Mark will have been here two weeks tomorrow.  He takes long walks here in Andover, goes into the city with me when I won’t be long and takes walks in the city.  Still calming down after a tough period.

On to Diana and Actaeon.  I’m getting there with this story.  When I finish my first pass on the translation, mostly literal (which is not easy for me), then I’ll take on the next, equally difficult challenge, putting my translation into idiomatic English.  Prose, most likely.  Translating it as poetry feels like a different, more complex process, one I’m not ready to take on right now.

Also, Grandson Gabe’s 3rd birthday.

Touring

Spring                                      Waning Bee Hiving Moon

A Titian tour this morning with students from Harding High School in East St. Paul.  My group was largely Asian, Hmong for the most part.  They were attentive and responsive.  At the end Peng and Veng, two boys who had shown a lot of interest, reached out and shook my hand.  An adult gesture.  Surprised me.  Made me feel surprisingly good, too.

Second tour, also from Harding, had kids in a drawing class focused on a project to produce symbolic portraits of themselves.  An interesting tour to design, to think through.  Not sure how this group, also all Asian though with some Chinese students, too, reacted.  They were more closed off, but remained engaged through eye contact.

After that, over to the Sierra Club to return the material from yesterday’s event at North Hennepin Community College.  Spent a half-hour talking to Margaret about mining, volunteers, fund-raising, then drove home in the heart of rush hour.  Bushed.

Getting Technical

Spring                                                         Full Bee Hiving Moon

Over to Hennepin Technical this morning for earth day.  I’m responsible for a Sierra Club table there during a three hour long green event.  Not sure what this will be like, but it sounds like an interesting day.  I’ve already worn myself out this week and I have two tours tomorrow, plus Latin on Friday.  Worked yesterday on my art student tour for portraiture, then went into St. Paul for a meeting with non-traditional allies for the Sierra Club.

Snow.  Snow.  Go Away.  Come back around All Saint’s Day.  I love winter, but I’m ready for spring.

Gotta go.  On the flipside.

I Roll Over On My Belly

Spring                                              Full Bee Hiving Moon

OK.  Enough.  Uncle.  I give.  I yield.  I roll over on my belly.  Please let us have spring.  Snow?  More snow?  Just when the Himalayan inspired mounds of soot black snow have begun their glacial retreat?  This is not insult to injury, but insult to insult.  Well, all right.  If it’s coming anyhow, but could this be the last one for this season?  Please.  I have plants that need to get back to growing.

T’ai C’hi.  Coming along.  I am within one move of learning how to grasp the sparrow’s tail, then one more, the long whip, of having the basic moves in some sort of order and execution.  My teacher says, insists, promises it will all get easier.  But, it took her, she also says, 30 years to get her form to its current level.  Wait.  I’m not sure I have 30 years of T’ai C’hi practice in me.  On the other hand, maybe with T’ai C’hi…

T’ai C’hi feels like Latin for the body.  It’s taking all of my concentration to stay with it when I practice and the learning is slow.

Then there’s that radiation problem in Japan.  Good news on it.  The power company says it can have things cleaned up in 6-9 months.  6-9 months?  We’ll see.

This is the time to move the bees.  Bee colonies do not like to have their homes moved once they’ve learned where they are.  Even a move of 2 feet can be too much for them.  If you want to move existing colonies, you have to do it in slow, incremental steps.  Right now, since I have no bees, I can put the hive boxes wherever I want.  Still mulling.  I want to put them in the orchard, but that will entail switching out the gear from the front garden shed to the back shed where I currently have all the bee equipment.

Bee Diary: April 17, 2011

Spring                                                                 Full Bee Hiving Moon

A full day of bees.  Mostly fun, but sitting for 8 hours just doesn’t have the appeal it used to.  What appeal was that?  Can’t recall.

The info on bee diseases and, again, the multi-valent character of colony collapse disorder keeps getting clearer.  Repetition is useful for this old brain. (I think a companion piece to This Old House could be This Old Brain)  The big problem is varroa mites.  Marla said the bees would have developed adequate resistance to the mites if they had been left untreated, as they have been in Africa, for example, but our wealthier, fix-it-now culture insists on medicine.  The result?  We have resistant varroa mites that are much more difficult to control.

The mites per se are not so much the issue; rather, they weaken the bees through sucking their vital fluids and serving as a vector for any number of bee viruses. This reinforces a long list of other interrelated negatives.  Lost pasturage in clover–reduced by adding fertilizer and decreasing crop rotation, different management practices for cutting alfalfa that reduce its bloom time, increasing pesticide use which further weakens the bees, herbicide use that kills bee friendly native plants (often called weeds) and the prevalence of monocultural planting of key ag crops like corn, wheat, beans create a dark synergy, a whirl of problematics that chip away at healthy bee populations, both native and domesticated.

A rolling loss of genetic diversity, an extinction event with no peer in the geologic record,* characterizes our impact, mostly intentional, on the landscape.  In making incremental decisions concerning agricultural methods, population, urbanization and our hungry, rapidly increasing demand for energy we have added co2 to the atmosphere, cut down forests, built farms in important watersheds (see the Mississippi and the Minnesota rivers as poster children for why this is a problem.), delinked corridors for wild animal travel and increased our dependence on smaller and smaller gene pools.  As the patenting of seed corn, wheat and rice, to give three important examples, has concentrated ownership of important food seed stores, the resistance to disease which has kept these key sources of human nutrition vital, decreases.

I mention this last because it is easy to see the bridge between our behavior in general and such problems as colony collapse disorder.  There are, thankfully, many solutions to these problems, but we have to have the will to act.  How many people will grow their own vegetables or participate in Community Supported Agriculture?  How many farmers will turn toward less intensive, and therefore less productive, farming methods in a time when larger farm sizes seem the only route to financial success?  The solutions all seem to lie in a spectrum of activities that support bio-diversity, emphasize sustainable energy and food production and reduce our reliance on steroid-like chemicals such as fertilizers.

The diverse pathways to a positive future give me hope.  Each of us can do a bit:  consume less gas, make our homes more energy efficient, grow some of our own food, patronize local suppliers, recycle.  We can also encourage systemic change in sectors like energy production, agriculture, urban development, defense and foreign policy.  Perhaps it’s time for a JFK moment:  Ask not what Mother Earth can do for you, but what you can do for Mother Earth.

*The background level of extinction known from the fossil record is about one species per million species per year, or between 10 and 100 species per year (counting all organisms such as insects, bacteria, and fungi, not just the large vertebrates we are most familiar with). In contrast, estimates based on the rate at which the area of tropical forests is being reduced, and their large numbers of specialized species, are that we may now be losing 27,000 species per year to extinction from those habitats alone.

Roots. Deep Roots.

Spring                                                     Waxing Bee Hiving Moon

By chance I had a sculpture tour today and went to a presentation by Steve Tobin at the Arboretum tonight.  He is the sculptor of the new steel roots works now on display there.  He said his ambition lies outside time and culture; his works, he hopes, will work in any place on the planet and in any era, including the past.

This struck me because only this morning I took six Champlin sculpture students on a tour of the MIA’s sculpture and I began with the Woman of Lamouth.  What amazes me about her is that 20,000 years ago a paleolithic artist sat down with simple tools, probably little thought to the future beyond their own life, and made this object, a swollen belly, two milk-rich breasts and a round head with knit cap.  The most amazing part to me?  We recognize her as a woman.  In other words this sculptor worked in a visual language so universal that no one needs to identify this object in stone; we can see, even through the abstract elements of its form, its identity.

Tobin’s ambition made sense to me in light of this ancient object, still speaking 20,000 years later in the corridors of the Minneapolis Art Institute.

On a less positive note I went to a Forest Service information session on an Environmental Impact Statement (EIS) on prospecting in the Superior National Forest.  A Forest Ranger wanted my comments, my opinions.  I said, no prospecting, no mining.  Therefore no need for an EIS.  Save everybody a lot of time, effort and money and would save vast acres of forest and the lifeforms it supports.

She answered me by saying that they were required by law to develop the EIS without taking into account the probability of mining.  This is a splendid example of double think.  The EIS weighs such things as noise bothering animals, the intrusion of new forest roads, the impact of deep drilling.  When she asked me if I had a particular area in mind, I answered, “Northern Minnesota.”  To not take the environmental impact of mining into account when deciding whether or not to permit prospecting is like a teenager concerned about the possibility of STD’s without wondering about the consequences of producing a baby.  Drill, baby, drill.

Makes me gnash my teeth.

The New One

Spring                                                Waxing Bee Hiving Moon

(50th anniversary of human spaceflight)

An encyclopedic museum like the MIA has such a broad collection–by definition–that gaining familiarity with all of it is a practical impossibility.  This may sound like a disadvantage, but from my perspective, it’s pure joy.  Why?  Because it means I get to discover new art and new artists, even if they’ve been in our collection for a very long time.

Case in point.  John B. Flanagan, a graduate of the Minneapolis Institute of Arts (1916-1919), a hard luck story wedded to artistic success and an early death.  The New One, brand new to me, has been in our collection since 1951.  I found it because I have a sculpture tour on Thursday and, since I’d never done a sculpture tour, I had to poke around the many, many sculptures we have.  In the process I discovered this artist and our example of his work.

He attempted to keep the personal distant from his work which he saw as searching for the unity that exists in nature.  This unity led him to the belief that a powerful organizing and vitalizing force could be found in all creatures, not just humankind.  This small sculpture, 6 x 11 x 6 inches, shows the unfolding of a fetus.  His work shows no identifiable influence, so wrapped up he was in this quest for what nature could reveal.

Flanagan and his search for the heart of the natural world expresses in stone a search I identify as my own.  How do we, all of us, living and non-living, express a link, a bond, the link, the bond that finds us all born of the same atoms and, in our decay, returning those atoms for use again and again and again.

This is not pantheism, as one art critic labeled Flanagan’s perspective.  It has no need for a deity, rather, it grasps the kernel of sameness that makes us all one:  star, toad, stone and whale.  What a wonder to find someone on the very same path as your own, someone skilled enough to turn stone into personal vision.  Miraculous.  Delightful.

We Inch, Slowly, Toward Spring

Spring                                                                 Waxing Bee Hiving Moon

Kate comes home tonight.  Yeah!  I miss her when she’s gone. I’ll follow our usual procedure and pick her up at the Loon Cafe, conveniently located at the end of the light rail service 650-herb-spiralfrom the airport.  Makes the drive much shorter and I get a good meal in the bargain.

After the biting and the barking and the adrenaline I figured out a somewhat complicated solution to the Rigel/Sollie problem.  It involves making sure that one set of dogs is in their crate before admitting the others to the house.  This way nobody trespasses on anybody else’s territory.

It demands a careful watching of when Rigel and Vega are away hunting so I can let Sollie, Gertie and Kona inside.  Or, alternatively, when Rigel and Vega are on the deck and the others are out hunting.  A bit baroque I know but I have no more indentations in the leg.

(pics from April of last year)

As the Bee Hiving moon goes from New to Full, our yard will lose its snow and we will have several species of flowers in bloom, a few vegetables in the ground and as it begins to wane we should have our new bees hived and happy in their new homes.  There are things that need to happen before this last, not the least moving the hives to the orchard, cleaning all the frames of propolis and burning the old hive boxes and frames I got from Mark, the bee mentor.650-apple-blossoms

Seeing the bulbs planted in the fall begin to emerge always heartens me because it reminds me of hours of labor spent in the cool air of late October or early November.  We won’t be here for that time next year, so probably no new bulbs this year.

In fact, I’m declaring finished to our orchard, garden, vegetable, bee expansions.  We’ll stick with no more than three hives, the raised beds and other beds we have in the vegetable garden, the trees and bushes we have in the orchard and the flower beds we have in place now.

We’ll always have to replace dead plants and put in new ones in their place.  We have to care for the fruit trees and bushes, plant vegetables and maintain the bee colonies so we’ll have to plenty to keep us occupied.  I just want to get good at the stuff we have and begin to slowly limit the work we do over the course of the year.

Walking Toward the Bomb

Spring                                                           Waning Bloodroot Moon

Last night, in conversation with Bill Schmidt, cybermage and nuclear engineer, the Sheepshead group turned to Fukushima.  Bill built an identical plant on the west side of Honshu, across the sea of Japan from Korea.  That lead the conversation to Hiroshima and Dick Rice’s story of a Jesuit who picked up a medical bag and walked into ground zero after the blast to help the injured.  Since then, Dick said, all Jesuits have “walked toward the bomb.”  May all of us do the same.

p.s.  Bill sent me a note about Father Arrupe, S.J.– He was the man referred to above and a former Superior General of the Jesuit order.

(Visitors walk toward the Atomic Bomb Dome, at the Peace Memorial Park in Hiroshima, western Japan, Wednesday, Aug. 4, 2010. Hiroshima will mark the 65th anniversary of the world’s first atomic bomb attack on Aug. 6. (AP Photo/Shuji Kajiyama))

Not joining protests of the policies that will soon affect poor Minnesotans disproportionately, gives me a sense of not walking toward the bomb,  sitting on the sidelines as our state turns its back on those most vulnerable.  Four years ago I chose to throw my political effort behind the Great Work, moving humanity to a benign relationship with the earth.  I’ve done this because the Great Work, to me, weighs in on the side of our species as a species, conserving a safe place for us in a cold universe.  This is a very long range perspective, the seventh generation view of the Iroquois, and it comes with some pain.   I’m glad others are there to carry the fight to the capitol about health care and human services cuts.

Gotta get ready for the Institute.