Ombailamos

the lost wilderness

I get fewer magazines every year, but one I keep renewing is "The Week."  I like the fact that this news mag offers brief, capsule stories from around the world, which on a weekly basis helps keep events here at home in perspective.  I also like the commentary on U.S. events from overseas sources.  I used to read a mag called "World Press Review," which similarly drew on international press, but which featured longer, in-depth stories.  Frankly, that one was too depressing; the editorial selections were generally stories of apocalypse, in its various forms.

"The Week" also often features an excerpt from a recent or upcoming book, adapted to essay form.  Recently, the well-regarded literary writer Michael Chabon had a piece called "Childhood's lost wilderness," which addressed the sad trend toward imprisoning kids for their own safety.

I lived, from age ten until I went to college, in the woods of South Georgia.  We had five acres of pine forest (second or third growth) on red clay, off a dirt road miles from any town.  A creek flowed across one end of the property.  My sister and I had free run of this land.

Every year, our dad killed at least one rattlesnake within feet of the house. (My mom tells me there were only two.  They must have made an impression.  However, two by the house equals hundreds in the woods, if you ask me.) There was poison ivy in the woods.  There were deerflies, with a bite that could draw blood.  There were crayfish, ready to pinch, in the creek and ditches.  There were dead trees just waiting for an excuse to fall, and plenty of fallen ones to trip over.  There were random rednecks hunting in the woods around us - and probably in our own woods - all year round.  By most measures, this environment was not "safe."

Yet somehow I managed to survive without injury, and the worst injury sustained by my sister occurred by falling off a fence in our grandma's backyard, in a safe little town.

All sorts of awful things could have happened to us, or to any of the millions of other kids who grew up in similar environments.  I don't know if our parents figured we were better off learning to cope with uncertainty, or if they were just happy to have us out of the house.  (We were, at times, contentious.) 

They gave us plenty of outdoor chores to do, anyway, and those activities gave us a connection to the land that was quite profound.  My sister has had a certified Backyard Wildlife Habitat for years, and I - while long a city and apartment-dweller - have written of my attempts at gardening in the space available.  When my husband and I take vacations, we generally don't go to another city; we go someplace a bit wilder.

That wild environment provided us with something else I don't think we would have developed had we grown up in the picket-fence, manicured-lawn, all-outside-is-danger dreamworld of today's overprotective parents: a degree of fearlessness in our approach to life.  Once you have caught a black snake in your bare hands, a cross-country move, or a midlife career change, or a vacation requiring a passport seems relatively free of threat.

Which is why I agree with Mr. Chabon that the fears of adults have created at least one generation of kids who may never know their true potential.  Which is a shame. 

changing your mind

One of the more interesting (among many, very interesting) revelations of recent brain research is that, while a brain in which no activity takes place will literally turn to mush, the brain actually, physically remodels itself when new learning is received.

This has been discovered specifically with respect to stroke victims.  Patients who lose certain capacities, because of failure of blood supply to the respective areas of the brain that govern those capacities, are sometimes able to recover the capacity.  But the injured area of the brain doesn't heal, per se; rather, a different area of the brain takes over the function of the injured area.

How can we relate this to health and fitness?  By understanding that yes, even in the face of catastrophic injury, the body will find a way.  Sometimes the damage is too severe to be mended - as when a limb must be amputated.  But the body finds a way to compensate.

Compensation is something we see constantly.  Someone has a sore knee, so they take more weight on the pain-free side.  Over time, the muscles on the sore, "favored" side atrophy while the muscles on the compensating side become more tense, less flexible, and correspondingly more out of balance.  In reaction, the hips and back begin to function out of balance, and what began as knee pain may now manifest as back pain.  Very possibly, the compensating side also begins to read with hip or ankle pain as that side continues to bear more weight and generate more force in order to create something approaching normal movement.

The same theory can, I think, be applied to learning - even in a brain that has not been injured.  It is possible to overcome old ways of thinking by forcing the mind to explore thought patterns that are out of the ordinary.  When the initial mental reaction to information is resistance, for example, it is possible to consciously arrest the resistance and begin exploring it, simply by asking a series of questions.  Why am I repulsed by this information?  Is it potentially damaging to me?  How can any information be damaging?  What are my emotions when I consider this information?  Does it make me angry, sad, defensive, frustrated?  Why might any information evoke these emotions?

The exercise of analysis can be applied to any new information received, but it is particularly essential in two cases.  In the first, we have a strong reaction against new information and refuse to believe or accept it.  In the second, we accept new information without a second thought.  Both reactions tend to filter the information we've received.

Our environments and upbringing (and, some believe, genetic predispositions) influence how we react to information and events.  We have a set of filters in place from the first moment we step into the world as reasoning beings.  But because we are reasoning beings, we can apply our faculties to recognition and analysis of thought patterns that may be preventing us from fully integrating the information we receive.  We can lift those filters so that the information exists in its pure state.  Only then can we rationally consider its potential effects.

Just as we are capable of correcting our body mechanics - by, perhaps, corrective flexibility work to restore proper range of motion and overcome compensation by a stronger side of the body - we can correct our mental mechanics.  The more different ways we have of thinking about things and approaching mental tasks, the more fit (strong, flexible, agile) our minds are.

Personally, my approach to information is skewed to the skeptical.  I don't necessarily believe what a health or fitness article says, unless I read the same conclusions in many different sources over a period of time.  I don't have access to the original data of studies, so I read different interpretations of those studies.  I put them in context.  Then I use my own reasoning ability and experience to draw conclusions.

If there is one scary thing about our national conversation, it is that the barriers to entry are so low.  It behooves us all to remember that everything we hear, or see, or read is the product of someone else's filters.  And as reasoning beings, it behooves us to use all our faculties to process what we hear, or see, or read, before blindly accepting it.  If we cease to use our faculties, they will surely atrophy.

the vocabulary of dance

One of the things that I like about SYTYCD is that they don't spend a lot of time defining, for those in the general audience, the dance terms they use.  They seem to assume that those who are really interested will ask someone who knows.

If you're serious about dancing, it's helpful to learn the language.  Not just the physical language, but the terminology.  What is first position, second position, fifth position?  What is a jetee, a ronde', an arabesque?  What's the difference between an arabesque and an attitude?  What is a pirouette?  What are chaine' turns, pivots, swivels?  What, exactly, is an extension?

These terms are used as a matter of course in ballet, jazz, and modern dance classes, but you may not hear them very much in ballroom or other partner-dancing classes. Which is kind of a shame, because most of us learn in an environment of words.  If a teacher can say "take fifth position, right foot back" that's easier than saying "place your right foot behind your left foot, right toe to left heel, both toes turned out." The dance term provides a shorthand.

I try to introduce and use dance terminology when teaching, for that reason.  The same goes for figures: it's a lot quicker and easier to say "forward half of a box" than "left foot forward, right foot to the side, left foot closes to right foot."

One of the great things is that all of these bits and pieces of knowledge can be studied outside the dance class or lesson.  As I've mentioned before, there are so many educational supplements available now, from printed manuals to DVDs to popular books, that a really interested student has plenty of resources. 

There is no such thing as too much information.  The more you learn outside the class or lesson, the less you have to think about during the class or lesson.  All you have to concentrate on is what's immediately before you.  And because every teacher presents information differently, learning basic terminology on your own will give you a base upon which to build, and to which you can relate what you're getting from your teachers.

Remember, you have to have a vocabulary before you can construct a sentence.  Same goes for dancing.  Learn the proper vocabulary, and your constructions become simpler, more clear, more definite and more intentional.  Otherwise, you risk putting yourself in a position only because someone tells you to, which is not the way to create beautiful movement.  If you know what you are doing, and can put a name to it, your movement is more intelligible.  From my observations, you will also find it easier to remember sequences of movement.

Not to mention, you'll be able to point out which sensational action the latest SYTYCD contestant just pulled off.  It's all part of considering yourself a dancer.

carbs

My schedule recently has been sufficiently irregular that I've had trouble planning ahead for meals.  In consequence, I've been resorting to fast food or junk food.  I've got to get a handle on this!

We have a performance coming up, and there is nothing more demoralizing than putting on your costume and seeing belly roll.  There are nice abdominal muscles under there, but all that starch and sugar goes straight to my waistline - as it does with most people - and man, I hate it.

I'll be making a very organized sweep through the grocery store, so I can plan my meals better and unload this pudge.  I'm fortunate to have a pretty efficient calorie-burning engine, but I've been abusing it.

I'm accustomed to looking in the mirror and seeing the muscles under my skin.  I'm in darned good shape and proud of it - I've stayed the same size for twenty years, and I'm stronger now than I was in college.  I like what I can do with my body.  Which is why it's particularly annoying that I can so easily fall into the unplanned-eating scenario.

A recent article from Time.com, called "Why Exercise Won't Make You Thin," spent a lot of time (too much time, I think - this was a nine-page essay, printed out) talking, among other things, about obesity levels rising at the same time gym membership has risen.  Long story short, it's calorie control that governs weight.  Exercise is for fitness. 

An hour on the treadmill, with the goal of burning calories, can be completely wiped out by a muffin at the coffee shop; in fact, that muffin costs you more calories than you can burn in an hour on the treadmill.  Use the gym to get stronger, more flexible, with better stamina; but you can't reward yourself with food, because the calories most people burn at the gym are barely ten percent of the calories they consume during the day.

If most of our calories come from prepared or processed foods, we are getting less nutrition per calorie than we need.  There's a growing body of evidence that eating slightly less than we want, all the time, promotes long-term health.  Meanwhile, the studies are piling up as evidence that eating slightly more than we need promotes long-term disability and disease.

Those of us who work in offices have to be particularly vigilant.  We burn so few calories in daily activity that even a little excess can add up fast.  So we've got to make sure that we plan ahead and provide ourselves with a sufficient volume of nutritious food, that we won't be so tempted by the drive-through or the bakery case.  The temptation will always be there, because our appetites are not governed by logic.  This is a case of mind over matter - and we've got to apply our minds, because it really matters.

the permanent collection

Still on the topic of books.  I had an unexpected (and not entirely welcome) work hiatus this year, which provided an excessive amount of reading time ... 98 titles so far.  However, even at my ordinary pace I get through a couple of books a week. 

This is one reason I have so many books.  I like to keep the best of them, the ones that I'm happy to read over and over again, because otherwise I would be spending all my money at the bookstore or all my time going in and out of the library.  I wish there was a Netflix for books, actually. 

The first author I collected was Dick Francis.  I got started reading him (that's what we book freaks say, we're reading The Author) when I was about ten, because Mom and Dad had some, and I had probably finished all the Jim Kjelgaard in the library ("Big Red," "Outlaw Red" - great dog stories!).  They are action-packed, well-plotted mystery/thrillers, always with some connection to the world of horses.  I started by collecting them all in paperback, gradually upgraded to all hardcovers, and now have all in first U.S. editions except the very first one, "Dead Cert," which I keep a lookout for but it's exceedingly rare (aka expensive).

I got to meet Mr. Francis a couple of times, when I was living in Atlanta, and he came through to do signing events.  I also have a personal note from him that he wrote in response to a fan letter (one of only two fan letters I've ever sent, by the way, although I may send some more because I think authors deserve to know how much their work is enjoyed).  I will never never never get rid of my Francis collection.

A few years ago, Mr. Francis started sharing authorship with his son Felix.  The two of them have produced several titles now (a new one comes out this month) and I think Felix has brought considerable energy and a sense of fun to the enterprise.  Keep 'em coming, boys.

Other authors I collect ...

Laurie R. King (everything).  "J.D. Robb" (Nora Roberts' future-imperfect Eve Dallas thrillers). Nevada Barr (Anna Pigeon/National Parks mysteries).  Ngaio Marsh (classic detective fiction). Jennifer Crusie (everything).  "Elizabeth Peters" (Dr. Barbara Mertz' Amelia Peabody Egyptological mysteries and Vicky Bliss art-history mysteries).  Bruce Alexander (historical mysteries, alas RIP Mr. Alexander).  John Dunning (Cliff Janeway Bookman mysteries).  Aaron Elkins (Gideon Oliver forensic anthropology mysteries).  And bits and pieces here and there of a lot of other mystery/suspense/thriller fiction, including a few Stephen Kings.

And that's just the mystery/suspense/thriller section!  I also have plenty of Star Trek novels, romance novels, classic science fiction, classic "juvenile" fiction, real science, history, travel, adventure, plays, and a ton (probably, this is accurate.  These things are heavy) of art, architecture, and design books.

I get a lot of pleasure from my collection ... I like books, the physical objects as well as the act of reading.  Maybe someday I'll get myself an electronic reader, for the "disposable" stuff, but I can't see me ever living without Books.

the purge

This weekend I put in some more time on a purge of my book collection.  Well, "purge" may be an overstatement; I've pulled maybe a hundred off the shelves, which leaves me with ... at least a thousand.  Over the past five years, I've shed over four hundred volumes, not counting the ones that come in and go directly out again.  It's a process.

This time, in the interest of not outgrowing the available space (I don't want to buy any more bookshelves.  And we don't have anywhere to put them, even if I did.  And I don't want books stacked to the ceiling. Squirreled away in the kitchen cabinets, sure, but not out where anybody can see just how bad it is!) I started by pulling a few authors out of the mystery collection.  Then I proceeded to pick over a couple other sections.  And yesterday I went into the grad-school leftovers.

For years I've held onto many of the history books I read in college and graduate school, most of which I consulted only parts of as I researched and wrote my master's thesis.  I had the idea that I would read these books in their entirety at some point in the future.  And others I acquired because they were inexpensive and looked interesting, but somehow they were never interesting enough to get to the front of the queue.

I've come to accept that in the future, my reading is going to be mostly fiction, because that's easy and entertaining and there's nothing wrong with that.  I don't need to feel guilty about getting rid of this heavy stuff - which, honestly?  I don't think anybody except reviewers reads all the way through.  Historians probably mostly do exactly what I did, which is pick through for the stuff most relevant to our immediate interest.

So I've kept the books most directly related to the thesis, and a lot of others are going away.  Thanks, History Book Club!  Thanks, Daedalus Books, and Oxford Books, and Quality Paperbacks!  It was fun, but the affair is over.

too much TV

Not only have I been keeping up with "Dance Your Ass Off," where I've been pleased to see some people really buckle down to the calorie control (and where some of the dance performances are starting to be pretty good), and SYTYCD, where I lost Melissa last week and am forced to choose Brandon as my new favorite, but Mr. P caught a thing on TLC last week called "Dancing Tweens," which followed three preteen couples in a Wisconsin dancesport competition.  (Aren't "tweens" supposed to be at least ten years old?  One of these couples, they were six and seven!)

As anybody who's found this site must know, I am obsessed with ballroom dancing and will watch almost anything that even pretends to feature it.  The TLC program offered a pretty accurate picture of what dancesport is, and why so many preteens get very involved in competition.  I think it was also a kind of rebuttal to those who may have seen the junior "competition" on Dancing with the Stars, and thought it was stage parents pushing the kids.

The thing is, as anyone who has tried to get kids to do something they don't want to do must know, when it comes to sports of any kind the kid has to love it or they just go through the motions.  The kid who hates soccer might go to practice, the kid who hates tennis might show up at the lessons, but they're never going to give it their best, and as soon as they get the chance they will quit.  Same goes for dancesport.  But dancing has an advantage: it's fun, even when you're not much good at it.  Another advantage: you don't have to be particularly big or strong or fast.  And yet another: there's music, which most kids love.

Another thing about kids is they love to know stuff.  They love collecting facts and becoming experts on something - whether it's dinosaurs, or construction machinery, or bugs, or whatever. Because dance is still not a common sport for kids, the primary place for kids to share their knowledge is with adults.  And this is not a bad thing; interacting with adults is important if you're going to learn how to function in the world, and a few too many people never learn how to do that.

All of which is just random thinking, but given that much of the TV I watch is not very thought-provoking, I was happy to have the "Dancing Tweens" to provide a little stimulus.

a moment of quiet

I had a fit of gardening this weekend.  One of these days, when my schedule settles down a little, I'm looking forward to being able to just sit out on my patio for a few minutes every day.  I love my plants and my flowers and my hummingbirds, and watching the cats pretend to be jungle beasts.  (Like they would know what to do in the jungle.)  Lately I've been enjoying the garden mostly through the window, which is not ideal.

Most mornings, I give myself ten minutes or so with a cup of tea and my big cat, who likes to (and needs to) be combed daily.  We sit on the floor in the bedroom and he gets groomed, I get to listen to him purr and feel his soft floofiness and drink my tea, and by the time he's had enough I am ready to do my physical yoga.  I really think of the grooming session as part of my yoga, and some days it's all I have time for.

Having those few minutes in the morning really sets me up for the day.  When I have to skip the grooming, I don't just feel like the cat is missing out: I feel like *I* am.  Then I try to make up for it at night, but I always have a dozen things I should be doing, I'm tired from the day, I'm afflicted with monkey brain, and the house isn't quiet the way it is early in the morning.  It's just not the same.

Right now I am trying to re-set my biological clock so that I can get to bed earlier.  It's not going too well because I'm really one of those owl people.  But the attempt must be made, because I need to not be running mad in the morning ... I need my few minutes to sit, and drink my tea, and pet my cat.  I'm going to try to do these things out on the patio once in a while.  It won't be as quiet, but I think we'll both enjoy it.

finally! HP6

You know how when you are really looking forward to something, the wait seems really loooooong?  We've been meaning to go see Harry Potter VI ever since it came out (yeah, only two weeks, I know).  In the interim I've been re-reading the books.

I started with book 6, of course.  Then we still hadn't seen the movie so I moved on to book 7.  And then I started over at the beginning with book 1 and chewed my way through all of them.

I got on the Potter train a little late.  I am a bit contrarian in my reading ... if something is a best-seller, and many people recommend it, I often don't like it.  Sometimes I hate it and have to throw it across the room (*cough*davincicode*cough).  So I waited until book 4 to start reading the series!  Of course, I loved it right off the bat, but the good thing about waiting so long to get started is, I could dive right into the depths of the ongoing story.

I love that these books revitalized young-adult publishing.  I love that millions of people were willing to read so many hundreds of pages.  It's classic coming-of-age fiction, drawing on a great tradition of myth-based stories.

I love what J. K. Rowling did with the character development throughout.  For the most part, I've really enjoyed the movies too, and have been both relieved and pleased that the cast has been kept in place and that they've paid off, in terms of getting better with age & experience.  I thought the performances from Radcliffe, Grint, and Felton this time were all impressive.  Perhaps especially in the case of Felton, whose character is so intensely unlikeable.

As the books have gotten thicker, more and more has had to be left out of the movie versions, and in HP6 a couple of the things they kept could have been dispensed with in order to include other bits I think would have bridged the gap to the last two installments.

However, since I fully intend to keep both the books and the movies in the permanent collection, I can dip into one or the other at will, and appreciate what the movies do that the books cannot - and vice versa.