We are experiencing a heat wave! Not unlike the one in 1977 where every day you wake up to the promise of a scorcher and where being either in or by water is the best solution to beat the heat as they say. By yesterday afternoon I was convinced that if I returned here to my shoe box apartment I would continue to feel nauseous so I got myself down to the river where people park on the side of the highway and trek down short paths at the end of a large bridge to the rivers' shore.
I had a day like no other in my experience. The river was long and only in a couple of places over my head. The current was just the right velocity so that I felt safe simply lying on my back and floating down the river in a perfectly relaxed condition. I followed the river either floating, bumping my bum on rocks as the current carried me or walking on land right down to where it empties into the ocean! I wore a pair of roomy Capri's and a long sleeved rayon shirt along with my rubber soled beach shoes. The perfect attire for me to enjoy the river long hours, have some protection from injury from rocks and to avoid painful and damaging sunburn. There were times my shirt ballooned out with water causing me to appear like a sumo wrestler. Evidently I even inspired a women who had forgotten her bathing suit to at least wade into the water with her summer dress on!
The water itself was quite clean except from the organic debris collected on the rocks that would get disturbed when stepped on and end up floating as visible pieces in the river. When I ended my adventure I felt quite clean though.
The other good feature was that there were enough people and families strewn along the banks and huddled together at the swimming holes that I felt safe. I even left my back pack on the shore by a small shrub and lo it was still there when I returned a couple of hours later. It was great exercise too walking and swimming at times against the current which usually left me in the same spot I started in when making the effort to swim against it.
Laura Lee, 60 years old.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
The Primrose (adapted from the Swedish)
It's evening here on the beach
the sun is going down,
and over the sparkling waters
the colours play
When I go home in the dark
and I kneel and I pray
The place the primrose blooms
is the place my soul gets to stay
See how quickly buds come to trees
See how the oaks are covered in leaves.
I'll pick a bouquet
to make you happy
Light and perfume it will bring
before you sleep.
When the primrose blossoms
you get peace in your soul
It's great to build things
placing stone upon stone
Feel the branch bending
with the weight of its fruit
Let the flame of life burn
Tho' the hour is late
But you small and you simple
that I hide in my heart
and are wondrous as friends
have a place from the start
In the days of their childhood
No one turns to look back
But once in life's middle
and for a golden old age
There are moments to secret
in your deep woodland lakes
As the primrose that blossoms
gives a moment that aches
This spark will go out
This life will pass by
But it helps some to know
for generations behind
and generations before
When the primrose blossoms
there's comfort and more
It's great to make houses
placing stone upon stone
Feel the branch bend with its edible weight
Let the flame of life burn tho' the hour is late
But you small and you simple that I hide from the start
And are wondrous as friends,
have a place in my heart.
the sun is going down,
and over the sparkling waters
the colours play
When I go home in the dark
and I kneel and I pray
The place the primrose blooms
is the place my soul gets to stay
See how quickly buds come to trees
See how the oaks are covered in leaves.
I'll pick a bouquet
to make you happy
Light and perfume it will bring
before you sleep.
When the primrose blossoms
you get peace in your soul
It's great to build things
placing stone upon stone
Feel the branch bending
with the weight of its fruit
Let the flame of life burn
Tho' the hour is late
But you small and you simple
that I hide in my heart
and are wondrous as friends
have a place from the start
In the days of their childhood
No one turns to look back
But once in life's middle
and for a golden old age
There are moments to secret
in your deep woodland lakes
As the primrose that blossoms
gives a moment that aches
This spark will go out
This life will pass by
But it helps some to know
for generations behind
and generations before
When the primrose blossoms
there's comfort and more
It's great to make houses
placing stone upon stone
Feel the branch bend with its edible weight
Let the flame of life burn tho' the hour is late
But you small and you simple that I hide from the start
And are wondrous as friends,
have a place in my heart.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Lora and Helenas Amelia Earhart Myth - based on the January'98 article in National Geographic Magazine
Her plane disappears.
She lands on an island. It is small. It is green. A tribe of harmonious people lives there. Amelia finds it restful - a state she has been longing for.
She has to sacrifice the life she had with her man. It hurts but she chooses a life among the islanders. For a while.
A freighter parks nearby. The natives purchase canned ham and cease their cannabilism. Amelia feels they have lost their charm. She hops the freighter. It lands in New York where she takes nurses' training. She works until she retires and then opens a night club.
"Pair 'o' Dice", she calls it. There's Craps, Black Jack, Roulette - and a pleasing ambience. New jazz artists play on stage as well as stand-up comedians and once a month, there's Womens' Night Out.
Many people are regulars like Earnest Hemingway and later his daughter Muriel especially when she, Muriel, is feeling a bit lost. Most of the customers are feeling a bit lost but once they leave, they feel better.
On the island, Amelia drank the secret water. She didn't know that - she was just thirsty. But it extended her life span which was fortunate since she has no lack of new ideas to try out.
Like producing a film about a young, female pilot.
The myth goes on.
She lands on an island. It is small. It is green. A tribe of harmonious people lives there. Amelia finds it restful - a state she has been longing for.
She has to sacrifice the life she had with her man. It hurts but she chooses a life among the islanders. For a while.
A freighter parks nearby. The natives purchase canned ham and cease their cannabilism. Amelia feels they have lost their charm. She hops the freighter. It lands in New York where she takes nurses' training. She works until she retires and then opens a night club.
"Pair 'o' Dice", she calls it. There's Craps, Black Jack, Roulette - and a pleasing ambience. New jazz artists play on stage as well as stand-up comedians and once a month, there's Womens' Night Out.
Many people are regulars like Earnest Hemingway and later his daughter Muriel especially when she, Muriel, is feeling a bit lost. Most of the customers are feeling a bit lost but once they leave, they feel better.
On the island, Amelia drank the secret water. She didn't know that - she was just thirsty. But it extended her life span which was fortunate since she has no lack of new ideas to try out.
Like producing a film about a young, female pilot.
The myth goes on.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Local Hero
It took me over 30 years to sign up at a womens' gym and see what part of becoming The Hulk, I could achieve.
First, I had to get over being a couch potatoe. I did it in small steps, spending lots of time in the sauna in between. I talked with anyone who would talk with me and the first person was Angie, a woman well on her way to being 80 years old.
Angie used a walker as she was prone to strokes. She arrived often with her face bruised, having survived another stroke during the past weekend. She walked up the 30 steps to the main floor of the gym, lifting her walker one step at a time. And she inspired me. When my muscles complained at the new rigours they were being subjected to, I told them "If Angie's muscles can do it, so can you."
The second person I talked with was Gunhild. She was a gymnast in her youth and exercising came naturally to her, she said. She was in her mid-seventies. She said if she hadn't started coming to the gym 20 years earlier she wouldn't be able to do half of what she's able to do now. Gunhild showed me how to do some of the stretches as I am a slow learner.
There were younger women whose concentration I admired. And middle-aged women like me who were as surprised as I was at finding myself in an artificial environment for keeping in shape. One of them had damaged knees as I do. She talked with me about the leg exercises she uses to compensate for the muscles and joints that don't work so well.
There was a burnout survivor who had quit her stressful job and worked part-time at the gym instead. She and I talked about life with burnout.
But the source of inspiration for each of these amazing women was Karin, the owner.
Karin had started out in tourism, got tired of all the travel, settled down in town and worked at a womens' gym. After ten years, she bought the entire business and has been running it ever since.
Karin's daughter is severely handicapped. I don't know if this is what contributes to the amazing variety of women who come to this place to have a better life. I have seen a blind woman there with her assistant describing how to use the machines. I have seen several over-weight women who feel comfortable and at home in a gym for the first time in their lives. I have seen groups of Muslim women who normally wouldn't be seen in this sort of situation. I have seen groups of teenage girls getting fit for soccer matches and many groups of office workers working up a sweat to South American music.
Karin is my local hero. May she work long and well and with ever increasing circles of contact with women who only need the slightest encouragement for a better everyday life.
First, I had to get over being a couch potatoe. I did it in small steps, spending lots of time in the sauna in between. I talked with anyone who would talk with me and the first person was Angie, a woman well on her way to being 80 years old.
Angie used a walker as she was prone to strokes. She arrived often with her face bruised, having survived another stroke during the past weekend. She walked up the 30 steps to the main floor of the gym, lifting her walker one step at a time. And she inspired me. When my muscles complained at the new rigours they were being subjected to, I told them "If Angie's muscles can do it, so can you."
The second person I talked with was Gunhild. She was a gymnast in her youth and exercising came naturally to her, she said. She was in her mid-seventies. She said if she hadn't started coming to the gym 20 years earlier she wouldn't be able to do half of what she's able to do now. Gunhild showed me how to do some of the stretches as I am a slow learner.
There were younger women whose concentration I admired. And middle-aged women like me who were as surprised as I was at finding myself in an artificial environment for keeping in shape. One of them had damaged knees as I do. She talked with me about the leg exercises she uses to compensate for the muscles and joints that don't work so well.
There was a burnout survivor who had quit her stressful job and worked part-time at the gym instead. She and I talked about life with burnout.
But the source of inspiration for each of these amazing women was Karin, the owner.
Karin had started out in tourism, got tired of all the travel, settled down in town and worked at a womens' gym. After ten years, she bought the entire business and has been running it ever since.
Karin's daughter is severely handicapped. I don't know if this is what contributes to the amazing variety of women who come to this place to have a better life. I have seen a blind woman there with her assistant describing how to use the machines. I have seen several over-weight women who feel comfortable and at home in a gym for the first time in their lives. I have seen groups of Muslim women who normally wouldn't be seen in this sort of situation. I have seen groups of teenage girls getting fit for soccer matches and many groups of office workers working up a sweat to South American music.
Karin is my local hero. May she work long and well and with ever increasing circles of contact with women who only need the slightest encouragement for a better everyday life.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
How to Get Off the Mountain?
How to get off the mountain?
discs of slate
slipped, cut, cursed on the way down
wanna ride one down instead
and sit on it
and shove
and the whole mountain falls down
all around me
and behind me
and me with it
smell in the air
like lit gunpowder
I do it again
next time I want to come down.
-lora bennett, 2009-
discs of slate
slipped, cut, cursed on the way down
wanna ride one down instead
and sit on it
and shove
and the whole mountain falls down
all around me
and behind me
and me with it
smell in the air
like lit gunpowder
I do it again
next time I want to come down.
-lora bennett, 2009-
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Talking With Trees
my umbrella's a pinwheel of colour
my rainboots are over-sized and orange
2 cats and a dog
we paint the road
and turn into a track
bright with grass
disappearing in overhanging leaves
I'm booted and coated
the cats speed between trees
avoiding raindrops
the dog doesn't care
we walk and wild flowers curtsy
until the sky spills out
into a field
I wonder
if the herons
will rise from it?
not today
we take a trail
between the trees
step into the ditch, splashing
2 more steps
and we're into the meadow
the one
with the rock
in the middle
jacket under me
umbrella above
cat on each side
legs dangling
will I know
that I'm being greeted today?
I wait
today I imagine
my brain waves
gettting slower
like hammocks
holding sleepy bodies
now the trees
seem extra bright
daylight silhouettes
eyelids close
my mind cupped
resting but aware
my presence has been taken in
by 30 yr. old trees
still children
leaning how to speak
I bless them for
they've made me feel
at home.
-lora bennett, 1995.
my rainboots are over-sized and orange
2 cats and a dog
we paint the road
and turn into a track
bright with grass
disappearing in overhanging leaves
I'm booted and coated
the cats speed between trees
avoiding raindrops
the dog doesn't care
we walk and wild flowers curtsy
until the sky spills out
into a field
I wonder
if the herons
will rise from it?
not today
we take a trail
between the trees
step into the ditch, splashing
2 more steps
and we're into the meadow
the one
with the rock
in the middle
jacket under me
umbrella above
cat on each side
legs dangling
will I know
that I'm being greeted today?
I wait
today I imagine
my brain waves
gettting slower
like hammocks
holding sleepy bodies
now the trees
seem extra bright
daylight silhouettes
eyelids close
my mind cupped
resting but aware
my presence has been taken in
by 30 yr. old trees
still children
leaning how to speak
I bless them for
they've made me feel
at home.
-lora bennett, 1995.
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