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~ “I have never tried that before, so I think I should definitely be able to do that.” Pippi Longstocking (Astrid Lindgren)

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Monthly Archives: May 2015

Weekend Walk: Writing Marathon

30 Saturday May 2015

Posted by koehlerjoni in Photo essay, Writing, Writing Marathon

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Mission Branch Library, Mission San Jose, photo essay, photography, San Antonio Missions, San Antonio Writing Project

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Tom Castanos, Park Education Specialist

On May 2, I participated in a writing marathon to benefit the San Antonio Writing Project’s Summer Missions Writing Camp. We walked to several locations near the San Antonio Missions National Park site, stopping to write after each leg of the walk. On our second stop, education director,Tom Castanos, schooled us on the history of the Missions. His historical perspective is broad and includes many voices that have not been heard in the past.

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Mission San Jose, 1950

While we stood in the shade of a giant oak tree near Mission San Jose, a man approached our group and showed us this photograph.  He took this photograph when he visited the park as a child in the summer of 1950.  This was his second trip to San Antonio.  I thought it was cool that he remembered to bring the old picture with him, and that he was willing to share it with us.

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In the shadow of San Jose Mission

Many people were at the Mission in their Sunday clothes to take pictures.  I like the image in the background, as those flowers fell over at least fifteen times while we were there.  Each time an arrangement fell, someone walked over and picked it up.

Door to living quarters, Mission San Jose

Door to living quarters, Mission San Jose

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Arches in the rear or Mission San Jose

After our session at the Missions park, we walked to the Mission Branch Library and had a most interesting art lesson from Marianist brother and artist, Brian Zampier.  Check his blog out here. Brother Brian was so inspiring.  He has 97 journal/sketchbooks and brought them to share with us.  His mottos during our lesson were to: Play!, Have Fun! Do not be afraid! Date your pages!  Suspend Judgment!  He taught us to do mark making, blind contour drawings, cartooning, and collages.  We did a little of all four, but I’ll share the collage I created during our session with him.  Walk a little, take a few pictures, do some writing, make some art… what a perfect way to spend the day.

Journal Sketch after Brother Brian

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The Leap

27 Wednesday May 2015

Posted by koehlerjoni in Blogging, Decision Making, Essay, Personal Essay, Writing

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

blogging, Geronimo, Leap, Life-Changes, writing, Writing life

For the next few weeks I’m writing some posts inspired by the wonderful blog posts I’ve read in the last six weeks. About a year ago, I acted against type and made a huge change.  I’ve been reflecting on this decision a great deal after reading Geronimo: On Falling with Style from Lily at Such Small Hands.

For empty lakes, come storms.

For empty lakes, storms…

I quit my full time job.  Now I work part time at an interesting, fulfilling job and the rest of the time I devote to writing.  I work on my blog, and I’m also writing a novel.   I know that quitting your job to do other things may not sound like much of a leap, but it felt like a nighttime dive into Medina Lake, in which the depth ranged from iffy to barely adequate.  I was ninety percent sure I’d break my blooming neck.

I took a personality test once, and I got an “A.” When I looked at my results, I pumped a mental fist in the air.  I don’t like to get “B’s.”  That’s who I am.  My velocity has always been fifth gear. Until I made the leap, I was a stereotypical overachiever.  I made lists, and lists of lists.  I’d rather have a nasty zit than turn up late.  I bashed my way through parenthood, marriage, teaching, graduate school, and community responsibilities with the headlong purpose of one of those bulls in Pamplona.  I wasn’t always sure of my direction, but I headed somewhere, hard.

In the midst of charging toward each destination, I was already contemplating my next pilgrimage. I lived, not in the moment, but in the next moment.  And the moment after that.  For most of my life, I had the impression that being a good person meant working very hard and taking on large amounts of responsibility.  For me, restful equaled stressful, because good people are not supposed to enjoy relaxing.

This is the type of faulty thinking that starts in the tangled webs of childhood and can’t be laid on anyone else’s door but your own.  What I’m saying is don’t blame my mother, because we all generate our own excrement.

I can’t say exactly when the Gospel of the Churning Gut started to lose its appeal.  However, the need for change really became clear when Super Husband was diagnosed with Prostate Cancer.  Cancer was the bull that gored me.  After a lifetime of making my own life hard, something truly nasty had charged through the alley.  My natural ferocity in dealing with life events, I knew, would afford no advantage.  I started to realize that other aspects of my life were equally out of my control.  I worked long hours, and spent a good part of my day with angry people. Those people were often angry with me.  I had trouble sleeping, and found myself sitting in my office with the lights off at least once a week, praying no one would see I was in there, begging for the shit storm to pass me by for just fifteen minutes.

I’d toyed with the idea of changing jobs before, but now I thought about stopping.  In January of 2014, I mentioned my idea to SH.  “I’ve been thinking about quitting my job.  I could work part time for a year, or not work at all.”  He surprised me by saying it was about time, and he’d be perfectly happy if I quit.  The rest of my family was equally supportive. I turned my resignation in two weeks later, effective the end of the school year.

My family was honest, I’m sure, but I don’t know if they understand how grateful I was for their sensitivity. If one of them had said anything to indicate that I was imagining the pressure at work, or dramatizing it, or that my income was critical to the family’s well-being, I don’t know if I would have been strong enough to quit.  I’d worked hard to get that job. I made good money.  People looked to me to get critical, important work done.  My ego was tied up in being a faithful employee.

Leaving after seventeen years was an admission that I had failed, that I could no longer rise above my current circumstances.  The wrenches: telling my boss, “I’m not happy,” writing the resignation letter, the two line response to that resignation, packing up my red and white enameled desk, thinking about how to make my home into a workplace, the child who said I was the only reason he made it to high school.  Parting was hard like an arm is hard when it hits the ground and breaks.

In just a couple of weeks, I’ll have been on my “pause,” for a year.  When I quit last May, I expected to return to the charge in the 2015-16 school year.  I thought if I could just disengage for a while, I’d be ready to return to the frenetic pace of my former life.  Now, I don’t know if I will ever be a charger again.  I haven’t changed a lot, but I’ve changed enough.  Enough to be happy, mostly.

I’ve been too glib about this leap, in my interactions with people, and here on thepauser.  In periods of time when I’m not working, I am home.  I have to sit in the stew that is Joni.  Total freedom is hard.  Instead of setting goals I can seldom reach (pre-Leap Joni), I just don’t set any.  It should feel freeing, but honestly, it feels slothful.  My internal timer, the one that rushed me out the door so I’d never be late, has blinked out on me.  Sometimes I fail to properly hydrate.  Or stop watching Netflix, or wash my hair every day.  I read poorly written literature.  In the car I listen to the Blue Collar Comedy Channel and switch to NPR when someone is riding with me. Occasionally I eat only slices of sharp cheddar cheese for lunch. I don’t jump on the treadmill every day. For an “A,” there are no small sins.

I have to constantly remind myself that I’m good enough, just the way I am. That everything doesn’t have to happen in a hurry.  I’m relearning the art of walking in my own humanity.  In my driven way, I thought it would take less time than it has. But in this pause, I’ve learned that I can only do so much of the driving.  Sometimes you have to let go and trust.

I’ve also learned about this space, here, on the page.  I have always written, but not with the regularity that I have in the last year.  I’m forty pages into a novel, and this is my seventy-fourth post since the inception of my blog on August 28,2014.  Time and space to write is the greatest single gift that anyone has ever given me. I needed this space, here, on this page and all the others, to internalize the quietude my soul so badly needed. I will not relinquish my balance again without a fight, and tapping on the keyboard at two in the morning has afforded me the courage to state so.

I have not made my last Leap.  The next, like all of the others before it, will be as terrifying as the last.  But in my next leap, I’ll have a sharpened number 2 Ticonderoga pencil.  I’ll have my journal. The scratch of lead against paper will be my mitigator, change agent and stabilizer.  I’ll carry spares in my bag for you, my fellow leapers, in case we meet on our next journey into the void.

DD: Prost!

15 Friday May 2015

Posted by koehlerjoni in Essay, German Language, Germany, Photo essay, Travel Essay

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Friends, Germany, photography, travel, travel essay

Prost is the German word for Cheers!  My last post about Germany is a toast to all of the interesting and friendly people we encountered in Munich.

Front Desk Ladies

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Typical Street Front in Munich

The amber skinned girl at the hotel’s front desk, and the way she said, “Tschüss,” an informal term that means bye.  I love going to another country and listening to the natural way people speak a native language that on my tongue, dies a guttural death.  The beautiful girl was also very kind when Super Husband and I sat down on the couch in the lobby and fell asleep while waiting for our room to be ready.  I think I drooled a little.

Sellers

Guten Morgan is a song when Mandy says it.

Guten Morgan is a song when Mandy says it.

Mandy, my friend and waitperson at the hotel restaurant.  She was so kind and helpful I asked if I could take her picture, and she said yes.  I loved the way she sang, “guten morgan,” to us each day.  Mandy made each morgan much more guten. (Sorry about the quality of the picture, Mandy. I’m still learning.)

The older gentlemen in that bar across the street.  His eyebrows were German.  Don’t make me explain, they just were. He had a true beer belly, and just enough English for us to communicate our order.  He was jolly. I wanted to take him home with me.

The fellow that sold me my two German books.  I can’t read them but I will love them forever, because of him.  He gave me a free postcard.  I wanted to give him a granddaughter- type hug, but I didn’t.  I don’t think Germans are big on hugging.

Friends and Guides

Making new friends-- one of the joys of travel.

Vi, David, and Aga.  What wonderful folks!

David, Vi, and Aga.  These are friends we made when on our tour of Neuschwanstein and Linderhof castles.  When we went to lunch, we were serendipitously seated together and enjoyed one another’s company for the rest of the afternoon.  David and Vi were about to end their work in Abu Dhabi, and wanted to take advantage of the proximity of European destinations.  Aga, a business traveler from Poland, stayed an extra weekend to do some sightseeing.  Aga was much younger than the rest of us, but politely walked up the steep incline to Neuschwanstein with us, listening to our huffing and puffing.  I also appreciated her willingness to answer my meddlesome questions about what it’s like to live in Poland.

Steve, the guide I grilled for the entire train ride from Dachau to Munich.  I don’t think answering my questions about his own life and interest in the topic was required, but he gladly shared that information with me.  He also told me something interesting.  When WWII ended, the bridge in the far background of this photo was the only thing standing.  Well, the bridge, and a lone train track.

Last Bridge standing Munich

Train Station, downtown Munich

Munich 

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Juliet the bare.

Here is Juliet. I toast Juliet, because for I don’t know how long, young men take a picture of Juliet when they go to the Marienplatz in Munich.  Guess where their hands go?  I bet you can.  At first, SH and I thought Juliet was a statue of the Virgin Mary.  I can tolerate this behavior with a made up Shakespearean character.  The mother of Christ would be a different story.

Munich.Let me stand here until I remember you. I’ll forget so that I may stay longer, remembering how I love your company.

Prost!

Prost!

Friday Fun: Ten Observations on the Fight of the Century

08 Friday May 2015

Posted by koehlerjoni in Boxing, Essay, Wrestling

≈ Comments Off on Friday Fun: Ten Observations on the Fight of the Century

Tags

Mayweather, Pacquiao, Wrestling, writing

Unless you’ve been under quarantine for Bubonic Plague, you know about the Mayweather- Pacquiao fight last Saturday.  SH and I attended a friend’s party and watched the spectacle on pay-per-view.  I knew nothing of boxing, so I decided to tell you about it from this neophyte’s point of view.  Normally, I find lists a bit shallow, so this is the perfect topic about which to write a list.

  1. Boxing is important to a lot of people. I learned this when they had to delay the Mayweather/Pacquiao fight due to the many folks that were trying to buy the pay-per-view of the fight.
  2. Boxing is a little higher up on the social ladder than Wrestling. I know this because the girls who hold up the round numbers in boxing have sequins on their bikini tops and they do not engage in girl fights between bouts.  They also wear more make-up than the wrestling gals.  Draw your own correlation regarding my social status and my intimate knowledge of wrestling.
  3. Boxers make a lot of money. They make six figures per second.  Per second, I make… what do you call the complete absence of a number?  Firefighters, police officers, and teachers don’t calculate their pay by the second, even though they serve their communities in invaluable ways.  I think the world is so bass-ackward sometimes.
  4. Actors, athletes, and musicians like boxers. They all seem to know one another.  Boxers are a whole category of celebrity that I didn’t know about.  Justin Bieber is in the Mayweather camp, and when he cleans up he looks just like a teenager going to the prom.  Robert De Niro is a boxing fan, and so are Jay-Z and Beyoncé.  Andre Agassi and Steffi Graff sat in the front row.  They both looked like someone had kidnapped their kids and they had to sit through the match as a way to pay the ransom.
  5. The gamesmanship in boxing is similar to the gamesmanship in wrestling. The boxers come out with their entourages.  Pacquiao’s camp tried to make fun of Mayweather’s camp by taking selfies and having Jimmy Kimmel accompany Pacquiao to the ring wearing an orthodox Jewish hat and a bunch of necklaces around his neck.  This was just strange to me, although the boxing lovers in our viewing group thought Pacquiao’s opening act was hilarious.
  6. During the match, smack talking is allowed. Mayweather talked to Pacquiao non-stop.  At one point, Pacquiao had Mayweather up against the ropes.  As Pacquiao dealt one punch after another to Mayweather’s face, Mayweather looked at him and said, “No.”  He did this about three times.  I had the cynical thought that perhaps Mayweather was really saying, “No, don’t knock me out.  You know you’re supposed to lose this fight.”
  7. When the boxers sit on those little stools between each round, sometimes they hire a guy to hold open the waistband of their shorts. I can only surmise this is to give the “boys,” some much needed air.  And while we’re on the subject of shorts, the boxing shorts are enormous.  I do not know why.
  8. Here is how boxing matches are scored: Three judges sit and watch the fight.  They count the number of times each boxer hits the other one.  That’s it.  If one boxer doesn’t manage to knock the other boxer out, the winner is the one who connects the most punches to his opponent. It seems like they should get more credit for hitting on the face and less for punching each other in the stomach.
  9. There is no penalty for leaning on the ropes to catch your breath. Mayweather did this an unbelievable number of times.  One of the people watching with me said it was a tactic.  He said Mayweather was trying to make Pacquiao wear himself out while he, Mayweather, rested.  In my opinion, this made for a boring viewing experience.  Not that anyone cares about the quality of my viewing experience.
  10. Boxers, like wrestlers, hug. A lot.  I guess this is another move to make when you are tired and you want the referee to come and break you up.  I equate this to starting up a fight on the playground, but only when you know the teacher is watching.  This hugging did nothing to ramp up my interest level.   Maybe if the shorts weren’t so enormous….

DD: Mozart and the Beautiful Tears

06 Wednesday May 2015

Posted by koehlerjoni in Essay, Mozart, Music, Salzburg Austria, Travel Essay

≈ 14 Comments

Tags

Austria, Mozart, Music, Salzburg, Salzburg Austria, travel, travel essay

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The Mozart House in Salzburg, Austria

When Alan, our tour guide, pointed out the unassuming house of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, I suddenly felt tears prick my eyes. In the middle of a busy thoroughfare in Salzburg, Austria, I was transported back to a time in my life when emotions were so much more accessible than they are now.

As a college sophomore, I sang the role of Cherubino in Mozart’s Marriage of Figaro. I fell in love with his music when we began to rehearse the end of Act IV.  This video from the film, Amadeus, depicts the scene, in which the Count begs the Countess for forgiveness, and all is resolved.  As I stood on stage during the first performance, I remember thinking about how each of the characters had a different motivation in this scene, yet each character played an important role in the ensemble that created this majestic work of art. It was an incandescent moment, one in which I felt everything was right with my life.  I had tears in my eyes at the end of that performance, and Mozart had put them there.

Notice how the characters stand still, facing stage front.  In this scene, it’s all about the music, and the music is just glorious.  

I don’t know if Mozart was the first to layer characterizations through music this way, but it was certainly my first experience in which characters, singing from different perspectives, for different reasons, captured musical lightning. I don’t know much about music history, but I can see this layering of characters in many contemporary musicals.  Here is a scene from Les Miserables that demonstrates the way many characters with many different motifs come together to form a whole.

See how the art form has evolved?  The characters move.  They all have different things to say.  I can’t begin to imagine how difficult it must be to write a scene such as this.

Why did I cry when I heard that I was standing on the same street where Mozart had once stood?  Why did I pay ten euros to go into his birthplace to view his child-sized violin and examine a tiny lock of his hair?

It wasn’t because he changed the world, although it could be argued that he had a profound effect on the music and musicians that came after him.  I didn’t cry because it surprised me to learn about him during our trip to Salzburg. I knew he had lived there and had expected to hear about him.

I cried because of how Mozart had once made me feel on a day long ago.  I cried because I hear his influence in other beautiful music, like the Prima Donna scene from Phantom of the Opera.  I cried because the city was stretched before us in all its alabaster glory,and I was with the person I loved the most in the whole world.  I cried because I was overwhelmed with beauty.

The Alabaster City

The Alabaster City

Music is where my beautiful tears originate.  What about you?  What beautiful thing can reduce you to tears? 

pauseRReport, April 2015: On Dry Wells

05 Tuesday May 2015

Posted by koehlerjoni in Blogging, Creativity, Writing

≈ 11 Comments

Tags

blogs, creativity, Dachau, Germany, writing

April 28, 2015 marked the end of my eighth month as a blogger.  While I’m still struggling with consistency and keeping pace with my internal schedule for posts, April, like the four months before it, was a time of slow, steady growth of the site. I now have 92 followers. If I had 100 by the end of August, I would be happy. I know that those numbers may seem paltry to some, but I come into this spot with no expectations. Super Husband constantly reminds me that I’m blogging for fun, not to have something else to beat myself over the head with.

Here are some of the things I noticed in the month of April.

  • I am still trying to find ways to balance part-time work and writing. In the last couple of months the job has taken more of my time than I anticipated.  Even though I still have plenty of time to write, my creative well has been dry. Perhaps this is due in part to my body’s muscle memories from the end of the last twenty-three school years.
  • I also need to learn to handle responses (or non-responses) to posts that I did not anticipate. The post I wrote about my visit to Dachau did not get much response.  In fact, the posts I quickly put up to explain my lack of comments on other posts got more reads than this piece of writing that I spent a great deal of time thinking through.  I have no regrets about this post—it’s a documentation of how I interpreted my experience, a snapshot of my thinking that my children will be able to read when I’m gone.  I just need, perhaps, to learn to take it more in stride when others don’t see the value in some of my ideas.  Writing is risking, and I’m determined to keep sticking my neck out even if it gets whacked.

In May, I plan to write two more posts about my trip to Germany.  Then I’m going to start a series of posts inspired by other posts I have read in the month of April.

Here’s what I’ll be writing about:

  • Why I Cried When He Talked About Mozart
  • Beautiful Faces: What I Loved about Germany
  • A post inspired by Mom’s Purse, Musing off the Mat
  • A post inspired by My Dirty Little Secret about Inspiration by 101 Books
  • A post inspired by Geronimo: On Falling with Style by Such Small Hands

I hope everything is copacetic in your world today.  Thanks, as always, for your support.

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