Welcome to a World of Spiritual Harmony

This movie, the life of Harvey Milk, gay activist and City Supervisor of San Francisco, will blow you away. Sean Penn is perfect. He begins as Harvey turning 40 in New York, making a quick hookup to celebrate his birthday. He and Scott pretty much dare each other to move to SF, where they settle in to run a small business - and encounter police brutality and no welcome wagon from the other neighborhood businesses.

The history of his many political races, and finally his win when the city turns to district elections, is well told. Overlaying all of that is the ferment and change that American and SF were going through in the 70s, with his future killer twining in and out of the story in the later stages, in an eerily karmic way. Underlaying all of it is Harvey’s serial relationships, his needs, their needs.

An excellent movie - and no wonder Sean has been nominated for an Academy Award for his performance, and the film as Best Picture.

The gay sex is occasionally over the top - but it does make the story more clear, showing what the gay community was up against in terms of police behavior, and showing too the reaction of some in the broader community to the over the top acting out.

A realistic picture, a series of observations from Harvey, a history lesson, a beautiful city. I expect it will win Best Picture, and Sean Best Actor. Honors that will be well-deserved.

New Stage Collective is having quite an excellent season! Their current play, Dying City by Christopher Shinn, has 2 actors playing 3 characters. The issues are male/female, gay/straight, the war, grieving, pain.

Julianna Bloodgood = Kelly is the widow of a soldier who died in Iraq. Rob Jensen, known mainly for his work at Cincinnati Shakespeare, plays Craig the soldier, and his twin brother, Peter, the gay actor. Rob’s work is exceptional - with a change of shirt and attitude he makes the total transition from one brother to the next.

The plot moves from present to past, a spiraling return. All of the issues are not revealed until the last moments. I still have not resolved my feelings about the play - but know that it is incredible theater, deserving of your full attention. Unfortunately, the run is now over.

Next up is Dead City, a modern riff on James Joyce’s Ulysses by Sheila Callahan. It runs from February 5 through February 22. New Stage is on Main Street where 12th Street runs into it. newstagecollective.com is the place to go to catch up with edgy new theater this season.

I was Patty growing up in Springfield, OH in the 40s and 50s. As soon as I arrived in Cincinnati in 1960, I deliberately became Pat. And now I am becoming Patricia.

I started the transition to Patricia 2 or 3 years ago, slowly, and am now becoming more clear and direct about it. It’s been quite a chore for my friends, to re-learn my name after 4o or so years in some cases. But it is where I am and how I feel. At a big gathering of women the day after New Year’s, the 20-somethings in the crowd were really helping out, reminding others about what my name is. That was fun!

I decided it would be good to better explain this to folk, I’ve had to spend the last couple of weeks figuring out exactly why I’ve made this change and why it’s important to me.

I started, sometime in the 70s, to call myself an activist - philosopher. Not very often, but when someone really wanted to know how I viewed my life. I was writing a column for the Enquirer at the time, later for the Post, and so would use this definition occasionally. I was really seen as an activist, but I knew that I was also developing a thought / belief system, observing and commenting on life around me.

What I’ve realized now is that I’ve become a philosopher - teacher - activist. The emphasis now is on that belief system, that structure I’ve built, and actions come from that, are mounted on that structure. I act now when there is a systemic reason to do so, and more often share my philosophy, and cheer on others who are working hard in the thick of pushing for change.

This is, of course, one of the best times ever in America to be observing, thinking and cheering on change. Another reason to be grateful to President Obama.

To sum up my reason for changing my name - Pat is an activist, Patricia is a philosopher / teacher. It’s as simple as that.

What a beautiful day yesterday was! Bright sunshine shining on the Young Prince from the Prairie, as Garrison Keillor call him. Nearly 2 million people there. Millions and millions more of us watching TV and computer screens around the world.

Beauty and grace replacing awkwardness and negativity. An incredible visual - Dick Cheney in a wheelchair. Felt like a karmic statement on what that administration has done to our country - nearly crippled it. But not quite.

Barack’s incredible 3 continents family. Those beautiful daughters. Aretha singing, Ms. Alexander poeting, Yo Yo Ma and company playing. And I love Tis a Gift to Be Simple - turning and turning it comes out right.

And more - the luncheon with 2 senators stricken. The lateness of the schedule. Barack and Michelle walking down Pennsylvania Avenue. I missed the entire parade, but started watching again during the balls. Barack and Michelle dancing. That beautiful dress, that elegant couple.

Another karmic piece of the ritual - when Chief Justice Roberts stumbled on the words of the oath. The NY Times reports that President Obama just re-took the Oath today from Justice Roberts, as an excess of caution. Barack became president at 12 noon yesterday, with or without the oath. But better to have it done correctly on the record.

I know, I know. For most folk, Christmas has been over. But I take it slower than that. Nothing gets taken down before Epiphany, January 6 - also known as Little Christmas or Old Christmas. And then the 14th is Orthodox Christmas, so I’ve been told. Therefore - there’s really no great rush, is there?

Besides, I can’t stand the shock of having it all disappear at once. Last week, Christmas disappeared from most of the house, though the living room was still very decorated. And today, I took most of that downstairs to be put away over the weekend.

Tomorrow, Inauguration Day, in between watching the swearing-in and then the Inaugural Balls, the tree will be taken downstairs.

And then the only thing left will be that beautiful deep red poinsettia.

So Christmas is nearly over. Now I can decorate for Valentine’s Day - just a little - and St. Patrick’s Day - a lot. It’s always something here, isn’t it?

A friend of mine emailed yesterday to ask what the numbers - numerology - said about Inauguration Day.

So I sat down to figure it out - and ended up laughing out loud. Spirit has a wicked sense of humor, and She’s proved it again.

January 20, 2009 is the day Barack Hussein Obama is sworn into office as President of these United States.
In numerology, that’s 1 + 20 + 2009. Taking the next step, it simplifies to 1 + 2 + (2 + 9). Then 3 + 11, which equals 14, which equals - drum roll, please - 5. The meaning on the number 5? you ask. It means CHANGE!

Couldn’t be a better day, could it?

My sister did the smartest thing this year for Christmas for all of us - her kids, their kids, me and mine. She found organic cotton shopping bags, and filled them with very specific healthy items for each of us. So the vegans, the vegetarians, the meat eaters, the locavores, those with allergies and health challenges, each got just the right stuff for them. To make sure we each got the right stuff, she blew up 20 balloons, wrote our names on them, and tied them to the correct bags. She always figures out smart stuff like that!

It was a terrific way to introduce family to new foods, encouraging all of us to explore the possibilities. I (the pretty much vegan) got a great muesli / cereal from Sweden, plus Swedish sugar (who knew?), Tasty Bite peas paneer from India, unsulphured cherries from Woodstock Farm (I already love their stuff, hadn’t tried the cherries!), and Felix red cabbage, also from Sweden. I know there was more, but I’ve already eaten it.

Son Brian ate he cabbage before Christmas day was over. I left mine mostly under the tree until just now. I’m going to have the peas and paneer (homemade cheese) with some brown rice for supper.

So - thanks, Maureen, for a terrific and creative Christmas! xoxox

Friends and I went to the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra’s concert just before Christmas - a wonderful evening. Everything suited to the winter and the holiday season. It is a fabulous orchestra, great sound, in a wonderful hall. Prokofiev’s Classical Symphony, Beethoven’s Romance Number 2, Vivaldi’s Winter from The Four Seasons, Rossini’s The Fantastic Toyshop.

The musicians are incredible, Paavo Jarvi is a musical star, such good energy. The orchestra is now truly world class.

But the symphony is very seldom now a place I want to go. And I’m clearly not the only one. The acoustically near perfect hall was only about 1/3 full.

Back in the 60’s and 70’s, I couldn’t wait to go. Wanted to be there all the time. And I still am passionate and need to be there during our short opera season. Had been there just a week or two before for Garrison Keillor’s Prairie Home Companion.

And yet, much as I love the symphony, the musicians, the Hall, Paavo - something in me does not want to be there for them. I do not understand why, but I can feel my own resistance. And it’s not just Music Hall - it seems to be pretty much all classical music, and sometimes even extends to other genres. Jazz is another form that doesn’t interest me any more.

I was musing the other day on whether surcaps - the dialogue in English above the stage at the opera - would be of assistance. Perhaps a description of where we’re supposed to be (if, for instance, it’s about nature), what the composer’s intent was, the feelings this section is musically describing. Though even pieces I know fairly well are not really keeping my attention. Perhaps a short synopsis by Paavo before each piece. Maybe introductions of the key players and performers.

Perhaps it’s that distant perfection, no real intimacy or reaching across. Perhaps we / I now want a physical as well as cerebral experience. Could it be that I / we now want to be able to at least sway to the music, and no longer are content to sit quietly and be recipients? Something about that feels right to me.

I knew how cold it was, and was keeping the house warmer than I ever do, opening the cabinet doors to make sure pipes got as warm as the rooms they were in, running water through the faucets to fend off what finally happened.

The two hot water pipes in the upstairs bathroom - sink and tub - and the cold water pipe in the tub all froze within minutes of each other. I watched the cold water freeze up - very dramatic. Discovered that the rat that had tried to get into the house last summer had chewed a big enough hole that the pipes were exposed to the frigid temperatures of outside.

So after about two minutes of panic, I decided it was just a problem to solve - and that problems work out pretty well for me. I sent a yardstick through the hole to the outside, so that I could see where the hole was. Stuffed that with steel wool in case any other critter should get the same idea, and stuffed the inside with old Tshirts as insulation. Then I sat a space heater about a foot away from the door, and let warm air start flowing in.

After a couple of hours, the sound of water pouring out of the cold water faucet announced that that problem had been solved - leaving a new one: the tub was draining very slowly, so it was going to be chancy to leave the faucet dripping to keep the pipe open. I put a piece of tape in the tub so I could see if it was moving - so slow it was hard to tell otherwise. Lost a game of scrabble, then checked again. The tub had emptied - not a gradual improvement, but suddenly empty.

I went to bed, figuring the hot water pipes would tell me when they were thawed - and within an hour they had. So Friday went well, Saturday was no water pipe news, which was good. Then Saturday night, minutes after I got home from a movie, there was a tremendous racket downstairs. The water pipe in the garage had burst. I’m an old hand at that one - it’s happened 3 or 4 times, mostly when it gets turned back off for some use after it’s already been drained for the season. I just climbed on a chair, turned the faucet off super tight, and watched the dripping cease. Swept the rest of it out of the garage onto the drive. A joint had burst, and will be easier to fix than if a pipe had a hole in it.

So - reminders about caretaking and paying attention. But no big consequences. And that’s a good thing!

I now have 4 different kinds of feeders in the back yard on various kinds of poles. Plus shelled peanuts and small seeds that I throw on the patio. If it hadn’t been snowy this morning, I’d have thrown last night’s movie popcorn out - all the visitors like that!

And the snow was very strange - little round pellets. Looks like styrofoam snow - or perhaps like most homepathic remedies. Sure didn’t look like anything nature had made!

The wrens have returned. Several years ago we had a wren nest in the front yard - never saw the next, but could hear the wrens, and occasionally see them, with their little cocked tails. Now there’s a family hanging out in back. Looked them up in Ted Andrews’ Animal Speak - Resourcefulness and Boldness. That is truly the wren. They go after what they want, and are not deterred by bigger birdfolk in the least. And such a loud song from such a little guy!

Ted says: ‘Wren holds the medicine for using what is available, and it can teach you the most effective means to build within your own environment.’ A great set of lessons. Thanks, Wren!