Be the change you want in your life

I saw this quote on social media today and thought it was worth posting. It was written by Victoria Erickson. 

"If you inherently long for something, become it first. If you want gardens, become the gardener. If you want love, embody love. If you want mental stimulation, change the conversation. If you want peace, exude calmness. If you want to fill your world with artists, begin to paint. If you want to be valued, respect your own time. If you want to live ecstatically, find the ecstasy within yourself. This is how to draw it in, day by day, inch by inch."

Two by Tarkovsky

I watched the sci-fi horror movie Annihilation on Netflix this past week for the second time; the first time was during the pandemic. I didn't remember some of the plot points, so it was good to see it again. A very good movie overall, with some interesting points to discuss. It was directed by Alex Garland of Ex Machina fame, another sci-fi (with some horror elements) movie that was excellent. In Annihilation, the 'Shimmer' is a land zone defined by continual mutation and which, once you enter, alters (mutates) a person inasmuch as the entry of said person alters the zone (its physical/biological/psychological/ emotional composition). All those that have previously entered the Shimmer have not returned and are presumed dead, with the exception of a man named Kane, who is married to Lena (played by an excellent Natalie Portman), a biologist and former soldier (like Kane). The reason for missions into the Shimmer is to find out what has happened at the lighthouse on the coast, where it is rumored that a meteorite has hit, bringing with it something extraterrestrial. The Shimmer seems to be mutating and expanding continuously with the expected repercussions (altered humanity and animal/bird life and death). Kane is completely disoriented upon his return and falls gravely ill within a few hours afterward. Lena joins a five-woman team of scientists who enter the Shimmer in order to find answers as to how to save Kane, what the Shimmer is as well as to what has happened to previous missions. Lena also wants to assuage her conscience of the guilt she has over an extramarital affair that Kane found out about, and which influenced his decision to join a military (suicide) mission to enter the Shimmer. I won't give away any more of the story, since it's absolutely worth seeing as much for the story as for the scares. The theme that runs throughout the film is that human life is characterized by a propensity for self-destruction (via our biology, psychology, personality and choices). When I was reading about the movie online, I found out that it was based on a book (book 1 of the Southern Reach trilogy) by Jeffrey VanderMeer, which I plan to read. But a major influence on Alex Garland's Annihilation was the 1979 Soviet sci-fi film Stalker by Andrei Tarkovsky, which Garland has acknowledged. 

I rented Stalker last night and watched it on GooglePlay. Like Annihilation, Stalker got under my skin. I thought the film, although long (2 hours and 42 minutes) was very good, but it's definitely not for everyone. It's a bleak film with a bleak message, no doubt influenced by Tarkovsky's personal resistance to the oppressive Soviet communist regime (dark, bleak, cold). The story is about a Stalker (a guide) who leads a Writer and a Professor into a zoned-off secure area where no one is permitted to enter, so they must sneak their way in. The Zone is an unpopulated nature preserve where there exists a house with a magical room that grants a person's most fervent wishes. As the Stalker explains to the two men, they must not wander off or disturb the Zone in any way, because it is dangerous to do so. The Zone senses the presence of the men, and as in Annihilation, few to no people return from the Zone. The Stalker's work is to guide unhappy people into the Zone and guide them out again; he earns money doing this, but he himself is not allowed to enter the wish room. The Stalker's life is not very happy; his wife berates him for leaving her and their crippled daughter for days/weeks at a time, they have very little money, and they live in a small flat that vibrates when the trains go by. As the film progresses, there is much discussion about the meaning of life, the meaning of art and science, the meaning of the wish room and the repercussions of having one's wishes granted. It is a philosophical film in that regard. I found it bleak because I felt for the Stalker, a good and simple man whose sole goal was in helping others to be happy and not worrying about himself. He believes in hope and the possibility of a better life for others, less for himself as he seems to have accepted his fate as a poor man. He does not want the Zone destroyed as it would destroy the meaning for his existence. He believes in the Zone and that the Zone has to be respected and preserved. He has faith that his work is helping others, but by the end of the film, that faith has been shaken. Again, I won't give away the story, as it is worth experiencing. What compounded the sadness for me was learning that Tarkovsky, his wife Larisa, and the man who played the Writer (Anatoly Solonitsyn) all died of the same type of lung cancer after the film was released--Solonitsyn in 1982, Tarkovsky in 1986, and his wife in 1998. It is thought that their cancers resulted from exposure to toxic chemicals from the chemical plant located upstream from the movie set--a deserted hydroelectric power plant in Estonia. 

Stalker was made in 1979; Tarkovsky's probably best-known film, Solaris, was made in 1972. The film Solaris from 2002, directed by Steven Soderbergh, is also one of my favorite films (A New Yorker in Oslo: “There are no answers, only choices” (paulamdeangelis.blogspot.com); A New Yorker in Oslo: The Martian Chronicles and Solaris (paulamdeangelis.blogspot.com). Both films are based on the book Solaris by the Polish writer Stanislaw Lem. Both deviate from Lem's book; apparently Lem was none too pleased with Tarkovsky's changes to his book and was even less pleased with Soderbergh's. I rented the 1972 film today on GooglePlay. Like Stalker, it's a long film, clocking in at 2 hours and 47 minutes, with long sequences here and there focused on one object, e.g., waving grass, a picture on a wall, a pitcher, a broken container. Both the length of the film and the extended sequences can test your patience, and I can't help but think that the film could have benefitted from trimming at some points. But I fall into the category of viewers who give directors the benefit of the doubt. Are they leading us somewhere? Are they revealing small clues as to what's coming? Like Stalker, Solaris has an atmosphere of foreboding that hangs over it; you know that something's coming and that it's not likely to be good. Tarkovsky is excellent at creating 'atmosphere'; it can be uncanny, bleak, grim, mystical--sometimes all of them in one. Both films deal with metaphysical questions--who we are, what makes us who we are, the importance of memories, the meaning of existence, the acquisition of sentience and the implications of that for the definition of humanity. Again, as I wrote in my blog post 'There are no answers, only choices', that remains the conclusion (for me) after seeing both of Tarkovsky's films. He was not interested in providing pat answers for us, he was interested in probing these questions. As such, his films are not for everyone, especially not for those looking for sci-fi movies with alien monsters and the resultant body count. In Solaris, the 'alien' is a sentient ocean, one that is trying to understand humanity as much as humans are trying to understand it. The Solaris Ocean provides humans onboard the spaceship, who are probing and studying it, with 'gifts' in the form of people they have known and loved but who are actually dead in reality. These entities, called 'guests' in Tarkovsky's film, can be viewed as manifestations of an individual's nagging conscience regarding the deaths of his or her loved ones. The sequence when the psychologist Kelvin first arrives on the spaceship is eerie enough; the spaceship is mostly deserted, and the two surviving crew members have chosen to remain in their rooms rather than greet him on his arrival. Over the course of the movie, we learn that some of the crew members (now dead) went insane because of these 'guests'. I'll have to go back and reread Lem's novel, but both Tarkovsky and Soderbergh came up with interesting endings for their respective movies, even if Lem didn't approve. They are the kinds of endings I love, as they lead to discussion about what happened and what the director was aiming at. I like doing postmortems on movies, but I know that not everyone does. I also like a good alien monster move, because I love movies, period. If the movie is made well, I enjoy it. Stalker and Solaris are both worth watching and discussing afterward. 

If you want to waste your day

 

The year of pandemic living

I just finished Elizabeth Strout's new book, Lucy by the Sea, and found it to be a good read. The main character, Lucy Barton (a writer whose second husband recently died), finds herself riding out the pandemic in a rented house in Maine together with her ex-husband William, who has orchestrated the entire arrangement. He and she have remained friends after their divorce; he contacts her right before the pandemic hits bigtime to tell her that they need to leave Manhattan immediately. She acquiesces rather quickly, knowing that he is a scientist (parasitologist) and that he probably knows something she doesn't. The novel details their year together in a house by the sea, and how their relationship is rekindled after many years of living apart. William is now in his seventies and has major health problems, whereas Lucy appears to be in her late sixties and still relatively healthy, although she suffers from anxiety and the occasional panic attack. They are older and (presumably) wiser, dealing with regret and with the knowledge of their mortality. He is sorry for how he treated her (had affairs); she seems to be struggling with being alternatively judgmental and forgiving. In that sense, she is like all of us who have been hurt by someone--we want to forgive, we do forgive, but we wonder if we are being weak by doing so. We wonder if we should be hard and unforgiving. The novel deals frankly with the pandemic and the political events of the past several years. 

What struck me about the novel was the description of the loneliness that many Americans felt during the pandemic, as well as the panic and anxiety that many of them lived with each day. It was different here in Oslo; we underwent a similar type of lockdown, but I don't remember feeling that loneliness, the way Strout described it. It felt so empty, so desperate, so sad. And yet, I can only speak for myself. I know that the pandemic affected many people here in similar ways, especially those who lived alone. Perhaps that is what made the difference--having someone with whom to share lockdown. Because social life as we knew it ceased to exist. There were no get-togethers, parties, weddings and reunions were cancelled, bars and restaurants were closed, and people worked from home. I didn't find the latter bothering at all, in fact, I preferred it because I never felt lonely at home as I did at work. But again, everyone is different, and I can only speak for myself. 

Strout's book has gotten good reviews, but as always, I'm interested in the negative reviews as well. Those who are negative about the book are so because they did not want to read a pandemic book that reminded them of a horrible time. Additionally, they felt that very little happened to the main characters and that there really wasn't all that much to write about. While the former is true, I disagree that there wasn't really much to write about. The exploration of one's emotional life is not nothing. Lucy finally has the time to figure out how she feels about many things, and what she finds out is that life in general and her life in particular are complex, and that most of us live in the gray area between the black and white. In other words, while we would like life to be black and white, it is not. We are always struggling with our thoughts and emotions. But in the end, we are who we are and as we approach the last chapter of our lives, it is unlikely that there will be major personality changes. If you are the forgiving gentle type, you will most likely remain that way. If you are the aggressive unforgiving type or the philandering type, ditto. So that begs the question of whether she can trust William when he tells her at the end of the novel that he loves her. He seems to, and perhaps he always did, throughout his affairs and their divorce. The question, as her daughters remind her of, is whether she can trust William. The novel provides no answers to that question, and as Lucy herself points out, “It is a gift in this life that we do not know what awaits us.” How true. 

A month of rain

It has rained on and off in Oslo for nearly a month now, sometimes heavily, other times lightly. Each day we wake up and hope for sun, sunshine, warmth--for the crisp, cool days of autumn punctuated by sunny blue skies. But apparently, it's not to be, not this year. I have no idea how much longer this weather is expected to continue. If it's too hot or too cold (extremes), people will complain. But I never complain that it is too sunny outside. And I don't complain when it rains a few days here or there. But this type of rainy weather that we have now is irksome. I'm glad I got most of my garden prep work for the winter done during September and early October. I've been in the garden a few times during the past few weeks; the ground is muddy and slippery, the grass is a soggy, sloppy mess, and the air is damp and chilly. Not very inviting to spend time there. 

In the summer of 2018, Western Europe experienced a heat wave for several weeks that was often referred to as a 'heat dome' that had situated itself over that area; it led to drought-like conditions. I remember it well because we were traveling in England and Ireland at the time, and most of the vegetation we saw was not green, but brown. Everything had dried up or dried out. These weeks of rain I will be labeling a 'rain dome' even though I know there is no such thing in meteorology. I've read that some meteorologists have stated that this is normal autumn weather. I reply unequivocally that it is not. There is nothing normal about this weather. 

Anyone who states that climate change is a hoax is simply not registering what is going on around them. It doesn't matter to me whether the climate change is natural or manmade. The point is that it's happening all around us. I am not very optimistic that we will be able to do much to reverse it. Perhaps we will be able to slow it down, but it's not encouraging to witness the increase in the number of hurricanes, the increase in hurricane intensities, the melting of the glaciers in Greenland, the melting of the polar caps, the rising sea levels, and the steadily increasing instability of the atmosphere. This past summer in Oslo had to be one of the windiest on record. I gauge that by how many times we were out on the boat; I don't go out on the boat when it's windy because I don't like the resultant choppy water. I was on the boat about three or four times this past summer. That's not a lot compared to other summers where the weather has been more stable. 

It is said that one can get used to pretty much anything. I hope that is the case. Humankind in the twenty-first century has a lot of formidable challenges in store for it. I don't think all of the challenges can be met or tackled. For the first time in my life, I see the limitations of our human existence and of science. We live after all on a planet in a universe that is constantly expanding. There is no reason to expect that our planet will remain stable in terms of its meteorology. And there is no reason to expect that mankind can win against the forces of nature and the universe.

Some new street art in Oslo

Wandering around Oslo, walking in different areas of the city; I ran across this cool graffiti recently. Intriguing street art--I love the use of the different colors! I don't know who the artist is, otherwise, I would credit him or her immediately. If someone who reads this post knows who the artist is, please let me know and I'll update this post. 

One more song by Gilberto Gil--Andar com fé (Walk with Faith)

Another song by Gilberto Gil that I love--Andar com fé (Walk with Faith) from his album: Um Banda Um. 

Toda Menina Baiana by Gilberto Gil

Toda Menina Baiana (Every Bahia Girl) is a great song by one of my favorite Brazilian artists--Gilberto Gil. I first discovered Gil in the mid-1980s in the world music section of Tower Records in Manhattan. I used to stop there often on my way home from work, and usually left with a new album or two. I fell in love with most of Gil's music and spent some time trying to learn to pronounce the lyrics (in Portuguese) when I sang the songs. I had no idea what I was singing about, but it didn't matter. The music was captivating and made me happy, which was a welcome change for my life at that time. This song was released in 1979 but I didn't hear it for the first time until the mid-1980s. 

As fate (God) would have it, a young Brazilian scientist (Juli) started working at my research institute in 2006, and we got to talking. I mentioned that I loved Gilberto Gil, and lo and behold, where do you think she came from? Bahia. The area of Brazil that Gil comes from and sings about. Coincidence? I don't think so. She too loved Gil and she gave me a CD with some of his music. Over the years we've become good friends and in 2009 we attended the World Music Festival here in Oslo where Gilberto Gil was performing. His concert was wonderful; people didn't want it to end and kept clapping so that he would continue singing. I would love to see him again in concert, but I wonder if he still tours (he's 80 years old now). Every time I hear Toda Menina Baiana I think of my friend, the Bahia girl. She lives permanently in Norway now and doesn't get back to Brazil very often. I've never traveled to Brazil but I'd love to visit the country at some point, and Bahia will be on my list of places to visit. 

Barbara Acklin - Am I the Same Girl from 1968

I don't remember this song from growing up, probably because it was a bit before my time. I heard it recently as background music on, of all things, a garden program about a Swedish couple who had built their dream garden in the backyard of the house they had purchased in Sicily. When construction was finished, they had a party, and this song was playing in the background. So I just had to know what song it was......I love it. Swing Out Sister did a very good version of it in 1992; you can find it here: Swing Out Sister "Am I The Same Girl" 1992 - YouTube

Drake--Flight's Booked

Drake's new song--Flight's Booked 👍👍from his Honestly, Nevermind house music album. A great dance song.....

The Nightmare Before Christmas--a Halloween film that's become a classic

I remember the first time I saw The Nightmare Before Christmas (The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993) - IMDb). It was in 1993 and we were still living in San Francisco, although our year there was coming to an end. The film was released in the USA on October 29, 1993, just in time for Halloween, and I saw it during the first week of November in a movie theater on the north side of Golden Gate Park. I remember that day very well, because I was the only one in the theater for the 3 pm afternoon showing, which they did not cancel, thankfully. I had left work early in order to see the film and it would have been disappointing not to have seen it. I left the theater thinking that I had seen an amazing film, and some years later I actually bought a video cassette of the film and watched it one or two more times before VHS films were phased out. I never purchased a DVD version of it; it was always on my to-do list but eventually streaming channels came along and I figured it would be possible to watch it on Netflix or HBO or the myriad of other streaming channels at some point. Sure enough, it's available on Disney+ (no surprise there since it's a Disney production) and Apple TV, among others. If you haven't seen it, I recommend it highly. The story of Jack Skellington the Pumpkin King, who decides that he can better his life by 'producing' Christmas one year instead of Halloween as usual, is a memorable one. The songs, the text, the creatures, the animation--all of them combine to make a film that is truly exceptional. As I said, at this point it's a classic.

Apart from It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown, which is a wonderful Halloween classic, there aren't that many films that can be considered classic Halloween films for the entire family (meaning kids and their parents), not in the same way as for Christmas films. I know that there are a lot of Halloween horror films and that many of them are classics, but they are for adults and teenagers (the Halloween movie series comes to mind, and yes, they are creepy). 

There is something about seeing some movies on the big screen together with other people you know are fans. That was my experience today. Frogner Cinema in Oslo, which dates from the 1920s, set up two showings this weekend of The Nightmare Before Christmas. I went to today's 3 pm showing and the theater was almost filled, which was good to see. The majority of the attendees were teenagers and young adults, men and women alike. At the end of the film, people actually clapped, and that hasn't happened in ages in my experience. It was good to see because it gave me hope that there is still 'room' in modern society for movie theaters. I don't want them to disappear because there is nothing like seeing a movie for the first time (or even second and third times) in a dark movie theater. It's always a memorable experience, especially if the film is worth seeing. Many of my memories from youth are of times spent going to the movies. I thank Frogner Cinema for setting up these showings this weekend; it was a fun way to spend a couple of hours on a rainy Sunday afternoon. Just in time for Halloween......

The new Tappan Zee Bridge

For those of you who are wondering about the header picture of the dual-span cable-stayed twin bridge at the top of my blog, it is a photo I took of the new Tappan Zee bridge during my September visit to New York State. The new bridge opened for traffic in 2017; the old one was taken down due to its age and constant need for repairs. You can read more about it here: Tappan Zee Bridge (2017–present) - Wikipedia

The new bridge is lovely, and at night it is often lit up in different colors to celebrate or honor different events and organizations. I'm proud to say that it connects Tarrytown, my hometown on the east side of the Hudson River, with Nyack on the west side of the river. There is a pedestrian/bike lane on the bridge as well; if you'd like to walk across you can park your car on either side of the river. It's not something I've done as of yet, but it's on the list of things to do when I visit NY. 

One of Mary Oliver's most popular poems--The Summer Day

The Summer Day

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean —
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down —
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

+ Mary Oliver

I first came across the last two lines of this poem before I knew that there was an entire poem in front of them. This poem is from Mary Oliver's House of Light collection. I've since purchased several volumes of her poetry and am savoring them as I read them. So much of what she writes about is a reminder for us to be truly mindful (before it became a trendy word), to be present in our own lives. She wants us to pay attention to our own life and the life around us--insects, birds, fish, small animals and large animals. In some of her other poems she even wonders about what stones feel and think. I love that. 

In this poem, her way of praying is to pay attention, to fall and kneel in the grass, to be idle and blessed, even though she isn't really sure what a prayer is. But what is prayer if not this? She cultivated the ability to 'wonder', to be surprised by and grateful for nature at every turn. 'Wonder' is defined as 'a feeling of amazement and admiration, caused by something beautiful, remarkable, or unfamiliar'. It is the wonder we experienced as children when we came across something beautiful or unfamiliar. I know I felt wonder when I as a child looked at the underside of fern fronds and saw spores, which are the ferns' method of reproduction, or when we went on a field trip and went looking for moss's reproductive structures. Or observed lichen growing on a rock. Or when we collected leaves from different trees in the autumn. Or when we saw snow-laden branches on a fir tree, how beautiful they looked, or ice formations in small brooks and even on the Hudson River. I knew wonder when my father and I sat at his desk in the evening with the small microscope he and my mother bought for me, and we looked at the already-prepared slides of diatoms (single-celled algae) that came with the microscope set. So amazing to see these magnified tiny organisms that make their home in sea water and fresh water. 

I think if we retain our ability to wonder throughout our lives, we will be able to tap into our 'child lives'. Not childish or silly lives, but rather lives that are open to the world. A kind of purity of soul, uncontaminated by the negativity and evil around us. Innocent as it were. It's not easy. But if we say no to cynicism and negativity, we leave more room for wonder. It's a good start. 

Just about as perfect a photo as you can get

This photograph of a hummingbird and four bees drinking water from a birdbath was taken by Toshiyasu Morita (Hummingbird & Bees — Toshiyasu Morita). It is an amazing photo, about as perfect a photo as you could ever hope to capture and actually get. I love it! As I've written about before in this blog, the honeybees in my garden love drinking water from the birdbath on a hot dry summer day, so this photo is a wonderful reminder of that. I've photographed them doing so, but not as up close as Morita managed. This photo makes my day!

https://images.app.goo.gl/trvB6YqZLnDwFdK2A

My gardening philosophy

I saw this today and had to laugh. This is my gardening philosophy exactly and my standard comment to my fellow gardeners in the allotment garden when we discuss what plants have grown and thrived and what plants haven't. The quote is by Janet Kilburn Phillips, an environmental educator, gardening expert and coach (Plant Harmony); I am not sure who took the photo.