Dynamic Stall

Since I’m over at various relatives hob-nobbing and indulging in way too much eggnog and mulled wine, read this little meme I ‘borrowed’ while I’m away. I’ll be back after the New Year!

PS- One final non sequitur…why do I get the neighbors who launch fireworks (they sound like cannons) on every holiday beyond the required 4th of July? They did Halloween, Thanksgiving and currently are reenacting the Battle of 1812 for our Christmas Eve listening pleasure. WTF? Apparently, Bubba over on the next block gets a real kick when his momma goes out in her housecoat and slippers to light up a nice M80. It’s heartwarming ain’t it?!

1.What is your favorite Christmas carol/song?
Carol of the Bells

2.White lights or multicolored?
Both - white on tree; multi outside

3. Do you have a cut tree, live tree or an artificial tree?
Artificial - so easy and no mess!

4. Eggnog, mulled cider, or hot chocolate?
Mulled cider for sure! Yummy!
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Mary Oliver - I never was into poetry enough to read it for pleasure. It was usually something I read when feeling a little blue and in a reflective sort of mood.

I liked hearing it and reading it, but I didn’t connect with any of it. Not really. The language frequently taxed my vocabulary, sometimes it sounded odd. Truth be told, I didn’t always know when to pause and when not to. My childhood education and experiences weren’t steeped in the classical works of Western literature, the stories of the Old Testament nor had I any exposure to Latin. These are all important things to have when trying to determine the meaning of the work. I was coming at it unprepared which made poetry a lot of work to ‘get’. So when selecting something to read I would skip over the poetry and head straight for fiction.

But here and there I would hear something, or read something just right. It would give me a visceral sensation and a sense of deeper connection to another human. My brain would exclaim ‘Yes! Yes! That’s it! Beautiful! Fantastic!’ A few pieces by Shakespeare, something Wordsworth, one or two by T.S. Elliot, Yeats had some lovely works and there were a couple by Auden. And most definitely Shelley.
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Shakespeare - I didn’t know diddly about William until I met my dear friend, Cary. Sure, I did the whole required Shakespeare classes in high school and college. But I truly didn’t connect to William until Cary read me a sonnet.

Maybe it was Cary’s delivery or maybe I was finally ready to ‘hear’ Will. No matter the reason, after a few well-read verses from Cary I had Shakespeare-itis - re-reading and watching everything I could get my hands on. I recall renting as many versions of the plays as I could find at the video store. Thankfully, it was a grand time to be into Shakespeare because Kenneth Branagh was at his peak putting out tons of Bard material on film. I had never been to a live performance so Branagh, Emma Thomson, Helena Bonham Carter, Jeremy Irons, Dame Judi Dench, Laurence Fishburne, Ian Holm, Sir John Gielgud and tons of other amazing actors made Shakespeare come alive to me.
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As I wondered about who influenced me the most, I was surprised I couldn’t think of five artists. That bothered me for some reason. I have lots of memories of seeing a work of art for the first time or of reading something particularly moving, but I don’t recall anything that actually caused me to change my life or think differently.

Nonetheless, I thought it a good idea to ponder what it means to be influenced. I think I was hoping to dig up a few of those epiphanic-loud popping-change your life dramatically kind of events. Alas, after long ponderings and lots of musing, I’ve determined that I don’t work that way. Instead, I think I’m subtly influenced. Something more akin to a gentle push of the paddle out of the current of my normal day-to-day way of thinking and into an unknown creek - ultimately changing me into someone different. Here’s the first of my top five. Who are yours?
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