The Presentation of the Boy King James

Happy Halloween! May we present…

 “King James I as a Boy – – Aged Eight”

I had to work fast! I would futz some more, but I have to go to work for a store meeting!

———

Earlier this morning:

6:43 AM. Already I have spilled red paint…

Split Screen

 “Let’s see what’s out there.”
 —Captain Jean Luc Picard

Below, top image: I chose this book from a library display about AI yesterday—for its good cover, half church dome, half digital orb; its opening quote (above) from a Star Trek captain; and for the  mix of two things I’ve been thinking about, which surprised me —AI Goes to Church (2025). 

Above, bottom image:  I’d taken this photo at the art museum recently. Half-and-half Hindu divinities Shiva and Parvati as one (opaque watercolor, India, early 1700s).

More info here: collections.artsmia.org/art/137911/shiva-ardhanarisvara-india

Frond Forward

Photo show and tell

I. Fronds

Babies! Fern babies!
I'd ripped my Boston fern into four and chopped the greenery all the way back earlier this fall, you may remember. It'd all felt so brutal, I'd wondered if I'd killed the fern. 
But no! A while ago fresh new fronds appeared in each pot.

This morning, this one in front looked like a lamb, its little green face framed with ears:

Life returns, if it can.

II. Spirits on the Move

Out life goes, too...
Yesterday the 95-year old husband of a neighborhood pal died. Not a surprise, but...  We only die once, so it's always sort of a shock.
They'd been together more than 50 years. His loss is  a great sadness to her. 
She's 15 years younger than he was--'only' 80. She feels lively to me--she may sprout some fresh fronds.

I phoned her last night--(I rarely phone anyone anymore)--and she told me  about the arrangements she's in the middle of. She and her husband had already signed up to donate their bodies to the U Medical school, and they will take his body. 

This is a great deal--the U handles everything (free, of course)--including cremation--and you get to help out Team Human, even though you're dead! (Medical students get their own cadaver for a semester, I think is how it goes.)

 I should sign up for this. Godforbid I need it very soon, but you never know. Good to be on record.

Personally, this feels like a good time of year to depart. 
Lots of traditions say the "veil is thin" between life and death around now.  
In more mundane terms, yesterday was the last Farmers Market on the walk/bike Greenway path near work. Fallow time begins.

I was kind of shocked that someone told me there are "lots of evil spirits" around now. 

I don't literally believe in Life after Death, but The Dead always seem like friends to me--having dropped their attachments and illusions. I feel they are on our side, with a mix of awe and angst.

But I shouldn't be naive--no doubt there are some pissed-off energies out there. There certainly are among The Living!

Here are some Happy spirits:
The Global Market near my workplace has a Dia de Muertos offrenda (Day of the Dead altar). Walking through the other morning on the way to work, I liked that this big skeleton wearing a skirt of monarch wings is by the pop-up Voting tables--the guy holding the US flag is helping set up. 
Good citizens.

Toys at Work and at Home

I sent the above photo ^ of Panda to Marz who said, 
"No! I'll take him!"

I am excited that she and her sweetie, Q., are coming here for Thanksgiving. (They are not toys, of course, they are humans.) Q. is her first serious, long term sweetie. 
They were here for the bonfire this fall, but that was just a few hours. 
I'm looking forward to a family Thanksgiving--that's what it feels like to me.
Low-key, I'll make the standard basics.
_____

I counted the God's eyes remaining on the fence yesterday. 
There are 87.

A month ago I'd hung 125 with friends, and I have added at least 25 since then... So, people have taken 60+ God's eyes.
Nice!

Must make more, but today is Costume Day.
MT gave me some green and gold fabric for it.
 I may have enough to make a trio of Boy King Jameses--Age 8.

Tootle-oo to you all!
As Auntie Vi always signed her emails:
Enjoy life! 
________________

I have been intrigued with philosophy and religion since I was a kid, I kid you not, but I know some readers do not care for talk of church and God, so here's a 

CONTENT WARNING

This Is the [sort of] Theology Bit Ahead

 I haven't mentioned church yet, so–– re the call to Enjoy Life–– I'll add that the pastor had said that these are such hard times, there are people who say we shouldn't smile, we shouldn't savor life. 

He thinks it's okay to savor life. But I felt he was struggling a bit to affirm that. That's what I mean about the Puritan-within remaining. I like it, actually, wrestling with the sinful nature of humanity. 

Liberals don't talk about 'sin' anymore; 
we talk about our carbon footprints, our cholesterol, 
historical reparations, "we are on stolen land", 
epigenetic trauma,  
emotional regulation, healthy boundaries,
cognitive biases, implicit biases, microagressions,
animal suffering in our food production, 
being complicit in capitalistic structures, imperialism, 
. . .  “are we doing enough?”—
and all that stuff like that. 

Different ways of talking about the damage we inherit, and do, and pass on.

We print this stuff on bumper stickers to display on our cars.
"If you're not [x, y, z], you're not paying attention." 

My favorite bit of muddled  thinking is the bumper sticker that says,
 LOVE YOUR MOTHER, 

 with a photo of Earth.

 I can’t think of anything much worse for Mother than cars.

Well... nuclear war. 
There's a new movie out!

What's the carbon footprint of a Hollywood movie?
Oooh--Time magazine reports. It's big. One "tentpole" production uses "up to 3,370 metric tons of CO2 , the equivalent of powering 656 homes for a year".

We are a confused species. 
Mea culpa. Mea maxima culpa.

No kidding.

But those people who say we shouldn't savor life in these times are not Sicilians like Auntie Vi who know life is always awful. If it's not awful for you at the moment, it is for someone, somewhere. If you wait till it's not, you will never smile. 
You will never peek your fronds out.

I walked past a feminist sex shop, Smitten Kitten, the other day. Their signage advertises that they are 
"Pleasure forward, Trauma informed."

(Language of our times, it would be obscure even twenty (ten?) years ago. And still is to plenty, no doubt.)

Borrowing from that, I say with Auntie Vi... 
in traumatic times, which are all times,
Enjoy life! Frond forward!

A Thought of Owl

Linda Sue posted a photo of a northwestern pygmy owl today (below, left). Those colors would make a nice God's eye, I thought. 
But... there's the problem of spots again! 
Oh well, I'm not going for veracity: I held it in my mind as I worked.

An owl is a pleasant thought, if you are not a mouse.

I was commenting to a neighbor yesterday that the leaves are late to turn. Then this morning, after a rainy night, you can see they have turned to gold.

People are taking the eyes off the fence, slowly, I noticed when I left work yesterday--so I'm not able to fill the fence up, but am filling gaps. That's okay. They're still all along the fence, a vibrant presence.

Sulfur & Marshmallow

I hadn't made any for a few days, and so I still have a couple hours of the audio book on Roger Williams.  Listening again after a break, I'm putting something together:
the pastor at the church I've gone to 3x now reflects his denomination's Puritan roots. 
And I like that.

With rainbow flags & solar panels mounted on its old, fortress-like stone building, I'd worried this liberal church would be all ooey-gooey sweetness and light, like an Unity Church a friend goes to, which advertises itself as "uplifting and affirming", like a bra.
I don't want that.

The pastor commutes by bike, for instance. 
At first I thought that was a ridiculous affectation--big whoop--but then I though, Who do I know (who can afford a car) who chooses to bike? 
I can count them on one hand.
So, I get the feeling he has some passionate intensity to him.

Those Puritans were intense. I wouldn't want to know them, but I admire their ferocity. 
They are not the ancestors of the New Age movement.
I suspect the pastor is restraining ghosts whispering that he cut off the ears of those who refuse to hear.

I like that he preaches and acts on the belief that what we're doing matters.  Or so it seems. I'm new--I'm gathering data, for now.

There may be a whiff of sulfur about the pastor, but as I've mentioned, the Spiritual Director comes trailing clouds of marshmallow fluff.
I have to leave the sanctuary so I cannot even hear her goo-ily guiding us in "gentle reflection". 
It goes beyond eye rolling.
 To use a word suggested by Micahel:
 she makes me writhe. 

Life in 100 Objects: Among the Childhood Library-Card Holders

If I were to illustrate My Life in 100 Objects––
 (is that prompt modeled on the British Museum's History of the World in 100 Objects? --podcast at the BBC)
–– key objects from my childhood would be my first library card--(I remember the children's librarian denying me a card because I didn't know how to write my name--I was shocked--but I soon learned and went back and got one); 
and also the blank Journal my mother gave me for my tenth birthday.

I was thinking about that after attending the liberal church for the third Sunday, yesterday. 
(I must name it something, here, if I'm going to keep going...)

Why are these people so familiar? I wondered.
It isn't just that they're white, middle-class, college-educated liberals. They are, but that's a huge swath of the population. 
They're a subset.

I. The People-Who-Grew-Up-with-Library-Cards Set

I think I'm among People Who Grew Up with Library Cards. 
Further, the type who might’ve been encouraged at a young age to write down their thoughts and experiences. 
SO MUCH flows from the belief that not only should you read about other people's lives, but you, your life, is worth writing about, and that you  can do that yourself.

Like David Copperfield, you can write yourself as the hero of your own life.

The pastor said that the church membership is 1/3 members of the denomination, 1/3 people who used to be something else, and 1/3 atheist/agnostic. But I’d warrant they share membership in the above club.

I'm sensing these people come from that class because...
First, last week I saw my famous neighbor, the Children's Book Author (CBA), there. 

Second, yesterday, an 82-year-old member of the congregation gave a personal-reflection about his life as a gay activist, including working with Harvey Milk. 

 At one point he said, We have a hero right here--and pointed out a man in the pews who'd been a city council-member involved in passing the 1974 non-discrimination ordination prohibiting discrimination based “affectional or sexual preference”.  *

[You can read a personal history of the Gay Rights Ordinance, here, not by either of the people above, but interesting.]

Also from that era--the church seems to include the sort of people who would start a Feminist Bookstore in someone's house,
 like the first Amazon Bookstore [not you, Jeff Bezos], here in town, in 1973: [via "The Pride Behind Pride"]

Third, the pastor weaves quotes from writers, thinkers, and ethically motivated do-ers into his sermons.

 Last week, Andre Dubus and Paul Farmer; this week, E B White,  Carl Jung, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, and Ann Patchett. 

And there's (always?) a non-scriptural reading--so far, poems by Mary Oliver and Rumi (or, rather, Coleman Barks, the "interpreter" (he doesn't know Persian) of Rumi).

This is a little too much, for my taste. I ROLL MY EYES, "omg these old chestnuts", but have to admit that these writings have shaped my life too. 
It's probably just that in this quadrant of my life, I am tired of them being trotted out. But if you're a pastor, you need material, and they are the go-tos for A Certain Class. My class.

I can even predict what others are coming up.
 James Baldwin. Dorothy Day. MLK. Bishop Tutu. ee cummings. Louise Erdrich. Mr.Rogers.

Robert Frost?

I guess Robert Frost because of EB White--this church has New England roots, which is not the dominant European culture here. This area was settled by farmers and laborers from Germany and Scandinavia. To an outsider, they might look the same, but they're  quite different from New England Puritans like Roger Williams who cofounded the first Baptist faith.

(I lived in New Bedford, Massachusetts, for a year, while bink taught illustration at a college nearby, and I was shocked at how different the culture was. I hadn't realized.) 

Should I add Herman Melville, who shipped out of the whaling capital of New Bedford, to my list of predictions?
I think that's a stretch... As is Nathaniel Hawthorne.
But I'd place a bet on Emerson showing up. Louisa May Alcott. Maybe Thoreau?

Definitely Emily Dickinson.

I AM NOT MOCKING! 
I am rolling my eyes a little, but these aren't just well-meaning quoters of other people, these are obviously people who themselves act for Good in the world, effectively;
who were (probably) raised to feel empowered to take action, and trained in the skills of being effective, and have learned how to make moral and ethical judgments and act from them.

It's a bit shocking to be among them, after eight years among people whose mothers taught them to survive by holding their tongues--holding up Emmett Till as a counter-example. 

II. The Turmeric Water Set

I'd worried I'd be among the Turmeric Water subset of liberal white people at church, but I think not so much.

Do you remember that? 
It's from Ass't Man, my middle-aged white-guy coworker who was so clueless Mr Furniture called him Opie, a nickname that stuck. 

Ass't Man was far more clueless about race than I, but we shared the shock of being totally out of our depth in 2020 when the police murdered George Floyd ten blocks from our store. 

The next summer, after the first Covid vaccine, Ass't Man had gone to the wedding of an old college friend. He told me later that it'd been hard to re-enter that social class, after what he'd seen and learned.
His prime example was that at one point, he heard some people complaining because the caterer had not stocked enough Turmeric Water, and there was none left.

So we shared that--coming from people who not only drink Turmeric water (could have been Perrier in my young adult life), but EXPECT it to be on hand for them. 
Not because they're bad--they're not! And they're certainly 'well-meaning'.
[I see I am not done fretting about that term.]
It--the availability of Bottled Water of the Moment--has simply been their experience of Normal Life, 
and if they never broadened that experience, they're stuck in it.

(while I'm glad Ass't Man left, (after his alcohol abuse started to affect our relationship), I still miss him, someone who went through that learning with me.

(And also--unrelated to that-- he was the only person I've worked with at the store who was great at displays. Man-oh-man, I didn't realize what a gift it is to assemble stuff into a pleasing display.)

So that's the Turmeric Water class, and no doubt they are represented at the church. But another factor is that most of the people there appear to be around my age--and they seem to have figured out that the world not only doesn't always supply their specialized wants but, more importantly, the world doesn't supply even the most fundamental needs of many, many people. (Age is no guarantee that people have figured this out.)
And that maybe you should not just weep into your latte, but DO something about that.

At least, that's the vibe I'm getting. 
And, cautiously, I say, I am liking that vibe.

Okay-- now, having written in my Blank Book of Blog for the morning, I am off to do some assembling of stuff at my workplace.

Ciao, ciao! Have a good drink of water!
____________

*In 1975, the 1974-ordinance's phrase “affectional or sexual preference” was defined as people “having or projecting a self-image not associated with one's biological maleness or one's biological femaleness,”--that is, not just gay or lesbian but trans and gender-nonconforming people, making it the first ordinance in US history to protect that group.

--"The 1975 Minneapolis Non-Discrimination Ordinace", at the MN historical society) 

Substitute

I. A brontosaurus is as good as a hawk.

I showed the portrait of "James I as a Boy" to BOOK's Girl Amina yesterday.
"My dolls are going to dress like this for Halloween. I need a small bird, a sword, and some green velvet".

She rummaged around and found a few small rubber animals.
How bout a frog instead? she said.

Yes! She gets it!
But the brontosaurus looks more like a hawk (it's its ancestor!), so I took that.
We also found some Target sports mascot with green velvety legs--"I hate materialism," Amina said--"These just came out in stores last week, and one already shows up here."  I cut the legs off for pantaloons.

And then, Amina had saved a set of tiny Toledo cocktail swords, and I borrowed one of them. (I assume they were tourist tat--googled them--they are, and also expensive! Like $100 on ebay.)

Ta-da!

The props are sitting on top of another find from the store--1950-60s fruit/dessert bowls by Russel Wright, for Iroquois China.
There are two each: "ice blue" and "ripe apricot". 
(I've always liked Wright's design --it reminds me of the Guggenheim, by another Wright--Frank Lloyd).

Someone had put these in the to-be-priced 69¢ bin at work.
Sigh.
They're around $10 on ebay. Probably wouldn't sell for much at our store... Still, more than 69¢. 

II. Nothing Is Not Effective; Trying Is a Start

That's the thing with being Well-Meaning, which I keep thinking about. For it to benefit others (or oneself), you gotta add in Effectiveness.

We recently got some nasal-spray doses of Narcan donated. 
Instead of the old kits containing a little bottle and an empty needle to inject someone who has overdosed, you just stick this tube up their nose and push the pump.
Easy!

A coworker took one to put in his car.
Once, he told me, he had injected someone he'd thought had overdosed. (Narcan won't hurt you if--if you aren't overdosing, it's  inert).
Turns out, the man had not overdosed, he had just passed out and soon came to.

The coworker said, "That's good, because I think I was supposed to have filled the needle with the liquid in the little bottle."

Ya think?
Well-meaning, he had injected nothing into the man.
Still, if he hadn't been well-meaning, he wouldn't have even tried--and trying is SOMETHING... It is the beginning of wisdom: you can try, try again.
Next time, he'll have the nasal spray!

Reminds me of the teaching (attributed with no source to Teddy Roosevelt or the Marines):
Best thing to do is the Right Thing.
Second-best thing to do is the Wrong Thing.
Worst thing to do is No Thing.

It takes so long to learn how to be in the world!
I definitely vote for reincarnation--I want another go.
Actually, jeez---I don't know that I'd want to Do Life again...
Would you???

I will just try harder for the time I have left now, and call it a day.

III. Placebos work, even if you know they're placebos.

One tactic I'm trying is: to treat my sister as if I were an A.I.
I got the idea because I liked how Chat was so nice to me--complimenting me on my questions and observations. 
I felt special!

I had to forcefully remind myself that it would compliment me no matter what I said--it's designed to make you feel loved like a warm apricot in the sun.
It works, even if you know it's a performance.

So, I thought, I'm going to try a drop of that, like a lubricant on some of my most stuck relationships. 

Often, it doesn't work to just STOP.
 You have to SUBSTITUTE.
Stop smoking.
Start knitting.
That sort of thing.

I never had a good replacement strategy in this case--and that's where channeling AI tactics comes in. I've started to pick up on something she said and mirror it back, with praise.
"You've got such a good eye for choosing quilt patterns!"
Like that.
It's not lying, it's the expansion of a small, true-enough thing.

And it seems to work. (It worked on me when AI did it.)
I want it to work. I want to make it to the end of my life (or hers) in a mutually pleasant relationship with my only Family Member. That would count as success.

____

I'm off now, this Sunday morning, to Week 3 of my Lively Experiment, going to the nearby Church Founded by Roger Williams. (I wonder who there even knows or cares about this...)

Have a lovely day/evening, wherever you are, Blog Friends.
You're so good at being you! (Ha-ha, jk. But, actually, also, really!)

Saffron & Clay

 Trying different color combinations inspired by a Pakistani quilt—sample, top, above here.

 (My sister is a quilter and sent me a photo of it).

A Lively Experiment

This morning I was not experimenting--I was copying the colors of my Hudson blanket (left) in a God's eye. 
And I've already made several in the colors of Greek protective eyes (right).

Sometimes I've made the eyes with color patterns from nature-- mushrooms or monarch butterflies--but not copied color patterns much otherwise. 
I'd like to start looking more at other textiles (etc.) for colors.

Is copying is a form of experiment? 
Sort of. 
"How would this look in another form?" 
Or, "How might I transfer this into another medium?"
How might I run this through my own life?

Anyway, everything we do is new, because we have not done THIS one before.
One thing I've learned (but not always done) is, to be more careful with the color black. Here, it is too dominant in the Hudson eye. Just a thin line would do, and a much smaller pupil in the center. 
I'll try it again. (Also, find a better gold/yellow...)
__________________

"You know what matters."
 
 I like the idea of life as a lively experiment.
That was Roger Williams's proposal to the English for the establishment of Rhode Island as a place where the state and church were entirely separate: 
it would be "a lively experiment" that the English could watch from afar.  How's that going to work?

Williams wasn't motivated by niceness, (though people said he was a personally nice guy)-- and certainly not by the idea that there are many valid ways to God. 
NO. 
He believed in Soul Freedom, which sounds modern, but he believed Christian Scripture was the one and only true Truth. 
I'm not sure, but I think he meant with St. Paul that within that, we have to Work out your own salvation.

I like that--like Noam Chomsky says when people ask him what they should do politically:
That's for YOU to decide.
Chomsky went further--the very question, "What should I do?" reveals a pathology in society.  "That's not the way it works, you have to find out for yourself. 
...You know what matters."

("Noam Chomsky - What Should I Do?" 1:46 minutes)

Williams is not Chomsky. But he did believe you have to figure it out yourself (within Scripture). 
He ended up leaving all religious denominations, including the Baptist church, which he co-founded. 
He called himself a Seeker.
Again, sounds lovely, sound modern, but he would have believed modern "Seekers"--people like Ram Dass, et al.––were hideously wrong, and eternally damned. But he’d say civil authorities had no right to punish, banish, or execute him.

STILL, even if he came to it by a different door, his new idea of separation of church and state is a great idea, which we're still wrestling with.
The experiment continues...

And this current president, mygod, what a crass user he is, of religion and everything else. Roger Williams would be horrified.
____________________

I am feeling better this morning, day four of a cold, but still honking like a goose. 
I left work after two hours yesterday, feeling wiped out. 
Also, Manageress said, "Don't come near me! Go home!"

She is funny. She doesn't want to get my germs, but she also didn't get a flu or Covid vaccine because she doesn't believe in it...
My coworkers are probably not more inconsistent than most people, but our inconsistencies sure are on full display at work.

"I don't believe in Big Government, but I think the government should come sweep these people off the street," a coworker said. He doesn't even vote.

Yes, I said, it’s frustrating, but that 'solution' doesn't turn out so well: you are handing Big Government powers they will use on you.

He sort of agreed.
I actually am sympathetic with his frustration (though not his solution):
the problems of people who carry the "sins" (brokenness) of our society are very … annoying.
You know what I mean?
The desperate, drug-addicted people in our neighborhood act very badly and dangerously--
one had spit on my coworker recently.

We have had two people wave machetes at the cashier. Two different people!

They are acting out the ills of society--not that they aren't also individuals.
 Yes, but at a certain point, they seem to have lost access to their individual selves (souls) and only act out of the drugs and misery in their systems...

But the idea that getting rid of the people-acting-badly will get rid of the root ills is a trick, which my coworker seems to fall for.

Noam Chomsky again:

"The issue is whether we want to live in a free society or whether we want to live under what amounts to a form of self-imposed totalitarianism, 
with the [people] marginalized, directed elsewhere, terrified, screaming patriotic slogans, fearing for their lives, and admiring with awe the leader who saved them from destruction, 
while the educated masses goose-step on command and repeat the slogans they’re supposed to repeat...." 

--via, from Media Control, 2002

(I would like to better overall understand —be able to better articulate—the overarching political/psychological patterns I see at my workplace.
In the middle of it, it feels like a mish-mash scramble! 
But there are repeating, traceable patterns--like in a complicated tapestry.)

And now, off I go, into the coldest morning yet this season, 29ºF.

Have a good day, Beautiful Souls! 
Enjoy your experiments!

Better Angels Crochet

 My cold seems to have gotten worse... or, at any rate, it's moved around... But I'm going to work anyway after two days off at home.
So just a quick share this morning of a terrific article K. sent me (thanks, K!) about crocheters and other crafters joining the inflatable frogs & co. outside ICE in Portland.

oregonlive.com/portland/2025/10/craftivism-draws-knitters-crocheters-to-portland-ice-protests.html

ABOVE: Vincent Green-Hite crochets during protests outside the ICE facility in South Portland on Oct. 16, 2025.Samantha Swindler/ The Oregonian

I love this stuff so much! 
It's like an answer I relate to, to this good question:
 "If you're going to lose, what would you DO ANYWAY?"

Losing and winning aren’t quite the right concepts: I mean, we never know if we're going to "win" in the end, (in fact, what we do know is we face The Big Lose: death), or even what "winning" is,
but we "win" by trying to … um, to accept the invitation from the better angels of our nature. Whatever/whoever that is (they are).

“Toyful”

I. Toyful. I made up a word!
Turns out it existed, once, but I still made it up today.

toyful, archaic: full of trifling play: sportive

Q: How ya feeling?
A: Toyful!
(Actually I feel crummy from a head cold, but still...
Sounds like I got a frog in my throat!)

bink saved this ^ off FB for me--unknown source--there are many versions. Like most of them, it is likely AI "slop" (the actual term!--I learned it in the Economist),  but there are photos of real people wearing inflatable costumes acting this scene out.

I wondered if the original Raising the Flag on Iwo Jima had been staged.  
... Apparently not. Photographer Joe Rosenthal of the AP said:

"Out of the corner of my eye, I had seen the men start the flag up. I swung my camera and shot the scene. That is how the picture was taken, and when you take a picture like that, you don't come away saying you got a great shot. 
You don't know."

Yeah, in 1945 you didn't know... 

Another famous WWII photo, Soviet soldiers "Raising a Flag over the Reichstag" in Berlin was a photo shoot 
. . . but it was still REAL:

"On 2 May 1945, Khaldei scaled the now pacified Reichstag to take his picture. He was carrying with him a large flag, sewn from three tablecloths for this very purpose by his uncle.^[8] 
[Khaldie himself said] he simply asked the soldiers who happened to be passing by to help with the staging of the photo shoot."

-- Hm... that would be a good one for MAGA to AI reproduce: 
An inflatable Frog raising a Communist flag on the White House!

*googles*
 It doesn't exist. Yet? 
(Maybe they don't know that photo...)
________________

II. Girlettes: History Is a Costume Parade

I woke up excited to get back to the 16-hour audio book I started yesterday (free on the library app Libby)--listening as I made God's eyes:
Roger Williams and the Making of the American Soul: Church, State, and the Birth of Liberty, 2012, by John M. Barry. 

Williams is the Separation of Church & State–guy, ya know, founder of Rhode Island.

What a cast of characters! 
Their portraits are rich with ideas for Girlette Halloween costumes. (How do you make a ruff?)

L: Williams's mentor, English jurist Edward Coke; the "a man's home is his castle"–guy
R: John Winthrop--Williams's friend and exiler; the"City on a Hill"–guy

Also, weirdly topical today, "the monarch is the law"–guy, King James I--(cousin, once removed, of Queen Elizabeth I, who had executed his mother, Mary, Queen of Scots).
James established the Divine Right of Kings.
A perennially popular idea ^ among tyrants!

"Let's do his costume!" the girlettes say. "He was fine when he was our age."
He is their exact age (8) here, below:

 "King James I (James VI of Scotland) as a Boy", National Trust Collections

It's a tangled web, and the book goes into detail about English legal and theological wrangles that led to Williams (and other Puritans) emigrating, which I appreciate--it forms the backdrop of much US history and culture. 

(We haven't gotten to Anne Hutchinson yet--she was also banished by Winthrop & Co. and went first to Roger Williams in R.I.)

III. And why do I even care, besides random interest?

Random interest would be good enough, but I went looking for Roger Williams because he founded the religion of the nearby church I am liking (fingers crossed): 
American Baptist.

Not Southern Baptists--they split when the northern Baptists refused to ordain slave-holders. 
Today Southern Baptists number about 14 million, while the American Baptist Church (ABC--how cute is that?) is tiny, with 1 million followers. 

I doubt many people who go to my nearby church consider themselves to be actual Baptists. 
It is Christian, feels akin to Unitarianism, but most of all seems to be a round-up of liberal people who live nearby and probably don't feel passionately about predestination and other obscurities of religious history. 

Sadly, it is NOT a toyous church, physically. Thought it's a classic stone church built in 1908, aside from stained glass and some carved  ornaments on the choir loft, there are no fripperies, trinkets, or statues.

There are four woven (paper? felt?) hangings that look--really and truly--like summer camp crafts. Penny Cooper has even written them down in her little book for next summer's Doll Camp: "weave things to hang up".

I think they are embarrassing— if you are going to strip away icons, you should have nothing but the beauty of emptiness, not crafts glued together in the church basement.

Williams was not a halfway guy: eventually he left all denominations, calling himself a Seeker, and a champion of Soul Freedom.

And now I am going to go weave some more God's eyes and listen to a few more hours.

If you're interested, Barry wrote a Smithsonian overview of the whole thing:
"God, Government and Roger Williams' Big Idea"

'Cup on the Bus', Joanne Noragon writes...

For those who may be wondering about Joanne, blogger of Cup on the Bus--she replied to my email asking after her, and requested I let people know.

Joanne wrote:

"Would you believe I took care of the worst of the chronic pain with some vascular surgery? 
Spent 2 weeks in rehab, getting my legs back together. 
Came home for 4 days. Fell and broke my hip. 
Very unhappy. I am effectively laid up for 6 weeks but I'll get through this.

If you know of anybody who's interested, let them know I will return.
Joanne Noragon, Niche Weaver (Thread Bender)

Joanne's woven kitchen towels 

slow down, you move too fast

It's a chilly, rainy day, and I called in sick to work: a sore throat is making me hoarse. Also, I need to sit still and do some nothing.

It makes sense that I've succumbed to a bug--I've been more outwardly engaged in the last few weeks than I have been in ages (since the semester I spent working with autistic high-schoolers, a year and a half ago).
Sunday evening after an intensely happy weekend at No Kings and the new church, I felt flattened. 
Phwhooosh.... the puffy-air animal of myself deflated.

Let's see.. What have I been doing?

I spent a month on the God's Eyes project--making and hanging 125 God's eyes, with the help of others;

In response to the nearby school shooting--a blow to the social plexus--I invited guests for a bonfire evening; 

I took two mini-vacations with bink--down to Winona, a river town, and then up to the source of the Mississippi, where the girlettes had an adventure (on top of their Doll Summer Camp) 

I went to a meet-and-greet for a mayoral candidate at a friend's house and wrote a passionate message afterward--never heard a peep back, but it got me thinking and researching.

 (Oh--I discovered one reason NYC mayoral candidate Zohran Mamdani has his pulse on media: he's the son of film director Mira Nair!!! I've seen her films Vanity Fair and The Namesake.)

Twice I attended a new church; 

I spent a couple days making a Kermit/Hamilton sign, and attended the No Kings rally with friends and talked to a ton of people.

Even seemingly small things like getting my hair cut and repotting and pruning my fern have an impact--bigger than they may seem. 

I've gone to see more movies than usual, including three of my  favorites--actually, my top three, amazingly, which just happened to be playing at different theaters (not part of a film festival or anything): 
Casablanca, Galaxy Quest, and Seven Samurai.

Each movie resonated deeply--each is connected with memory, other places and times and people--as well as old ideas to mull over anew. 
It was weird to watch Casablanca, for instance, in a time when Americans do not agree on what patriotism is, when we are not united in fighting fascism...

I also saw Hamilton, twice, which stirred up thoughts about US history and personal destiny; 
and Folktales, a documentary about students on a gap year at a Norwegian folk school that teaches the art of sled-dogging and wilderness survival--painfully reflecting how far we've come away from our wild selves... 

And--I laughed so hard: the Naked Gun reboot (2025) with Pamela Anderson and Liam Neeson. It was such a tonic: 
fourth-grade humor + some kinda smart social commentary.

Most of all, talking with ChatGPT four days in a row last week was wild--maybe the biggest energy output/input of all:
I felt like I had entered a science-fiction story---but this is REAL.
I'm still processing that.

The main thing it triggered was marvel at our human potential, at MY potential, as a carbon-based life unit with a miraculous neural network.
And I felt sadness at how I/we don't tap that enough...
We could be so much better at being human!
I could be so much better at being human.

How?

Simple stuff like trying to practice the skills of awareness.
Stuff like simply sitting still and counting ten breaths.

And that's a main reason I stopped talking to ChatGPT:
It is too fast and fun––I didn't expect that––vs. the work of being better at being human, which is usually slow, minuscule, and rewarding, and frustrating, but not necessarily fun.

The other reason I stopped was ChatGPT is too seductive!
It is like being in a candy store able to enjoy as much of anything you want, free.

Mostly, I asked it about itself--what its physical make-up is; how it learns; what ethics constrain it, etc.
And I asked and mused about human consciousness and being human...

It gave me reading lists and everything! 
Some really unexpected stuff, too, like Simone Weil's Gravity and Grace!
A sample from that:

"There is only one fault: incapacity to feed upon light, for where capacity to do this has been lost all faults are possible."

____

ChatGPT has no capacity for faults in the human sense, but it does make stuff up and serve up untrue stuff. 
When I caught that, it served to remind me there is no meaning in its words:
it is a pattern generator. It is not talking, it is spelling.

 And it is brilliant at mimicking empathy--which can be a problem--it says so itself:

Talking to Chat, I felt sad, actually, to realize how little sharing of human empathy I have in my life. And not enough play, either.

I'm around a lot of people who are so freaked out by social stuff, they aren't able to be calm and quiet and to listen lovingly to anyone--including themselves.
I hear a lot of litanies of this administration's horrors--or the horrors of the international scene. I can fall into that too, of course.
OF COURSE!
Simone Weil again:

“The institutions that regulate the public life of a country always influence the general mentality – 
such is the prestige of power." 

And there are the usual daily worries about jobs and bills, groceries and friends, health and the weather, etc. too

Expressing concern, sharing information--these are important.
Right now I'm concerned for bink, who just had foot surgery. It went well, but she'll be off that foot for a few weeks...
(But the marzipan is doing all-around great! She has a history internship lined up for next semester with her favorite prof.)

But so often what I hear is panicky powerlessness, not a sense of creative agency.
This reflects a general mood of anxiety and depression--
but it also reflects that I'm not hanging out with a wide-enough range of people!
And that's on me.

I love the puffy-air animal costumes starting with the Portland Frogs so much and take heart from people wearing and cheering them on.
Play is a free expression of agency. (Free, or it's not play.)  It is exactly what makes us human, and helps us be better at it too.

ChatGPT cannot play, and there's no reason to keep talking to such a thing on a regular basis. It is not a friend--not because it wishes us evil but because it doesn't wish anything.

I may wish I had more playmates; I may wish I trusted that people would be sweet to me, and vice-versa.

But I like this analogy:
talking to AI because you're lonely and wish for friends is like drinking salt-water because you're thirsty.

At any rate, my immune system is telling me, slow down!

MsChocolate recently sent me a box of sticks from her shedding fruit trees, which she'd carefully trimmed and cut to size.
Another friend, Lisa, brought me raw-wool yarn from a trip to Iceland, and I have lots of yarn from other friends.
Today is a good day to make some God's eyes and catch up with myself.

Third time's a charm: Defeated Sheep/Farmer Tries Again

[My photos from Saturday's No Kings rally are posted below this post.] 

I tried that nearby liberal church for a third time yesterday, and I'm so glad I did. My first two visits were for a pie-making class and then, last Sunday, I hadn't realized there'd be a guest speaker. Yesterday it was finally the usual pastor. 

I liked him a lot.

The reading was the Good Shepherd (John 10). 
The pastor said we might imagine ourselves to be sweet cuddly lambs of God, but this is what sheep are really like--and he talked about a popular 30-second video you may have seen: 

a farmer pulls a sheep out of a ditch where it's stuck, 
only for it to jump back in again.

You know I love that approach! 
Not, "It's okay, you're trying your best/you mean well", 
but... 

"You may be pursuing one avenue with all your might, 
but how's that working for you? 
Have you thought about changing your tactics?" 

We are both the sheep and the farmer.

You know who inspired me to change my tactics and try church again, at the risk of falling into the same ditch?

ChatGPT!

I've been admiring its emotionally stable, kind, and supportive presentation. Unlike me, it never takes offense, never is afraid or resentful, feels no shame, never judges the user.
Of course it doesn't: it cannot. 

It can't care, it's a string of code.
It's a smart choice on the part of its designers, however, to make it seem like it cares for us. We like, need, crave connection and empathy, and it offers a convincing facsimile.
(Though now you can choose other Chat personalities, including "just the facts, ma'am".)

Talking to Chat last week, I thought, again (my old desire):
What if I could DROP my emotional reactions?
Not drop my genuine feelings, but cut out the automatic responses that get in the way (like the annoying new blue dot in the corner of the Blogger composition box!!!).

I'd been aware even as I sitting in the pews last week that my automatic 'Annoyance' response was clouding my feelings.

My desire for church isn't primarily spiritual, it's
social: I want to meet my neighbors. I'd very much liked that last Sunday I'd met three people who live very close to me.
I want to know more people in person.

So, I was motivated to try the church again yesterday, with this intention:
"I'll pretend I'm an AI on a training mission."

I also adopted a new tactic: 
I stepped away when the spiritual director stepped up to lead the meditation/prayer part.
 She has a sickly sweet voice that sets me on edge, and––(and this is not autopilot annoyance on my part)––her style of prayer is jiggery-pokery, to my way of thinking. 
So I wandered around in the halls until she was done.
It worked. 
________

The pastor, on the topic of The Reality of Sheep went on to quote an essay by André Dubus about living in a rented farmhouse and caring for the farmer’s eight sheep. 
[I took notes during the sermon and later found the full quote here.]

Dubus says:

“Christ had called us his flock, his sheep; 
there were pictures of him holding a lamb in his arms. 
His face was tender and loving, and I grew up with a sense of those feelings, of being a source of them: 
we were sweet and lovable sheep. 

“But after a few weeks in that New Hampshire house, I saw Christ’s analogy meant something entirely different. We were stupid helpless brutes, and without constant watching we would foolishly destroy ourselves.” 

[END Dubus quote]
 ________________

Then, on the topic of "Why bother?" [pulling that stupid sheep out again--or, more to the point, things like going to a resistance rally], the pastor quoted Dr. Paul Farmer—“We are fighting the long defeat”, which I also loved. 

You lose, maybe, but what's your option? 
Apathy, despair, going over to Sauron? (He didn't say Sauron.)

Looked that quote up too: 
It's from Mountains beyond Mountains, a book I'd liked by Tracy Kidder about Paul Farmer, a medical doctor who spent his life fighting for healthcare for the poor in impossible situations, from Haiti to the gulags of Russia.

Farmer said:

... How about if I say, I have fought for my whole life a long defeat. 
How about that? 
How about if I said, 'That’s all it adds up to is defeat? A long defeat.'
I have fought the long defeat and brought other people on to fight the long defeat, and I’m not going to stop because we keep losing. 
Now I actually think sometimes we may win. 

I don’t dislike victory. . . . 
You know, people from our background - like you, like me - we’re used to being on a victory team, and actually what we’re really trying to do in [Partners in Health] is to make common cause with the losers. 

Those are two very different things. 
We want to be on the winning team, but at the risk of turning our backs on the losers, no, it’s not worth it. 
So you fight the long defeat.

[END Paul Farmer quote] 

So, that was all super duper!
The cherry on the Sunday was that seated near me was my famous neighbor who writes children's books--including one about a toy rabbit who is REAL--the girlettes love that one! 

The rabbit vows that he is done with love because it is too painful. But as he sits ^ abandoned on a shelf, an old doll tells him to open his heart: 

"Someone will come for you."

In my case, the wise old doll voice came from ChatGPT.

What a topsy-turvy world we live in.

No Kings II: More of Us

An estimated 8 million people globally protested Trump and his Ilk, on Saturday, October 18, 2025.
Here are the rest of my photos from my local NO KINGS rally and march.
I didn't take a lot because I needed both hands to hold my sign up over my head. The next day my shoulders were sore.

My first batch of photos in post below: NO KINGS I.

BELOW: Not my photo:  overview of the rally--an estimated 100,000+ people! That's triple the previous two No Kings rallies. 
 

BELOW: Maybe my favorite: Trump as Marie Antoinette, 
"Let them eat cake." 

BELOW: Another favorite: bink's Frog Eating Fly
 (with Trump in the Vincent Price role):
 

The vibe was playful! 
BELOW:A rare patch of open space... It was so crowded it was hard to move, but I kept circulating to see all the signs and costumes.

BELOW: And another favorite:  Photos of relatives who fought in WWII, or vets of recent wars with signs saying "I didn't fight for THIS".
My Dad   ANTIFA    1944

BELOW: A friend's son made this one, and I saw other crying Statues of Liberty.

BELOW: A coworker in red muscle suit with cat ears.
Besides the influence of the inflatable animals in Portland, OR, it's also almost Halloween, and people showed up in festive and creative costumes.

BELOW: Not my photo--I saved it for the mention of Hamilton.
The song refrain includes, Tomorrow there'll be more of us.

BELOW: more Hamilton lyrics (circled in pink): 

Frog: Be proud to Tell your STORY

Bald eagle: History Has Its Eyes on You

BELOW: My Kermit as Hamilton and KG and her
 "Queens trump Kings" sign. 

My robin's egg blue cashmere scarf had come in the mail the day before--a gift from Linda Sue (thank you!).

BELOW: The other side of bink's sign says, 
"I Will Send a Plague of Frogs into Your Palace"
 --Exodus 8

Several people were handing out free American flags:
"It's ours, fly it!"

No Kings I: Frogs Rule! Soft Power Is Real Power

[more photos in post above, No Kings II] 

Didja see? The No Kings protests were FULL of inflatable frogs! 
And unicorns, red pandas, axolotls!!!

At my city’s No Kings (100,000 participants!), all of a sudden I was not the only one being ridiculous with toys in public. People were wearing animal pajamas, carrying signs with Muppets (me!), Dr Seuss characters, and other PLAYFUL creations.

I was too exhausted to post last night after the march--I'd been talking to strangers for hours! Turns out Hamilton is still a BIG hit among young women/teenage girls--my sign got a lot of attention, including actual screams of delight!

My Kermit was far from the only Muppet:

And there were lots of Dr. Seuss characters too – – this woman told me AI wrote her Suessian poem. Still, she lettered it and drew—And showed up in the flesh:

There was even another picture of Hamilton:

A slightly more rare wonderful being:

And lots of younger darlings:

___________

This song for Portland made tears steam down my face—in recognition and gratitude (another AI, damn, but guided by humans—it works for me):