Now on SuleKha

Well my idea has been kickstarted with registration on Sulekha.com , the 2002 tiling project is complete and looks pretty nice, the re-edits are done for DryDock Music Festival and adding the B-roll truly adds to the story.

As the stock market is in chaos I have put Dad stuff off again. I have also deactivated my Unemployment claim -- and will revisit in Dec if needed.

Yesterday found some yang to my ying. My cholesterol numbers improved immensely due to diet: less cheese and add nuts. Unfortunately that yielded 5 cavities. I never anticipated nuts would be a teeth health risk.

I will be doing a challenging edit today, deciding what may be worth submitting to a video festival and trying to deny the existence of this poison ivy. I know I will not succeed with all three.

Weekend -- and sinus pain

Today there was news of another life extinguished early; not a direct victim of war like the 20 year old with 2 weeks left to serve a few towns away. Rather a 20 something whose life never got on a sustainable track. As a boy he welcomed a new comer into the neighborhood; provided a middle school life line. I remember afternoons of manageable mischief at the pool just cleaned again for another summer. Sometimes there is too much murkiness to clean up without intervention. Sometimes the chemicals are wrong. I am not sure what to do with this news or the better understanding of genocide I got with an investment of time with BookTV yesterday. I will be buying When The Stars Fall to Earth by Rebecca Tinsley because the proceeds support solutions. I wonder if there will be a compelling section I can read on Community Television that will add to the awareness that I still have no clue what to do with.

So I continue to absorb and wonder and get distracted by sinus pain; What is to become of these connections before I too am extinguished: either by serving or facing something unsustainable?

So far it seems like a really long Saturday with naps

So last Monday was the 1st Monday in 35 years that I did not have a job. It is much to get ones' head around.

I did not dump into this state of being gradually because my last employed days played out like all that came before: Compressed Project Timeline. Deliverables. Teamwork. Business Needs awaiting solutions. Unpaid Over-time. I am still unsure what my true feelings are about what I dubbed my Last Hurrah Project -- which connected decades of dots to re-engineer the subsystem I supported so that I would no longer be needed. I am satisfied with the product and the teamwork it took to get it done. I am unsettled in my feelings about the manner in which the scope & scheduling was handled. But it is past and I need to be more present so I can find the right future.

Part of the future will be noted here. So this is the simple start.

Finding a eureka

Let the data set change your mind set: Visualizing data fascinates me. Spreadsheets frustrate me.

I am still struggling with knowing what my choices will be when I can re prioritize my life: this is causing a bit of stress. I was thinking it may be fear of failure. The future will likely have less incremental closures as projects end; but who am I kidding in the corporate world projects never did end, because you were forever SME. Since the documentation cycle always was eclipsed by the demands of next project, documents did not serve others just you -- the interpreter. It seems I have decades of work to document down-size. I hope I come away with a product and solid experience with some of the newer tools with the last large daily bread project which has all the things that make projects fail -- and one expert. Not worth my minutes documenting that here.

I need to investigate how others sensing the clutter and overwhelming nature of data are compressing it into knowledge: digitization with meta data, info-maps, visualization tools like Google Analytics. I what to play with the combination of eye & word communication with enough intensity & focus to find a eureka.

decision 9.9.10

So maybe you have heard – but now you are hearing from me:
I have decided to retire and will be leaving WellPoint no earlier than May 1 but no later than June 30. If that sounds like pseudo code, it is only fitting.
I characterize this change as from WellPoint to Wellness.

March 2011 will be my 31 year anniversary. For someone planning to be in a corporate-like job for only 2 years that is a long run.

Who knew that the non-profit job at BCBS of CT would become, well, so corporate. Retirement for me will not be leisure. I have many community initiatives to partner with as a volunteer. So I will be working the same mission – to improve the lives of the people I serve and the health of my communities. I will continue to work with teams of generous and committed people like you (maybe including some of you) who try to make a difference every day.

integrity & transparency -- owning the risk

How does one determine what is best? Does short term out weigh long? Does security trump opportunity? Does one assume one will live for decades or does one choose to start living? Going along -- numb and day-to-day without a conscious decision to get beyond engagement in securing daily bread ... the unstated is that I will get to a date in the future to be decided by a corporation that my life will change.

I was nudged by hyperbolic crap to think more strategically about ME. When I added ME to the equation I was divided. I woke the ME that did not take or keep the job by choice but rather by default. I woke the ME that does not want to be used, disrespected or overwhelmed.

What I discovered is I can work another year and be NET Neutral... so if I was likely never to be the one to choose a future date I have discovered I can choose now and be faced everyday with real choices for wellness and meaning.

Perspective on Reading

I randomly listen to talk programs. I happened upon a program on Literacy. It was inspiring. Brought me to tears. It included stories about adults making the commitment to read and how this commitment and the reading transformed their lives.

I took away this new perspective on Reading.
The transition from Learn to Read to Read to Learn is where many non-readers get lost in the system. This transition most commonly happens in about the 4th grade.

Pencils, white text and the revelations as history

As I begin to tap at the keyboard -- I sense that I am facing challenges yet to be overcome. Contributors to this sensation include that I do not type, trifocals challenge accuracy in seeing, and what it feels like to write with a pencil is a very distant memory. I face the New Year with fatigue, lack of momentum and an intention to commit to basics. I am half-heartedly assessing the public medium for which I find that ideas must be coaxed, shuffled, strained and simplified to have value. This requires resources that have been depleted.

Therefore I must challenge the purpose of glimpses through stained glass as a blog. Is this just a public scribble? Does it qualify as a journey journal? Can it be more than an expose in my inconsistency and ease of distraction?

Random memory: a peer who communicated with another peer at the day job playfully included personal hidden messages in his emails. His messages were hidden by changing the text from black to white. This sharing was discovered unexpectedly because the email was sent to print and all printed text is in black. What does this story memory invoke? Other memories like the lemon juice experiments of my youth (play, discovery) and thoughts about understanding cloaking,exposure, innovation and all of there potential impact on privacy.

So no deep dives here - just nagging thoughts in response to popular media. Our former VP speaks and I quiver. He infers that terrorists did not succeed in attacking on American soil after 911 - and the true level of threat must remain cloaked. So if Truth is cloaked in fear and hyperbole --- will history reveal if we were protected or scammed by these fear mongers. In the 80's I took a course on International Law. Terrorism was a key subject matter. I believe a Lesson Learned from that course was that terrorists are empowerd by breeding fear. It seems that this is now a living history.

Do stories ever end and other deep thoughts

Before a personal story ends, Memoir writers decide that there is enough of a story to be told, to be penned, to commit to. Reflection and significance are ingredients. Compelling is important. And how to begin requires selection of an end for the unending. I am a derailed storyteller because I can never decide upon an ending.

When this entry was conceived, there was 100 days remaining; to elect a new president and to make ready my primary daily bread assignment for go live. These turning points are not ends. They may be middles or starts. What comes later – the benchmarking measures like the 1st 100 days of the presidency and questions about the completed project speak to the lack of true ends.

New tools allow us to manage or compile data and images and the elements of story. Sometimes pseudo stories emerge much like pseudo poems from folks exploring sentences and fragments instead of paragraphs and chapters. New tools can inevitably make endings ever more, less likely. Time capsules of experience accumulate. Folks like me get to avoid deciding on a larger scale than outside of the moment’s distraction – about endings. Volumes of reflection, commentary and noise emerge – and stories that could change, heal or inform salt and pepper the abundance.

Blogging, this hybrid commentary journal process was activated by me to reflect upon significance. Scribble. Distraction. Curiosity. Ponders. All in a format that allows me to avoid questions wrestled by true storytellers. Maybe coming of age with the TV drama view of story, most of which now tell multiple stories simultaneously and attempt to develop characters serially, neatly prescribed time, foreshadowing and tension until there is a fade to credits has contributed to my dilemma.

I began to read the World is my Home. I did not get to the end yet. It has been months since I set it down. I started it in the middle, as I recall. The 1992 biography of James A. Michener was published 5 years before his death, an end marked by his decision to remove life supports. A collection of selective reminiscences, his story for me did not end when I closed the cover of the book nor would it have if I were on the last page. It continues here. His story lives on because they were scribed. Each new reader restarts the story. And every new writer underwritten at UofTexas at Austin by Michener funds ensures his story never ends. This novelist did story his way. He followed his intellectual curiosity, informed his style from the experience of opera arias and ultimately his narration rewards the reader or listener with knowledge. His large novels are said to be absent psychological insight. I have purchased but have yet to read his sagas. A novelist that could have been a blogger is an indulgence that I can not yet invite in to my frame of reference. So I digest short stories. This week it is People I wanted to be.

Go Live is less than 100 business days away and the day job is carnivorous. Is eating my soul, flesh eating? Deep thoughts are set aside as core hours begin now.

Conversation and the value of versus: Poems

Tension is a building block that can engage the audience within story; it is known to add challenge to conversation and is said to exist naturally between science and faith. Its value is 2 sides of a coin: and often a headache. As an element of style - it must be worked, to work.

The New Poet Laureate is getting air time. I listen. I wonder if a good poem every 10 years does a poet make? I wonder if a poem a day is a good expenditure of time. And then I know the truth: calories need burning. So I borrow an impromptu haiku from the poet from my middle and smile knowing birth is not under-rated, poetry is.

Time displaces truth

Tumbling down the rabbit hole

I am far too late

What we value enough to copy

The reminder came in recent conversation: To be a storyteller you need a story to tell. To be a blogger, not so much. So, I start.

Since vacationing, I have been sitting with a story that ignited my curiosity and ire and left me bemused. It is layered: outrage, heritage and this idea "what we value enough to copy." 

It is not new, this tale. In fact it's mangled roots began at the turn of the 20th century. It is every day, and the future, transformed by tourists, the global economy and the value of authenticity. It is the how and why culture is preserved by Native Americans —and purveyors of our nation’s history in this century. And in the world of the Internet, this story can be informed by comments of others.

I enter the story with stops at roadside booths in Arizona and Nevada. I stop to appreciate authentic Native American jewelry. My purchase power is nearly non existent. While cruising the tables,  I was thinking “How authentic.”  That puzzling idea seeped in as the experience as my vacation progresses and my joy of craft and art and flea-markets was transformed into “damn this America” again. There is no end to the disappointment.

For me, the West was an open book. The only pages written thus far were not from reliable sources. Tonto was the only Indian known to me. The embodiment of 'Indian' from childhood games modeled upon Wild West movies. I had so many pages of understanding to fill. 

The first real Native Americans I would see were entrepreneurs. Booths, gathered flea market style, abundant. The crafted-work, seen among the booths, is similar, yet distinctly different.

With questions I learned from ample answers. The stones are named after the area it was mined. Some are stones are rare as some areas are now barren.  In Bisbee, the seasonal rain wash turquoise into the roadside basins Bisbee, We must go there. I learn the bevel side is up. I learn advances in technology are embraced by the current generation because of economics. I am shown how strung, cut and polished gem stones crafted into jewelry can be done making clasps no longer essential. Most importantly, I sensed that the business of making and marketing jewelry is a family affair. And I cannot distinguish 'antique' from 'made yesterday' Indian Jewelry. I find an Antique Indian Jeweler at the Boulder City Jamboree.

My vaca get-a-way unearths a visceral delighted in the handiwork of others. But an undercurrent pulls me out of tourist mode. Ample answers come with prideful stories connecting generations by traditions. The economics and livelihood of Native Americans artisan jewelry makers is intrinsically tied to the next generation attending college. Heritage was being stamped upon them by a flat world. The tribes  needed doctors and lawyers more than Indian Chiefs.

One proud native mother expressed her outrage about fakes in a manner that I failed to yet understand, "Jewelry with .925 is not Indian". I decided to buy from her to join in the resistance that lurked now in a distant part of my brain. Her outrage inclined me to purchase from her son for mine, and from her, for me. It was not until vacation destination: the Grand Canyon, a place of mimic and replication that I came to more fully understand her exclamation.

At the Grand Canyon National Park Desert View Watchtower Gift Shop, a sign above strings of silver feathered turquoise necklaces read: Authentic non-Indian jewelry. If I was thinking journalistically rather than touristy, a picture of this sign would be gold for this story. It was a picture I failed to take. I had no idea how it spoke volumes about the latest economic based invasion of Native Americans by replica jewelry Made in China and machine stamped .925. [2]

The watchtower, a mimic of Anasazi Indian watchtowers, is infused with storytelling both figuratively and literally. The design of this national park building completed in 1933 was commissioned and awarded to Mary Colter. This five-story site to see is on a promontory overlooking the Grand Canyon at the eastern end of the south rim.

The architecture informed by archeology, ethno-history and the work of Indian mural artists, including Hopi Fred Kabotie embodies the value of copying, storytelling, and preservation of Native American Culture. Authenticity is reportedly at the core of the architect’s work. The replica design was said to be informed by turn of the century southwestern archeology. On its walls the tradition of storytelling in rock art are copies of rock art rendered by artist Fred Greer. These copies may be the only existing record of the original story painting found at an Abo, New Mexico Archaeological site.

Ms. Colter’s designs were commissioned by Santa Fe Railway and the Fred Harvey Company which launched the Native American souvenir business. This company’s transformation includes becoming the concessionaires of National Parks. The souvenir and concession business began by leveraging the traditions and skills of local artisans. This leveraging spawned tradition based Navajo, Zuni, Hopi and Pueblo family businesses that have now supported several generations of displaced Native Americans. So the ability of this outraged Indian mother to market to tourists, culturally based jewelry and crafts, is directly tied to the business that is now the target of her rage. In civilizing the southwest, trinkets were mass produced by artisans supplied sheet silver and pre-cut turquoise by the Harvey Company.

This blog, in all its hyper-parts, evolved because of I sensed a disturbing undercurrent of injustice for which I had no context. The outrage of the Indian mother could not be shaken so I needed to understand it. Give it a place to quiet in better knowing. I googled to learn more than the culture center disclosed. I determined that the act of selling imports as Souvenir is not out of character for the legacy company that ran the concessions. And that the new company continues to have unfettered access to 5 million visitors a year to profit from tourism.

I come away with a strong belief that Indian Crafted souvenirs from our National Parks should be authentic not imported reproductions. I share this story to amplify how economically based transformations without connection to values and tradition fail all of us.

1) The Grand Canyon is the most visited natural wonder on the planet. 5 million visitors a year with up to 30,000 visitors per day in peak season. 

2) Sterling Silver objects are stamped with either the word "Sterling" or ".925" which refers to 92.5% pure silver and 7.5% other metals, usually copper.

Postscript: Within this vacation there was another connection with Native American culture at the AMERIND MUSEUM, the ‘Traditions in Clay’ Exhibit. It depicted a history of pottery making. It also displayed outcomes of ‘a competition’ involving copying traditional works as a means of connecting to ones heritage

This story does not end here if you make a different purchase decision or support any legislation that may come in to play to make our collective treatment of Native Americans less egregious.

Lifelong…then retirement or into retirement

Life-long: what are the benchmarks? Is it duration or duration in relationship to the length of one's life. When must a lifelong relationship, idea, pursuit, regret begin to qualify? Is meaningfulness implied? What are the shades of meaning: continuous until a person's death, continuing through all or much of one's life? This out-of-place meandering began while at a retirement event of a co-worker.

When something is more than 50% of your life and the majority of your daylight it probably qualifies. Family relations most often do. A person’s work can qualify and sometimes that work is at one place of business. This is a phenomenon that is changing. It is one I never expected to be part of but one for which I can now claim a duration maker of more than half of my life.

For my co-worker the years are 36. The retirement is about to start with a summer vacation at the camp of his making with his best friend who is intended to be the rest of lifelong. He practiced retirement for a week before deciding that he was ready. Ready and able are not mutually exclusive but the able part usually comes far later than readiness for most (maybe I am projecting here). If employment is more than making a livable wage then one may never be ready. There are very few positions on 60 Minutes, or tenured professorships in the perfect climate, or artists that can sell enough to sustain daily bread or piano men or living poets with solid indirect income sources.

As I tried to kindle connections I found rhyming words: The batches of rhymes seem to speak to me about passionless day jobs: along phrases are scrape, rush, shove, stretch, play, pull, tag, or come along.

Lifelong is now a learning buzzword. It is something we are all expected to make claim to. I invested in this claim six years ago when I processed through a second graduate program. Sometimes I think it was only proof that I could type ever more poorly with more sleep deprivation. The brain exercise was sometimes fun and challenging enough to make me feel that I was evolving. However, I am not sure that the benchmarks for lifelong learning sited herein.(p.2) were achieved in my personal journey. I am often reminded of the three word marketing rule, as it is often deployed, and the challenges of good tauts. Grad school is where I learned I too could make hyper Connections like one of my most favorite books and made 4 television adventures by James Burke. (And I too have a box and scribble that may become bones or blog entries or remain for future ruminations.)

And then I get totally distracted in the world of connectivity and find bliss.

If I might be disrespectful….

Today I was out-of-order and publicly chastised for thanking two individuals for a courageous vote. It was partly the room and the dynamics. It is not like I was really trying to be rude or intending to be rude. In fact it was totally unintended this rude thing. It was probably more rude to consider my gesture rude. The intention was to respect the efforts of the community of volunteers that worked hard to serve their community but failed to get serious consideration because of agendas. So my actions were declared rude because they disrupted control and a façade of decorum.

If I could have slipped the thank-you note down the aisle I would have considered it…but that was not an option. A smile or wink could not be seen. And the gesture was a public one intentionally.

A few weeks prior teachers and parents actually were disrespectful, but they were not chastised. They were a mob and some behaved as such and most were not informed at all about the process for which they were gathered. How many votes needed or how the agenda works.

But what was rude was 8 years of service and one phone call demanding a public admission of an error I did not make. No this was actually malevolent.

What is worse than rude is lying. And my accuser is certainly confirmed as that.

What is even more significant is that personal attacks from a true fraud were part of the larger dynamic. In the last election I changed my vote for two people who are now serving as Town Councilors. Even with candidates of my choice failing to win I have never felt I voted wrongly. But two people on my local Town Council have shown me what two faces mean and at least next time around I know clearly who will not be getting my vote. And I just may be motivated to share this opinion widely.

Would I have done anything differently tonight - Nope.

ps. I have this thing about pictures being informing. A picture of me at a microphone is pretty uninforming. So I prefer action shots. And I was trying to create action.

Free Vs. Fee_at what cost

In a recent typo the word free became a serendip 'fee' and evolved into a statement of condition about news is our world.



That particular slurr of the fingers happened weeks ago and hung in draft. I am barely coherent in thought today. I am on vacation. My legs have more mileage on them, my forehead the tell tale signs of sun, my brain gets feed morsels of data about camofluage, desert life - - a sign declaring please touch connected me to the head dress of many horned mammels and the wool of the same... the details are not being retained. But I am sure they can be looked up if ever needed. The International Wildlife Museum provided this close to nature experience and the Arizona-Sonora Desert the other. Today will be American Indians and Copper and Architecture. Then Science.

Many ideas passed right through me... I did not take notes.

I did log in to the Internet for some citizen advocacy tasks. Maybe with these behind me I will be able to experience and retain. It is time to start the day away from my regular life.

How Can Right - Be So Wrong?

This question How Can Right - Be So Wrong? was raised into consciousness a few times this week. Once in good storytelling: The movie ‘Gone Baby Gone’, A few times, during recent citizen advocacy challenges, And daily in the balance of ‘work’ and ‘life’. When faced with the consequences of action taken 'on principle' can we find our core values in conflict? Is it merely a question of their priority?

Core values are to govern how we make decisions, clarify who we are and guide our behavior in the world. When compromised ‘who we are’, changes.

Frustration with processes that sometimes take years to complete or maybe even re-cycle often seem better served with short-term solutions. Short-term goals are needed for process owner sanity, life-cycle and knowledge management. However, short-term should still be compatible with the long view.

If the foundation is broken it is better to clear and rebuild than selectively modify. Determining how broke is broke needs consensus. And in the politics of change, power brokers will identify small fixes that cater to the short-term needs of a few making consensus even more challenging.

Political Power is best served by an 'informed' electorate and a demonstration of the will of that electorate for a common good. Education on this process is challenging as well and I was please to find this site that is trying to meet those challenges.

The informing quote of the week: learn that you can disagree with people without being disagreeable. Source: Grover Norquist, President, Americans for Tax Reform

standing ... i should be standing

In the news today...i hope someone notices the cause...

Dad agreed to be the hump loan if needed..
We have a committee...
a challenge looms large....
Pulled off a TV show that I hope to see,,,someday....

garbled words...revise, revisit....breathe...

i am the rat in the race ,,,,being tested...

passion is still the primary ingredient...

So. Africa looms large in my future...what does this portend...

a moment ...

lost & found about finding and loosing connections

(the drag of days -drafted on MLK day and reflecting back to 12.28.07)

I am living in an overwhelmed state of being with ‘must be done’ defined by an external locus of control.

This blog was undertaken, in part, to determine if I have the desire and capacity to engage in discovery and discourse? To put another way, Do I have the ability to independently think and reason and if so, does it or can it matter to achieving fulfillment in life? I am attracted to, and want to, understand and contribute to the ideals of an ‘open society’. But am I failing at this for so it seems? Or is it that failing is a fatal flaw in the construct of community engagement and consensus? How can global and local citizenship and arts and ideas and family matters and living healthy be made unworkable in the day today?

I have been distracted in very brief moments by the presentations of Ayaan Hirsiali and Irshad Manji, both impressive young women (CSPAN2). The presentations made me want time in my life to read Infidels and the Trouble with Islam, respectively, and to feel worthy of discourse with such nimble and noble minds. I was hearing that a missing skill set of our time is debate, decent, revise, reform.

I was in immediate agreement and pleased to hear the roots of Islam connected to inspire-innovate-create. But the telephone rang and my Diversity Day (MLK) was interrupted/derailed by an external locus of control.

Other distractions that got into my random scribble, the theme American Angels. A local Peter Gardella (Hamden, CT) with the theme of useful spirits in a material world ironically tied to a purchase I made during the holidays to support my imagination and a local artist. It is a large sun made of waste wood from Angel wings for other art pieces. I refer to it as a deconstructed Angel.

Forwarded an email string on puzzling (and art that inspired: This individual's compelling distraction found a place in the world of advertising. Magical, alluring, and uncanny. My reaction was to understand the pictures in the string and be informed about their roots. I always seem to want context even after being compelled to different zones by art.

Instinct, the nature of humanness, or peculiar to a personality type: too much to explore now as my day is being stolen by the day job once again. Connecting to that moment go here: Literally Finger Painting way cool in the moment of contact ---this link gives you more info about the artist and it is easier to send along to others...http://guidodaniele.com/

the error of our ways, my daily bread

Today this email tag-line quote caught my attention because it spoke truth to me "From error to error one discovers the entire truth" — Sigmund Freud. The quote is in the world on several lists of notable quotes.

I am reminded that as a child I hoped to be quoted in Reader's Digest when I grew up. I have not scratched this notion off my life list. Such an honor represented wisdom and fame, today it represents a list that I value because of its accessibility.

These days I wish that my typos were less predictable and that the communist plot to make us all alike idea, inspired by the standardization of communication represented by the typewriter, never entered my 10 year old mind. I never learned to type and it is required of me daily. So I fumble and err along this path of life touching a keypad that is almost as foreign to me today as it was in mandatory typing class circa 1970. Hands and eyes do not coordinate and the mind is always full speed ahead so as never to be caught up.

My day job is full of root cause analysis of errors; and errors have been steadily informing my work because errors force me to see alternate views in data, process, behavior. So the error to error concept about the discovery of truth feels real. I valued its appearance in my day. Some days I just wish there were less errors to contend with. Other days I appreciate the skill sets of doctors, pilots, engineers, all the more because soft jobs can more safely survive if not error-free.

Some days I believe strongly that poems can not have errors? Those days are fewer and I claim less the error free moments in art. In art error reveals differently, right. Or is that a spin on errors begetting truth? Can a body politic learn lessons from errors in history or is error a perspective and therefore a version of truth? I believe that errors have nine lives much the same way my cat has 99 lives. Now that is an error the cat can live with until 100. I think poems attract me because no one can say with certainty if there is an error in a poem. Sometimes poems become quotable. So back to the quote, is its value conferred by the number of lists it has succeeded to reside within or the kindled at the root of its original inspiration and again each time it is read. Quotes definitely out spawn poems. Do error out spawn truth?

Well I have errors to recover from so blogging off now is my truth.