anitalorrainemoore

Musician devoted to Justice, Creativity, and Courage


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TuesDay NewsDay?

What’s the news? You’ve heard, I’m sure, there’s something serious going around. Being at home all day however, didn’t stop me from not having enough time to get everything done I wanted, but such is life for a creative person who is easily distracted, accepts it and finds that trait beautiful at times.

In the meantime, I learned about the box elder tree who is the “trashy cousin” (according to one professor at Michigan State University) and looks a lot like poison ivy to which I am highly allergic.

I added some more fine pen detail to a barn owl painting until my felt tip .01 Staedler ran out of juice.

This morning I heard a woodpecker, saw at least 12 different kinds of other birds while drinking my coffee on the back porch as I am growing accustomed now that it’s a bit warmer outside. I noticed that the sea gulls seem to have taken off.

The Kinks’ Sunny Afternoon played ALL DAY in my brain, I wrote a letter and sent it and screwed a board to my garden.

Tonight for dinner, I made salmon cakes, green beans, and baked sweet potato waffle fries with a homemade coconut yogurt/garlic remoulade, heavy pickles.

To the background music of 90s hip hop, I danced in my room for the first time since I can remember and I’m going to bed before 2:00am the first time in several days.

…and that doesn’t come close to all that happened or what I accomplished today. Crazy. #hemmingcurtains #preziclasswork #textingwithstudents #sponsormeeting #staredoutthewindow #syllabuscalibration

This pandemic is trembling under the surface of my constant tension. A walk in the rain calmed me down. This time for us all will be both inspiring and mystifyingly sad around the world. That’s why this episode of TuesDay NewsDay is a bit different. We each carry the weight of the bags we picked up. Let someone carry your bag during this time if they offer. If they don’t offer, ask for help with your burdens.

I love you all in many ways. Bless those having to be out there in it. Bless my students and their heavy loads. Bless my friends who love me. Thank you to those who reach out. You have no idea what it means. Give what you can, expect nothing.

Box elder maple in early Spring, the world goes on with or without us. I like to think we give ourselves to it when we pass. We become the world. The world becomes us.
It looks good on you.


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Quarantine Testimonials from my students…

The assignment w/my scribble annotations…

I asked my students to complete a testimonial now that their spring break is officially over. These are some of the responses some of them are tearjerking and some of them are funny but I think this is a good exercise for them to share their feelings and thoughts. I plan to share more, anonymously of course. #testimonials #covid_19 #springbreak2020 #journaling #online #onlineschool #communitycollege #criticalthinking #class #quarantine #socialdistancing Lets call it #Physicaldistancing that’s better, we need our #sociallife #virtual #virtualhugs #burlingtonnc #grahamnc #alamancecounty #reallife #teacher #teacherlife #virtualclassroom


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TuesDay NewsDay Vol 3, Issue 4 – March 17, 2020

Hey yall, It’s Tuesday.  The Earth turned into the Sun again today.  The clouds parted so that we may feel the warmth of that Sun too.  For those things and more, I am hella grateful.  Please see the passage below.  I am re-reading this little book called Practicing Peace and it speaks to every ounce of what is happening in the world right now and how we can all choose to evolve through these times.  Pema on Racial Injustice

Dedication: To everyone. All the people. All the animals. All the plants. All the Spirits.

Quote:  Practicing Peace by Pema Chödrön.  “War begins when we harden our hearts, and we harden them easily— in minor ways and then in quite serious, major ways, such as hatred and prejudice—whenever we feel uncomfortable. It’s so sad, really, because our motivation in hardening our hearts is to find some kind of ease, some kind of freedom from the distress that we’re feeling. Someone once gave me a poem with a line in it that offers a good definition of peace: “softening what is rigid in our hearts.” We can talk about ending war and we can march for ending war, we can do everything in our power, but war is never going to end as long as our hearts are hardened against each other.

What happens is a chain reaction, and I’d be surprised if you didn’t know what I’m talking about. Something occurs—it can be as small as a mosquito buzzing—and you tighten. If it’s more than a mosquito—or maybe a mosquito is enough for you—something starts to shut down in you, and the next thing you know, imperceptibly the chain reaction of misery begins: we begin to fan the grievance with our thoughts. These  thoughts become the fuel that ignites war. War could be that you smash that little teensy-weensy mosquito. But I’m also talking about war within the family, war at the office, war on the streets, and also war between nations, war in the world.

We often complain about other people’s fundamentalism. But whenever we harden our hearts, what is going on with us? There’s an uneasiness and then a tightening, a shutting down, and then the next thing we know, the chain reaction begins and we become very righteous about our right to kill the mosquito or yell at the person in the car or whatever it might be. We ourselves become fundamentalists, which is to say we become very self-righteous about our personal point of view.

…The next time you get angry, check out your righteous indignation, check out your fundamentalism that supports your hatred of this person, because this one really is bad—this politician, that leader, those heads of big companies. Or maybe it’s rage at an individual who has harmed you personally or harmed your loved ones. A fundamentalist mind is a mind that has become rigid. First the heart closes, then the mind becomes hardened into a view, then you can justify your hatred of another human being because of what they represent and what they say and do.

…If you look back at history or you look at any place in the world where  religious groups or ethnic groups or racial groups or political groups are killing each other, or families have been feuding for years and years, you can see—because you’re not particularly invested in that particular argument— that there will never be peace until somebody softens what is rigid in their heart. So it’s necessary to take a big perspective on your own righteousness and your own fundamentalism when it begins to kick in and you think your own aggression and prejudice are reasonable.

I try to practice what I preach; I’m not always that good at it but I really do try. The other night, I was getting hard-hearted, closed-minded, and fundamentalist about somebody else, and I remembered this expression that you can never hate somebody if you stand in their shoes. I was angry at him because he was holding such a rigid view. In that instant I was able to put myself in his shoes and I realized, “I’m just as riled up and self-righteous and closed minded about this as he is. We’re in exactly the same place!” And I saw that the more I held on to my view, the more polarized we would become, and the more we’d be just mirror images of one another—two people with closed minds and hard hearts who both think they’re right, screaming at each other. It changed for me when I saw it from his side, and I was able to see my own aggression and ridiculousness.

Image result for pema chodronIf you could have a bird’s-eye perspective on the Earth and could look down at all the conflicts that are happening, all you’d see are two sides of a story where both sides think they’re right. So the solutions have to come from a change of heart, from softening what is rigid in our hearts and minds.”

Practicing Peace Mini-Book PDF

 

Song: I Want To Be Here – by Neko Case, here’s the video Bruce and I played for today with this song, recorded by my awesome roommate, Andrea. InstaVideoSongPost

Dear Humans,

The excerpt from above means a lot to me.  I wish I could somehow transfer this sentiment of softening our hearts to every human on this planet.  Some people know this already, but some people don’t and would never agree… so we’d have to sneak it in while they were sleeping.  We could send a little whisper of Love into their ears via magic fairy dust or something they couldn’t successfully shake out or wash off in the morning.  I don’t have much to say that Pema didn’t already about all that’s happening out there in the world.  I wish everyone rest and a calm heartbeat.  I wish everyone food in their bellies and enough resources to provide for what they need.  I wish for marginalized people to have some peace of mind and heart.  I wish those in power would use it for the betterment of society instead of to its detriment.  I wish for people’s hearts to soften and to feel what it is that could truly save this world, Love.  (and 6 feet of temporary personal space…)  Goodnight y’all.

 

 


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Grit and Moss

 

    At this moment, all that exists in my sights are the darkness of the night sky through the window, the golden light of a candle glimmering in my periphery and the glow of this computer screen.  Of late, I have read many stories by writers about their influences and writers whom they adore. The most compelling stories depict how the main inspiration was the author’s own life, their own experiences and hardships were their teachers and the stories told themselves, their fingers were merely a medium.

    Songs seem to come to me this way.  Ideas for paintings, projects, special studies… they all jump into my mind and slam the “Go” button, yet, it wasn’t my choice to press it.  Once, I was asked to write my autobiography on one page. That was horribly prohibitive. It takes a half-hour just to get started when telling about my life.  Perhaps I am simply detail-oriented or lack conciseness. I see everything as bleeding into everything else, just like a watercolor painting which starts with too much water.  Except, in life, those bleeding tales need no judgment, at this point, of too much or too little liquid. Those tales exist only in the memories of my body and when I think back to them or something reminds me of them; I can only experience them in the moment or in a dream.  At times, I become overwhelmed with the sound of my heart beating and shortness of breath. Other times, the need to sleep or eat suddenly tips me over and makes me weak in the knees. In more extreme cases, fear fills every pore, unexplainable in the present moment as to why and I find myself floating above, as an outsider looking in, disassociating.  Somehow, I can become a shadow when the worst moments resurface. I get lost in the replay and the mountainous weight of knowing there is nothing I can do to change the stories. In those dark and tremendous moments, there are veins reaching into the future, into the people I love, into the choices I make, into the way I look in the mirror, into the way strangers look at me…  All this is happening under the guise of a smiling, confident, albeit sometimes distracted, woman.

    Imagine what it would be like if those moments disappeared.  What would happen if those shocking and depressing moments no longer plagued those of us who share them?  There could be a light, a blinding light, swirling out of my forehead. I see light emanating from my fingertips and from each strand of hair.  There is no memory in my body, from the earliest of early storage drawers of visions, that does not have a tinge of sadness. I cannot remember ever feeling completely light, free, and without judgment.  Fear permeates every facet of life. I could be beaten for not finishing my dinner or having an accident potty training. I could be abused or taunted by any man who walked by. I could be ridiculed for being imperfect by any movement, decision, performance or by simply existing.  Simultaneously, I was treasured and praised when I was approvable. In public, I was the gem of the show. I was “the rock”. The undeterminable atmosphere of our home, the lack of comfort, the affectation of normalcy, the quid-pro-quo nurturing, the unending sarcasm, perversion, and the predatorial context into which my sister and I were forced to exist has created, in me, a person who needs to come to terms with the impact such a life has had on my body.  The lives and bodies of millions of people in this world are all carrying scars on their beating hearts from childhood. They learned about their lack of importance, their prescribed stupidity and their lack of control so early, the notion that such things don’t HAVE to hold them down may never be realized in their lives. They may never individuate.

    I have the privilege of a new awareness of how my body, heart, and mind are all interconnected and I proclaim that the marks carved into my being are going to be brought to light.  Immunity to sickness and dedication to health are the core of my focus now. The amount of time it will take to begin to feel whole and happy again may be lengthy. Yet, I am here.  I am learning. My body is going to heal. I have magnets in my heart and the celestial bodies and our beautiful, magical planet are connected by those same forces.

I am filled with grit. I am the softest green moss of the forest floor.

In some corner of my mind, I have yet to unearth, there is the North star of hope.

I am seeking Spirit by this river’s shore and in my inner flame’s ashes and smoke.

long exposure of photography of brown tree

Photo by Harrison Haines on Pexels.com

 


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Hawthorn and Serendipity

My honesty has been born

Feels like Ive been torn

Many times, over time, sometimes by my own sword

I sit, sad this early Spring, and observe returning robins

…and dream of the heart healing medicine of hawthorn

Coincidence isn’t real, only the magic of perspective

People cage themselves in the mundane and sarcastic

In the Sacred, I willingly and openly revel

My heart I feel and hold, with care

I will be kind, protective and oh so gentle.


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Talks with god

Never felt the river as wide as it feels right now

The winds carve their names into my bones

Every sound could be you

Every light could be you

Every moment

I miss you

I wish words could exit my mouth

Silence, my only utterance

Unnamable you are, I cannot see what you see

Up there in your divine candlelight,

do you miss me? Your child? Your love?

At times you are right here

Right now, I cannot find you

Walked for hours

Sat on flat, dead trees

Stood on bridges

Sweat in a wooden box

Retraced my steps

Yet, words failed me

Only tears escape

I miss you,

god and your creation mirror of me

Please allow the sun another day

To follow this lonesome night on my knees


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Recently published poetry and pictures , new Insta blog

Sup y’all. Thought I’d share a side-project to have fun with poetry and photos. It’s a new Insta blog called SeenFunThingsIHave ~ I love on the spot poetry. Share if you dig. xoxo

(Continued from previous post.)

If you enjoyed these, there’ll be more soon @seenfunthingsihave on Instagram!: