GlynisDaily.com

Stopping to Shoot the Flowers

Glynis Valenti — Mon, 07 May 2012 03:11:34 GMT

Sunday, May 6, 2012

I was surprised to see that, when I posted Friday night, I had not posted in 40 days. I have no idea where April went. It’s a total blur. Paraphrasing a window sticker on my old Beemer, "the less art THIS kid gets, the more it shows." I've been noticing that my mind has only been creative in short spurts lately. I can sit down and think about ideas and projects for a few quiet minutes, but then it's like the crowds running after the Beatles. My few creative thoughts are inundated and trampled by to-do lists, phone calls, research, erratic schedules, switching gears and driving to the next appointment or meeting.

I just began a new job that will be taking me back to my community development roots, though the focus will be on jobs and economic development rather than neighborhood-based revitalization. I’m going to encounter some interesting issues—I can just tell. As someone who has been “her own person” for awhile now, I have a feeling some of these issues will push me to other perspectives into more of a “group” mentality. Will the ends justify the means? Is sacrificing of some things held dear now best for the long run? Stay tuned to the local economic news.

Upon arriving home Friday evening, my father had fallen again, this time while going to the post office. He would not let me take him to the hospital to be checked though he could barely walk and was in pain sitting. I convinced him to put ice on his hip for the entire night, and he was much better Saturday and better still again today. My mother had moved her pills and didn’t know if she had taken them (She found them; she hadn’t.) After this all-too-familiar drama, I emailed a friend about how always in the back of my mind is the question of what is going to be The One Thing that really sends my parents’ situation into a clearly downward spiral. They insist on making their own decisions, and I can only subtly make suggestions—otherwise I’m “interfering.”

We in southeastern Ohio did not get to see the giant moon last night or tonight because of clouds. I did happen to spot some poppies yesterday at a house in town, and the owner allowed me to take a few photos. Today, what’s left of my mother’s irises were in bloom, so I snapped a few of those. New additions to my old “Wild Flowers” series from four years ago. Too long, too long.

Cutting Class for a Cure

Glynis Valenti — Sat, 05 May 2012 04:29:15 GMT

Friday, May 4, 2012

Earlier this week, I wrote a preview/announcement for an event today, “Cutting Classes for a Cure,” at Barnesville Middle School. Two teachers, Lori Witchey and Bev McConnell, have organized school events for the past three years to benefit the 3 C’s cancer support group. Both have been closely affected by the disease, and I found out that several teachers and students are cancer survivors themselves. I don’t know why I was surprised—my own aunt, grandfather, father and brother have all been cancer patients. In each of the past two years the school raised $1800 for the 3 C’s, which provides support services to patients and families that insurance can’t: hotel rooms for treatment trips, car tires to get to treatments safely, food gift cards, etc.

From 8 am to 2:30 pm today, students could donate one dollar to walk for that class period. When I stopped by this morning around 8:45, the gym was full of students, teachers, parents, grandparents all cruising laps to the Romantics’ “What I Like About You.” Lori Witchey told me they expected to have kids giving them one dollar bills. What they got was families sending $20’s and $10’s. Before the event even began, donations totaled $300.

According to the National Cancer Institute more than 41 percent of people born today will be diagnosed with cancer. As I look at these photos, where the atmosphere is festive, I know there is a lot of pain behind the smiles. I wonder how many of these children, women, men will go back to facing this disease when they walk through their front doors tonight.

Barnesville Principal Julie Erwin sent me an email this evening with the final total: $3954.80. Well done. This was so good on so many levels. Lots of gold stars to these class cutters.

Sweet Smell of Spring

Glynis Valenti — Sun, 25 Mar 2012 16:50:56 GMT

Saturday, March 24, 2012

Spa-ring! No question now, winter is pretty much done. Here in the Ohio Valley temps have already topped 80. There are a couple of days each year where everything suddenly comes alive again. It happened this week. Trees are brown and grey one day, then are covered with white, pink and purple petals. I always think about how short-lived the magnolia blossoms are. It seems as soon as they open, the petals start dropping. A bright, yellowish green sort of shimmers through the branches and intensifies as leaves grow and unfurl. It’s the time when smells of the winter wet, dank earth mix with sunlight, earthworms, fresh rain and tender new plants.

I am writing about maple syrup this weekend. Having grown up a few miles from a big maple festival In Chardon, Ohio, I remember seeing the buckets on trees along the roads and seeing the boiling cauldrons and sugar shacks in the town square. Never was the temperature over 50 degrees, though. I was happy to find out that one of my favorite places, Oglebay Park in Wheeling, was having a “Maple Sugaring Day” today. In spite of early morning rains and threatening skies, visitors turned out enforce to wend their ways down a chronological woodland trail of demonstrations that told the story of maple syrup, from Native American to the present collection system for the park. Those fresh spring smells mingled with wood smoke and maple sugar steam---mmmmm.

There are a few photos of the maple sugar stations here and a few spring photos from along Oglebay’s Camp Russell trail. The feature article and more photos from today will be in next Sunday’s Times Leader, on April 1. Thank you to Eriks Janelsins, director of Oglebay’s Schrader Environmental Center (www.OIonline.com,) for the always gracious hospitality.

(below, Greg Park, Oglebay Nature & Interpretation Director, dressed in Native American garb for his demonstrations of ancient sap harvesing techniques)

(below, Logan Bruce whittles a spile--the tap that 18th century farmers pounded into trees to collect sap)

(below, the horizontal ring pattern on this tree was created by a yellow-bellied sapsucker boring into the bark to feed on--yes--sap, according to Oglebay's Jake Francis)

(below, a more modern version of a boiling cauldron where sap is cooking down to a syrup)

Raven Rocks, Part 1

Glynis Valenti — Wed, 07 Mar 2012 20:15:16 GMT

Wednesday, March 07, 2012

So much going on, so much going on. After writing out a list today, I have 17—yes, seventeen—different articles in progress and coming up by the end of the month. There are two other “things” out there beyond that core, but I can’t really talk about them yet.

Last week, for one of the paper projects, I had the good fortune to spend a couple of hours with Mary and Richard Sidwell. They are do-ers whose history and lives are interesting and rich. They graciously invited me to their home at Raven Rocks, now 1200+ acres of nature preserve, purchased by the Sidwells and their friends in the 1970’s specifically to save the land from mining and development. (Interview and photos to be published in the March 18 issue of The Times Leader.)

This is an ancient place where Native Americans held ceremonial rituals during the first millennium. Left undeveloped except for farming, in the 1800’s into the mid-1900’s families took trains to a nearby town and brought picnic baskets here on Sunday afternoons.

Heading back from the ravine, I spotted a “heart rock” in the path. If you’re from the coast, you know what I’m saying. They turn up on the beach or on trails once in awhile. I had just a few I’d picked up myself, and a friend had collected a whole bucket full from several states. I also had a series of heart rock cards that I added to annually to thank clients for their business.

So here is my latest, from this sacred, beloved forest. Thank you for reading and keeping in touch.

Divine Grace

Glynis Valenti — Fri, 24 Feb 2012 20:01:11 GMT

Friday, February 24, 2012

It’s a blustery day here. Winter has made some attempts this year, but has arrived only for short jaunts rather than extended stays. Though it’s in the 50’s now, I believe we’re going to see some snow by tomorrow. Clouds have been streaming through, some with showers, clearing off and on.

Inside Grace Presbyterian Church (www.gracemf.org) in Martins Ferry there is always a blue sky, painted in the dome of the sanctuary. It is peaceful and cheerful and hopeful and, for some reason when I first saw it, reminded me of a baby’s room. Rev. Bill Webster, pastor there for 25 years, pointed out an angel airbrushed in the clouds.

I was visiting the church to interview Rev. Webster—a remarkable man whose story is in today’s Times Leader. http://www.timesleaderonline.com/page/content.detail/id/536993/February-2012--Reverend-Bill-Webster.html?nav=5200

This Grace Church building was built over 100 years ago in 1901, but the original Grace, built in 1851, stood on the same lot and offered hope to escaped slaves crossing the Ohio River to freedom in the Northwest Territory as a stop on the Underground Railroad.

Upon entering the “office” door, everyone is greeted simultaneously by Rev. Webster and a pot of hot coffee. There are rich woods and comfortable chairs and that same sense of calm—peace, I suppose—that I felt at the Sisters of St. Joseph center. I attended service last Sunday to take photos for the article, and from the moment I walked in people welcomed me as “a friend they hadn’t met yet.” This is a community church, their community being as close as the next pew or the world. It’s all the same to them. We’re all sitting under the same blue sky.

GV Column: My Obsession

Glynis Valenti — Wed, 15 Feb 2012 01:01:11 GMT

This column appeared in the Sunday, February 12, 2012 issue of the Times Leader.

COLUMN 5

By GLYNIS VALENTI Times Leader Staff Writer

I have an obsession. Not in a young, hunky, perfume ad supermodel sense (sadly,) but it’s something I have to have, usually three or four at any given time. I credit my parents for feeding this habit and various teachers for making me curious. No matter where I’ve lived, I’ve sought them out, and they’ve drawn me in to them. Books, beautiful books.

I learned to read at an early age, and, as I write this, next to my bed are three mysteries, three cookbooks, two books of James Beard essays, one business book, one compilation of M.F.K. Fisher works, one book on Bellaire and a partridge in a pear tree (kidding about the partridge—I’m terrified of birds.) Though most of my collection is in a storage unit in Oregon, I’ve managed to accumulate a continuation of that collection here in Ohio.

One of the earliest books I remember is a paperback of bedtime stories, a copy of which is in my Oregon collection. My parents started us on Golden Books, Dr. Seuss and “Go Dog Go.” A great aunt gave me a Bobbsey Twins book. I still have “The Secret Garden” that I had to purchase from the library with my allowance when our puppy tore some of the pages while chewing on it. I had most of the Nancy Drew series, and fluffy mysteries are still my preferred bedtime reading.

What is the attraction? Is it my interests in architecture, travel, food, photography, art, crime and personalities that send me to travel vicariously through pages about other people and cultures? Or do volumes of glossy photos and vivid paragraphs create those interests, like crumbs doled out to keep me hungry?

All I know is that when I stopped in front of Wheeling’s Paradox Books last week, a seasonal cookbook caught my eye before I got in the door. The latest best sellers aren’t there. Established in 1974 and at Center Market since 1978, this is a treasure hunt bookstore, where you dig through wall to wall used tomes, carefully reading titles and authors on the spines, moving a few out of the way to read the ones behind, kneeling on the floor to see what’s on the bottom shelves and poking through boxes for undiscovered gems. Of course I came away with a few trinkets.

One Friday I truly only went to St. Clairsville Library to return something. Then I saw the book sale sign—moth to a flame. I’m now listening to the book on tape I picked up for my cousin—Stephen King reading his “On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft.” His graphic tale of how he became a writer offers advice, tips and anecdotes with some humor and little nonsense. A key point of his is that one can’t be a writer without being a reader. He says that if he’s not writing, there is a good chance that he’s reading, about 75 books a year. No surprise to me.

A dear friend of mine in Rochester is a writer and book collector, and today, Feb. 12, happens to be his birthday. Rich, too, has always read, preferring poetry and fiction and collecting 20^th century poetry and fiction first editions. At one point he had about 2,000, but says he’s scaled back to 750. One of his college professors stoked his book obsession fire, and as Rich discovered new authors he burned through their repertoires, enjoying “the acquisition and hunt for the book.”

He also mentions that he likes the feel of a book in his hands. A friend recently gave him a Nook to explore, and he’s found that after sitting in front of a screen working all day, the last thing he wants is to stare at another, smaller one.

I have to say I feel the same. I spend hours at my laptop researching, communicating and writing, many nights ending at 2 or 3 a.m. I couldn’t bear to boot up another screen full of words. My mind winds down zoning through rich photos of Spanish villages. My wrists and shoulders relax letting Hamish MacBeth solve the “Death of a Poison Pen.” My obsession, with its dark notes of dusty cloth and just a hint of must, is…intoxicating.

More of the same

Glynis Valenti — Wed, 15 Feb 2012 00:52:39 GMT

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

The photo appears a bit bleaker than the scene really was. There was some winter gold in the clouds—the paler version, with cool tones—but I couldn’t get it to look the way I wanted it to look, slightly richer, not so flat. And those crazy swirl things in the clouds with layers of blues…I decided to convert it to grey scale to take some of the subtleness out of the blues and put some contrast in the yellows.

I put the color version up as my desktop wallpaper anyway, pale and flat as it is, because there’s something serene about it that makes me calm. Not too vivid, but interesting enough (for me) to look at. The sun was setting, cold and quiet on the ridge. I stopped to look at the scene between a press conference and a meeting.

Tonight there is a cold, damp drizzle still falling from today. I feel a chill and felt it even as I went out earlier, bundled up in bulky sweater, scarf and gloves, like I’m fighting something off. This has been a week. A family member suffered a terrible, tragic loss. I missed a step and badly twisted my ankle and knee. I had a 13-hour work day yesterday, have an article to write yet tonight, another tomorrow, one Thursday night and three more for a Friday deadline. Yes, I’m supposed to be part-time.

By the way, I’ll post my column from Sunday following this post. Everywhere I went yesterday and today people said they liked it—mostly book lovers.

Think I’ll finish the Union Local story, wrap up in a fuzzy blanket and stare at my screen for awhile.

Winter colors...

Glynis Valenti — Thu, 02 Feb 2012 00:25:56 GMT

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

. . . although it feels like spring. Temps in the '60's today. I'll take it!
Pretty day, pretty sunset tonight. (one little star--or planet--in the center)

Chillin' Last Weekend

Glynis Valenti — Thu, 26 Jan 2012 00:25:37 GMT

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Photos here from Sunday. The Valley had a bit of an ice storm Friday night/Saturday, and I spent the weekend on the Hill with cousins Randy and Lisa (and another cousin, Kim, from across the road.) Lisa made chili and pepperoni rolls (YUM,) and I bought a red velvet cake from the Pastry Shop in Yorkville—nice little place--that we nibbled at throughout the weekend. Very casual. The Lifetime movies about the I-5 killer and Drew Peterson succeeded in terrifying Lisa and I while Randy was in Wheeling for a few hours.

Sunday morning the sky was blue, and my car was covered with ice for about two hours. But the sun warmed everything up nicely, and all of the trees were bare by early afternoon. For some reason the pine branches have me thinking of haiku. Maybe I need to work on simplifying.

What's Cooking for 2012

Glynis Valenti — Tue, 03 Jan 2012 06:57:49 GMT

Monday, January 2, 2012

January (and 2012) blew in like a lion. Strong winds and a 25 degree temperature drop on Jan. 1 paved the way for today’s icy snow event and wind chill factors. Though grass is still visible through the light layer, area schools are already posting two-hour delays for tomorrow morning.

After writing my column on resolutions I, of course, pondered the past year and coming year. I have been trying to reconcile my present with my past and future. In typical Glynis fashion, this involves analyzing where I am and identifying the mistakes I made to get here and figuring out how to make better choices when any opportunities arise. I am responsible for my choices, and I blame myself for my regression.

Over the past couple of months, though, little extra ingredients are making me stop and take note about how to get my life back on track. These messages are continuing to converge—so many that it doesn’t seem to indicate a clear, simple, healing broth rather more of a dark chili with layers of textures and flavors and probably some uncomfortable heat. I feel like I’m starting from scratch, but these incidents are distinctive and are already having an impact on what is simmering.

Sweet: A few entries ago I introduced medium Carol Borkoski, a very sweet woman who focuses on messages of light and love. We’ve chatted several times since the first interview, and invariably she says spirits are practically lining up to get messages to me. Two are recurring: that I’m going to be moving (?) and that I worry too much (shocker.) I also just received an email from her with a part-time business idea for me that sounds very interesting.

Savory: While researching I stumbled across a website that intrigued me, www.theconsciouslife.com. Through this site I found an offer of some free motivational downloads by a speaker named Guy Finley. He’s funny and down to earth, and the subject of his talk series was “The Illusion of Limitation.” Did I need to hear this or what? One of his themes is about “I-mage” and how it isn’t real, but influences so many things that we do. A portion that really stayed with me was, in short, about jumping to conclusions and worrying (shocker) 1. about something that hasn’t happened yet or 2. about which I may not have all of the information. The mind automatically reacts and creates an “I-mage” of a situation that appears to be happening, but may in reality be something totally different. An example: a wife sees her husband at lunch with her best friend. The wife creates a whole story of infidelity and betrayal based on this and the fact that neither mentions the lunch to her. She becomes angry, hurt and upset. The reality of the situation was that the husband and friend were planning the wife’s surprise birthday party. I’m learning that if I stay in the present and don’t create scenes in my head to worry about, I’m better able to go with the flow, and things don’t turn out as badly as I’d feared.

Bitter: How I could learn a lesson from a sappy Christmas movie on hulu, I don’t know, but this line from “The 12 Dates of Christmas” hit me over the head like a wooden spoon. In the style of “Groundhog Day,” our heroine keeps waking up on the floor of a department store and re-living her Christmas Eve. She has a blind date that night, and is trying to rekindle the flame with her ex. After a few of these episodes, she sees her doctor thinking that she needs psychiatric help. She says, “I’m moving forward with my life. I’m going to get Jack back.” Her doctor replies, “Getting something back is not moving forward.” DONG-g-g-g-g….I’ve lived in regret for this whole year. I miss my friends on the Coast and in Rochester; I miss my clothes and books and music packed away in my storage unit 2800 miles away; I miss my cozy little bungalow style house on Melville with its pine trees and wisteria and leaded glass—the only place I’ve ever felt truly at home. But I sold it to move to Oregon, and I can’t get it back. This is a hard pill for me to swallow. It’s a thing, a thing that I love and I have to let go, even though I have photos of it that I carried back with me from Oregon. I have to focus on finding a new place to live for a new life. So, there. (But if I win the lottery, I’ll be buying my house back.)

Salty: I had a dream last week about a grizzly bear nudging me down a hall at a woodland resort. I could feel him behind me, and I was terrified but didn’t want to make any sudden moves. I was worried (again) about the families in the hallway and tried to keep the bear’s focus on walking through with me and away from attacking the children. I could hear him breathing and feel his nose and shoulder pushing my back. The end of the hallway was open to the outside, and the bear tottered off into the woods across the drive, and I woke up. Of course I had to look up animal totems and meanings to find out why this bear appeared in my dream. Apparently bears symbolize introspection and the subconscious. There is a need to quiet the mind and tap into inner energy to find answers. I may be going into a leadership position or have an opportunity for healing. Regardless of the specifics, I recognized the dream as an enhancement of actions that I’ve been taking in my waking life.

Spicy: I spent Friday night and Saturday hanging out at cousins Randy and Lisa’s house. We had some wine, talked, watched movies and ate “mass quantities” of nuts and cookies. In one of the movies, “Knight and Day,” Tom Cruise tells Cameron Diaz about his fantasy-wish-list full of interesting moments in exotic places. I used to have one of these. It unfortunately was so long ago that I’ve forgotten what was on it. I think I’ll have to come up with another one in 2012—the sky’s the limit. What moments would I want on my bucket list? Time to have some mental fun. A little spice is good for you.

So as I look at where I am now, I’m preparing for changes ahead—not “I-magined” changes, real ones this year. It’s clear that I have to move on. I’ve decided to work on two Resolutions, based on these ingredients from 2011. The first is to complete a book by the end of the year. People have been urging me to write one for several years, so I’ve decided to make it happen. The second is an experimental project that I’ll write about later. I’m going to take my own advice.

I’m going to step back a bit from the outcomes, and I feel that I’ll be making the recipe up as I go. In any case, I have plenty of food for thought.

"It's About TIME" article in today's Times Leader

Glynis Valenti — Sun, 01 Jan 2012 19:42:20 GMT

This feature article and photo are in the Sunday, Jan. 1, 2012 Times Leader Newspaper, but, alas again, not online. My editor loved it, and I thought some of the tidbits/trivia about time were interesting enough to pass along. I'm preparing a separate New Year's entry for the blog...

It’s About TIME Article

By GLYNIS VALENTI Times Leader Staff Writer

“The only reason for time is so that everything doesn’t happen at once.” Albert Einstein

Everyone knows about time, but no one knows for certain what it is. Scientists are not sure of its origins—if it is fundamental (an entity existing on its own) or emergent (as temperature is generated by movement of atoms.) Time isn’t tangible, but it is quantified. Categorizing is how the mind wraps itself around an abstract concept.

The word “time” is Middle English, rooted in Old English “tima” and Old Norse “timi.” It is also related to Old English “tid” or tide, which used to mean a “space of time.” According to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary, the word “time” has 14 definitions for the noun, five for the verb and three for the adjective. The fact that something one cannot touch has so many qualities and definitions is demonstration of its complexity and universality.

Psychologically, physically and by definition, by the time the brain registers the “now,” it is the “past.” It takes about 80 milliseconds for the brain to process simple signals. Theoretically, the concept of time is more difficult to pinpoint. Scientists versed in quantum physics study time’s relationship to space, and Einstein himself leaned toward a fourth dimensional rather than a three dimensional world when considering each individual moment holding not only the present, but all of the past before it and all of its implied future as well. It is the human brain seeking order and explanation that divides time into increments and lines them up.

It is also true that each person has his own time clock incorporating biorhythms, experiences and perceptions regardless of what the clock on the wall says. Time flies, drags or even stops perceptually. Traveling through space, the body clock slows as speed increases and approaches the speed of light, though decades could be passing on earth.
According to Joseph R. Giove, executive producer of the “Shift of the Ages” project, 20^th century writer, philosopher and artist Guy Murchie offers one of the plainest descriptions of time in his book “The Seven Mysteries of Life.” Murchie, while looking at the world as a whole, says that time is the relationship of each thing to itself. One looks at oneself “now” as compared to “then,” and time is the measurement of that relationship’s reality. He defines space as the relationship of one thing to other things.

“Think in the morning. Act in the noon. Eat in the evening. Sleep at night.” William Blake

Outside of physicists and mystics who comprehend time as infinite and simultaneous (past, present and future, forever one,) most humans see time in measurements: nanoseconds, minutes, hours, years, eons, etc.

This most likely began with dawn and dusk. Millions of years ago hunters and gatherers gauged their tasks and journeys around the position of the sun in the sky. Later inhabitants noticed changes in the moon’s appearance on its nightly trip through the heavens. These basic components have not changed much. Days measure the position of the sun in the sky. Months (or “moon-ths”) are, roughly, lunar cycles every 29.53 days. A year is a measurement of the earth’s trek around the sun and encompasses the four seasons.

For 3000 years calendars were conflicting and inconsistent calculations of lunar and astronomical cycles, harvest celebrations and religious observances. In the sixth century, Dionysius Exiguus, a scholar charting a 19 year cycle of Easter holidays, established the birth of Christ as the beginning of the new Christian calendar, termed Anni Domini Nostri Jesu Christi—or A.D. What he didn’t establish, however, was the actual birth date of Christ. Because of said conflicting records, lack of information and several hundred years’ passage, the “beginning” of the calendar is still technically arbitrary, but accepted.

Julius Caesar tried to standardize the system by creating months with fixed numbers of days (including a month named for himself,) but after his death those continuing the process miscalculated start dates and began adding a day every three years instead of four years as designed. The most widely used calendar today is the Gregorian calendar presented in 1582 by Pope Gregory XIII. Its cycle actually covers 400 years and was developed by Pope Gregory’s predecessor in an effort to re-align the Easter celebration with the spring equinox—a result of the Julian calendar debacle .

In 1752 the Crown decried that all of Britain and its colonies (including America) would use the Gregorian calendar. There are about 40 different calendars in use today, most of them culture and religion-based. The Gregorian calendar is the worldwide standard for civil use though holidays vary with cultures and countries.

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” Charles Dickens

The hype has been building for the year 2012. Will December 21, 2012 be the last day of earth?

Probably not. Will 2012 and 2013 bring major shifts and changes to life on earth? Quite possibly.

The speculation and discussion centers around the Mayan calendar—it ends on Dec. 21, 2012. For the past few years people have been predicting doom and gloom of apocalyptic proportions for what would appear to be the final year of the planet. The Mayas today are not among these people and, in fact, are distressed that non-Mayas are misinterpreting their beliefs. According to “Shift of the Ages,” the Mayan predictions are actually about the state of the earth’s resources and reinstating balance. Their calendar portends the coming of the “6^th Sun” or a new age, but this could take a long time.

Part of the reason for the calendar’s end date is astrological, incorporating the ancient methods of telling time. On Dec. 21, 2012 a unique planetary phenomenon will occur. At 11:12 GMT during the winter solstice, the sun will be at exactly the center of the galaxy, at 0 degrees Capricorn and nearly sextile to Neptune at Pisces. Astrologers point out another unusual configuration, a yod—or “finger of God”—with three nearly exact quincunxes between Jupiter, Pluto, Saturn and a Mercury/Venus conjunction.

What do all of these configurations and symbols mean? The Mayas consider the center of the galaxy as a womb. It represents death, rebirth and transformation. Neptune (representing spirituality, confusion and floods) at Pisces indicates a spiritual experience that may include a loss. The yod itself is a transformational indicator. Jupiter, representing expansion, is the focus of the yod and will receive and expand the other planets’ energies. Jupiter is also the planet representing religions, beliefs and philosophies. Pluto represents radical transformation as well as death and rebirth, while Saturn is the planet of lessons, usually painful or difficult lessons. In short, the ride will be bumpy for everyone, especially those refusing to adjust their attitudes and work for the common good.

Turbulence during 2011 seems to be an indication of planets moving into place and why the Mayas are calling for people to shift their own actions and beliefs away from conspicuous consumption and toward preservation.

“I went to a restaurant that serves ‘breakfast any time.’ So I ordered French toast during the Renaissance.” Stephen Wright

In general, humans accept time as it is and only obsess over it when holidays, deadlines and appointments loom. There are, however, people who do take a greater interest in time and offer some time trivia as proof.

The Oxford Dictionary reports that “time” is the most used noun in the English language. “The” is the most used word overall.

Months that begin on a Sunday, such as January 2012, always have a Friday the 13^th. Also, approximately 50 percent of bank robberies happen on Friday.

Noon used to be 3 p.m. According to Dictionary.com, the day was sectioned into two 12-hour segments long before clocks were invented in the 1300’s. A town bell rang every three hours beginning at daylight (around 6 a.m., called prime.) It rang again three hours later at 9 a.m. (terce,) six hours after prime at 12 p.m (sext,) and nine hours after prime at 3 p.m. (none.) Catholic monks said prayers at terce, sext and none. As traditions changed, the none prayers moved closer to 12 p.m. as did the midday meal, and the Latin “none” became the Old English “non” evolving into today’s “noon” by the 1500’s.

Finally, those traveling by Concord from London to New York City for the holidays will have extra time to celebrate. Because of the time zones and speed of the jet, passengers can actually arrive at their destination two hours before their departure.

Valenti can be reached at gvalenti@timesleaderonline.com.

GV Column: Fixing Broken Windows

Glynis Valenti — Sun, 01 Jan 2012 19:19:42 GMT

This column appeared in the Times Leader Newspaper on Sunday, Dec. 25, 2011, but did not have an online link.

‘Tis the season to find a quiet place amidst baking, decorating and out-of-town guests to do a little reflecting and planning. Yes, it’s time for New Year’s Resolutions.

I’m proposing (for myself and anyone who wants to come along) a new type of resolution--not one that is based in deprivation and punishment like a fad diet, but a far simpler, smaller lifestyle change, rippling out to affect others and make the world better for everyone. Still with me?

There is a premise in crime prevention called “the broken window theory.” Simply stated, it says that if a broken window remains broken in a building on any street, more and more broken windows will follow. If, however, someone fixes the window within hours or days, fewer (if any) broken windows will appear over a longer period of time. Broken windows are signs of apathy in a neighborhood—the residents don’t care, have a perception of not being able to fight the vandals or have escaped by moving away.

Here’s the thing: over the past couple of years I’ve noticed more and more “broken windows” in society that seem, in part, to stem from the widespread American policy of instant gratification. Discussing this with a friend of mine awhile back, he said, “We’ve moved beyond ‘Me First’ into the realm of ‘Me NOW.’” So true. Without reliving the whole look-out-for-number-one-I’m-worth-it philosophy of the 1980’s and ’90’s, let’s just acknowledge that general common courtesy these days leaves a lot to be desired.

Just recently I’ve witnessed blatant disregards for said courtesy and even the law. Waiting in a parking lot one afternoon, I began counting cars running the stop sign next to me. A solid one-third of them never even slowed down—for a STOP sign.

An appalling incident involved two semi-trucks on I-70 who refused to pull over for a Barnesville ambulance, siren blaring and lights flashing, on its way to Wheeling. The ambulance was frantic, moving from left lane to right, trying to, obviously, save a person’s life. More than a mile later, once the trucks got up a hill and passed a slower vehicle, they moseyed over to allow the e-squad to move on. I was sick to my stomach after that display and wondered how the truckers would feel if they or one of their loved ones were fighting for life in the back of that ambulance.

Cell phones in public are the bane of our existence. I try to walk away from these one-sided conversations and even left a store empty-handed one day, fed-up and unable to concentrate, encountering a cell conversation down every aisle. I was also recently unfortunate enough to be seated in a restaurant booth behind a woman describing the grisly details of her mother’s medical procedure. Oddly enough, I’m someone who does not want my personal business to become public knowledge, nor do I have any interest in your banking activity, grocery list, court case or child’s homework.

To me these are broken windows, signs of apathy for our “neighbors.” Society has let little things that used to be considered disrespectful slide until they are mainstream, and the world is a bit shabbier for it. A series of insurance commercials and an episode of “Cougar Town” illustrate how performing one small good deed spreads to several people beyond. In “Cougar Town” the effect also reverses when someone does something spiteful that ripples in a bad way.

Back to my New Year’s Resolution. At the risk of sounding like Pollyanna or John Lennon, let’s imagine that each of us resolves to “fix” just one of our broken windows in 2012. Letting voice mail pick up while shopping or dining out, taking used books or magazines to hospitals or nursing homes, driving the speed limit, recycling--these are all do-able things and, let’s face it, are what we should be doing anyway. Given that ripple effect, what would fixing simply one window each do to clean up our global neighborhood? Imagine, then do. More common courtesy, less chaos and noise. Goodwill toward men, peace on earth. And a happier, safer new year to all.

Valenti can be reached at gvalenti@timesleaderonline.com.

Sa-weet Treats

Glynis Valenti — Sat, 24 Dec 2011 18:52:55 GMT

Saturday, December 24, 2011

Beautiful cookies made by my foodie cousin(s) Ronita and her husband Jeff. She said she “went wild” this year and baked about eight different kinds—all of them tasty and scrumptious-looking as well. Sadly the gingerbread man lost an eye, so I had to remedy that imbalance.

My cousin Rob’s wife, Denise, gave me a package of old photos yesterday that they found among my aunt Nellie’s belongings. Some are amazing studio photos of my mother’s family. I’m pondering projects and ways to frame them already. My brother is supposed to arrive tomorrow with a scanner to begin cataloging the zillions of old photos my parents have stored away somewhere in this house—neither can remember where.

It’s sunny and green here in “east central” Ohio, but that’s okay. The spirit of the season is what matters anyway. Happy Christmas to everyone—and bon appétit!

Christmas-time is here

Glynis Valenti — Tue, 20 Dec 2011 02:13:10 GMT

Monday, December 19, 2011

Many thanks to cute cousin couple Renee and Kevin for their annual fun and food-filled Christmas party. Santa stopped by long enough to say hello and hear Renee’s wish list per “Santa Baby.” The crowd of family and friends went wild. Speaking of wild, it was another rockin’ dance party rendition of musical chairs with cousin Risha singing Pat Benetar and some dramatic struggles for chairs.

Uh-oh

Glynis Valenti — Mon, 12 Dec 2011 02:50:57 GMT

December 11, 2011

This is as far as I got with photos yesterday—a tree farm I was visiting for the newspaper. With a list of errands to run (because Friday wasn’t a very good day either) I was, literally, stopped in my tracks at a grocery store by a woman who said my car was “steaming.” The next two hours were spent 1. trying to find an open mechanic’s on Saturday afternoon--40 miles from where I live--and 2. speculating about the cause—hoping that it was only a loose or cracked hose. Turns out it’s a water pump and is not only an expense on which I didn’t count, but one that is out of my realm. I keep getting little nudges from the Universe about how my life needs to change, and they’re getting pushier.

Awhile back I learned to “tune in” to an inner voice about my path that I can’t hear anymore. On the surface it seems that I should be where I am (in the Ohio Valley helping my parents) and doing what I do (reporter/writer/photographer.) The reality (or my sense of it) is that I’m not in balance, which is hard to explain. Hmmmm. Once in a while I’ll encounter something that I know is right for me. It leads to other things, and I’m zipping along on my path with purpose, right where I should be with all the support I need to keep me going—contacts, projects, jobs, money, a house, friends, etc. I’m happy.

Right now, my life is off-track, and what is un-nerving is that I haven’t been able to get my direction back. I feel like I haven’t had that support from the Universe in awhile. I’m worried, but try to stay in the present; I’m geographically isolated and miss hanging out with friends, but I have nowhere else to go and no means to get there; I’m unable to contribute to and help causes and programs to which I used to give freely and can only watch them from the sidelines, struggling. I work for a company that demands much of my time and skill set in exchange for not even quite enough to exist and do my job, let alone pay for a new water pump.

All the while I tell myself that this is only temporary, but almost two years is a long time for me to be lost. I'm just looking forward to finding the clearing and reaching solid ground when things stop falling apart and start falling into place.

December

Glynis Valenti — Sun, 04 Dec 2011 21:10:17 GMT

Sunday, December 4, 2011

Photos from an event this past week—first graders decorating the village hall then singing carols at the senior center next door. As probably most of you know, when photographing children it’s anyone’s guess as to what will appear in the images. I sent a few of the normal ones to the paper, but of the 70 or 80 that I shot, these stood out. There is something a little disconcerting about the girl at the bottom of the frame. The boy with the Santa hat and Charlie Brown shirt won me over right away. I love sparkly shoes.

Things here are so-so. My parents are not in terribly good shape. I am actively seeking work since I cannot afford to work at the paper—though I enjoy meeting people I interview, writing, photo work, etc. This has been discouraging because I’m in a predominantly rural area as well as in Appalachia, and my experience and skill set don’t really match the available work or industries here. I’m looking for direction on where, exactly, to put my energy: here? Cleveland? Pittsburgh? writing? non-profits? office work? teaching artist? wine and food? These questions among other things have plagued my sleep so, that I finally downloaded relaxation music to my phone and have been trying to calm my mind every night as I close my eyes. Trying to stay in the present and not worry about things that haven’t happened yet.

Since I don’t have framed work available for the, like two, local galleries here, a friend suggested I post to flickr, and I’m in that process beginning today. It will most likely be landscapes, food, flowers—things that are more commercial or salable. We’ll see what happens.

I will try, on my honor, as an end-of-year and New Year’s resolution, to post more frequently here. I do appreciate the requests for that and will find time. I promise.

I Ain't Afraid of No...

Glynis Valenti — Mon, 31 Oct 2011 04:04:12 GMT

Sunday, October 30, 2011

Ahhh, Halloween. Celebrations to honor those gone before have turned into a commercial bonanza skewed toward evil and ghouls. It’s also an amazing, sure-fire opportunity to witness blazing hypocrisy. Do I sound cynical? So sorry. I don’t mean to sound so cynical. It’s probably that I’m missing my “Great Pumpkin” episode of Charlie Brown—it’s in storage in Oregon.

So, what about real ghosts?--if you believe in ghosts. Do they walk among us? Do they mean to scare us? In the past few weeks I’ve done two articles on spirits. One deals with a more positive outlook about them and their messages. The other looks at an alleged collection of darker entities. Let me first say that I do believe there is energy, probably around us, probably also just on the other side of the proverbial “veil.” My personal beliefs notwithstanding, I try to approach those who profess to communicate with spirits with a guarded skepticism and, as a reporter, I need to maintain some objectivity. I need to feel it or see it for myself.

My first article came about because of a fundraiser for the historical society and Victorian Mansion Museum. They decided to have a “psychic night and cemetery walk” on Oct. 22. I volunteered to do an article for it, and chose the subject of “Victorian Spiritualism” to give people a context for the event in this strong Christian area. I interviewed Dr. Carol Borkoski, a practicing medium, and her sister, Dolly Grady, also a sensitive. Both are involved with the Spiritualist church in Wheeling, established in 1902. Carol was radiant—red hair, all smiles, bubbly personality. While we talked, I tried to keep her to my article questions, but she did hit a couple of personal points about me that she wouldn’t have known even through inquiries to other people. I asked her about her goals in her work and if it was her experience that most spirits were good or helpful.

In a nutshell, these were some of her comments: “My goal is to help people heal, whether they’ve passed on or are here.” “Spirits want to help and uplift those seeking. However, it’s up to us [communicators] to be discerning about who we let come in. I only ask to go to the Greater Light and don’t allow any dark spirits around me. There’s enough trouble in the world without letting that in.”

The other article was about a “haunted” house. According to the owner, her family had been terrorized during the time they lived there. When they moved, tenants wouldn’t stay. She’s now sold the house and is partnering with the new owner to turn it into a paranormal investigation site and haunted bed and breakfast. There is a book and DVD about the experiences. It was a whole different feeling. The house is on a “ley line,” a legitimate convergence of energy streams. In this case, the Ohio River is literally on the other side of route 7 to the east; an Indian burial mound is at the top of the hill in back of the house; a coal portal lies beneath. Not such a good mix, even according to a paranormal expert that I asked about ley lines and his own experiences over 27 years of investigations.

The owner and her boyfriend purchased the house after a traumatic flood left them homeless, and their relationship was tumultuous. She was trying to hold down two jobs and complete a graduate degree. Could the stress from all of this created a negative environment? Activity escalated from hearing voices and footsteps to violent acts against her. Anger and fear are powerful emotions, creating energy that could expand within the ley line scenario. Alcohol and drugs were in the mix weakening body and mind to paranoia and altered states. The main proof that reality television has given us about the spirit world is that ghost hunting is big business. Admittedly, when I entered one room in the house, my stomach went crazy, like butterflies were multiplying tenfold as I stood there, and I felt myself go “on edge,” anxious to get out of that room. I was nauseous for about an hour after I left.

These experiences reinforced things I’ve known for a long time—actually principles from the Conversation with God books: “whatever you resist persists” and “fear is the opposite of love.” Whatever you focus on magnifies whatever it is, good or bad.

I had planned to take more surreal photos at the Morristown Halloween cake walk as I did last year, but I found myself accepting an invitation from my cousins for the evening. After being inundated with “real” spirits the past month, I couldn’t face the child witches and Draculas and the whole weird creepiness of the celebration.

In the end, I think what Carol said makes sense: “They [spirits] want us to see the larger, brighter, bolder picture. We need to get out more and spend time in nature. The media and television are promoting negativity. The fear that is being promoted is so harmful. We need to focus on love and light.”

Links to articles:

http://www.timesleaderonline.com/page/content.detail/id/534051/Halloween-To-Do--Victorian-Spiritualism.html?nav=5008

http://www.timesleaderonline.com/page/content.detail/id/534389/Bellaire-house-site-of-paranormal-investigation.html?nav=5010

These, by the way, are photos from the historical cemetery walk from the aforementioned psychic night. It was great fun and very informative about Barnesville’s first families, thanks to historian Emery Stewart (dressed in cloak and top hat.)

Sisters of St. Joseph

Glynis Valenti — Sun, 25 Sep 2011 23:58:57 GMT

Sunday, September 25, 2011

I have to say this has been a horrible month. It’s all temporary, right? Right? (sound of crickets…)

I’m glad I had the opportunity and the inclination to accept an invitation to a “plein aire” event at the Sisters of Saint Joseph Retreat Center outside of Wheeling. As a photographer I was certainly in the minority, but I enjoyed exploring the beautiful Howell mansion, owned by the Sisters since the 1950’s, and the quiet labyrinth by a brook. I spent time walking the labyrinth and studying the rocks, though you will only see one of the photos here, of the altar at the end. I needed the time away from work, the time away from worries. Arriving at 8 am after an hour’s drive on a Saturday morning---whaaaaat?—I worked until about 3:30 and was exhausted when I left—a good tired.

I wanted to focus on spiritual aspects in this post, though I also took photos of a lovely spring house built during the Civil War with still-flowing waters, colored Italian tiles in the bath house next to the labyrinth and a large Italian urn at the main entrance. By the way, it appears that Mother Teresa's photo was taken in the very room where her picture is displayed now, and the candle holder is reflecting the sky from the window.

The center is peaceful and lovely. I never use the word “lovely,” but found myself thinking it over and over yesterday and even saying it. Maybe it was the older architecture and grounds, or the implied formality of the church. There is also a hospice there in another building. Maybe it was the abundance of love and caring permeating the atmosphere that kept “lovely” in my mind.

Thank you to Sister Mary Clark for giving me a tour of the mansion and for saying, “Don’t be a stranger.” I look forward to visiting again.

Along for the Ride

Glynis Valenti — Thu, 15 Sep 2011 21:26:24 GMT

Thursday, September 15, 2011

I couldn’t NOT post these, taken at the Belmont County Fair last Saturday. These unwitting subjects were at the mercy of the ride operators, but that's part of the fun, isn't it? Ah, the classic “Twister,” one of my favorites.

If you need a smile today, scroll on. (I think the kid in the red shirt is my next desktop wallpaper.)

Red, White & Blue: Ribbons & 9/11

Glynis Valenti — Sun, 11 Sep 2011 04:38:24 GMT

Sunday, September 11, 2011
(as it happens, this is my 200th post to this blog)

I spent a good part of the past few days at the county fair. As one of the commissioners said, “there’s nothing more American than the American flag and a county fair.” Though times are tough, this year’s fair had its largest ever livestock sale ($208,000) and junior dairy auction ($14,000.) People knew one another. Local businesses came out to support the junior farmers (the kids.) These were hard working people I recognized from school boards and village councils. And all across America there are people just like this and fairs just like this with tractor pulls, swine showmanship competitions, rides on the “Twister” and a junior farm board dance. Thank God.

Thank God that ten years ago we were able to come together—not just as a county, but as a country—to keep all of this heritage and tradition and what makes us America intact.

“There are moments when, whatever be the attitude of the body, the soul is on its knees.”

Victor Hugo