Tag Archives: rituals

Your Voice Haunts Me: Remembering Doreen Kimura Part 4


You laughed often and enthusiastically.  You loved silliness and got giggly quite easily.  Sometimes when you and our mother got together, a laugh-fest would erupt, and Mum would laugh so hard she’d shed tears.

You listened to opera, folk music, and rock-and-roll, and knew the words and music to every song, and could even sing in German and Ukrainian.   We sang Christmas Carols every December, in English and German.  You sang the hymns in Gammy’s old hymnal.   You could sing anything until that neck operation robbed you of your beautiful singing voice.

You had to speak a lot in your work as a professor.  You had very clear enunciation, which I’m sure your students were grateful for.  I confess I used to love watching you talk because of the way you moved your mouth.  You spoke with as much care as you did everything else.  And I could always tell if you were relaxed, worried, annoyed or bored by the way you used your voice.

I hope your voice will go on haunting me.  I miss it and I miss you.

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Life Doesn’t Make Sense: Remembering Doreen Kimura Part 3


She had so much to live for.

Doreen had reached the summit in her field of research.  But she was still asking questions she wanted answers to.  She would have followed another line of research had she lived.  I can’t remember what it was.  She told me, but because I’m not a scientist, I forget what it was.  Maybe it had to do with her interest in evolution.

Speaking of evolution, what sense can I make of our human evolution?  In order to accommodate our big heads, our mothers deliver us at an acutely dependent stage of development; our big brains have survival value. We learn and learn, explore and create, grow intellectually, until we die.  Death does not seem like a sensible end to creatures with all that brain development.

Doreen enjoyed life.  She had one of the liveliest intellects of anyone I ever knew. Her body, however, fell apart and no longer supported her.

I have no answer.  I’m not sure I even have a question.  But she should have lived longer, much, much longer.  I can’t make sense of any of this.  Can you?

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Petunia among the Roses: Remembering Doreen Kimura Part 2


“Did you attend SFU for graduate school or your undergraduate years?” the woman asked. 

 

I guess 99% of the attendees at Doreen’s memorial were either professors or had PhDs.  With my measly MA I was definitely a petunia among roses.  And though my tribute was well-received, I managed to give the wrong title of her most famous book.  I know.  I’m sort of dopey.

All the speakers, except her daughter and I, were used to giving lectures, and her daughter is a performer so she was completely at ease, too.  Again, I think I was the only one who read my address.  Everyone else gave their talks from memory.

But the day wasn’t about me.  It was about Doreen, and whatever my shortcomings, they in no way took from the esteem in which she is held.  She was brilliant.  She was funny.  She was dedicated.  She was generous.  All these attributes and more were revealed and expanded upon.

One aspect of her life that people recalled with pleasure was her ability to give successful parties, whether get-togethers for the lab or tasteful dinner parties.  She spent hours and hours preparing everything to perfection.  One story involved a dinner party where one of the guests began to expound on a controversial topic.  Doreen tried to turn the conversation, but at last had to inform her guest that he was becoming “tedious.”  She enjoyed a good argument as much as anyone, but this person was being rude and her other guests were being made to feel uncomfortable.  She had to intervene.

I could never give a party like Doreen did.  I don’t have the stamina it takes to carry out all the preparation involved.  I’d lose interest or get distracted.  I guess that’s why I’ve remained a petunia among roses.

But though Doreen’s friends were all roses, I doubt if anyone of them had the beauty and fragrance that my sister had.

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What’s Your Writing Routine?


Debra Purdy Kong writes “As technology has changed, I’ve found that taking part in social media a few minutes before writing, is now part of my ritual. And, of course, there’s that necessary cup of coffee!”

Like Debra, I’ve used many writing techniques that others have found helpful, like taking breaks and writing at a consistent time.  I find that a cup of coffee in the morning, while perusing my social media contacts, gets me ready to write, as well.  Starting to write before breakfast and continuing after is part of my routine, too. (It helps that my dear husband likes to make breakfast!) I find the morning the best time to do original writing, while the afternoon is a good time to read over my work and edit it.

You can read Debra’s complete blog entry at

http://www.goodreads.com/author_blog_posts/4448690-what-are-your-writing-habits

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Saying good-bye – the burial of the placentas


Mother carry me,

          Your child I will always be,

          Mother carry me,

          Down to the Sea

In a sacred grove overlooking the ocean, with cedars overhead, and sheep grazing on the hillside, a circle of children, young parents and elders, celebrated with the four children whose placentas were reunited with Mother Earth.

          We are the weavers, we are the woven ones,

          We are the dreamers, we are the dream.

Everyone helped dig the four holes, north, south, east, and west.

Rose petals, acorns, cedar, and birch bark were sprinkled as the placentas were lowered into the ground, to return to the earth.

Placentas are buried in the circle of the sun

          Circle of the sun on their burying day.

          Babies are born in the circle of the sun,

          Circle of the sun on their birthing day.

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