I once heard a story about a monkey who decided to give up eating bananas. Even though the monkey was committed to his goal, when he saw a banana in a tree far away, he decided to sit closer to it. That way he could at least enjoy looking at it. Nothing wrong with that!
Soon, he decided to move even closer to the banana. And then closer. And then closer yet. Before long he was sitting right next to it. At that point, the monkey reached over and grabbed, peeled and ate the banana, telling himself that he would give up bananas “tomorrow.”
I often use that story when talking to my psychotherapy clients about breaking their addictive patterns. If you have the addictive substance, such as drugs, alcohol, a particular type of food, porn, etc., in close proximity to you, it is unlikely you will be able to keep your commitment to abstain.
That is the way I am about chocolate. Dark chocolate to be specific. A little dark chocolate can be healthy, but if I have some, I usually want more. If it is in the house, and it comes to my mind, it won’t be long before I go looking for it. Once it is in plain sight, forget about abstaining, I will do that “tomorrow.”
I don’t intend to ever give up dark chocolate completely, but when I am serious about stopping my over-indulgence, I know to not have it in the house and before I leave the house to recommit to myself not seek it out.
(Note: At the moment, I’m congratulating myself for choosing to use a photo of a monkey eating a banana for this post rather than a photo of a piece of dark chocolate. That way, every time I see this post in the future, I won’t be tempted to go buy some!)
I have been fascinated by Echinacea flowers since I was introduced to them last year. I know that bees and butterflies love them too. In the last two weeks I have planted three Echinacea plants in or near my front yard vegetable garden.
The bees are already visiting the Echinacea. Next year, I hope the butterflies will come as well. I was so excited when I saw one yellow butterfly in my garden earlier this year. That was the first one I’d seen in years.
This afternoon, I decided to look at two of the orange flowers under the microscope. Most of the photos below are of one of the smaller, and younger, flowers. It was similar to the flower that you can see at the bottom center of the photograph at the top of this post.
center
same part of the flower but further from center
petal-top
petal underneath
flower upside down
I think the microscopic photographs are like works of art. This is my favorite of the shots I took today.
The next group of photos show what the flower looked like when I cut the center part of it in half. I found the white photo particularly fascinating. (Click on it if you want to see a clearer view.) The intricacies of nature never cease to amaze me.
This last group of photos shows three views of one of the bigger and older Echinacea flowers.
Every time I look at my Echinacea flowers, I think of the Echinacea field at Amma’s Center in Chicago (M.A. Center Chicago) that I saw earlier this summer. I will end this post with an aerial video that was taken of that field last year.
I was a bit surprised when I discovered that the theme for this week’s Song Lyric Sunday was sex. I thought that would be a tough one for me to participate in as I didn’t think I knew any songs about sex, but that belief quickly turned out to be wrong.
Yesterday, I posted two songs about hair, my own (Sixty-eight Years of Hair) and a reblog of my son’s (Nearly Forty-two Years of Hair.) My friend Kathie from ChosenPerspectives used a video clip from Hair in her comment to my post. The songs from that musical are an important part of my history and I love them. I had no doubt I could find a song fitting for this week’s challenge in that play.
Hair: the American Tribal Love-Rock is a musical about the 1960’s hippie counterculture and sexual revolution. It was controversial for it’s depiction of drug use, irreverence for the American flag, profane language, racially integrated cast and ending nude scene. It opened off-Broadway in 1967 and on-Broadway in 1969. That version ran for 1750 performances. There have been many other productions of the Hair musical in the U.S. and Europe since then.
I attended the Atlanta International Pop Festival in 1970 and the cast from Hair performed there. I also thoroughly enjoyed watching a production of Hair with a friend in Seattle 8-10 years ago. I had forgotten about the nude scene at the end so that was quite a surprise!
The songs I have chosen for this Song Lyric Sunday are Black Boys and White Boys.
On August 13, my friend Kathie from ChosenPerspectives wrote a post about her hair. (Kathie was responding to a post by Marilyn Armstrong from Serendipity.) I related to many of Kathie’s experiences and decided it would be fun to take a look at the 68 year journey I have had with my own hair. It has been fascinating to pour through all of my old photograph albums.
My hair in its natural state may have a touch of wave but is mainly straight. You can see that in these early photos of me.
In those days, though, curls were in fashion. Even though I have no memory of it, I believe that at bedtime my mother rolled small clusters of my hair into loops and pinned them to my head using bobby pins. The result- curly hair!
2 years
3 years
(Click on the gallery to enlarge the photos.)
At some point, my mother started giving me perms. The hairdo below looks like it could have been during that time but it is hard to say.
Around 8 years
My hair has always been very thick. My mother thinned it out a lot when I was young. I have always wondered if all the thinning caused it to become even thicker. Probably not. Later in my life a beautician told me I had enough hair for 10 heads… or was it 20…. I don’t remember for sure.
Eventually, my mother started using rollers like these on my hair. It is even possible those rollers were the curling method used to create my curls in some of the photos above.
These pictures were taken when I was 12-17. I imagine I was using both perms and the big rollers in those days. I cringe when I look at a lot of the photos from this period.
I remember a particular beauty parlor appointment during my teenage years. The beautician was excited by how thick my hair was so she teased it, making puff way out. When I got home I combed out all of the teasing. My mother was furious since I had completely wasted the money that she had spent on having my hair done.
There was no picture of my hair after it was teased but I found a YouTube video that shows the process at high speed! I found it fascinating to watch. (I turned off the music; wasn’t in the mood for that part of it!)
My hair was medium length when I left for college.
I found two photos from my first two years of college. As I looked at them I was struck by how thin I was back then. It seemed even more strange since I remember being ridiculed during high school about my large hips and my protruding stomach. In high school someone actually thought I was pregnant.
I started letting my hair grow long as my hippie days began. The picture below is from 1970, the summer I spent doing migrant farm labor across the country. (To learn more about that experience click here.)
On my wedding day in 1971 (22 years) my hair was even longer.
It was still long when Sreejit (1974) and Chaitanya (1977) were born.
There was a time right before my husband and I separated in 1978 when I knew he preferred my hair to be long and my mother vehemently wanted me to cut it off. In those days, I was very angry with both of them and I didn’t want to do anything that would please either one of them. What a double bind that was! I decided to please myself and kept it long.
Around 1984, I finally cut it. That phase lasted for ten years or so.
Playing around
I started growing it out again in the mid 90’s.
My hair has always had many colors in it. It was mostly blondish but there were also brown, gray and even occasional reddish strands. A beautician once suggested I highlight my hair. I could see no reason for doing that. As far as I was concerned, I had “natural” highlights.
At some point, maybe around 1998 (50 years of age), I cut my hair short once again. During the years that followed, the beautician seemed to cut it shorter every time I went to see her. This photo of me with a friend’s newborn is the only photo I have from that time period.
Somewhere around 2006 (58 years), I began longing to have my hair long again, but I told myself old people don’t wear their hair long. I was also concerned that having it long would accentuate the fact that my face was beginning to sag.
After several years of holding that attitude, it became clear to me that my face was going to look saggy regardless of my hair length so I decided it was time to once again make a decision based solely on what I wanted to do with my hair… so I let it grow.
In my early sixties, a young man walked up to me in a parking lot, said “Thank you SO much for not dying your hair,” and then walked away. It was such a surprise. I had never seen him before, or since. It was a fun experience and validated my long held belief that I shouldn’t use dyes or any other product, other than shampoo, on my hair.
I love this photo a friend took of me six or seven years ago.
And here is one with my blogging friend Cheryl-Lynn from Quebec.
And last but not least one, that was taken a few weeks ago!
Karuna, Kathie, Dean and Lenore
While my hair has never been as long as it was in the 70’s, I still keep it at a length that I consider long. I don’t plan to change that until I am too old to take care of it. Of course, I could make a different decision at any time.
I imagine those of you reading this post have hair stories of your own. Consider sharing them in the comments section.
Two weeks ago I took photos of a garden in Maltby, a town northeast of Seattle. I had seen the garden soon after it was started in May and the transformation is remarkable. Seeing and walking through it has certainly inspired me.
The theme for this week’s Song Lyric Sunday is anger. The tune that came to my mind was Nancy Sinatra’s song These Boots Are Made for Walkin’. It was written by Lee Hazelwood and was released on February 22, 1966.
I enjoyed hearing a song from my past but watching the video was even more fun. The song came out when I was 17, six or seven months before I moved to Seattle… to go to college. It is highly unlikely I would have seen the video back then so I appreciate the opportunity to see it now.
You keep saying you got something for me
Something you call love but confess
You’ve been a’messin’ where you shouldn’t ‘ve been a’messin’
And now someone else is getting all your best
Well, these boots are made for walking, and that’s just what they’ll do
One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you
You keep lyin’ when you oughta be truthin’
You keep losing when you oughta not bet
You keep samin’ when you oughta be a’changin’
What’s right is right but you ain’t been right yet
These boots are made for walking, and that’s just what they’ll do
One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you
You keep playing where you shouldn’t be playing
And you keep thinking that you’ll never get burnt (HAH)
Well, I’ve just found me a brand new box of matches (YEAH)
And what he knows you ain’t had time to learn
These boots are made for walking, and that’s just what they’ll do
One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you
This week’s Weekly Photo Challenge is to share a photo of something rare. I believe that the microscopic nature photos I have been sharing on my blog are rare. This is one I took yesterday of the center of an Echinacea flower.
“The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.” “Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none.” “Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.”-William Shakespeare