© 2009 Karen Van Fossan
Quiz time! Well, not yet.
First, I should tell you, I recently returned from an energizing (and overwhelming) adventure at the Women & Spirituality Conference at Minnesota State University in Mankato. I traveled there by van (and satellite car) with a group of spirited friends.
As the keynote speaker and beloved leader in the global sustainability movement, Dr. Vandana Shiva linked women's traditional wisdom with the modern cry for sustainability. Here are just some of my favorite quotes from her:
“Across cultures, women have been the seed-keepers – which they have regarded as a sacred duty.”
“People invented this thing called 'the food chain,' with man at the top of the pyramid.” Dr. Shiva smiled and said, “They forgot that the microorganisms get you at the end!”
“Today, women's agriculture produces far more food than industrial agriculture.”
“The womanly way of farming has been through diversity.”
“In the U.S., there are more people in jails than on the land.”
“Industrial agriculture is a system for creating scarcity, a system for creating hunger.”
“The earth is a much more generous employer than Wall Street will ever be.”
“We feed the soil organisms – and they'll feed us.”
“Each day, Gandhi prayed, 'God, make me more womanly – make me more feminine.'”
Now – it's quiz time:
1. In the Trance Dancing workshop, facilitated by Ella Davis-Suggs and Linda Deer Domnitz, participants (including myself):
A) Breathed in unison.
B) Moved to ancient rhythms.
C) Pressed our foreheads and bellies to the floor, for insight.
D) All of the above.
2. With Paula Kramer as our guide, participants in the “Feeling, Seeing, & Psychically Reading Auras” workshop:
A) Journeyed through all the layers (three) of one another's auras.
B) Made colorful drawings of other people's auras.
C) Gave “aura hugs” (or maybe that was just my group).
D) All of the above.
3. In Amy Leo Barankovich's workshop, “Dancing Your Own,” participants:
A) Danced with the floor.
B) Danced with bells.
C) In one case, danced with her nose.
D) All of the above.
4. During the “Introduction to Shamanism” workshop by Rhonda Steele, participants:
A) Journeyed to the lower world.
B) Met their power animals.
C) Made animal movements and sounds.
D) All of the above.
The best thing about the conference was:
All of the above.
(Next year, maybe you...with your aura and your power animal...will join us.)
Friday, November 20, 2009
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Insomnia
© 2009 Karen Van Fossan, written at 3:44 a.m.
Once, not long ago, there lived a rosy, young woman. She loved nothing more in life than her apple tree. In Spring, she pressed her cheeks to the sweet, tender blossoms. In Summer, she danced in the moonlight with the shadow of her tree. In Autumn, she gathered bushels of the red, nourishing fruit.
In spite of her love of apples – or perhaps because of it – one particular Autumn, she couldn't sleep. “Crud!” she said, again and again. “It's 3:44 a.m., and I'm awake.”
At about the same time, there lived a purposeful, middle-aged woman. How she loved to run! In Spring, she liked to sprint among the tulips along her walk. In Summer, she went jogging between the tall and reaching daisies. In Autumn, she hurdled playfully over the asters.
In spite of her love of running – or perhaps because of it – one particular Autumn, she couldn't sleep. “Shoot!” she said, again and again. “It's 3:44 a.m., and I'm awake.”
At about the same time, there lived a powerful, elderly woman. She had been making pictures since she was three or four years old, and she had no intention of stopping now. In Spring, she filled her canvas with sweet, tender apple blossoms. In Summer, she painted lanky clumps of daisies in the garden. In Autumn, she put the final stroke on a portrait of herself.
In spite of her love of painting – or perhaps because of it – one particular Autumn, she couldn't sleep. “Glory!” she said, again and again. “It's 3:44 a.m., and I'm awake.”
I wonder, dear readers – can you help?
Once, not long ago, there lived a rosy, young woman. She loved nothing more in life than her apple tree. In Spring, she pressed her cheeks to the sweet, tender blossoms. In Summer, she danced in the moonlight with the shadow of her tree. In Autumn, she gathered bushels of the red, nourishing fruit.
In spite of her love of apples – or perhaps because of it – one particular Autumn, she couldn't sleep. “Crud!” she said, again and again. “It's 3:44 a.m., and I'm awake.”
At about the same time, there lived a purposeful, middle-aged woman. How she loved to run! In Spring, she liked to sprint among the tulips along her walk. In Summer, she went jogging between the tall and reaching daisies. In Autumn, she hurdled playfully over the asters.
In spite of her love of running – or perhaps because of it – one particular Autumn, she couldn't sleep. “Shoot!” she said, again and again. “It's 3:44 a.m., and I'm awake.”
At about the same time, there lived a powerful, elderly woman. She had been making pictures since she was three or four years old, and she had no intention of stopping now. In Spring, she filled her canvas with sweet, tender apple blossoms. In Summer, she painted lanky clumps of daisies in the garden. In Autumn, she put the final stroke on a portrait of herself.
In spite of her love of painting – or perhaps because of it – one particular Autumn, she couldn't sleep. “Glory!” she said, again and again. “It's 3:44 a.m., and I'm awake.”
I wonder, dear readers – can you help?
Friday, September 11, 2009
It's almost time for "Shhhhhhhhh!"
Can't wait! It's almost time for Shhhhhhhhh! -- a very original play by truth-telling teens in the heart of North Dakota.
Join us at 7:30 PM on Saturday, September 12th in the Sidney J Lee Auditorium at Bismarck State College. The show is rated PG-13. (Well, make that PG-12.) And it's totally free.
"But what is the play about?" people ask.
Just about everything that anyone's ever said, "Shhhhhhhhh!" about.
The Group That Opened the Box is ready to talk.
You'll laugh...you'll cry...you'll renew your hope for humanity.
Find out more on URL Radio with Stacy Sturm, on the KFYR Morning Show with Anne Kelly, in the Bismarck Tribune article by Karen Herzog, and at the Culture Pulse website.
Here's a peek at some of my favorite scenes:
Sarah wanders up and down the closest Walgreens to her home, filling a basket with odds and ends. Some Easter decorations. Light bulbs. New mascara. Pregnancy test?
Her hand shakes as she reaches for the box.
Bonus! Free Additional Test Inside!
"Awesome!" she thinks. "Sounds great!"
Is Sarah pregnant at age 16? Find out Saturday night.
Join us at 7:30 PM on Saturday, September 12th in the Sidney J Lee Auditorium at Bismarck State College. The show is rated PG-13. (Well, make that PG-12.) And it's totally free.
"But what is the play about?" people ask.
Just about everything that anyone's ever said, "Shhhhhhhhh!" about.
The Group That Opened the Box is ready to talk.
You'll laugh...you'll cry...you'll renew your hope for humanity.
Find out more on URL Radio with Stacy Sturm, on the KFYR Morning Show with Anne Kelly, in the Bismarck Tribune article by Karen Herzog, and at the Culture Pulse website.
Here's a peek at some of my favorite scenes:
"Sarah"
written by Rachel Patrie (age 17)
How did this even happen?Sarah wanders up and down the closest Walgreens to her home, filling a basket with odds and ends. Some Easter decorations. Light bulbs. New mascara. Pregnancy test?
Her hand shakes as she reaches for the box.
Bonus! Free Additional Test Inside!
"Awesome!" she thinks. "Sounds great!"
Is Sarah pregnant at age 16? Find out Saturday night.
"Only She"
written by Caitlyn Taix (age 15)
Lately we're inseparable.
She's the only one that finds happiness in a garden.
We just drive. We don't complain, we just listen to a better time,
preferably Cat Stevens,
and drive on a long gravel road
to nowhere.
Only she finds peace in that...
Who is "She"? Find out Saturday night.
"Matthew and Me"
written by Michaela Miller (age 16)
So in love. So in love, I don't
care who sees me with him.
So in love, we don't care
who judges us.
So in love, I'd kiss him in the middle of
downtown New York City.
A lot of people are watching, spectating.
It doesn't really make sense...
Why are people looking? Find out Saturday night.
"Daisy & Pierce"
written by Megan Isaak (age 14)
I'm in the doctor's office. I cut too deep, I need stitches.
I hear the door ring, as a tall man steps in, wearing a fedora, Mexican sunglasses,
and a big trench coat...
"Daisy?"
I look up at the sound of my name being said. It's the man with the fedora.
I remember, Pierce used to wear his fedora all the time.
No, don't think about him. He's gone!
Or is he? Find out Saturday night.
"Buddha"
written by Alexis Hellman (age 18)
I am Buddha.
Rub my tummy
for luck.
That's what I need --
Luck...
Why does Buddha need luck? Find out Saturday night.
We hope to see you there.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
"Shhhhhhhhh!"
You've heard of Jesus Camp. And Posse Comitatus. And that ghost town article in The National Geographic. But do you know the newest news, here in North Dakota?
If you answered, "Shhhhhhhhh!" -- then give yourself a point!
A don't-miss opportunity is coming soon to central North Dakota -- a theatrical event like you've never experienced before. Guaranteed: You will love it! Here's what you need to know...
A very original play called, "Shhhhhhhhh!"
Written and performed by "The Group That Opened the Box" --
a group of truth-telling teens in the heart of North Dakota
a group of truth-telling teens in the heart of North Dakota
Saturday, September 12, 2009, at 7:30 PM
Sidney J. Lee Auditorium, Bismarck State College, 1500 Edwards Ave.
FREE. Donations gratefully accepted.
Directors: Dr. Kathy Blohm & Karen Van Fossan
Special Features:
* Larger-than-life photo montage by Kristi Rasmussen
* Original scenes by Karen Van Fossan & Kathy Blohm
* You can stick around after the show for a chance to appear in a film.
What “Shhhhhhhhh!” is All About:
Life, longing, and love in the heart of North Dakota
Co-Sponsors:
North Dakota Women's Network, Cinema 100 Film Society, Dakota West Arts Council, BSC Theatre Department, Chambers & Blohm Psychological Services, and Dragon Jane Theater Company
You'll laugh...you'll cry...you'll renew your hope for humanity. If you have any questions, you can email karenvanfossan@gmail.com or call 701-258-6667.
Special Features:
* Larger-than-life photo montage by Kristi Rasmussen
* Original scenes by Karen Van Fossan & Kathy Blohm
* You can stick around after the show for a chance to appear in a film.
What “Shhhhhhhhh!” is All About:
Life, longing, and love in the heart of North Dakota
Co-Sponsors:
North Dakota Women's Network, Cinema 100 Film Society, Dakota West Arts Council, BSC Theatre Department, Chambers & Blohm Psychological Services, and Dragon Jane Theater Company
You'll laugh...you'll cry...you'll renew your hope for humanity. If you have any questions, you can email karenvanfossan@gmail.com or call 701-258-6667.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Train Sweet Train
© 2009 Karen Van Fossan
Finally, I counted. I had to. Twenty-seven here. Eighteen there.
This summer, I spent nearly 100 hours on the train. I'm not bragging, not complaining. But, as much as I long to tell you about the places where I went, rather than how I got there, all I can hear in my head is that cross-country train.
Years ago, I used to get a couple of seats to myself. When gas prices hovered at $1 or so a gallon, when airlines kept their financial woes to themselves, when "green" was a word no self-respecting CEO would say -- the train was my little secret.
But now, I've entered R.E.M. sleep with so many random strangers, I've lost count.
This summer, as I traveled the country, I contemplated the meaning of life, and language, and the train. I realized that the passenger train is almost entirely lacking in cliches.
We've got the high road, the fast lane, who's in the driver's seat; we talk about "paving the way."
But how about Amtrak cliches?
Here's my first try...
1) When the trip is just beginning, and your heart is full of adventure --
Train sweet train.
2) When you find yourself leg-to-leg with a dude who has Restless Leg Syndrome --
Fuel efficiency loves company.
3) When you miss your bathtub so much, you wish you'd brought a picture --
Cleanliness is next to impossible.
4) When you start to wonder how many times the family across the aisle can watch that same, freaking, boring DVD --
Good boundaries make good neighbors.
5) When you're startled awake by a chorus of frogs...or bears...or who-knows-what? --
If you can't stand the snoring, get out of the train.
6) When the nighttime lights keep streaking by --
All that glitters is not easily blocked by your eyelids.
7) When you can't help but question the Self and notions of private property --
Home is where that little-tag-placed-above-your-seat is.
8) When your seatmate wakes up chatty --
Bloom where you and your random seatmate are planted.
9) When a person has to be neighborly, even on the train --
'Tis more blessed to give up your window seat to a married Amish couple, than to receive.
10) When the engineer cranks the emergency brakes --
You can lead a train to the mountains, but you can't make it climb (unless a couple of freight engines come to haul it).
So, the next time you're on the train, save me a seat. Because...
A friend in the train is worth two in the bush.
Words to live by.
Finally, I counted. I had to. Twenty-seven here. Eighteen there.
This summer, I spent nearly 100 hours on the train. I'm not bragging, not complaining. But, as much as I long to tell you about the places where I went, rather than how I got there, all I can hear in my head is that cross-country train.
Years ago, I used to get a couple of seats to myself. When gas prices hovered at $1 or so a gallon, when airlines kept their financial woes to themselves, when "green" was a word no self-respecting CEO would say -- the train was my little secret.
But now, I've entered R.E.M. sleep with so many random strangers, I've lost count.
This summer, as I traveled the country, I contemplated the meaning of life, and language, and the train. I realized that the passenger train is almost entirely lacking in cliches.
We've got the high road, the fast lane, who's in the driver's seat; we talk about "paving the way."
But how about Amtrak cliches?
Here's my first try...
1) When the trip is just beginning, and your heart is full of adventure --
Train sweet train.
2) When you find yourself leg-to-leg with a dude who has Restless Leg Syndrome --
Fuel efficiency loves company.
3) When you miss your bathtub so much, you wish you'd brought a picture --
Cleanliness is next to impossible.
4) When you start to wonder how many times the family across the aisle can watch that same, freaking, boring DVD --
Good boundaries make good neighbors.
5) When you're startled awake by a chorus of frogs...or bears...or who-knows-what? --
If you can't stand the snoring, get out of the train.
6) When the nighttime lights keep streaking by --
All that glitters is not easily blocked by your eyelids.
7) When you can't help but question the Self and notions of private property --
Home is where that little-tag-placed-above-your-seat is.
8) When your seatmate wakes up chatty --
Bloom where you and your random seatmate are planted.
9) When a person has to be neighborly, even on the train --
'Tis more blessed to give up your window seat to a married Amish couple, than to receive.
10) When the engineer cranks the emergency brakes --
You can lead a train to the mountains, but you can't make it climb (unless a couple of freight engines come to haul it).
So, the next time you're on the train, save me a seat. Because...
A friend in the train is worth two in the bush.
Words to live by.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Bird Lessons
© 2009 Karen Van Fossan
So I'm sitting at the dinner table, minding my own business, glancing out the window from time to time. From my designated chair, I can see walkers making their way, the local rabbit's favorite path, and our clunker -- with the windows down -- waiting in the drive.
Suddenly, I hear myself blurt, "There's a robin in the car!"
In seconds flat, Kris and I leap from the table, and out the door.
Sure enough, a baby robin squeaks inside the car, in her young and speckled glory, in the midst of a first flight. She bounces along the back dash, back and forth, around and around, trying to push through the window, which looks like open air, but is a trap.
High on the neighbor's roof, the mother robin, or father robin, hollers with all her might, calling with all his heart -- Come here! Come here!
We throw open the door to the car!
But the baby stays inside, hopping around on the back dash, pressing toward the window.
We run into the house and grab the enormous log we keep for the cats. We prop it on the back dash, making a bridge to the grass.
But the Mama-Papa-Auntie robin continues to call from the roof. The baby continues to panic.
We back away to give the baby space.
But the baby doesn't need space. The baby needs the window to turn to air.
At last, we resort to fear.
We knock on the back window, making a terrible racket.
She scurries away from the window.
Down from the dash.
Down to the seat.
Out the door!
And suddenly, I'm face to face with questions --
Are there obstacles in my life it would be wise to turn away from?
Are there times when the thing I fear the most can help me find my path?
Maybe so...
So I'm sitting at the dinner table, minding my own business, glancing out the window from time to time. From my designated chair, I can see walkers making their way, the local rabbit's favorite path, and our clunker -- with the windows down -- waiting in the drive.
Suddenly, I hear myself blurt, "There's a robin in the car!"
In seconds flat, Kris and I leap from the table, and out the door.
Sure enough, a baby robin squeaks inside the car, in her young and speckled glory, in the midst of a first flight. She bounces along the back dash, back and forth, around and around, trying to push through the window, which looks like open air, but is a trap.
High on the neighbor's roof, the mother robin, or father robin, hollers with all her might, calling with all his heart -- Come here! Come here!
We throw open the door to the car!
But the baby stays inside, hopping around on the back dash, pressing toward the window.
We run into the house and grab the enormous log we keep for the cats. We prop it on the back dash, making a bridge to the grass.
But the Mama-Papa-Auntie robin continues to call from the roof. The baby continues to panic.
We back away to give the baby space.
But the baby doesn't need space. The baby needs the window to turn to air.
At last, we resort to fear.
We knock on the back window, making a terrible racket.
She scurries away from the window.
Down from the dash.
Down to the seat.
Out the door!
And suddenly, I'm face to face with questions --
Are there obstacles in my life it would be wise to turn away from?
Are there times when the thing I fear the most can help me find my path?
Maybe so...
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
The End of the Story
© 2009 Karen Van Fossan
Thank you, dear readers, for all your creative vision in helping me find an ending to the Ogre, Rat, and Princess story. Since my last post, I've been chewing on your ideas.
How will the story end? I've wondered. Of all the delightful suggestions I heard -- as posts to this blog or otherwise -- which will I pick?
Will someone prepare an inviting Greek supper? Will we hear each other's stories? Will a faithful dog bring us, mostly, together? Will the Ogre and the Princess fall in love?
This morning, as the alarm clock buzzed, I suddenly got my answer...
Once upon a time, there was a terrible, angry ogre. The ogre didn’t like me, the ogre didn’t like you, and most of all, she didn’t like herself. “Self!” she hollered. “You’re terrible! And you’re angry! And you’re an ogre! No wonder I don’t like you.” The ogre picked up her house. And she tossed it to the ground.
Well, the ogre happened to live next door to a frightful, fearful rat. The rat didn’t trust me, the rat didn’t trust you, and most of all, she didn’t trust herself. “Self?” she whispered. “You’re frightful! And you’re fearful! And you’re a rat! No wonder I don’t trust you.” She scurried away, as fast as she could, far across the prairie.
Now, the rat happened to live next door to an undiscovered princess. The princess was bored with me, the princess was bored with you, and most of all, the princess was bored with herself. “Boring!” said the Princess -- while she smiled for the camera.
But the princess happened to live next door to the writer of this story. The writer looked around. “Ogre? Rat? Princess?" she said. "I’m trying to write a story. Could you help me?”
The princess yawned. The rat kept hiding. The ogre stomped her foot. Then they hurried home and locked their doors.
So the writer dialed a pay phone. "Help!" she said to the reader. "What should I do?”
The reader scratched her head. Or maybe he drummed his fingers. The readers said to the writer.........
"I think you should cook them a Greek meal."
"It so happens that the writer lived next to a loyal, loving dog."
"I think the Ogre, the Rat, and the Princess should go on a photo safari."
"The ogre was so fully loved by the princess, and the princess by the ogre..."
As the writer sat and listened to the readers tell their tales, she found that there was a moral to the story after all:
Ogres will be ogres. Princesses will be princesses. Readers can be anything they choose.
Thank you, dear readers, for all your creative vision in helping me find an ending to the Ogre, Rat, and Princess story. Since my last post, I've been chewing on your ideas.
How will the story end? I've wondered. Of all the delightful suggestions I heard -- as posts to this blog or otherwise -- which will I pick?
Will someone prepare an inviting Greek supper? Will we hear each other's stories? Will a faithful dog bring us, mostly, together? Will the Ogre and the Princess fall in love?
This morning, as the alarm clock buzzed, I suddenly got my answer...
Once upon a time, there was a terrible, angry ogre. The ogre didn’t like me, the ogre didn’t like you, and most of all, she didn’t like herself. “Self!” she hollered. “You’re terrible! And you’re angry! And you’re an ogre! No wonder I don’t like you.” The ogre picked up her house. And she tossed it to the ground.
Well, the ogre happened to live next door to a frightful, fearful rat. The rat didn’t trust me, the rat didn’t trust you, and most of all, she didn’t trust herself. “Self?” she whispered. “You’re frightful! And you’re fearful! And you’re a rat! No wonder I don’t trust you.” She scurried away, as fast as she could, far across the prairie.
Now, the rat happened to live next door to an undiscovered princess. The princess was bored with me, the princess was bored with you, and most of all, the princess was bored with herself. “Boring!” said the Princess -- while she smiled for the camera.
But the princess happened to live next door to the writer of this story. The writer looked around. “Ogre? Rat? Princess?" she said. "I’m trying to write a story. Could you help me?”
The princess yawned. The rat kept hiding. The ogre stomped her foot. Then they hurried home and locked their doors.
So the writer dialed a pay phone. "Help!" she said to the reader. "What should I do?”
The reader scratched her head. Or maybe he drummed his fingers. The readers said to the writer.........
"I think you should cook them a Greek meal."
"It so happens that the writer lived next to a loyal, loving dog."
"I think the Ogre, the Rat, and the Princess should go on a photo safari."
"The ogre was so fully loved by the princess, and the princess by the ogre..."
As the writer sat and listened to the readers tell their tales, she found that there was a moral to the story after all:
Ogres will be ogres. Princesses will be princesses. Readers can be anything they choose.
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