I Am Not Sidney Poitier by Percival Everett

This consummately original tale sets out to answer the question, "Then, Who am I?" The journey brilliantly parodies Guess Who's Coming to Dinner, In the Heat of the Night, and Lilies of the Field with great subtlety. Also, The Defiant Ones and Buck and the Preacher. In addition, it's quite amazing to witness the license that Everett takes in including the personas of Ted Turner and Jane Fonda in his wacky cast of characters as well as inserting himself as an eccentric philosophy instructor. That's all I have to say except that this is one of the most thoroughly enjoyable and incisive pieces of fiction that I have read in a very long time.

Variation

Variation indicates change. So, how do we know when it's time to change, or when it's time for change? There are signs, discontent being perhaps the biggest one.

Change does not always mean improvement. That was my first reaction to the words, Change We Can Believe In, which defined President Obama's campaign in 2008. I kept waiting for someone to carefully place the word, Positive, in front of Change. No one did, so I've been chanting it to myself, more loudly each day.

Variation is no substitute for making things better, especially for those who need the most assistance. Fundamentally, positive change is such a simple thing—a mere matter of adjusting how we think and behave. Like any other habit, it will demand consistent practice and reinforcement.

It's True—Teaching Is Learning

Over the past four semesters, I've had the opportunity to teach a Spanish class at a local community college with a very diverse population. My favorite part of the job is watching students think. I can feel their individual and collective processes of offering thoughtful comments, posing intelligent questions, and sharing significant insights. I enjoy their kindness, sense of cooperation, and consideration of each other. They are trusting and their openness has great value. Their humanity is more of a reminder than a lesson that the answer to Rodney King's famous questions is, "Yes. We can all get along."

Hug the Day

During this morning's swim, I thought about Big Pictures, connecting dots, and noticing opportunities. The trite expression, carpe diem, came to mind and brought to life one of my pet peeves, which concerns tendencies to dominate instead of harmonize. Why seize the day instead of simply embracing it, giving thanks for it--engaging in one great, big circadian hug?

Something about Inspiration

Earlier this week, a friend who is a painter wrote about being inspired by an exhibit of Picasso's work. Immediately, I gave thanks that I can recognize moments of artistic inspiration, some of which have translated into novels and short stories.

Just this morning, another painter who is a mentor and friend wrote, "When I am in the studio, all is well with the work."

In my experience, there is something about inspiration that cannot be denied.

Clouds and Change

Winds of change is a familiar metaphor.

Wind, as a noun, relates to speed applied to the movement of air. As a verb, it has a connotation of turning or spinning.

Change, as a verb and noun, indicates difference and transformation. As a noun only, change can represent coins left over after dollars have been broken.

During this morning's early, outdoor swim, I witnessed darkness giving way to light in a sky dominated by gray clouds promising a storm. Wind rearranged clouds as if they were puzzle pieces, implying that there might be some order or plan to all this obvious shifting. By the time it was fair to say that it was light outside, the clouds had all but disappeared and imminence of rain seemed to pause, perhaps at the mercy of second thoughts. The rain has arrived, gentle and sporadic at this moment. I cannot help but think of flipping coins, taking chances, and believing that good will prevail over its formidable opponent.

InneRhythms

I've worked in the publishing industry as a development editor, managing editor, and am still employed as a freelance indexer. When I was working in house at a company in Emeryville, I remember how a copy editor who I supervised hated intercaps. Up until that time, I had been neutral about the practice of imposing capital letters in the midst of lowercase. In coining the term, InneRhythms, I invoke the privilege of doing something in moderation to make a point.

The idea of inner rhythms came to me while exercising on my mini stair stepper earlier this week. I played a mystery CD and was thrilled by being in perfect sync with the first two tunes--Across the River by Vasquez and All One by Oscar Castor Nieves. Esperanto by Kurt Elling proved to be a perfect finale. That workout was a tremendous moment of clicking.

If there are InneRhythms, there must be a counterpart, right?