denise levertov writes making peace
that it is an active process
it is not the absence of war
but a process in itself: how do we make it?
Make Peace
how do we wage peace? wage is not the word we do not do it for money we must be more active than hoping engender peace? spread peace: like a pandemic a pandemic of peace
the comfort of peace the joy of peace the love of peace
the peace of the grave the peace of sleep the peace of heaven peace here now peace not distant nor below the earth peace conscious, aware and present peace alive, breathing, welling up in everyone peace here now
a pandemic of peace a river of peace peace flowing through and around, above and below us peace full, peace out, peaced let us verb it I am peaced today I peace you I peace Russia I peace the soldiers I peace the Ukraine I peace the entire world
I peace you please, will you peace me? peace me now, then there will be two and everyone else peace the world now a pandemic of peace make peace
___________________
I taped a conversation with a wren one morning in Wisconsin. I never saw my wren and clearly I have not got the language down, but she kept talking to me anyhow.
I am blogging from A to Z about Helen Burling Ottaway, my artist mother, and other women artists.
Artists are unruly. They are not obedient. They are usurpers. They are unreasonable. This is another etching of my mother, a self portrait, titled “Giantess”. She looks giant, rising from an ocean. Will she have arms and hands and legs, or is she an octopus? We do not know. It may depend on her mood.
I am reading Kim Addonizio’s Ordinary Genius for a Centrum poetry class.
She challenges white poets: why don’t you write about racisim?
I write that we are afraid. I think it is more than that: it is shame. Thinking about her words, I thought about one of my mother’s pieces of art and how it makes me uncomfortable. And that my discomfort with it is new. I wrote this poem.
Race forward
Kim Addonizio asks
Why don’t white poets write about race?
Chickenshits, I think.
Afraid. We are afraid.
My mother called one color Nigger Pink.
She says, “It’s the color that only looks good on black people.”
She looks wicked as she says it and I know that I never should.
She didn’t think she was racist nor a feminist.
One time she says, “Maybe I am a feminist.”
“Why do you say that?” I ask.
“We had a group of women who went to plant trees. None of them could dig a hole.”
“Oh,” I say.
“They didn’t know how to use a shovel!”
She might be horrified how many high school graduates today would call a spade a shovel.
A mentor art teacher says, “Stop being small,” to her. “Get bigger.”
She starts pastel portraits, larger than life.
One that I love is titled “One Fist of Iron.”
Now: don’t lie. What race do you think the person is? And what gender?
Did you guess correctly? African American and male.
Another friend tells me he is trying to get his father to stop calling Brazil nuts nigger toes.
My mother told me that term too.
And that it was unacceptable.
At my friend’s father’s birthday, I focus my camera on the birthday man.
He holds a bowl of nuts. He says to himself, “I will now eat a politically incorrect nut.” and the camera clicks. I love this photograph because he is 90 and white and reluctantly changing his wicked words.
My mother says there might be hope when a small black child trick or treats her house in black face, in Alexandria, Virginia, in the 1990s.
I think there IS hope, even though the race seems slow and painful and there is so much anger
Look in the mirror, white poets.
And write the words.
One Fist of Iron, by Helen Burling Ottaway
The photograph at the beginning of this is not my mother. It is her mother’s mother, Mary Robbins White. I have pictures of five generations of women with that serious expression. She was the wife of George White, the Congregationalist Minister who was president of Anatolia College in Turkey. They and my grandmother and siblings were escorted to the Turkish border in 1916. George White and his wife were two of the main witnesses of the genocide of the Armenians in Turkey.
I am blogging from A to Z about Helen Burling Ottaway, my artist mother, and other women artists.
My mother loved painting trees and doing etchings of trees, but this is a tree peony. Another etching, and this printed with two colors at the same time. Delicate work, to ink the plate with two colors and gently wipe off the excess without mixing them.
A friend quotes her son, who says that our immune systems are failing because we have been in isolation. I respond that it’s not isolation: it is stress. Anyone who is not stressed by the addition of war to a pandemic needs to have their head examined. Why does stress mess up our immune systems?
We have two main systemic states: sympathetic and parasympathetic. Sympathetic is the high stress, fight or flight, muscles fired up, gut on hold, and unfortunately we have a pretty sympathetic state culture. Add a pandemic on top of that and then a war and no wonder everyone is flipping out. Parasympathetic is the one we don’t hear about: the happy, relaxed one that likes stupid cat videos and laughter.
Without the sympathetic nervous system, we can survive. Without the parasympathetic, we die.
I have written about how we metabolize cholesterol, depending on whether we are in a sympathetic or parasympathetic state. When we are relaxed, or less stressed, we make more sex hormones and thyroid hormone. That is parasympathetic.
When we are in a crisis, or more stressed, we make more adrenaline and cortisol. That is in the sympathetic nervous system arousal state.
A pain conference I went to at Swedish Hospital took this a step further. They said that chronic pain and PTSD patients are in a high sympathetic nervous system state. The sympathetic nervous system is the fight or flight state. It’s great for emergencies: increases heart rate, dilates air passages in the lungs, dilates pupils, reduces gut mobility, increases blood glucose, and tightens the fascia in the muscles so that you can fight or run. But…. what if you are in a sympathetic nervous system state all the time? Fatigue, decreased sex drive, insomnia and agitated or anxious. And remember the tightened fascia? Muscle pain. The high cortisol level also is not good for the immune system, so we are more likely to get sick. High cortisol also raises blood sugar and the immune system is hyperalert. We are more likely to develop autoimmune disorders.
When we are relaxed, the parasympathetic system is in charge. Digesting food, resting, sexual arousal, salivation, lacrimation, urination, and defecation. So saliva, tears, urine, and bowel movements, not to mention digesting food and interest in sex. And muscles relax.
If the sympathetic nervous system is in overdrive, how do we shut it off? I had an interesting conversation with a person with PTSD , where he said that he finds that all his muscles are tight when he is watching television. He can consciously relax them.
“Do they stay relaxed?” I asked.
“I don’t know.” he replies, “but my normal is the hyperalert state.”
“Maybe the hyperalert state, the sympathetic state, is what you are used to, rather than being your normal.”
He sat and stared at me. A different idea….
So HOW do we switch over from the sympathetic to the parasympathetic state?
Swedish taught a breathing technique.
Twenty minutes. Six breaths per minute, either 5 seconds in and 5 seconds out, or 6 in and 4 out. Your preference. And they said that after 15 minutes, people switch from the sympathetic to the parasympathetic state.
Does this work for everyone? Is it always at 15 minutes? I don’t know yet. But now I am thinking hard about different ways to switch the sympathetic to parasympathetic.
Meditation. Slow walking outside. No headphones! We need to listen to the birds and wind, watch the trees, really look at nature. All of the new sensory input relaxes us. Rocking: a rocking chair or glider. Breathing exercises: 5 seconds in and 5 seconds out. Work up to 20 minutes. Massage: but not for people who fear being touched. One study of a one hour massage showed cortisol dropping by 50% on average in blood levels. That is huge. Playing: (one site says especially with children and animals. But it also says we are intelligently designed). Yoga, tai chi, and chi kung. Whatever relaxes YOU: knitting, singing, working on cars, carving, puttering, soduku, jigsaw puzzles, word searches, making bean pictures or macaroni pictures, coloring, a purring cat, throwing a ball for a dog…..and I’ll bet the stupid pet photos and videos help too….
My patient took my diagrams and notes written on the exam table paper home. He is thinking about the parasympathetic state: about getting to know it and deliberately exploring it.
I am blogging A to Z about artists, particularly women artists and mostly about my mother, Helen Burling Ottaway.
I find two copies of her resume. One is from 1991 and one from 1993. I will add the 1993 information, but it’s a LOT. My mother was prolific! She complained about getting ready for shows and I did not realize how very many she did! I am so proud of her. She died of ovarian cancer in 2000 and I do miss her still.
Helen Burling Ottaway
Β Del Ray Atelier
105 E. Monroe Ave
Alexandria, VA 22301
SELECTED SOLO SHOWS
1991 Nov Will have solo show at Bird-in-Hand Gallery, Washington, DC
1989 Sept βCascades: Watercolors of Washington Stateβ, Bird-in-Hand Gallery, Washington, DC
1988 Nov βFantasy Etchingsβ, National Orthopedic Hospital, Arlington, VA
1987 Oct βSpirits to Enforce, Art to Enchantβ, Fantasy Art, River Road Uniterian Church, Bethesda, MD
1986 Mar βPrints and Poemsβ, Poetry by Katy Ottaway, Martin Luther King Library, Washington, DC
1984 Nov βForests, Flower, and Fantasiesβ, Sola Gallery, Ithaca, NY
Apr βBirdland and other Lullabiesβ, Pastels, Gallery West, Alexandria, VA
1981 May βFantastical Bestiaryβ, Etchings and Drawings, Gallery West, Alexandria, VA
Mar βThe Way of the Brushβ, Watercolors, Gallery One, Alexandria, VA
TWO PERSON SHOWS
1986 Nov Two Person Show, βAn Occasional Pair of Clawsβ, Fantasy Art with Omar Dasent, Gallery West, Alexandria, VA
1985 Apr Two person Show, βFigures and Foliageβ, Pastels, Capital Centre Gallery, Landover, MD
1982 Nov Two Person Show, βThe Four Seasonsβ, Gallery West, Alexandria, VA
SELECTED GROUP SHOWS
1990 Feb βVisions 1990β Westbeth Gallery, New York, NY
1989 Feb βYear inβYear outβ, Studio Gallery, Washington, DC
1988 Mar βindependent Visions IIIβ, Metro Gallery, Arlington, VA
May Juried Show, Sculpture, The Art League, Alexandria, VA, Juror: Bertold Schmutzart
1987 Dec Juried Show: βThe Best of 1987β, Martin Luther King Library, Washington, DC, Jurors: Dr.
Jacqueline Serwer, Sandra Wested, Robert Stewart
1987 Apr βIndependent Visions, Fifteen Women Artistsβ, Metro Gallery, Arlington, VA
Feb βPortraits 1987β, The Art Barn, Washington, DC
1986 Oct βJuried Show, βPrintmakers VIIIβ, The New Art Center, Washington, DC
Jan βIndependent Visionsβ, Metro Gallery, Arlington, VA
1985 Dec Invitational, βHighlights of the Yearβ, Martin Luther King Library, Washington, DC. Jurors:
Linda Hartigan and Monroe Fabian
Nov Invitational, βThe Macadam Nueve-Splintergreen Conspiracy Showβ, Gallerie Inti,
Washington, DC. Curated by Omar Dasent and Ann Stein
Oct Juried show, βPrintmakers VIIβ, WWAC, Washington, DC. Juror: Jane Farmer
Mar Invitational, βMama, Donβt Let Your Babies Grow up to be Artistsβ, The Splintergreen
Conspiracy, Martin Luther King Library, Washington, DC. Curated by Omar Dasent
Mar βShakespearean Imagesβ, Hofstra University, Hempstead, NY
1984 Nov Juried Show, βPrintmakers VIβ, WWAC, Washington, DC. Juror: Carol Pulin
July Juried Show, βPrintmakers VIβ, WWAC, Washington, DC. Juror: Jo Anna Olshonsky
Oct Four Person Show, βJust Fourβ, Galerie Triangle, Washington, DC
βThe First Great American Camel Showβ, Gallery West, Alexandria, VA
1983 Mar Juried Show, βPrintmakers Vβ, WWAC, Washington, DC. Juror: Barbara Fiedler
Feb Juried Show, βArtists β Art Historians: A Retrospective 1972-1982β, National Conference, The Womenβs Caucus for Art,m Bryce Gallery, Moore College, Philadelphia, PA
1982 May Juried Show, βWoman as Myth and Archetypeβ, WWAC, Wshington, DC. Juror: Mary Beth Edelson
Feb Invitational, βArt is where the Heart isβ, Gallery 805, Fredricksberg, VA
Feb βThe Printmakers of the WWAC, The Torpedo Factory, Alexandria, VA
Jan Juried Show, βThe Eye of Eleanor Monroeβ, WWAC, Washington, DC Juror: Eleanor Monroe
1981 Oct. Juried Show, βCollage and Drawingβ, WWAC, Washington, DC Juror: Jan Root
Numerous juried shows, the Art League, Alexandria, VA
Numerous group shows, Gallery West, Alexandria, VA
EDUCATION
1967 B.F.A Cornell University, Ithaca, NW
WORK EXPERIENCE
1992-currently Teach Drawing and Watercolor, Capital Hill Arts Workshop, Washington, DC
Teach Art Class for Seniors, Recreation Department, Alexandria, VA
Teach etching workshops and watercolors at the Delray Atelier, Alexandria, VA
1987-1990 Graphic Artist, Al Porter Graphics, Washington, DC
1985 Fall Co-Director of Gallery West, Alexandria, VA
1982 Director of Exhibitions, WWAC, Washington, DC
1982 Director of Gallery West, Alexandria, VA
1981 Chair of Exhibitions Committee of Gallery West, Alexandia, VA
Taught watercolor classes at Washington Womenβs Art Center, Washington, DC
Taught childrenβs art classes for the Arlington Recreation Department
1967-1970 Assistant Curator at the Ithaca College Museum of Art, Ithaca, NY
we are talking about silence
yours deliberate
you don’t want people to know
how you make your money
you are angry, I notice
at how people treat you
you are a self made man
with a lot of money
I don’t much care
about your money
happy for you
& etc
I am more interested in silence
I go silent in Kindergarten
because I am too weird
have no tv
and want to sing
I do not bother to lie
because people don’t listen anyhow
and they don’t believe me
I listen, you say
I read everything you send me
That is not enough, I think
I don’t say it
I think about saying it
I don’t say it
I stopped sending you my poems
months ago
when you got angry
I asked if you would respond
something
a positive
a negative
even just “Read it.”
I don’t understand
why you got angry
and I am not scared
so much as surprised
I guess you brook no criticism
ever
I wonder why you must be perfect
seems tiring to me
at any rate
I am not sending you any poems
any more
since then
you could read my blog
I post some there
selected ones
unexceptional
less personal
though I suppose you could still
be angry
you say you know I am angry
when I go silent
I go silent, thinking about that
you are right that there is anger there
in the room with us
you sense it
it is yours, not mine
the bear chained in the dungeon
roaring
poor bear
I send it love
and it is crying
bitter tears
wet and cold
in a pool of tears
I can’t free it
only you can
for a moment you are aware
that I am silent about my poems
then you slam the dungeon door again
and talk about guns and science
and what you will do next
and what you will do next
with your bear
and without me
Discover and re-discover Mexicoβs cuisine, culture and history through the recipes, backyard stories and other interesting findings of an expatriate in Canada
Engaging in some lyrical athletics whilst painting pictures with words and pounding the pavement. I run; blog; write poetry; chase after my kids & drink coffee.
Refugees welcome - FlΓΌchtlinge willkommen I am teaching German to refugees. Ich unterrichte geflΓΌchtete Menschen in der deutschen Sprache. I am writing this blog in English and German because my friends speak English and German. Ich schreibe auf Deutsch und Englisch, weil meine Freunde Deutsch und Englisch sprechen.
KO Rural Mad As Hell Blog 
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