Tamarika

Am back (update)

Well, well. Mining Nuggets is now open to all.

Thanks so much to all those gentle readers who joined the password community. You gave to me the greatest gift of all ... my integrity.

Soon, decisions will be made ... will keep you posted ...

Update:

A couple of people have e-mailed me recently regarding acquiring a password to Mining Nuggets. In fact, my new blog is now open and public for everyone. In a post before this one I explain that this Tamarika blog will rest for awhile.

Warning:

Mining Nuggets will continue to be just as personal and reflective as Tamarika was/is. Read at your own risk!

Farewell sweet blog

Decisions are made.

I am bidding farewell to my Tamarika blog and turning to Mining Nuggets instead. There are a number of reasons for a change-a-bout:

• First: This dear old friend and companion blog has been tainted, wounded, spoiled - and needs time to heal.
• Second: Tamarika has moved on, broken through old, unhealthy paradigms and bonds, and finds herself wanting to explore new, unknown territory. A different format seems symbolic of the change in me.
• Third: Inspired by Danny, Frank and Jean, who all renovated/renewed their blogs gave me the confidence to realize that changing to a fresh, new venue energizes and refuels. I will survive!

And so, from now on, bye-bye from here and see you (if you like) at Mining Nuggets.

If you are so kind as to link to me now, I hope you will consider changing or adding a link to Mining Nuggets as well.

I extend my deepest gratitude and appreciation to all of you who have stood solidly by me through my recent blogging/self-expression crisis, through your supportive comments and encouraging e-mails.

Graduation nugget

... Mined ...

... HERE

Photographs

Announcement:

Photographs of the trip here and here.

Going underground

In every revolution there is a period when people are silenced or oppressed. Sometimes they choose to go underground rather than betray who they are.

Well, it seems that the time has come for me.

I am starting a new blog, Mining Nuggets. For I am a writer and this medium, blogging, is very good for me as a form of self-expression.

If you have the time, energy, will or desire, please contact me for the username and password needed to read it.

My e-mail address can be found in my about page, or under my photograph on the left.

Peek-a-boo reflections

Don't you love it when very little children put their hands over their eyes and play at: "if I can't see it, it doesn't exist?" In child development terms they are learning about object permanence. They play with it naturally during the egocentric phase of their development, those infant-toddler years, when children truly believe that everything that happens must be about and because of them ... a sort of magical thinking. So, "If I close my eyes," they reason, "it is simply not there."

When we are children, "peek-a-boo" is necessary, fun, natural ... and a bit disconcerting ...

When adults do it ... I think that's called delusion ... and it's comforting ... just for awhile ...

Peek-a-boo ...

... boo-hoo ...

Limerick Carnival

The Carnival of Moms or Limerick of All Mothers Marathon is up at Limerick Savant! Many of us were invited to contribute. Happy Day to all who celebrate, especially to Limerick's Mom.

Me?

I awoke to white spring flowers from the life partner.

I also received a wonderful card from a dear friend with her story, shared memories, and words that made me weep.

Mother, mother, mother

As Mother's Day draws near I reach for a little book given to me by my dear friend, Mira.

My Mother Had a Dream: African-American Women Share Their Mothers' Words of Wisdom.

Sojourner Truth, daughter of Elizabeth Mau-Mau Bett Baumfree. Activist. From her address "Ain't I a Woman?"

I have ploughed, and planted, and gathered into barns, and no man could head me - and ain't I a woman? I could work as much and eat as much as a man - when I could get it - and bear the lash as well! And ain't I a woman? I have borne thirteen children and seen 'em mos' all sold off to slavery, and when I cried out with a mother's grief, none but Jesus heard me! And ain't I a woman?

Anita Doreen Diggs, daughter of Gladys Haigler-Smith. Author of Talking Drums and Success at Work.

Get a good education because knowledge is power, and once you have it, no one can take it away.

Anna Julia Cooper, daughter of Hannah Stanley. Activist and educator. From A Voice from the South.

Woman, Mother - your responsibility is one that might make angels tremble and fear to take hold!

Maya Angelou, daughter of Vivian Baxter, Educator and author. From My Soul Looks Back. 'Less I Forget.

Africa is herself a mother. The mother of mankind. We Africans take motherhood as the most sacred condition human beings can achieve.

Alice Walker, daughter of Minnie Tallulah Grant Walker. Author from In Search of Our Mothers' Gardens.

And for the three magic gifts I needed to escape the poverty of my hometown, I thank my mother, who gave me a sewing machine, a typewriter, and a suitcase ...

Rosa Parks, daughter of Leona McCauley. Activist. From I Dream a World.

My mother believed in freedom and equality even though we didn't know it for reality during our life in Alabama.

Marian Wright Edelman, daughter of Maggie Leola Wright. President, Children's Defense Fund. From Measure of our Success.

Never work just for money or for power. They won't save your soul or build a decent family or help you sleep at night.

Dora J. Wilkenfeld, daughter of Marilyn Nelson Waniek. Nine years old and brilliant!

Mama always said, "Always remember these words of wisdom which I am about to impart to you, my dear ..." and then she started snoring!

_______________________________________________________________________

And this one I heard from Oprah Winfrey:

They can lift your heart and shatter your nerves, make you push the hair out of your eyes, and eat broccoli.

HAPPY MOTHERS DAY USA ...

... Tamarika said that ....

A meditation

Letting Go of Those Not in Recovery from The Language of Letting Go: Daily Meditations for Codependents by Melody Beattie

Picture a bridge. On the one side of the bridge it is cold and dark. We stood there with others in the cold and darkness, doubled over in pain. Some of us developed an eating disorder to cope with the pain. Some drank; some used other drugs. Some of us lost control of our sexual behavior. Some of us obsessively focused on addicted people's pain to distract us from our own pain. Many of us did both; we developed an addictive behavior, and distracted ourselves by focusing on other addicted people. We did not know there was a bridge. We thought we were trapped on a cliff.

Then some of us got lucky. Our eyes opened ... because it was time. We saw the bridge. People told us what was on the other side: warmth, light, and healing from our pain. We could barely glimpse or imagine this, but we decided to start the trek across the bridge anyway.

We tried to convince the people around us on the cliff that there was a bridge to a better place, but they wouldn't listen. They couldn't see it ... They were not ready for the journey. We decided to go alone, ... because people on the other side were cheering us onward. The closer we got to the other side, the more we could see, and feel, that what we had been promised was real. There was light, warmth, healing, and love. The other side was a better place.

But now there is a bridge between us and those on the other side. Sometimes we may be tempted to go back and drag them over with us. But it cannot be done. No one can be dragged or forced across this bridge. Each person must go at his or her own choice, when the time is right. Some will come; some will stay on the other side. The choice is not ours.

We can love them. We can wave to them. We can holler back and forth. We can cheer them on, as others have cheered and encouraged us. But we cannot make them come over with us ... if we have already crossed and are standing in the light and warmth, we do not have to feel guilty. It is where we are meant to be. We do not have to go back to the dark cliff because another's time has not yet come.

The best thing we can do is stay in the light, because it reassures others that there is a better place. And if others ever do decide to cross the bridge, we will be there to cheer them on.

Good Luck Dr. J. (update)

(Update: Picture of the cake is in - many thanks to one of the students)

Walking into class. Feeling sort of quiet. Last day to meet with students, collect their final papers and bid them farewell as I take off for the summer and a new fall college position. Open the door and there they are. Bright and shining faces smiling back at me. On my table a party spread. Brownies, Rice Krispie treats, Frito's, veggies and dip, M&M's and lots of all kinds of pop/soda (?).

In the middle of it all a beautiful white cake frosted with yellow, green and purple flowers, and swirling letters that say: "Good Luck Dr. Jacobson."

"Oh my!" I begin to squeak and squawk and then "ooh and aah" and finally I am yelling. Tears are welling up in my eyes as I look out at all of them. I notice students from different classes are present as well. All have come by to bid me farewell. There is a gift - a card signed by all: "Good luck!" "Best Wishes," "Thank you for everything and a great year," "Congratulations," "We will miss you," and much, much more.

In a different card three students share the greeting and say, " ... But your students will never compare to us ..." I look back at them and think, "Never fear that. Even if I enjoy teaching other students I will always remember you." And I say, "I will never forget you."

The gift is "a little something for [my] new office," a framed piece by Genie Graveline:

Teaching is ... A commitment to instill knowledge in the minds and hearts of all students. It is so much more than just a job. It requires a love of humanity, a belief in the human spirit, a dedication to excellence, and a resolve to make a difference in the lives of others. It is the foundation upon which all forms of progress are based. Those who were destined to teach, spend their lifetimes investing in the dreams of their students, and in so doing, their own dream invariably comes true. To enlighten, to awaken, to inspire all of those, whose lives they touch ... this is their dream!

Yes, dear students of WCU, this is, indeed, my dream, and I think (with excitement and joy) that perhaps it has become yours too. I am so grateful for each and every one of you. Children are going to be so fortunate to have you as their teachers. Good luck to you too. And thank you from deep in my heart.