MAKE BELIEVE!

Creative genius among performers takes audiences away from their mundane routine, helps them either forget the real world or understand it better. In books and films, intellectual down-siders favor film noir or dark realism. Whereas, teenagers prefer gadgets and/or bawdy comedies. Choices are fewer for adults today who like uplifting, well-written romantic comedies or captivating fiction, but all who enjoy a book or film share a common thread: entering the world of make-believe, where we can leave ourselves and become invisible flies on the proverbial wall.

Robin Williams loved to pretend. Through his antics on and off screen, he embodied a celebrity who drew us in, made us think and feel as an actor and a human being. With Williams's passing, the raw pain of his loss new and ever-present, we have lost an icon whose motivation in entertainment and in life was to bring happiness to audiences and to whomever he met. When I watched coverage of William's touching, funny PSA's for the St. Jude Hospital, or his zany, uplifting routines for our troops in Iraq and Afghanistan, his immediate connection with them mesmerized. He genuinely made these people believe for a moment in pure joy. From a hair-less child receiving radiation treatments for cancer to a regular soldier, he gave them a moment of escape, of make-believe, though neither the girl or the man would ever know from day-to-day whether they'd survive. Robin Williams genuinely loved people.

How is it, then, that many performers who capture our hearts or funny bones can't spur public action for their favorite causes? Because without a script, some actors are out of their element; they don't have the ability to make many believe in their platforms.

Of course alternative "methods" to persuade the public have been used by narrow-minded politicians and social defeatists: brain-washing, bullying, limiting a child or adult's exposure to other points of view, and of course money, all of which produce negative consequences. On Twitter, for example, Tweeters may communicate by screaming and shouting their position repeatedly,but rarely does their ranting persuade. Passion that translates as articulate, intelligent arguments or humorous satire, can make readers or viewers stop and pay attention. Creativity enhances passion. Imagination gets us away from what hurts us to what can heal us while encouraging proactive behavior when there has only been reactive, destructive backlashing.

True, cases exist of well-known artists/performers also resort to figurative head-bashing. However, most have the smarts to use their talent and words wisely. And there are those people who resent celebrities sharing their causes, especially supporting fund raisers that are politically-driven. My response to such critics is: Poppycock! Renowned actors, singers, artists can and should use their skills to reach broader audiences. More so, creative people have the means, if they go off script and are themselves, to persuade those on the fence to believe in the performer's position or charity. My caveat when reading about or watching artists' opinions is that they be well-informed.

Robin Williams knew his "stuff." He was a genius before being an established comic. He absorbed knowledge like a child. Maybe that explains Robin William's great success on and off the screen. He had curiosity, a value that should never end no matter what your age. I believe once you give up learning, being open-minded, finding joy in the new, your mind fossilizes.

Genius, the real thing, is an anomaly. And, we can't depend on celebrity performers, writers or artists to change the world for us. However, if creative talent can grab our attention and hold it long enough to make us "believe," then chances are real change will happen. Do you believe in "make-believe?" Dig down inside. I'd bet you do. Then, use that child-like wonder to make others believe in what matters most: helping others and healing our planet.

Thank you, Robin Williams, for exposing your private self to reach others who suffer from mental illness, and for actively supporting other causes that have helped our global community. Also I'd like to recognize those, public and private, persons who work tirelessly to make our world a better place.

Readers please don't forget the People's Climate March, Sept. 21 in NYC, and other cities, communities around the world. Check the site for more details: http://peoplesclimate.org/march/

ACTION/ADVENTURE MOVIES: Looking for the Hero in Ourselves

Buckle your seatbelts! Love the visual arts, performing arts, literature, most music, peaceful sojourns to the beach, nature in its pristine majesty, indie/art films, dramas, comedies, and forgive me film snobs, action. I draw the line on war movies, horror, and am discerning about which stories I'll tolerate. Anything with a semblance of intelligent humor, Guardians of the Galaxy, a good story, The Avengers, great characters, The Hunger Games, and classics, e.g. I will sit through countless re-runs (w/o commercials) of Star Wars, LOTR, and movies about car racing.

No surprise that my father loved them. He never got enough of now politically incorrect movies such as The Four Feathers (original), anything with John Wayne, car chase scenes or racing, e.g. Grand Prix, submarine dramas, Das Boot and yet he loved Cinema Paradiso and Local Hero, go figure! He would often remember going to double features for twenty-five cents, including transportation, admission and a milk shake afterwards. You see, he'd joined the Navy too late to see the real thing, although as a Pharmacist's Mate he remembered his share of grisly wounds, and I believe he felt survivors guilt as buddies he'd gone to school with had been killed during World War II (My father's brother came back from the war, went to Harvard where he had a psychotic episode and never recovered).

Sharing movies with my Dad and Mom bonded us. We never tired of watching favorite genres. Mom and I loved romantic comedies, which my father also enjoyed. But in the end, though my parents died several years ago, the thrill of seeing a new adventure, preferably in a movie theater, has never palled.

Why do so many people see action movies, these days? Frustrated by helplessness, and hopelessness, the public, as I see it, wants to participate in a quest, journey, battle, or to go along for the ride. I'm not referring to amusement park rides, those metaphors have been used tediously. No, I'm alluding to either pretending to be in the driver's seat or to be like a front seat passenger transposing our thoughts telepathically to the protagonist on the screen. We want to beat back those who repress, stomp, remove our ability to react; to take a stand as we watch the action vicariously in the darkened cinema at the edge of our seats.

In an earlier blog, I mentioned why people with little money attend these and more violent movies, and not to judge. Here, I have a larger method to my nerdy madness. Hemmed in by various medical challenges and financial challenges, I often wish I had the endless energy and means to fight the dragon that is our political system: the narrow-minded politicians and power-mongers who only care about their own agendas. Yes, a plethora of social media exists to express one's opinions. However, who is really listening? To face bullies we must, as Gandhi and Martin Luther King imparted, stand tall, resist, boycott, march, just as the employees of Market Basket stores are doing and the Cape Down Winders are doing on Cape Cod to protest the Pilgrim Nuclear Plant (erected by the same "builders" who opened a plant in Vermont, since closed due to dangerous conditions) in Plymouth, Massachusetts. On a large scale, as participants in the People's Climate March will do in New York and across the globe.

I have done in the past and plan to do in the future at the above march, my part. Even if it means looking ridiculous walking, better yet rolling, down the streets of Manhattan with a rotator walker. To feel I'm holding my own against the world leaders at the United Nations who deny or lessen the impact of climate change. To be empowered to make a difference, in a small way--signing petitions, calling or e-mailing, Instagramming, Tweeting your Congressperson, or volunteering in your community will also have an impact. For me, that belief that I'm tapping my "heroic" side keeps me going when there have been times when I only wanted to survive.

Like Groot, the touching character in Guardians of the Galaxy, who says so much with his eyes and his seemingly benign actions (it can only say, "I am Groot") until pushed to shove, we may not look like an action hero but we have inside us the courage to at least dig our feet, or roots, into the ground and fight for our convictions.

LIGHTNING STRIKES: A STORY IN A SINGLE BOLT

From Accuweather.com

One night on a flight south, we flew by a cloud several thousand feet below--a charcoal gray cumulonimbus, intermixed with purple wisps; a massive mushroom containing numerous giant lightning bugs dancing in patterns amidst the water vapor. The scene has remained in tact years later, and it left me thinking why lightning exists--not how it works--and what can we learn, traditionally and philosophically, from such an ominous weather phenomenon?

In the seconds it took for me to write these words, lightning has struck over 100 times. In an effort to answer one of my above questions, I scoured Internet websites for the benefits of lightening, other than what we hear or read about clearing dead wood forests or providing aesthetically pleasing light shows. One accepted fact involves how lightning oxidizes nitrogen which via rain encourages plant growth. A functional reason, but there is more to explore.

Lightning jumps out at anyone interested in our solar system when we see how it occurs on other planets, e.g. Jupiter and Saturn. Jovian storms, sometimes as big as our moon in diameter or bigger, often appear in science news. Many of us are drawn into otherworldly majesty when watching such displays. Still, scientists continue searching for the unexplained, unknown truth: why lightning exists. The answers are few but the the legends, the theories abound.

More than any other reason, in my mind why we have lightning is that it has inspired civilizations since the beginning of man, isn't that enough of a reason? Mythological figures such as Zeus, the Greek god ruler of the gods and the Sky. Thor, the now omnipresent Norse god of Thunder who can contain the mighty energy of storms. Other legends include the Thunderbird (Native American legend among many tribes) or the Wari, the indigenous people of Venezuela who stated that fireflies gathered to pay homage to the Cataumbo Lightning storms, the most active in the world.

From legends to portrayals, centuries later Henri Rousseau painted Tiger in a Tropical Storm, illustrating that even the fiercest of predators in the wild could be startled by a lightning strike. A healthy respect for the power of nature. Rousseau knew of what he painted:

But these representations keep us at a comfortable distance. Let's get more "grounded" and examine lightning's real fury. Immerse yourself in a photographic essay, a picture showing the tendrilled power of a lightning strike:

Here a brilliant bolt off the Bahamas, via National Geographic, intensifies the electrical "magic" hitting the Caribbean with fury. According to Ocean Today, through NOAA: ". . .each spark can span five miles. . .it spreads out over the water, which acts as a conductor. It can hit boats. . .and electrocute fish that are near the surface of the water." Hence the warnings to not swim during a thunderstorm in any body of water. Though dangerous, the above photograph elicits a myriad of emotions when I examine it. I can see why earlier cultures saw lightning as a weapon sent down from the heavens.

I have also seen a bolt up close and too personal. In 1982, my friend and I on a trip around Europe stayed at a family friends' home in Saint-Cloud, France, outside Paris (the irony of the town's name tickles me). One night, we closed the sea green metal shutters, linked by a clasp, in our room while keeping the window, like a small version of French doors, open. Each of us were in our individual twin beds when during a sudden storm, a bolt hit the clasp, throwing open the shutters and for a split second appearing as if the bolt shot into our room. An experience great for writing fodder, as I see it today, but a major cause of insomnia for both my friend and I that night. Some would see the occurrence as a sign, an omen of pending doom. I hate to disappoint aspiring soothsayers, but nothing ominous happened to us during the remainder of the trip.

What does lightning mean to me years later? The nanoseconds flash before me as I grow older. When I hear the crack or see nature's exclamation point out my window, I remember the fear I had as a child which has morphed into awe.We could assign value to a lightning strike, as an arbiter of all that's dreadful: a casualty of war, the loss of a child, the eradication of a species. Or as a more direct symbol, the monstrous bolt may represent the crack created by an earthquake, the snap of a whip as it hit the bare skin of past slaves, or the scars left behind on children and women by ignorant men.

Conversely, a lightning strike can also portend every time an action is taken to help mankind, to save our natural world and bring healing where this is pain: an incision to correct a cleft lip, an illumination of natural and man-made wonders, a reminder that in an instant we, humankind, have untold reserves of power to change the course of our world's future, including stemming climate change. What a wonderful exclamation point that would be!

Tap your own power, leave your mark and participate in any way you can in the People's Climate March, Sunday, September 21 in NYC, or other cities across the country and around the world. For more information go to: People's Climate March

WHOM CAN YOU TRUST?

Somewhere along the way, child psychologists chime in here, when younger we make a choice: to take the road to do what's correct or the road to conscientious freedom. Often this choice involves whether to tell the truth or lie. Later, adults hear the oft-times quoted, "The road to Hell is paved with good intentions,"which  has become such a cliché that I can hear a groan from my readers. We're all taught, as kids, to distrust strangers, easy money, overtly charming people who may be hiding terrible secrets, easy deals, etc.; and yet, we're encouraged to believe that with love--shaped over time but not worn down by the outside or broken by the inside (our spirits)--we should be less cynical and more trusting. In contrast, this isn't true in a violent environment within the family and outside the home which has a direct correlation with lacking trust. That's a sadder story many have seen too often.

What gets my gut twisting is those "loved ones" who lie allegedly to protect their family or partner. I'd rather be inundated with clichés than to hear one more time: "I did it to protect you." Or, "Why burden you with such mundane details?" Or, the worst, "I've got the situation under control." A tired assertion if there ever was one. When I hear that word, "control," I want to let out a primal scream because few, and I mean few, people actually are in control. We hope our rescue workers, for example, are exemptions, yet even they have their moments. Wiki-How, not a serious source I admit, summarizes the controlling person:

Those who try to control other people are, simply put, neither nice nor respectful. While a controlling personality belongs to someone who probably has deeper issues, such as codependency, narcissism, sociopathic tendencies or just sheer stubbornness, none of these negative traits should be shouldered by you. Controlling people are selfish at the core, immature at heart and likely to put the brakes on your leading a fulfilling life if you're in constant close proximity to them. 

I couldn't agree more with the last sentence. Now, that I've exorcised my anger by sharing my thoughts on controlling people, I'll take a step back and make this blog less of a personal diatribe and more about recognizing someone who is distrustful. We've all seen or read multiple discussions about that "how to detect a liar," scenario, but if someone lies are they always distrustful?

Trust and honesty within relationships of any kind aren't necessarily comparable. How many people have implicit trust? (Or are genuinely, consistently honest?) Young children, maybe, and those who follow various theologies have a semblance of certainty. However, I would argue no matter what your background, unless you're a  hard-wired psychopath or sociopath, i.e. destined by genetics to be amoral, there is no excuse to be dishonest, hide the truth, especially with those you love, for it leads to mistrust. I'll focus on personal then later familial relationships.

After several episodes with romance, I've begun to compile my own warning signs to not trust someone:

1.  First, when a man (or a  woman) bares his soul to you, focusing on his negative traits and attachment limitations, take the hint.
2. When the person states: "It's only a temporary situation." Be wary.
3. "We will have more time together in the future," "I'll take care of the problem someday," (As a child,I loathed hearing the word, "Someday."),"Or, "I don't like to make plans." These assertions are more than procrastination. The person is commitment-phobic.
4. "It's not just lust." Warning! Warning!
5. "I've never been really in love." Often a more subtle sign that your partner hasn't a clue about relationships. That's like Prince Charles stating in his interview with his fiancée, Diana Spencer, "Whatever love means." If I'd heard my soon-to-be husband say that, I would have run for the Highlands! However, I give his Royal Highness credit for being honest and direct. He warned her.
6. When you hear "Wouldn't it be wonderful to. . ?" A tell-tale sign of a dreamer, especially if the person does or doesn't follow through on what you both agree would be a wonderful plan or idea. The first time you're disappointed. . .

Some portents listed above also apply to parents, siblings and friends. I've seen enough of the world, studied people, experienced setbacks, listened, watched disastrous events to become hardened but more open-minded. That isn't to say I was always prepared for ensuing crises. When my parents dreams disappeared into ashes (literally and figuratively) because they chose to "protect" me from the truth, for a long time, I lost my trust.

Parents' belief that they are sheltering their child from harsh realities actually makes the child's future more unbearable. Case in point finances: bailing out children over and over again, leaving themselves (the parents) with nothing; breeding co-dependency and entitlement that destroy not only the "rescued" child's sense of ethics and purpose, but affects the extended family not involved in these actions. As a bystander or observer within the family unit, you may try helplessly to fix the breakdown, the dysfunction, only to be left with a sense of innate distrust of those who have hurt you. And yet, some of us don't learn to be more questioning, leery, observant, of the very person or people who can break your heart.

Returning to romantic love, the public is swept away by stories, television, movies, media, reinforced by family and/or friends, that once trust is earned, then true love can begin. My response to that proposition? Trust isn't a goal achieved. It's an evolving emotion or belief. Listen to the cues, process the warnings, and like a smart ship's captain, be aware of the fog, the blindness that can hurt you if you're not on alert. Merriam-Websters' dictionary defines 'trust' as:  "firm belief in the reliability, truth, ability, or strength of someone or something."

I only wish I had read this meaning a year ago. I suppose Trust deceives us all.

WILTING HIBISCUS

Dorothy Lamour places a flower behind her ear and a tropical film dynasty is born. Along with my parents I loved to watch oldies, from light, slapstick with Bing Crosby, Lamour, and Bob Hope to more sophisticated fare, e.g. My Man Godfrey to film noir, foreign films and classic drama, lots of drama. Television series on PBS were also a  mainstay, as with Paul Scott's Jewel in the Crown otherwise known as The Raj Quartet. I have vague memories of the "Road" movies but strong impressions from The Jewel in the Crown mini-series. Complete scenes from that story continue to haunt me. Part IV of the quartet, A Division of Spoils, chronicles the partition of Pakistan. The extraction and death of  the Muslim, Ahmed Kasim, from a train by rioters seems as new to me as if I'd seen the moment yesterday. Kasim's resignation, self-sacrifice and his friends' shock, awe underscore what can be seen in world news today--that same fight over territory in the name of religion, entitlement, overpopulation or greed.

The strife that elicits a groaning pit in my stomach, pulls me back to center, goes back to the basics. Aboriginals believe the land doesn't belong to man.We, as part of Mother Earth, have been given this gift for which we should revere and feel blessed, not pollute or destroy. What's worse is these land grabs, never-ending throughout history, continue; those caught in the crossfire are sacrificed or forced to sacrifice themselves to shield their loved ones from the conflicts. Politicos, zealots and modern robber barons see land as a commodity that warrants any means to take it or defend it. Like looking down from the highest skyscrapers, human beings'  and the environment's needs are unimportant to these so-called leaders for they see humans as dispensable dwellers among valuable properties and resources.

Animals are even more expendable. Putin may have his private zoo, but I'd bet he would be deafened to cries to save wildlife obliterated by oil exploration in Russia or Russia's role in the succession of Crimea and the Ukraine. To be "fair," this position would be true of most world leaders, including the U.S. Four years ago, you may remember an oil rig explosion in the Gulf of Mexico which killed platform workers. The resulting oil spill had a far-reaching, ecological impact which oddly has been second stage to the economic consequences. No, I'm not saying we should put wildlife above people's livelihoods, only that the environment should be on the same plane. For without open, unpolluted land, breathable air, clean water, a link to our food chain, we, humans, will have lost our souls, our connection to our Mother.

Then there are the flowers. I've never paid much attention to certain varieties such as the hibiscus though I live among a floral tapestry. Yesterday, at work, I was asked to water the plants and shrubs that are sold along with farm produce to locals. I went about my business when a hibiscus blossom, almost in full bloom yet tired, dropped in my path from a shrub I was about to replenish. My first thought: I could put the lovely pink "beauty" behind my ear, like Dorothy Lamour before my boyfriend's visit later. Funny, I'd forgotten that hibiscus were often used in leis or put behind one's ear in Hawaii and the Pacific islands to symbolize if taken or available (right or left). I brought home the "delicate" treasure and put the flower in a glass of water.

My boyfriend got delayed and didn't arrive until much later. I ditched my plan to greet him dressed in a floral blouse and white, cotton, flowing skirt, the bold hibiscus behind my ear--for those curious romantics, I would have chosen my right ear. We went to an outdoor spot and had pizza. By the time we returned to my apartment, the hibiscus had begun to droop.

The next day, the shrub or plant--grown throughout the world--has meant more than just romantic decoration. For me, it also symbolizes what nature has given us and how we should treasure it. However, my pink hibiscus fooled me, lured me into a paradise that began disappearing long ago. Realities, not only of love but of life have tumbled in my head. Like a movie stage set with Dorothy Lamour standing in her sarong, her hair up and the flower behind her right ear (the wrong one), the fantasy has begun to dissipate into a distant memory.

As with a wilting hibiscus, I'm afraid our fragile world, our Mother Earth is tired, too spent to provide even our basic needs or to tolerate much more. My wish for our global community is that our leaders stop playing partisan politics, "taking sides," until they are at least well-informed about the facts and the long term effects they have on every natural strata of our planet. Those who have dominion over our precious earth, please read and digest this plea: like the fragile hibiscus, living things, from the smallest plants and creatures to the largest animals, including human families, have and continue to wither, wilt and die because of war and neglect. They need your protection, your reverence, not your destruction.

STOP THE WORLD. . !

Many moons ago my family used to go to the neighborhood summer stock theater, spurred on by my brother's playing clarinet in the orchestra, to watch various musicals. One show they mounted, now rarely performed, was Leslie Bricusse and Anthony Newley's Stop the World--I Want to Get Off, with the circus as a backdrop.The title says everything, which may be why the musical didn't flourish.The central character, Littlechap, portrayed in the original show by Anthony Newley, bemoans life's complexities by literally stopping the show to give a monologue about his anxieties. Some memorable songs do move the plot along, including the climatic "What Kind of Fool Am I?", describing how Littlechap learns, too late, that his wife's love had been his raison d'etre and financial success couldn't fill the void.

Produced for the Queen's Theatre, London's West End, in 1961 and later filmed (as a staged production by Warner Bros. in 1966), Stop the World had limited box office success but revitalized Anthony Newley's career. Newley co-starred in the film, Dr. Doolittle, and along with Bricusse wrote the songs and lyrics to Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, still a popular favorite. (Moreover another multi-talented performer, Sammy Davis, Jr., benefited from starring in a later production, boosting his television, movie and recording popularity.)

Substantiated by theatre critics, one reason Stop the World-- floundered is that the show opened during the last vestiges of musical popularity. On Broadway, few productions in the 1960's drew in audiences, and even fewer had serious overtones such as West Side Story. Then, why do I remember Stop the World--I Want to Get Off  since I was six or seven when I saw it? Because the show was ahead of its time for the book or story encapsulated the sentiment many feel today.

Let me state that the musical does not advocate suicide only wanting to step away from the madness, to take a moment to vent then see what's truly important. Littlechap also recognizes that having a passion to succeed shouldn't overwhelm your life to the point where you omit your loved ones.

I'd like to see a re-staging of Stop the World--, maybe tweaking some songs and re-inventing the production for our times. Sadly, Anthony Newley has since passed away, and whether Bricusse would endorse a re-staging is unknown; even so their messages in the show remain contemporary: What's the point of "making it" if we ignore those we love? How can we commit to any career or artistic endeavor and sacrifice those who have been there for us during our struggle?

Increasing numbers of workers have been spread thin. Also, ADD/ADHD diagnoses, stemming from genetics, over-stimulation in our technical age and other environmental pressures, keeps many from juggling the stressors of the third millennium. Writers often need isolation to create whereas others need isolation to decompress. Whether you are a taxi driver, firefighter, environmentalist, scientist, musician, manager, working parent or mayor; whether you have ADD, anxiety issues or you're mentally "fit," I'm sure all of us have wanted to slow down this maddening world we live in. If only we could snap our fingers and stop-motion the action, but that power would be abused like an episode from The Twilight Zone.

Quiet time to daydream, to invent, to create, to find direction, to visualize the future as a result of our actions, helps us focus and rejuvenate. It certainly would improve our world though not solve all its problems. Littlechap, the hero of Stop the World--I Want to Get Off realizes there will always be struggles; men (and women) will aspire to achieve, keeping the world running. Nevertheless, he reminds his audience that the brass ring, the ultimate success, shouldn't be dictated by society, individual insecurities/neuroses or an innate need to "show" the world he's a winner (our hero rises through the ranks of factory work to become rich and a politician). Simplifying one's life, not obsessing over material gain, not envying what others' have or resenting what we don't only helps us achieve an inner peace: these are universal truths. Littlechap recalls, in his old age, about his overlooking those life lessons. He has forfeited love for the  false admiration of his peers and the ennui of the bourgeois. To regain his moral center, Littlechap must make a startling sacrifice.

In my view as our world has changed so much since the musical debuted, and trying to save our planet with constructive solutions, not angry tirades that solve little and only antagonize without changing others minds, is a noble cause (Hair, another rare success during the sixties, has a similar theme). We must find a link that unites all that are oppressed by the greed of the few. I believe that the best intentions must start within our own community, within our families, and within ourselves. Because if we get to the edge of this world's madness and want to shout, Stop the World--I Want to Get Off, do so as we remember to love ourselves, partners, children, friends and community. Then you can strive to make an impact on others. Barack Obama has done this on a macro level, arguably with substantial success, but so have the woman who works two jobs at Stop & Shop and the farmer who tends his cranberry bogs.

Yes, there are many who rightfully feel angry about the state of our global community, corporate greed, and social injustice. Still, when they come home at night, I hope they remember that channeling that criticism into useful actions, staying with their platform and forging ahead will make significant change. Never forget, though, that love within our lives will keep that energy moving forward. We may want to get off this world, find refuge in doing so; however, it should never be at the expense of love. For when we reach our later years, do we want to say to ourselves, or sing in Littlechap's case: "What Kind of Fool Am I?"

What Can Repulse Can Also Be Beautiful

The voice of my education said to me

He must be killed. . .

But must I confess how I liked him,

How glad I was he had come like a guest in quiet, to drink at my water-trough. . .?

D. H. Lawrence, SNAKE, 1923 

Herpetologists who follow me on Twitter have discovered my long kept secret: I love the common garter snake, Thamnophis sirtalis. I rescued the reptile from imminent lawn-mower decapitation, twice; observed its behavior at a local nature museum in the Hudson Valley where I worked as a volunteer, and sat in the grass as the striped, green snake slithered its way alongside me.

Either because of natural fear or being forever warned about venomous snakes killing people within nanoseconds by "reality" programs, some men and women crumple when they see the cold-blooded intruders. Like any phobias, facing your fear is half the battle. Nonetheless, many can't get past the appearance of snakes; their sinewy movements. And, Harry Potter movies certainly didn't help the much-abhorred reptiles.

Certainly, articles have been written about saving species that most people find disgusting. We've learned that genetics and environment often dictate how humans perceive color, terrain, designate favorites or repulsions. Humans, however, can train their eyes, their minds to see beauty in what is ugly. At least, we can try.

When I lived in Singapore signs across the MRT (subway) stations warned riders would be fined if found carrying a durian on the train. "The King of Fruits," is comparable to Limburger cheese in smell, only worse. Hold your nose, taste the fruit and it isn't bad. I, on the other hand, have an aversion to apricots. My mother for years couldn't understand why I didn't like the innocent fruit. But let's take a step back. If you were an architect and had the choice to build your multi-million dollar, performing arts venue in the shape of a durian, along with the thorn-like protrusions resembling the prickly husk of the durian fruit strategically placed along the roof or a design similar to a smooth, unprotruding apricot, which would you prefer? Funny, isn't it, how our perceptions change based on utility. Singapore did erect their Esplanade Theatre in the shape of durians. Today, though, if I had an opportunity to see the theatre in person, I may have a more positive opinion of the architects' choice.

Speaking of utility, the British Museum has been posting on Twitter World Cup opposing teams' artifacts or works of art in pairs. Yes, I've favorited pieces: either one of two or both teams' artifacts which caught my eye. Two pins from Argentina and Switzerland, the Argentine entry, a man with a top hat sitting on his horse, and the second Swiss pin, a horse in stride; free to roam though caught in the moment, were posted before the upcoming World Cup match between those countries. I appreciated the details and craftsmanship of the Argentine pin, but adored the sleek beauty of the ivory pin from Switzerland. Had I seen the two pins separately I may have been less quick to select one over the other. With more background I may not be so quick to admire either. Who made them? What were the source materials (the sale and import of ivory hadn't been banned in 1840, but I wouldn't want to own the piece now), etc.?

When younger and more impulsive, we often choose based on immediate response. During my college days in Northampton, MA, I did buy a silver coated lapel pin which the shopkeeper assured me was a seahorse dipped in liquid silver, made locally. No, I didn't feel any remorse, only fascination. I wear it occasionally these days. What's changed? I'm more sensitive to protecting sea life. I wish I knew, then, more background about how the jeweler made the pin.

Sea urchins, the corpse flower, a termite-infested tree, fire ants, nature produces many creatures that terrify or repulse; however, as D.H. Lawrence alluded in the stanzas above, it's how you are educated either by society or your elders. True for art, landscapes, and even other worlds: I prefer the blue aqua of the planet Neptune when others may believe Saturn and it's ethereal rings more aesthetically attractive. Cultural differences, big feet among women are still considered uninviting in Asian culture though foot binding has been outlawed. Where you have been raised: I may understand why many admire the desert yet I would never grow to love its environs having lived by a river and the sea. Many components amass to influence how we perceive.

To end, I'd like to leave subjectivity behind and ask: readers, wouldn't the world be more accepting if we all tried to understand what repulses us? We may not grow to love the ugly, as we see it, but we may at least comprehend why others see the beauty.





Photo: SudburyValleyTrustees.org (Massachusetts)