tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956989639073843954.post6331488211751374792..comments2024-03-21T05:30:03.220-04:00Comments on Science teacher: November lightdoylehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12901661320505882735noreply@blogger.comBlogger12125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956989639073843954.post-88457950700165573752008-11-22T20:50:00.000-05:002008-11-22T20:50:00.000-05:00@Kate,I keep writing and erasing words, and cannot...@Kate,<BR/>I keep writing and erasing words, and cannot quite express what I thought I wanted to say.<BR/><BR/>So I'll simply say thank you for reminding me what I shouldn't forget, if that makes sense.doylehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12901661320505882735noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956989639073843954.post-30161565017277459842008-11-22T01:46:00.000-05:002008-11-22T01:46:00.000-05:00doyle -Do any of us grasp our end of the bargain? ...doyle -<BR/>Do any of us grasp our end of the bargain? While it is true that the child's body is gone, clearly her spirit has not. You don't get to pick who lives and who dies, and you also aren't guilty because you are alive and she is not.<BR/><BR/>Tell the stories. In stories the spirits of those who have touched us stay alive. Lives end. Hearts break. But the stories are forever as long as we keep telling them. There is a reason that you are still here to tell the stories. So tell them.<BR/><BR/>And light a candle to remember and to hold back the darkness.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956989639073843954.post-56447323307202525662008-11-21T20:38:00.000-05:002008-11-21T20:38:00.000-05:00The romantic side of me says both of us understood...The romantic side of me says both of us understood she was dying.<BR/><BR/>But I'm not sure she grasped her end of the bargain, and, at any rate, it was cowardly of me to expect that she know her end of the bargain. <BR/><BR/>She was dying. I'm still here. <BR/><BR/>She's gone.doylehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12901661320505882735noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956989639073843954.post-71865584698161685312008-11-21T19:16:00.000-05:002008-11-21T19:16:00.000-05:00TSE and the "remember man that you are dust a...TSE and the "remember man that you are dust and unto dust you shall return" stuff is swirling around in there of course - but I prefer to look at e e cummings. <BR/>You didn't make it harder for that little girl. That she had to pretend for her parents was what made it hard. Now to the poem: <BR/><BR/><BR/>dying is fine)but Death<BR/>by: e.e. cummings<BR/> <BR/>dying is fine)but Death<BR/><BR/>?o<BR/>baby<BR/>i<BR/><BR/>wouldn't like<BR/><BR/>Death if Death<BR/>were<BR/>good:for<BR/><BR/>when(instead of stopping to think)you<BR/><BR/>begin to feel of it,dying<BR/>'s miraculous<BR/>why?be<BR/><BR/>cause dying is<BR/><BR/>perfectly natural;perfectly<BR/>putting<BR/>it mildly lively(but<BR/><BR/>Death<BR/><BR/>is strictly<BR/>scientific<BR/>& artificial &<BR/><BR/>evil & legal)<BR/><BR/>we thank thee<BR/>god<BR/>almighty for dying<BR/>(forgive us,o life!the sin of DeathAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956989639073843954.post-35393862353997623562008-11-18T17:23:00.000-05:002008-11-18T17:23:00.000-05:00Ah, news from the Damariscotta riverman.I have yet...Ah, news from the Damariscotta riverman.<BR/><BR/>I have yet to find my oyster bed (aside from chipping away at jetties--functional but feels like cheating), but I have stumbled upon a nice clam bed that should carry me to the grave, or at least until I get to old to paddle.<BR/><BR/>I owe you words, I know, lots of words, and a cigar and some melomel.<BR/><BR/>Enjoy the canaries, though it's a lot of work plucking all those feathers for the little bit of meat you get.<BR/><BR/>And I'm still working on that letter--the Finn should get it by his second decade.doylehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12901661320505882735noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956989639073843954.post-84874959524814227492008-11-18T06:27:00.000-05:002008-11-18T06:27:00.000-05:00I think you've found your home Doctor Doyle....hav...I think you've found your home Doctor Doyle....have you read (Julian Barnes) 'Nothing to be frightened of'? Really quite good. And as you more than most would surmise he's talking about the 'nothing' which many are frightened of. Anyway, too early for this, but good to see you at work. I've missed reading you and will happily plod through what you have here. Personally, and as regards light, I've decided I can't stand November in Maine. Makes me want to be in bed by eight o'clock. Good excuse to go to The Canaries in a few days I guess.....Johnny Goodyearhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09598422330750788993noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956989639073843954.post-69553828056230675892008-11-18T03:04:00.000-05:002008-11-18T03:04:00.000-05:00Fear takes me places I don't normally talk about, ...Fear takes me places I don't normally talk about, and my best pseudo-Buddhist moments happen with a full belly and an empty mind, when the sun is high in the sky. <BR/><BR/>(Ironically, or whatever the word is, I have an overdue library book with some old Buddhist writings, and I'm dwelling on the daily fines.)<BR/><BR/>Maybe I've seen too many children die too slowly being fed too much hope while we infused them with vincristine and adriamycin and other chemicals that require gloves to handle.<BR/><BR/>Remember the comet Hale-Bopp? We had an ill patient--she had just had surgery, her bandages were obvious.<BR/><BR/>The mother said we were not to tell her anything about her tumor, even though the child just had a chunk of herself scooped out.<BR/><BR/>After much negotiation, because the mother threatened to keep me away (and any other docs who would not comply), I told her I would not announce anything to the child, but would answer any questions she might have about anything.<BR/><BR/>One night while in the hospital, I took the child to a window that faced the comet.<BR/><BR/>She was quiet. She did not ask about her bandages.<BR/><BR/>She was dying and pretending she wasn't, to keep the adults around her happy.<BR/><BR/>The child knew she was in trouble, but did not ask.<BR/><BR/>When it gets dark, it's harder to pretend that dying does not happen. The concept of death can be frightening, but it's dying that's hard, or can be.<BR/><BR/>Need not be. <BR/><BR/>I made it a little harder for that child, I think. <BR/><BR/>(There's also the TSE "fear in a handful of dust" kind of fear, swirling thoughts, glimpses of thoughts, but that might just be the amgydala resetting itself.)doylehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12901661320505882735noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956989639073843954.post-65238693434580577282008-11-17T23:48:00.000-05:002008-11-17T23:48:00.000-05:00Fear? Maybe the darkness hasn't hit me yet. (The c...Fear? Maybe the darkness hasn't hit me yet. (The cold's starting to a bit. Getting hibernative, which is the best adjective I could make up for the word and actually pleases me quite an odd bit, and sleepy.)<BR/><BR/>Maybe it's because I don't have children. Or because I'm reading the earliest Buddhist writings, which so accept death but don't accept fear that they're actually working on me the way I guess they're supposed to work. Or maybe it's just resignation.<BR/><BR/>But I don't get fear right now.<BR/><BR/>Can you go into the fear a little bit more? Will you?CBhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11236657531187596253noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956989639073843954.post-88307527441779180692008-11-17T20:01:00.000-05:002008-11-17T20:01:00.000-05:00Klepto,Waning sunlight is depressing--25% of the f...Klepto,<BR/><BR/>Waning sunlight is depressing--25% of the folks around here exhibit signs of seasonal affective disorder. (I don't think it's a disorder, though. I think mammals tend to shut down when the food wanes with the sun.)<BR/><BR/>Consider me the old guy reading your blog. I love music, and you cover music well, which is a lot harder than people realize.<BR/><BR/>I haven't bought the latest AC/DC album yet, but if I do, they can thank you.doylehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12901661320505882735noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956989639073843954.post-2846815356974640202008-11-17T19:56:00.000-05:002008-11-17T19:56:00.000-05:00I love Imbolc; I just call it Groundhog Day instea...I love Imbolc; I just call it Groundhog Day instead. It raises fewer eyebrows--maybe I'll call it Imbolc once I get tenured.<BR/><BR/>Rationally, I know the sun will return, but by late November, I lose my rational thought. Every year I lose it.<BR/><BR/>My son was born in early December, but by early December the evening light is starting to return even as the dawn light continues to fade.<BR/><BR/>I'm hanging on--once the sunset stops receding, I'll pay more attention to the dawn. Eventually the sun starts rising earlier again in January, and then, Imbolc.doylehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12901661320505882735noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956989639073843954.post-44306062772150976182008-11-17T19:50:00.000-05:002008-11-17T19:50:00.000-05:00This is a somewhat depressing post. But I do like ...This is a somewhat depressing post. But I do like the way you string your workds along. It is poetic, if not dark.<BR/>But I want to thank you for posting on my page, my very first comment.<BR/>Up until this point I only read the teasers in my Dashboard, not your complete articles. I am going to try to read more, as I love science and the arts.<BR/>Keep up the good work, and don't let the weather keep you down. I live in Florida, this is my favorite time of year!The Kleptohttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10099900051688875227noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956989639073843954.post-74127346668676746932008-11-17T19:24:00.000-05:002008-11-17T19:24:00.000-05:00The failing light does terrify, but soon the light...The failing light does terrify, but soon the light will begin to return. All of my daughters were born at light returning moments on the wheel of the year. Emily on Dec 20 (moments from the solstice that year) and Hannah and Sophia on February 2 (Imbolc - the celebration of the return of the light). We who do not produce chlorophyll use the stored energy of those who do and wait. <BR/><BR/>With hope. <BR/><BR/>And I remember the birth of daughters (with twins at the returning of the sun) and know that fear of the dark is secondary to the hope that the light will return.Kate Thttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01072987975080127432noreply@blogger.com