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What lies outside your residence?By Quail Bell Camera Eye QuailBellMagazine.com A quick jog around your building with a camera in hand might force you to see where you live in micro, versus macro—or at least a little more intimately, anyway. #Imaginative #YourWorld #OurWorld #PhotoSet #EverydayPhotography #CameraEye #Apartments #HomeSweetHome Visit our shop and subscribe. Sponsor us. Submit and become a contributor. Like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter.
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Sweeping Away StereotypesBy Quail Bell Social Butterfly QuailBellMagazine.com Our new friends at A Clara Trupi de Ovos y Assovio, a Brazilian theatre company that's been around since 2005, wanted to give the Quail Bell(e)s a taste of Portugese-language performing arts. So they sent us some video clips and photos of their latest socially-minded show, Varre Dor de Vadiagem, which has toured theatre festivals across Latin America. This both lyrical and grotesque populist story focuses on a street sweeper full of big dreams just as human as any other person in the city. It's not too late to catch the production yourself—that is, if you can get to El Salvador or Chile later this year. If not, here's a digital taste: Upcoming performances: • Festi-Clown, El Savador • FINDAZ—Festival Internacional de Teatro y Dança, Chile #Imaginative #OtherWorlds #BrazilianTheatre #TheatreFest #LatinAmericanArt #BrazilArts #PerformingArts Visit our shop and subscribe. Sponsor us. Submit and become a contributor. Like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter.
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Art in the Star City of the SouthBy M. Alouette QuailBellMagazine.com © Barbara Norman-Lashley Big Lick now has a much more romantic name attached to its rolling hills and small-town charm than it once did: the Star City of the South. Roanoke, Virginia's nickname comes from the large star illuminating Mill Mountain. Sitting 1,045 feet above the Appalachian city, it's the largest free-standing, human-made star on the globe. The star, which is visible for a whopping 60 miles, has crowned Mill Mountain since 1949. For the sight-hungry, Quail Bell Camera Eye snapped a picture of it in May. But this feature isn't about Roanoke's best-known star; it's about one of the groups responsible for making post-industrial Roanoke a rising arts star: The Market Gallery, an art space located in Downtown Roanoke. Kim Sutliff and Anna Wentworth, gallery co-presidents, teamed up to answer a few questions the Quail Bell Crew had for Market Gallery: QB: Give readers a brief sense of what The Market Gallery is. What experience can they expect to have visiting the gallery? MG: The Market Gallery is a regional cooperative art gallery located in Roanoke's historic downtown marketplace. We began the gallery in 2003 and after 11 years, we have grown to around 30 artists. Twelve of the original charter members are still members of our gallery. The gallery itself is a source of inspiration. When you walk in the light-filled gallery, you are warmly greeted by an artist (not an employee), with music playing and fantastic fine art to peruse. Depending on the day of your visit, the artist might be painting, drawing or cutting up papers as they continue to work on their art while also working the gallery. The gallery is surrounded by some of Roanoke’s finest restaurants, museums and shops including The Taubman Museum of Art just one block away. Weekends especially are a fun time to be in the downtown area as it is filled with people for music concerts, fairs, theatre, and festivals, many times right outside our gallery doors. © Anne Way Bernard You run the gallery as a cooperative of regional artists. Logistically, how does that work? What do you like about the set up? Back in the early 2000s, a group of Roanoke artists were not satisfied with the limited choices for displaying their artwork and decided to create their own gallery by coming together and combining their resources and talents. We wanted to be able to control everything about the gallery. This included who was invited to show in the gallery, how it was run, the hours it is open, how it is advertised, everything. With this set-up, we are invested in the gallery and its success. Each member pays a monthly fee and gives a percentage of their sales to the gallery. This money is used to pay the bills: rent, telephone, Internet, advertising, etc.
Additionally, and more importantly, all members take a vested interest in the gallery by working in the gallery two shifts per month, taking on committee responsibility, and sharing the responsibility of mundane tasks like cleaning the floors and windows to taking out the trash. As your mother probably told you, “Many hands make quick work." We also rotate responsibilities every few years to keep us more involved and knowledgeable about all the items needed to operate the gallery as a whole. We each have an allotted amount of space to show our work and rotate every other month so we can change the look of the gallery and show in different spaces. We like this set up as it gives us total creative control over our surroundings and how we present and sell our art. We generally feature two to four artists each month and those artists get extra space to show their work. Our gallery members become a small family and we really care and support each other through trials as well as celebrations. We also have supportive landlords that live above the gallery and want us to succeed. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Doing a Little for Our Little Friends Across the political spectrum, if there is one thing to be agreed upon, it might be that the world is a tough place and does not reflect the type of place in which we wish we lived. If you are anything like I am, that stark reality can be a major contributing factor to feeling down and overwhelmed. I have found that it is the little things that help me fight back against the oncoming depression and darkness. Indeed, it is the small acts and the small creatures that bring a lot of light into my life. We cannot change everything overnight, but we can change how we engage with the world on a daily basis. If we take direct action to change our own environments, we are doing something tangible and something empowering. Direct action is a concept heavily associated with anarchism, but you do not have to be an anarchist to benefit from the practice. Managing to do small things for small creatures allows a sense of satisfaction and interaction that is vital for my mental health. Certainly not everyone is wired the same, but it is worth a shot. If you have companion animals, then taking care of their basic needs is a requirement, but one that you should feel good about. Getting your animal friends the proper shots and medicine, having them spayed or neutered, and making sure they are fed, watered, walked, and bathed will help make you and your animal friend healthier and happier. A dog with fleas is an unhappy creature indeed, and so is a household with fleas.
Taking care of a companion animal, however, is a pretty big responsibility. One that not everyone can or should attempt, depending on where they are in their lives. Have no fear; there are a plethora of ways to do a little something for an animal that won't break the bank or stress you out. If your neighborhood is like mine, you might have lots of stray cats. There are many levels of ways you can help stray cats. Probably the simplest is to leave cat food out for them. They will appreciate it, and over time you can develop a front yard full of the witchy babies. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
On being self-published as fuck For all my adult and even adolescent life, I have self-published in the form of zines, pamphlets, scribbles, and scraps that I’d leave wherever there seemed to be an audience. It has been a key to my continued survival as a somewhat doomed-at-birth human being to process the convoluted mess that is the average human existence. But only in the past couple years have I moved into actual full-print objects that are bookish type books, but definitely still married to the freedom of 'zine-making. This has included formatting and producing electronic versions as well. I do this instead of putting all my meandering thoughts into a dragon blog that is never not hungry for more, never satisfied with what I’ve given it, and never stops scanning for something else, newer, more reactionary, more immediate, more now. Raven in his writing studio with his newest book. This is not about digital vs. print though, because—like most issues—there’s no black-or-white real truth to the debate. Everything is gray matter, and both have their advantages and disadvantages. But I can tell you getting a box of books with my assumed name my weird ass art on the cover gives me a strong sense of satisfaction. And for the most part, the larger world doesn’t care for published works and even less for self-published ones. But there are small pockets of people who at least pretend to be interested in my “work," work that has become more habit than any type of real work. Self-publishing is looked down upon by the established publishing industry as a lesser version of well-vetted projects that go through the process of fine tuning by an agent, editor, and publisher, with re-working, planned promotional tours, on and on and on. The idea is that a creative project can be fully realized after ten sets of eyes have gone over it, but maybe not so much one or two sets. But, obviously, the publishing industry’s end goal is sales. Often times in that vetting process, stories are changed and motivations are altered to engineer a more marketable final creation. Marketable to whom? Well, to people who spend money on books. To people who have enough discretionary income to shell out for books. For new books, which can sometimes be really expensive. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
A Meal with My StrangerBy Courtney Barron QuailBellMagazine.com Ironically as a person who doesn't eat land animals anymore, Southern pulled pork smothered in vinegar and spices is the food that instantly takes me back to the time spent with my dad growing up. After what seemed like forever in a plane, I would arrive to North Carolina. I visited him, my stepmom, and my two half siblings just twice a year. On our car ride from the airport to Wilmington, which were often awkward due to months spent apart, my dad and I would pull up to a Smithfield's restaurant off the highway to indulge in one of the finest meals that the Carolinas have to offer. Years later I can't recall a single time where a plate of pulled pork has not tempted me. This temptation has very little to do with taste. I've come to realize that I'm drawn to it because it reminds me of my dad. Every time this meal is in my presence I see his sun-kissed face and piercing blue eyes staring back at me, trying to find his daughter again. Sometimes we found each other during these meals and sometimes we didn't. Even years later this has been the case. For us, pulled pork is the food of strangers trying to connect because of love and despite distance. My recipe: 1. Kill a pig (in a nice way if that's even possible). 2. Roast it all day. 3. Hack it up. 4. Add some spice and vinegar (Steps 1-4 can be bypassed by visiting an authentic Southern joint who can prep this meal for you.) 5. Find your dad. 6. Connect. #Nostalgia #FoodThatBringsBackMemories #SouthernPulledPork #SouthernFood #PersonalRecipes #DeliciousFood #BBQ Visit our shop and subscribe. Sponsor us. Submit and become a contributor. Like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter.
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On the harmonious fusion of Romani “Gypsy” music I had the good fortune to conduct an interview with the scintillating Tatiana Eva-Marie, a performer of mixed-Romani heritage who The Wall Street Journal has called, “One of the best young singers around.” She holds a degree in medieval poetry from the Sorbonne University in Paris where, at night, she “performed as a Gypsy singer at night in cabarets across the city, barefoot on tables with the Eastern mafia drinking vodka out of her shoes.” She has also graced the stage as a singer and actress “in some of the most renowned theaters in France, including the Comedie Française and the Théâtre du Rond Point. Tatiana Eva-Marie wrote and directed two musical theater plays, Rhapsodia and The Magic Violin, which had a lot of success at the Avignon Theater Festival.” Now you can find her performing in New York City as the lead singer of The Avalon Jazz Band, alongside her husband, violinist Adrien Chevalier, as well as in the world music documentary and competition Music Explorer representing French, Yiddish, and Romani music. The documentary airs in June, which also happens to be Romani and Traveller History Month, and you can vote for Tatiana now via the website. If you’re not sure who the Roma are, allow Dr. Ian Hancock, linguist, Romani scholar, and professor at The University of Texas—Austin, to explain. In short, the Roma, the ethnic group better known as Gypsies, originated in India and began to travel west, most likely because of the invading Muslim army, in the 11th century. In Europe, Roma were met by hostile Christians who were suspicious of their dark skin and ‘strange’ customs, and were violently persecuted throughout the continent and enslaved in the Balkans. The Roma were forced into a nomadic lifestyle, not as a show of free-spirited whimsy as movies and literature suggest, but to escape the rising tide of antigypsyism which still surges today. Romani culture is expansive yet tightly knit—there are Roma on almost every continent and yet both the culture and ethnicity have remained distinct—in fact, most Roma are much closer genetically to Indians than to Europeans. In the twentieth century in Paris, Jazz Manouche became extremely popular, spearheaded by prodigies Django Reinhardt, Stéphane Grappelli, Biréli Lagrène, and many others. Manouche refers to the name of the Romani clan* in and around Paris that Reinhardt and others in the movement belong to. Although Roma are often called “Gypsies” and Jazz Manouche is frequently called “Gypsy Jazz,” the word 'Gypsy' is both a misnomer and a racial slur. (For instance, people say, “I’ve been gypped!” to mean, “I’ve been cheated!” This comes from ‘thieving Gypsy’ stereotype.) Even though Gypsy is the word that most of us are familiar with, it’s best if you join the education front: if you aren’t Romani, don’t say Gypsy. Instead say 'Romani people,' 'Roma,' and 'Jazz Manouche.' However, many Roma and people of Romani heritage, like Tatiana Eva Marie, make a conscious choice to reclaim the word Gypsy, as is their prerogative. Romani (“Gypsy”) culture glitters with music and has influenced musical styles across the world for centuries and Romani musicians have long been appreciated by gadjé, non-Romani people, for their talent and unique sound. Historically and presently, however, gadjé culture has done little more than appreciate the entertainment and fantasy that Roma provide while Roma all over the world continue to struggle for representation, human rights, and equality. A haunting reminder of the world’s fickle affection toward the Roma is the story of how Django Reinhardt, the famous Manouche “Gypsy” Jazz musician, was spared from the concentration camps because the Nazis who invaded France enjoyed attending his concerts. The more that Romani musicians, scholars, artists, writers, and professionals are represented and represent themselves, the more the rest of the world can experience, understand, and fall in love with real Romani culture and the individuals who make up the many clans and communities—and hopefully countries will treat their Roma as equal citizens and residents. I love Tatiana’s music for many reasons—it’s eerily gorgeous yet cheerfully sweet, it makes me feel in touch with a heritage that was nearly stifled through genocide and intolerance and nearly lost in my own family, and it’s a glorious fusion of Roma & European-gadjé aesthetics and sound. Even Tatiana herself is a voice of tolerance and inclusion and expresses her own multi-cultural heritage as the harmonious joy of ‘the melting pot.’ We need more of this coexistent beauty in our world. * There are many, many Romani clans, all with their own culture and dialect of Rromanes (the Romani language), so it is impossible to generalize about Romani culture as a whole. For more about Romani culture, check out RADOC, ROMBASE, The Romedia Foundation, The Gypsy Chronicles, and Patrin. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
The Beginnings of Palabras a DiosPalabras a Dios is book of Catholic poems written by school children in Piura, Peru, as well as teen girls at the orphanage Hogar del Redentor, which suffered a fire last month. The students wrote these poems in September 2013 during workshops led by missionaries from Commissioned by Christ. Palabras a Dios will feature English and Spanish translations of the poems, plus essays by missionaries and parish staff. It will be published as a fundraiser for Hogar Madre del Redentor's ongoing needs, from food to clothes to bedding and more. The book, which is currently still in the production stage, is being coordinated by Quail Bell Press & Productions. It is on track for being published by early 2015.
Here are some of the poems that will be featured in the book: The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
The Most Magical of HorsesBy Starling Root QuailBellMagazine.com Some children grow up and become teachers. Some become lawyers or plumbers or bankers. But you? You will become a unicorn. Here's what clued me in: 1. Grass that glitters in the sunshine and talks to you about your dreams your ultimate food—and really the only thing you'll eat. Other than cotton candy and ice cream, of course. 2. You have a bump on your forehead that never goes away, but you don't mind. You know it will grow into something beautiful one day. 3. You don't just have two left feet when you dance. You have three. And, actually, they're hooves. 4. Everyone keeps saying you're a symbol for Jesus Christ, but you just don't get it. 5. Your most ardent admirers are five-year-old girls. 6. Even though you live in a castle, you wish you lived on a rainbow. 7. You've had a serious crush on a leprechaun at some point. 8. When you sneeze, fairies shoot out of your nose. 9. Your big body hangup? You tell yourself that if you had wings like Pegasus, you'd be perfect. 10. You honestly have no idea what poop is. Wait, that's what those pink marshmallows that pop out of your butt are called? #Unicorn #Pegasus #WhenYouGrowUp #MagicalCreatures #Satire #MysticalBeasts #Horsies #PrettyPonies #Humor #SillyTalk Visit our shop and subscribe. Sponsor us. Submit and become a contributor. Like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter.
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Talking, Sharing, SolvingBy Kay Feathers QuailBellMagazine.com "The mission: to uplift humanity one conversation at a time. --Free Advice Girl, Lisa Podell Growing up, you probably heard those fables of desperate people climbing tall mountains to seek the advice of a soothsayer or witch or wizard or somebody who knew what was up (besides the sky.) In Manhattan, the trek to wisdom is much shorter. That's thanks to Lisa Podell, a.k.a. Free Advice Girl, a longtime applied theatre teacher who's traveled the world leading workshops in prisons, schools, and homeless shelters. She has made New York's Washington Square Park her spiritual home. That's where she puts out a simple cardboard sign reading 'Free Advice' and lies in wait for strangers to approach her and ask for help. Well, most don't ask for help as much as they do a caring ear and a caring heart. In an email to Quail Bell Magazine, Podell wrote, "I don't tell anyone what to think or what to do but listen and ask questions to help them discover what THEY want and to take action from there." She's interested in assisting folks with finding solutions. So they talk it out for as long as it takes. And where is all of this conversation going? In an email, Podell wrote: "I have started The Advice Project—various projects that have been created as a direct result of offering Free Advice in the park. They all support the mission of uplifting humanity one conversation at a time. The latest project is a series of workshops that a colleague of mine and I have created and are teaching in a NYC high school classroom. The program is designed to empower young students and help them to develop and express their own voice. We do this through the teaching of communication skills, life skills and storytelling. We aim to have this program offered in public schools throughout the city." And to think it all started with sitting in the park. FreeAdviceGirl.com #FreeAdviceGirl #WashingtonSquarePark #NYU #NYC #Counseling #BigProblems #BigSolutions #HelpingOthers #Kindness Visit our shop and subscribe. Sponsor us. Submit and become a contributor. Like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter.
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Menhir in MacedoniaPhoto: Ljucho Ilievski. Believe it or not, there's good reason for the woman pictured in the photo above to be hugging that rock. In his paper “Mycenaean Tree and Pillar Cult and Its Mediterranean Relations,” published in 1901, Sir Arthur Evans wrote: “In the course of some archaeological investigations in upper Macedonia I heard of a sacred stone at a Turkish village called Tekekiöi, between Skopia and Istib...It was an object of veneration not only to the native Muslims, but to many Christians from the surrounding regions, who made it an object of pilgrimage on St. George’s Day. I visited the spot and found that the stone was contained in a two-roomed shrine under the charge of a Dervish." Evans also made a drawing of the room. (Mad skills.) In recent years, a group of researchers belonging to Macedonian Research Society and led by Gjore Cenev managed to locate the village and to find the Secret Stone. Today the village is called Tekia (in Macedonian Tekija) and is located a few kilometers northwest of Skopje, the capital city of the Republic of Macedonia. By the mid-20th century, the Turks inhabited the village, but then they migrated to the Republic Turkey. Today, Macedonian Christians who come from distant villages of Northeast Macedonia inhabit the village. The research team found that the two-roomed shrine has been taken down and the sacred stone is located in an open space. The area is fenced, and the head is located near the fence. Near the Sacred Stone, there is a tree that is believed to be sacred, too. In fact, the whole area around the stone and the tree is considered as a sacred space and the local inhabitants refer to it with great respect. Despite major changes in the area, the Sacred Stone and Sacred Tree cult are regularly performed even today, especially on St. George’s Day. For a proper performance of the cult, an elderly woman called Head of the Stone takes care. Administering the Sacred Stone has been passed through the female line from ancient times. This is how the cult performance has been preserved, even at a time when the Turkish inhabitants start their migration. At that period a Muslim woman that was Head of the Stone transferred her admin duties to a Christian woman. The new population that came accepted the cult and continued to respect the stone, which today they address by the name of St. George. In its basic form, the ritual consists of going around the stone three times, embracing and kissing it. The Sacred Stone supposedly helps in the realization of wishes and with the treatment of many diseases, but it mostly helps women who were previously unable to conceive. It is interesting that even today many Turks are familiar with the Sacred Stone and come to pray there. That folklore sounds solid. Rock on. ***This post was originally published on the Megalithic Portal and was re-posted with permission.***. #St.George'sDay #AncientHistory #Turkey #Mystical #Magical #SacredStone #StoneCult #Tekia Visit our shop and subscribe. Sponsor us. Submit and become a contributor. Like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter.
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A Sunny Southern GothicBy Quail Bell Camera Eye QuailBellMagazine.com Small towns can be charming and creepy and both at once. Here's a charming and creepy view from the charming and creepy Clifton Forge, a town nestled in Virginia's Roanoke region (which is also charming and creepy). The hill is Crown Hill, which is the same name as the cemetery pictured here. And if you're bored of all this repetition yet, you'll be pleased to know that Crown Hill Cemetery is indeed on the crown of Crown Hill. #CliftonForge #Roanoke #VirginiaHistory #AlleghenyCounty #SouthernCemeteries #SouthernGothic Visit our shop and subscribe. Sponsor us. Submit and become a contributor. Like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter.
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The Unknown Twinkled into RealityBy Ghia Vitale QuailBellMagazine.com Although much of supernatural and paranormal phenomena remains inexplicable to science, it is still perfectly normal and natural. Western civilization is awkward in its refusal to acknowledge the possibility of unseen worlds, parallel dimensions, and accept sapient life on Earth that isn’t relegated to solely humankind or even the general material realm. Encounters with interdimensional beings such as ghosts, fairies, devas, demons, and angels have been documented throughout history and around the world. One of the most widely known and speculated manifestations of the unknown are orbs. The interdimensional entities that embody the orbs are rendered partially viewable to the naked eye when they take on this form.
Orbs seem to be intertwined with all kinds of paranormal phenomenon. Paranormal investigators look for the appearance of orbs in pictures of haunted places and they even tend to manifest in pictures of haunted locations that weren’t taken for investigative purposes. Instead, they surface during innocuous snapshots with no preluding intentions of a supernatural inclination. They’re often depicted as looming around our realm for the purpose of performing the bidding of aliens and fairies, beings that are especially reputed to reveal themselves to mortals as orbs. Since animated spheres of glowing light aren’t commonplace outside of cemeteries, it is definitely extraordinary to behold them. To preface the telling of my experience, I should make it known that I’ve been practicing witchcraft for almost thirteen years. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been able to sense and communicate with the spirits of nature and the deceased. Likewise, I quickly realized that although these entities straddle our plane, they mostly inhabited other dimensions, rendering them imperceptible to an underdeveloped third eye. I’ve seen non-human spirits manifest around myself and others as fleeting lights. These little orbs that flicker about tend to be purple more than any other color. I do a “test” (for my own sanity) to see if the orbs follow the direction of my gaze in order to verify whether or not it’s just my eyes playing tricks on me. Legitimate stay put and shortly disappear afterwards, not following my gaze with a squiggly line in my periphery. In fact, just as I sat down to pen “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” (a poem featured in Quail Bell!), I saw a little purple orb with my physical eyes momentarily twinkle on the lined page of the composition notebook that I had just opened. However, orbs like these tend to disappear quickly after catching my notice, not that they’re hard to catch since it’s been happening all throughout my journey of attunement to their energy, even from the very beginning. I take solace in the fact that other people see them around me too, especially if we’re doing some kind of spell work or meditation. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
One Fewer Item in the Shopping CartBy Paisley Hibou QuailBellMagazine.com I find myself no longer wanting things. I want moments. Experiences. Stories. Not that I'm a monk. I still have things. I simply don't want additional things most days. Every time a friend invites me to go shopping these days, I decline. The exception lies in book shopping. But even then, I'm not usually shopping. I'm browsing. I amble through the aisles, flip through interesting titles, and, if it's a larger bookstore, I just might plop down on the floor and read for a while. Yet I haven't been buying many books; I generally go to the library or trade with friends. I buy food, toiletries, essentials. I have worn the same clothes for years. My kitchenware and home goods have not changed much, either. But my repertoire of memories and sensations is ever-growing. Today I went to a charity thrift shop in a city I'd never visited before. The thrift shop is committed to employing adults with developmental disabilities that make finding a job a challenge. While I wanted to help the charity, I also wanted to be sure that I wasn't buying stuff that would only crowd my home or be of no real use to friends. I grabbed a shopping card and began rolling through the narrow aisles, inspecting everything from plush animals to old magazines. The first thing I put in my cart was a book about dinosaurs with 12-foot fold-out posters. I knew just the person who would appreciate this $2 gift. The next thing I did was think about myself. There were plenty of good books lining the shelves. And by "good" I mean they would keep me occupied on a bus ride if not actually change my life forever. I found a complete and unabridged pocket-size Jane Eyre with precious golf leaf pages. Oh, and what a pretty preface: "To the Public, for the indulgent ear it has inclined to a plain tale with few pretensions. To the Press, for the fair field its honest suffrage has opened in an obscure aspirant. To my Publishers, for the aid their tact, their energy, their practical sense and frank liberality have afforded an unknown and unrecommended Author." Next, I was tempted by a pair of turquoise suede shoes. They were crazy. Indulgent. Unnecessary. So I tried them on. I even put them in my cart. But not five minutes later, I removed them. The way I see it, a book, while also a thing, is an experience. You might be with that book only a couple of hours, but possibly days, weeks, even months. Once you're done with the book, you can trade it for another and get tangled up in a new tale or field of study. Shoes? I have plenty already. Once you have a good pair of walking shoes to lead you to new adventures, you're set. And right now that's what I'm looking for: adventures, big and small. Novelties with purpose. Here are three things you can try now if you're looking to expand your own repertoire of simple, new experiences: • Nurture someone or something. This could be a sick or elderly person, a stray animal, a plant that's struggling to stay alive—really any living thing that needs a little help and a little love. I'm lucky to know several people who work in healthcare and even more who cultivate gardens or rescue injured animals. Nurturing is purely about giving. And it's something you can do many times in many ways. • Read a new book from cover to cover. Try to accomplish this in as few uninterrupted sittings as possible. Allow your imagination to fly. Be sure to give the book to a friend when you're finished so you can share the story. • Try a new recipe and prepare a meal for someone in need. The recipe doesn't have to be fancy, just something you've never (successfully) attempted before. And the recipient could be a homeless person or a loved one who needs a little pick-me-up. Food heals. Now I'm off to research new camping spots for my sister. (Camping's another great experience, especially if you've never tried it before.) What new experiences would you recommend? #Priorities #Values #AntiShopping #NotBuyingALot Visit our shop and subscribe. Sponsor us. Submit and become a contributor. Like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter.
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There are two kinds of blindness.“I don't know that I've ever felt the presence of God in prayer. He seems to show up when we least expect him. But even if we don't feel that presence, should we pray anyway? We can't judge the fruits of any practice solely on the basis of our feelings. Prayer is either objectively worth something or it isn't.”—from Love & Salt: A Spiritual Friendship Shared in Letters by Amy Andrews & Jessica Mesman Griffth Blood does not sicken me. Mucous does not disgust me. Yet I used to cringe at ordinary human touch. The Metro had taught me to avoid contact. Suck in your tummy. Don't breathe. Do whatever you need to do to ensure that you don't touch a stranger on the Metro. At a young age, I was discouraged from meeting strangers' eyes and certainly from brushing against anyone. Anytime strangers bumped into me at, say, a museum or the mall, I'd feel affected long after that fleeting moment. People, I was raised to think, are not to supposed to touch people they do not know.
Part of this instruction came in order to alert me to sexual predators. It's not unheard of for men to, for instance, rub up against women in the Metro. But the instruction otherwise had no rationale. Just don't do it. I once read that black maids were taught to place a glass of water on the table in front of their white employer instead of handing the glass directly to that person. Why? So they would not touch. The black person and the white person were not supposed to know each other well enough that touching would've felt comfortable. Jim Crow might not have pervaded the South for so long had black maids been allowed to casually touch the white women they served. People bond through touch. It is important and even humbling to touch a stranger. Twice in one day in the not so distant past, I was expected to touch people I had never met before, and rather intimately at that. It was September in Peru and I was on a mission trip. I went with a Catholic charity even though I wasn't active at any parish anywhere. But I needed to challenge myself. That morning the mission leader told another missionary and me that we would be accompanying a nurse to the outskirts of town. A long, bumpy car ride later, we found ourselves in a mostly abandoned neighborhood on the border of civilization and the desert wilderness. The driver parked the car where the road ended and we walked to the home of a blind elderly man. He lived in a bamboo hut full of sand. Clusters of bottles were tied to the hut's entrance so the man could hear visitors or intruders. The man relied on his neighbors to bring him food and water, and the parish nurse to help him with basic hygiene. The man greeted us from his bed, but did not really make conversation. Instead, he started praying loudly and desperately. He wore an American T-shirt and shorts that seemed relatively clean, but his skin was covered in flies and sores. I batted the flies away as the nurse explained my first task: I had to shave the man. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
They Want to Ride Their Bicycles, But How? "Ever bike? Now that's something that makes life worth living!...Oh, to just grip your handlebars and lay down to it, and go ripping and tearing through streets and road, over railroad tracks and bridges, threading crowds, avoiding collisions, at twenty miles or more an hour, and wondering all the time when you're going to smash up. Well, now, that's something! And then go home again after three hours of it...and then to think that tomorrow I can do it all over again!" -Jack London I'm all for folks riding bikes, no matter where they live, from New York to Kansas to Hawaii. So when I heard about a national bicycle race coming to my very own Richmond, Virginia, I didn't think much of it. Living in a city, you learn to make time to overcome these events, especially on weekends. But then I noticed a sign saying one of the main roads I take every day would be closed, not for an hour or so as we have with parades or foot races, but all day. I started to wonder what exactly was going on.
The race, which took place this past weekend, is called the 2014 UCI National Championships. Leading up to the race, I discovered this was a actually a two day event, complete with a three-day consumer expo, as a test event for the 2015 UCI World Championships. How much bigger would the World Championships be? Instead of two days, it would run eight days. And the courses closed for the race would expand from a 0.9 mile area to a race running from a nine-mile circuit all the way up to a 33-mile circuit. So I began thinking, if the 0.9 mile race disrupted the city as much as it did Friday through Sunday, what would a 33 mile race do? On Friday alone, 36 points were closed. That's not counting 'No Parking' areas, as well as the additional routes closed Saturday and Sunday (up to 39). Now, it's one thing to sit in traffic. It's another to have to leave work early, as I know some folks had to do. The Virginia State Government estimated that this small race would impact 12,000 state workers on Friday. The city bus line, GRTC, issued a warning of major delays, saying its routes would be following detours that 'may change without notice.' The Richmond City government said it would 'remain open,' yet warned folks going to City Hall and social services that there would be delays and parking issues, and to rely on online methods. Additionally, the city left this little note at the bottom of their homepage: "The Richmond General District Courts, the Juvenile and Domestic Relations District Court and Clerk’s Office for the City of Richmond will be closed on Friday, May 2." To say this event had a significant impact on Richmond and Richmonders is an understatement. But how much did it cost the city to put on? For this portion of the race, it's hard to tell. The problem with these types of events is that when they are sold to city leaders, the economic studies put forth with them tend to be based on assumption. The example sold to our city leaders for the upcoming 2015 race says that it will generate $129.2 million dollars for the Metro Richmond Area, according to an article by Scott Bass in alt-weekly, Style Weekly. Yet according to that same article, the metrics of the economic study are questionable, and rely on assumptions about the way visitors spend their money. Bass refers to as "Substitution Effect, which dictates that the money spent in one place is diverted from another." For instance, if a person is local, and would have purchased a meal in the city that day anyhow, but instead went to the race and bought it there, did the city gain any in taxes? Not at all. So these studies are effectively guestimations, taking what it guesses will be in attendance, guessing where they will spend that money, and guessing that they would not have spent it anyhow. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
The Truth About Love SpellsBy Ghia Vitale QuailBellMagazine.com From what I’ve learned, this force is by no means a “little thing,” although it is certainly crazy and chaotic in nature. As far as human neurology is concerned, love is one of the most formidably-influential drugs in the entirety of Earth's existence. Love has to be powerful in order to perpetuate life. Love spells, perhaps more than any other variety of spell, attract many people to the art of spellcraft. But love magic itself also remains a source of contention in the occult community. It’s not as though this prejudice is entirely unfounded because love spells often involve infringing upon the will of another person…or at least they do when operating upon a basal intention of that nature. Many magicians adhere to the belief that aiming love spells at unspecified love interests is the only ethical form of love magic. Yet there are also magical traditions that find love spells no more Machiavellian than wearing fishnets or splashing a dash of seductive pheromone-fortified cologne. I am referencing a wealth of personal experiences and research to justify my beliefs in pertinence to love and sex spells. After much trial and error, I’ve come to learn that love, like most magic, cannot be accurately compartmentalized into polarized, figuratively “black-and-white” categories. I should also note that I am using the term “love” in the broadest sense of the term, which includes the multitudinous shades of simple infatuation, limerence and “true” love, whatever that is. I shall preface this confession with this: love is arguably one of the most potent intoxicants known to humankind. When you or someone else feels under the influence of love, understand that love is a drug, an inebriant administered by one’s brains that can distort even the most pragmatic minds. The mind alone cannot always temper the bewitched heart. Emotions compel the lovestruck to think or act in ways that can also influence a spell’s cumulative manifestation(s). Love pervades all senses to the point where anything (or anyone) that specific force yearns is what “makes sense” to the body, heart and mind, despite the protests of the rational mind or the onlooking good samaritans. Often, emotions like inadequacy or underlying psychological issues masquerade as “love.”
Love spells are quite difficult to effectively execute for a well-practiced magician, let alone people who aren’t experienced with the art and science of manifestation. Budding magicians who takes spellcraft semi-seriously have a fairly significant advantage in comparison but that’s only a few inches of a few miles. Hell, even Apollo couldn’t get it right and he is a god! There are reasons why Aphrodite (a Goddess of love and beauty) and Dionysus (a God of intoxication, viniculture and chaos) are notoriously compatible, but I’ll leave that for you to research. Love spells require meticulous efforts and energetic awareness. Yes, there are vague love spells that are conducted to attract the most suitable mates to the caster. These are often employed successfully and I have heard of many couplings, short-term and long-term alike, occur due to these types of spells. One of the first times I performed a love spell, I purchased a pre-packaged spell kit with an instructional outline from a local metaphysical store. Soon after casting the spell, I wound up making out with a friend in another friend’s pool one night. This friend had not previously expressed interest. I think we “went out” a little bit but broke up a few days afterwards. This boy later came out of the closet but the spell succeeded in uniting us for those few days. The friend who kindly let us use her pool even noted that she thought our momentary coupling was the product of a love spell. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
One Community's Struggle for Memory In a film and multimedia oral history, Memoria Presente tells the story of a community trying to deal with its past in order to change its present. Check out the Indiegogo campaign here. #CrowdSourcing #DocumentaryFilm #Interviews #Argentina
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Put All the Racist Monuments in MuseumsBy Shawn Everett Jones QuailBellMagazine.com If you had a nutshell and you just had to put the history of America in it, the bare essence, the most basic way to describe the history of America would be: Civilization had been thriving in America for millennia, then the white man came and killed off that civilization with the help of enslaved Africans. But history is written by the victors, the invaders. So that turns the story into: A brave explorer discovered a new land where all could come and live and farm and find treasures and own plantations and prosper. The progress of American culture has depended on the enslavement, oppression, genocide and ruthless aggression towards many peoples of many races, cultures and religions. I once had a housemate who painted a portrait of Hilter. To everyone's chagrin, he hung it in plain sight in the den. Everyone hated it and wanted to take it down. At my Halloween party, the portrait raised a lot of questions from guests and later I would try to explain, Well, I didn't want to be a Nazi and take it down. I imagine that the reason he painted it and hung it was that he just wanted to have discussions about Hitler and all things related to Hitler. Maybe I was naïve, but that is the way I thought of the situation. But when we had a German couch-surfer come through, everyone in the house definitely wanted the painting gone, so I just put it in our housemate's room. In Richmond, Virginia, where I lived for years, there is a monument of Christopher Columbus. There is solid proof of Columbus' terrible deeds in his very own journals, plus the journals of others. We have this man who is a symbol of American conquest because of the lies told in history books. What is standing in Richmond, too, is a monument to a person who killed, tortured and abused many people. Not unlike Hitler's holocaust was the genocide of the native people. (In fact the holocaust was fashioned after the U.S. Government's genocide of Native Americans). Yet there is a statue for him and no one has yet taken it to hide in the artist's room. Take, too, the Rebel flag. I used to work at a museum of art and history. Part of the building's rich history was that it was the last Capitol of the Confederacy. We had rooms full of Confederate items including the Confederate flag. A museum is the exact place such relics should be. Keep the history by all means, I believe in that. Because even though I began with a simple version of the history of our country, the reality is that it is never as simple and is always more complex than we can imagine. I mean, we don't hear much about the Gullah Wars, we don't hear about the intense slaughter of natives that were happening during the Civil War. We hear the simple version from the victors. And although Southerners have the right to appreciate, respect and honor their heritage and ancestors, they don't really have a right to belong to hate groups that murder and bully. Such Southerners are so wrapped up in their commotion that they don't know or care that the Rebel flag symbol to some is the same as a swastika to others—or, well, I guess they wouldn't care about that either. I guess to them burning a Confederate flag would be what it is like for some to see the same flag raised high on a pole. Except the Confederate flag can be seen in public and even on government institutions all over the South. There are more Confederate flags billowing in the wind than there are burning on the ground. I think it is time to put all the monuments in museums. Take them off of the streets and create a historical sculpture garden. In Richnond, Tredegar Iron Works right by the James River would be a good place to put them. But please get them out of my face. Now we are on the verge of disrupting a slave burial ground with a baseball stadium, right on a place that is sacred to many people all over the world. Of all the places in Richmond, why there?! Why not put the stadium on top of Hollywood Cemetery. That wouldn't go over very well, would it? Or, hey, remember that time VCU moved a house across the street and then paved over a historical stop on the underground railroad that existed under that house? We have to honor and respect all Americans history, we need to keep and preserve all of OUR history. It is what it is. From all perspectives come the truth. And as a people who live together we should live more neighborly in all respects and at least respect that all have their sacred history and the very special rights to not be oppressed by your history. #Racism #AmericanHistory #RVA #VCU
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The Band of RomaPapusza suffered for the song of her people, but what if we all sang at once? Today we celebrate the Roma. We celebrate the plates of food we leave for our ancestors to keep them loved and fed even in death. We cover mirrors, TV and computer screens, and bowls of water after someone dies, just long enough so that they are not trapped by their own reflection as they pass through the veils. We keep our homes and our bodies meticulously clean because the world is split into that which is pure and impure. The spirit is pure; that’s what we want to be. We believe in kintala, or karma, because what we do matters and we mean to do good. We love The Goddess of Fate and her many names and forms, Sati-Sara, Sara Kali, St. Sarah, The Black Madonna; and we believe in free will. We remind you that "Roma" is our preferred term, not “Gypsy,” a name that has been turned against us, warped into “gypped,” gyppo,” and the lowercase “gypsy,” the one that doesn’t recognize us as a proper noun, never mind a proper ethnic group. We celebrate that some of us chose to reclaim the word as we wish. We remind you that we, as a culture, are fractured by distance, persecution, and illegal deportation, and we are working to unify, to overcome discord and fight for our basic human rights. We celebrate that we are not homogenous and yet, we are united by our origin. We came from India, migrated in the 11th century, and the Rromanes (Romani language) root is Sanskrit. We are different clans—Kale, Kalderash, Lovara, Sinti, Manouche, Vlach, and many more, all with unique customs, dialects, and worldviews. We are individuals: rich, poor, artists, lawyers, blacksmiths, fortune tellers, musicians, doctors, dancers, mechanics, horse dealers, car dealers, janitors, politicians, activists, writers, professors, actors, executives, beggars, volunteers, producers, landlords, and linguists. Opre Roma: we rise up. We are loving friends, partners, parents, brothers, sisters, sons, and daughters. To say “I love you” we say, “I eat your heart” or “I eat your belly” because love is voracious and can never be close enough. My grandmother survived WWII Germany as a Romani woman. Now she likes to say, “I am a weed. No one wanted me, they tried to destroy me, but I grew. I am a weed and I’m proud. And I’ve always liked weeds best, anyway. Wild, strong, and very pretty.” Today we raise awareness that half of Europe’s Romani population died in the Holocaust, what we call O Porrajmos (The Great Devouring), and 2 million Romani lives lost is a modest estimation. We are rarely invited to or acknowledged in Holocaust remembrances or memorials. Sometimes we are not even allowed in the gates. We remind you that Roma were slaves alongside African Americans in the United States, and in the Balkans for four centuries. We are forcibly sterilized in Europe and the U.S., alongside Native Americans and African-Americans. We remind you that the government takes Romani children in the United States and Europe from their families because it is assumed that Roma cannot be decent, loving parents. We remind you that America has “Gypsy Crime” task forces that decide Romani fortune tellers are scammers and white fortune tellers are not. America, the country that swears to the flag not to indulge in racial profiling, blatantly profiles its Roma, just like Europe. We remind you that skinheads set Romani encampments on fire across Europe with Molotov cocktails, burning men, women, and children in their beds. We remind you of the Jobbik Party. Roma are forced into camps with no running water, waste management, electricity, or shelter. Roma are denied a right to education, or forced into special education classes because it is assumed we are mentally deficient. Amnesty calls the Romani human rights crisis “Europe’s shame,” and Roma endure hate crimes, are not allowed in shops, and are kicked out of countries because the politicians believe we cannot assimilate, that we are vermin, that Hitler didn’t kill enough of us. We remind you that Roma say, “Fuck you, Fascists. We rise up.” You learned none of this in school. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
An Eldritch Phantom By Jonathan Bellot QuailBellMagazine.com Why do you write, a voice asks one lonely lamplit evening, and I realize the answer to that question is as one-in-multiple as a cubist painting. I write to raise a sunken figurehead from the deep, where the shipwrecks dream in bubbles; I write to learn the language of lost galleons, to understand the blueblack sadness of girls made of wood. I write so as to hold a kerosene lamp in the hallways of myself, those vast hallways of gold-endragoned doors that lead to Dominica and Curacao and South America and Europe and Africa, a notebook of returns to native lands, and sometimes I write so a lamp is snuffed out. I write to firefly the night, and to night the fireflies. I write to release the figures in my heart’s dusty mirrors, the figures long-buried in the heart’s old red cenotaphs, the figures lost under the labyrinthine spiral staircases that lead to doors of what-ifs, the kimonoed girls and aviators in fluttering scarves, the ones with hair that is straight and hair that is a mad starburst of ringlets and hair that is blue and black, the figures that string together my tapestry. I write because I could not be I if I did not write, or perhaps I have become I since I wrote, and it is simply too late to turn back, but either way there is no turning back. I write to speak with Life and with blue-haired Lady Death. Because I am less memorious than Borges’ "Funes," and one cannot write if one remembers too perfectly well. I write to conjure back up the feeling I had of diving into the Caribbean Sea and coming suddenly across a sea turtle and, later, a stingray, each as large as I was, and still and staring. I write to slow the universe’s expansion, to tug back the screams of Munch and Lovecraft and Camus. I write because the island I live in is small, and I feel a sting each time the people who ask where I am from, then cut short their attention when they realize just how small it is, cut short their attention because the island is not on the radar of much-of-the-world, unless one sharpens the gaze. I write to re-contour known islands and, like the sailor in a tale by Saramago, to seek out Unknown Islands, unlisted on any maps. I write because Jean Rhys has been a beautiful and eldritch phantom for too long drifting down my halls, and some who remember the island we share will remember it only as a murky bit of sargassum leading to the shores of Jane Eyre. And I would write if she had never been a ghost, simply because I have never chosen to write, because I wrote long before I attached reasons to writing, when every back page in the exercise books of my youth was a story, a plan for a novel series. Scheherazade tells stories even when her life is not threatened by an insatiable king. I write, you see, because I could not be if I did not, or, closer to the truth, I would not want to be if I could not write, and perhaps that is enough of enough. Jonathan Bellot is a second-year PhD in Fiction at Florida State University, where he also completed his MFA in Fiction. He was born in Cincinnati to parents from the Commonwealth of Dominica, and he moved with his parents back to the island as a child. His work has appeared in Small Axe, Transnational Literature, Belletrist Coterie, and The New Humanism, among others, and he has done collaborative work for The Missouri Review's blog. In Dominica, he has served for the last few years on a committee for the island's Nature Island Literary Festival, which brings together writers connected to the Caribbean. #Literature #Writing #Process #TheArts #Creativity
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Art in the Streets By Spencer Turner QuailBellMagazine.com The Virginia Center Latin American Art (VACLAA), a non-profit arts and culture education organization based in Richmond, Virginia is excited to announce its upcoming fundraising cross-cultural awareness event, The Great Busk, A celebration of street performance, which will take place in the RVA Artwalk on Broad Street from April 3rd to April 5th and include an exhibit of memorabilia from the Black History Museum and the Valentine Richmond History Center related to the life and times of dancer, entertainer business man and Richmond native, Bill "Bojangles" Robinson, as well as a two-day busking competition. Busking is a term which references the spirited hustle of talent and charm that has generated income and notoriety for street musicians, dancers, magicians, acrobats and others throughout time. The Odyssey and the Illiad of Homer might well be two of the earliest examples of how this time honored tradition has influenced world culture. Musicians interested in participating in the competition need to register at Sound of Music Studios on April 22nd from 9 a.m. to 12 p.m. All registered musicians will be photographed by JLua Photography and receive a free promotional photo of themselves in digital format. Thursday, April 3rd, the event will kick off with a music dialogue at Candela Books hosted by WRIR DJ Carl Hamm which will run from 7 to 9. Beer and Wine sales will support VACLAA’s ImaginArte Education programs in Richmond Public Schools and Nueva Vida: a support network for Latin@s with cancer and their families local renowned international musicians Frederic Blasco, Marlysse Simmons, Rei Alvarez, Giustino Riccio, Barry Bless, Mikemetic, Nate Matthews and Jonathan Vasser will convene at Candela, which is currently hosting a photographic study of Appalachian musical culture by artist Lisa Elmelah, American Folk. The discussion, entitled, ‘Real Music, on the Real’, will explore how the deeply complex roots of folk music have informed their style. On Friday, April 4th and Saturday, April 5th from 5 to 10 p.m., upwards of 30 buskers from all over the area will convene on 401 W. Broad Street—the site of Moore’s Autobody Shop—to play fifteen minute sets on behalf of VACLAA. IFestival-goers can purchase Great Busk Greenbacks to reward performances they appreciate. Additionally, they can use Great Busk Greenbacks to make t-shirts with Studio Two Three, become part of Bill “Bojangles”Robinson and Shirley Temple’s historic moment on the silvers screen in a Happy the Artist drawn cut-out, or contribute to a larger-than-life cardboard puppet of Bill “Bojangles” Robinson, himself, that will tower over the event and move through the crowd. La Milpa will be on hand with the most authentic Mexican tacos in town and Happy Empanada will be selling Panamanian delights. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
It's Primavera, Fledglings!By The Quail Bell Crew QuailBellMagazine.com 1. Play with a disposable camera and capture snapshots of daffodils and bumblebees for your bulletin board. 2. Transform a mason jar into a terrarium. Stuff it with moss and other natural objects culled from your yard, the park, or your favorite creek. 3. Visit a new city. It can be a “torn-up town.” The only rule is that it must be a place you've never visited before. (Might we suggest Portland, Maine, Iowa City, Iowa, St. Augustine, Florida, and Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania?) Wherever you decide, read up on it, choose a travel buddy, and go. 4. Take a trip to your local archives. If you live in a bigger town or city, the archives might be housed in the historical society, university, or state or regional library. If you live in a smaller place, you might have to hunt for the historical treasures of your town. Maybe a local church or school keeps old documents, photographs, and other items that tell the story of where you live. 5. Visit your grandparents. If you're accustomed to only seeing them for the holidays, here's a great chance to see them in a new light—literally the spring light! 6. Go to an open mic night and read a poem. It's not as scary as you might think. In fact, here are some tips, so calm down already. 7. Make a scrapbook or keep a journal. Too middle school? It doesn't have to be. Avoid writing about your math class crush or the woes of wearing braces and you're good on the grown-up front. Or not. You're a grown-up. Do whatever you want. 8. Find a fabulous old frock at a thrift shop or rummage sale. Rock it. To answer Spencer Johnson's question “What would you do if you weren't afraid?”: Wear whatever the hell you want. 9. Prepare a fresh salad using local ingredients, whether pulled from your own garden or bought at the farmers' market. Give it a test run and serve it to friends for your next gathering once you've perfected it. 10. Get hooked on a new band, preferably one that 's high-energy and doesn't take itself too seriously. 11. Read in a book in a genre you don't normally try. Perhaps a banned or challenged book? (Then write about it and submit your review or personal essay to us!) 12. Kick one toxic habit in your life. Find a nourishing one. This is a time of rebirth. 13. Knock on a neighbor's door. Have a chat. If you live in a neighborhood of porches, spend an evening porch-hopping. 14. Save a baby bird—smartly. 15. Bring a notebook or sketchbook to a playground and observe children playing. Write or draw something that inspires you. (Don't worry about being creepy. Just don't hit or kidnap a child...duh.) 16. Chalk up the sidewalk for an afternoon. Just read your local vandalism laws first. 17. Sit by a body of water for a while with nothing but your thoughts. Turn off your cell phone. 18. Bake something for somebody. Say zucchini bread? 19. Make cards for friends and family to wish them a happy spring. 20. Learn a poem, prayer, or verse of some kind to thrust you through those days when it's hard to appreciate the sunshine. #Spring #NotTwee #Primavera #ToDoList #YOLO
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Mixteco/RVA Makes Online DebutLate last year, our editor completed her Emerging Artist Puffin Foundation photography and essay project, Mixteco/RVA. The final product was printed on card stock and measured five feet long! Now The Quail Bell Crew has put the project online for your viewing pleasure. Mixteco/RVA is Christine Stoddard's personal exploration of linguistic injustice in her home state of Virginia. Credit for designing the project for both print and web goes to Quail Bell art director Kristen Rebelo. Download it free here and like it on Facebook. #MixtecoRVA #PuffinFoundation #Photography #Essays #SocialJustice
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How to Make it Through a Municipal Meeting No matter where you live, you may find, from time to time, the need to attend a local government meeting of one kind or another. (Thank the Ancient Greeks for the chance.) From school board to city council to a plethora of committee meetings, you better come prepared to survive the grueling task of civic engagement. Here is my survival guide for attending government meetings, based off of my personal experiences. I was prompted to make this list after my city's most recent council meeting lasted more than 5 hours and left many emotionally, mentally, and physically exhausted. I felt the hurt for days after. Here's how you can avoid similar hurt: Before the meeting:
• Charge your phone. You need to be able to take pictures and post tweets and updates for everyone who could not make it. Find out if your locality has a hashtag used to discuss the meetings. • Stay hydrated. Florescent lights have a way of sucking the moisture out of you. • Eat a healthy meal. You will need those vitamins later! • Check online for a meeting agenda. Not that the agenda matters much. They do seem to change the agenda at the last minute on a regular basis. But knowing the agenda, and maybe even printing it out is a good move. The local government does not always provide sufficient copies of agendas at the meeting. • Make talking points. Your input is important, if nothing else, for educating the public, so get up an talk! • Stretch or exercise before if you can. Sitting or standing still for who knows how long can be mighty uncomfortable. • Wash your face and brush your teeth! You are going out in public and there will be news cameras. It's not about beauty standards but it is about you feeling confident and looking presentable. Whatever that means to you. • Gather your quarters for the parking meter if you are driving. Plan ahead with transit, sometimes areas can take a while to find a cheap or free parking spot. I often ride a bike for this reason. • Hug and kiss your loved ones good bye. You may not be seeing them for a while. |
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