Matter Ceases to Be, and Time Runs Out

MATTER CEASES TO BE AND TIME RUNS OUT FOR THAT REGION OF SPACE
                               George Mussir, writing about Black Holes in is essay "Big Whimper," Scientific American, Sept 2010 p 86

So this means that time and space are recyclable?  Used as raw material for new space, new Earths, new lifetimes?

But the First Law of Thermodynamics says that energy cannot be created or destroyed--only changed from one state to another.  So, at one point different rules  began to apply?

As it is used, time becomes so saturated with our feelings, desires, disappointments,  joys . . .  that it becomes filled to overflowing to its fullest;  to its completion.

Thus, there is another dimension to our Earth life that affects this mortal place.

when this time has completed the  measured of its creation, then it progresses to the next state. Since the elements of this Earth obey Eternal laws-- laws that guide creation and evolution – when this period of T I M E shouldn't it also be allowed to progress forward? Our ability to comprehend and to imagine beyond our finite, limiting existence does not bind this Earth or this time. They are free – even obligated as we are – to continue moving as they have been created and instructed to do.

Carpenter Bee, Megan Rytting 2010

THE UNIVERSE EXPANDS FOREVER, BECOMING EVER EMPTIER AND GLOOMIER.                
                          Ibid.

 But "empty" does not equate to "gloomier."   Where there is space, there is room to think, to ponder, to see further ahead – and behind -- you.

Why does there need to be T I M E for movement to occur? Surely, the cessation of our linear progress does not dictate the cessation of progress in other dimensions.

I have read that some believe any surviving wastes of matter is locked in place, unable to move so that T I M E Is unable to move and seizes up.  (Ibid.)

There are infinite number of "present" moments occurring – if we progress sideways through this sequence of "nows" aren't we still moving?

If I don't know what I want, how will I know when I have gotten it?

Me at 54 years old.  June 2013.

It is almost 10 pm and my head is still groggy from the sinus infection that is keeping guck gropping around inside.  I have meds and steroids breather-thing--which really does clear my head out for the first 30 minutes after I use the inhaler.
Now for the good news:  I've been working on a photography project all afternoon.  I am so excited about this process.  Every year the college puts out a new printing of Landscape Plants for South Florida:  A Manual for Gardeners, Landscapers and Homeowners.  Even after the third edition, there are still some entries that don't have photograph/s to illustrate the plant description.  My excellent adventure this semester is to find the blank spaces and find the plants--take photographs of them--and submit them to Dr. Rogers to put in the next edition.  I have already gotten a dozen that I'm really proud of.  I am getting to the point where my preference is to bring (part of) the plant home with me and not have to worry about wind, sun, reflections off of puddles or building windows--or rain.  I have a light box, but haven't put it up yet.  Yeah, yeah, yeah . . . just get it done, right?  Then it will be even easier to get good images . . . something to work on tomorrow.

Some of you know that I have had the lower joint in my left thumb removed and replaced by harvested tendon.  On the 13th of June, Dr. Acosta is going to do the same for my right thumb.  Knowing that, I am doing everything I can do now that requires two hands--like set up a light box (duh...) and put my camera on a tripod.  I play the piano and type with two hands rather than use the Dragon program--which actually does a pretty good job for me.  I am picking up the bunnies and cutting up oranges and holding books as I read them and moving the potted plants on my patio around to different corners of the lanai.  I already have given up writing--I can sign my name without using my thumb--don't think that I could get any readable script out of it very easily.  I am driving the car and getting myself dressed and brushing my teeth and braiding my hair.  There is the country song "Live Like You Were Dying" running through the back of my head--and I am glad that it is one that I like because having a song you hate haunt you all week is a real nuisance.

It is my birthday this week.  Thank you all who sent good wishes through email and Facebook.  It is nice to know that you are thinking of me.  As my present, I asked the family not to turn on the TV all week, to have kneeling family prayers every night, do scripture study, and assigned everyone a night to take care of dinner.  The scripture study has been kind of minimal some nights--but Brent took over Family Home Evening and we actually had a real lesson.  It was wonderful.

No TV was to be my only present (we are really trying to get rid of stuff we don't need, like, have room for), but Brent surprised me with an incredible new lens for my Nikon 300.  It does 1:1 for portraits and it will be perfect for the flowers and plants that I'm working with on this new project for school.

When people ask me what I am "up to," I talk about Lauren and Meg and Nate and Brent--and then I add that I am working on a PhD in Horticultural Photography.  Some people just say something like "Oh, that's nice." and then ask if I like the rain we've been having.  Others look at me strangely and ask "Is there such a thing as that?"  Of course there is!  If someone can think of it, it can be done!

Well, at least if I can think of it, it can be done.  I have Brent to offer me encouragement and suggestions and resources (yes, one of those is money--the other, most important one, is TIME)--and I know that this will sound soppy to those who do not think of the Lord as their partner (it comes with the promises I gave and received in the temple)--Heavenly Father and my Savior are also always looking out for me.

Brent had to suffer with me as I learned that I could have EVERYTHING and do ANYTHING--just not ALL AT ONCE.  I have also come to understand that I have to have a goal--some thing that I am working toward.  If I don't know what I want, how will I know when I have gotten it?

I may never finish a PhD (but if I were betting money on it, I'd put down more than $100 thatI will.), but I know that I want one.  If it is in Horticultural Photography--great!  Math--great!  English--Great!  Learning Theory--great!  Perhaps I'll do all of them.  I also want to have a close relationship with Brent and be a good friend and counselor to my children and grandchildren.  I want to stay thin and athletic-ish.  I want to sing and to play the piano and to laugh and to pray so that He hears me and knows I am listening.  I would like to ride a horse again--bones permitting.  Someday I would like to be free of manic depression.  I would like my hands and feet and back to be strong and not to hurt.  I want to speak Spanish well enough that people don't look at me as if they are trying not to pat me on the head to offer sympathy because I am doing such a poor job.  I would like to be able to walk around our property and know the latin names of all of the trees and plants.  I would like not to be tired or to get sinus infections or trip over things and bruise my shins . . . OK, there are some things that I know won't happen, things that I know I won't get, things that I know I won't be able to do--until later.  But when I they happen, when I get them, when I do them . . . I will know that each of these goals has been achieved because I have wanted them, worked toward them, thought of them.

I love the path that leads me around each day--and I don't really care if I actually do get a PhD in anything or ride a horse again--but I know that I want to move toward those things . . . they will come slowly, with lots of other things also happening along the way.

Wow.  I am really sinking deep into my self tonight.

If you are still reading--have stayed with me through this whole load of words--thank you.  This is the sign of a true friend.

Another Post of Mostly Flowers--growing in Maryland

When I went to visit Meg in Maryland earlier this month, I was drawn to both the details that were common between and the shapes that were distinct from the plants--mostly the flowers--surrounding me in Florida.  Most of these were taken with my camera--some with a "safe-to-run-over-with-a-truck-or-fling-off-an-airplane-or-drop-in-the-pool" camera that Brent got for me to use when we go places that any of these three kinds of things might happen.  

Actually, I carry it with me just about everywhere--because besides being durable, it is almost as small as my phone--so it fits into my purse/pocket/backpack.

And it takes better pics than my phone.

Here are some of the best photos that I took:

Megan calls these "wild violets."  They grow low to the ground, among the fine, lush grasses on the lawns in NE America. I am so accustomed to having a stubborn thatch of crabgrass to fertilize and mow--that I almost didn't recognize the sight of real grass.    

Malpighiales,Violaceae,Viola

Clusters of fabulously coloured tulips burst into my eyes at every turn.  I would be watching Kate or Jon whisk about and then suddenly these colors would startle me and I could not help but stare for at least a half second.

   

 These wildflower were flung about the undergrowth of the forest.

Forsythia bushes hung out over the sidewalks all over the place--it made it hard to see stop signs when I was approaching corners when driving.

Holly bushes offered their candy-apple red berries instead of fragile flower petals. 

 This fantastic daffodil was the last of its bunch to bloom.  I had to look closely to catch the transparent peach-coloured leaves around the center of the flower.  

This minuscule, white, 10 petal flower was impossible to get a clear picture of--it was too small--even with the microscopic setting on my camera.

Now all around Florida, the colours are starting to come out.  I'll have to process the photographs I took yesterday as I went around and visited two of the gardens on a Botanical Tour.  It will be cool to compare the spring blooms from the SE and NE shores.  

Back to School

http://www.charmofthecarolines.com/.a/6a01156faa621f970c0120a9166d13970b-800wi

I have always been glad to point out to people (OK, mostly to plebotomists taking blood or nurses putting in an IV) that having good veins

 is one of my talents.  My other talent is 

school.  I don't usually tell them that.  

Somehow, it doesn't seem relevant.  

Tonight, however, it is not only relevant, but totally ideal to think about.  Summer session at Palm Beach State begins next week.  I am signed up for two classes.  One is an Environmental Issues class in the Horticulture department.  My guess is that the bulk of the material will deal with environmental issues effecting how land is planted, watered, landscaped, arranged, preserved . . . or something like that.  

It is required for the Landscape Architect certification program.  I am also taking an Internship/Work Experience class in the Horticultural program.  Both are taught by Dr. George Rogers.  He is the kind of teacher that could make a crumpled paper cup into an interesting subject.  He approaches very difficult, compact material and opens it up so that you feel like you are discovering the subject all by yourself . . . with him standing off to one side, cheering you on. More 

concerned that students adsorb the material, his disarming (kind of off-kilter) jokes and nick-names for flower and their characteristics combine to make it possible to learn and then USE that information; making sense of the world.

I am excited about the coming chance to re-enter the sweet, swirling vortex of organized learning.  

In "You Have Mail," the main character talks about a bouquet of 

sharpened pencils--and I love the thought of that image.  Though it has little to do with the tools that I use to learn--computers, bytes, binomial systems, tables and lists found on-line and then memorized.  

Still . . . the piquant moment when freshly-sharpened graphite and wood pencil meet clean, white paper on a flat wooden desk top . . delicious.

Words That Change the Heart--from one of my all time favorite books

Ida B by Katherine Hannigan, Chapter 12, 18

     "I couldn't do anything except curl up like a ball on the floor of the barn and lie there, crying.  The kind of tears that burn your eyes, and the sort of sobs that make your chest ache so that you're sure it's going to bust open.  And when the sobs finally ran out, the tears kept coming, so I lay there with my mouth wide open, but I hardly made a sound.  Just air going into me, and a heavy wind full of sorrow coming out.
     "But as I cried, my heart was being transformed.  It was getting smaller and smaller in my chest and hardening up like a rock.  The smaller and harder my heart got, the less I cried, until I stopped completely.
     "By the time I was finished, my heart was a sharp, black stone that was small enough to fit in the palm of my hand.  It was so hard nobody could break it and so sharp it would hurt anybody who touched it.
     "I stayed there, staring ahead at nothing, with just about nothing left inside of me, for quite a bit.
     "And then my new heart came up with a resolution.  Because when your heart changes, you change, and you have to make new plans . . . I could feel the hardness of my heart spreading into my arms and my legs and my head, and it felt fine.  I would win . . . And that was the end of me listening to anybody or anything, other than myself and my new heart, for a long time.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *     
     "And she was wearing me down in ways she probably didn't even intend to.
     "Ms. Washington would read to us each day after lunch, and her voice was like different musical instruments.  She could make her voice go low and deep and strong like a tuba, or hop, hop, hop quick and light like a flute.
     "When she read, her voice wrapped around my head and my heart, and it softened and lightened everything up.  It put a pain in my heart that felt good.

The book tells the story of a grade school aged girl who lives on a large farm, an apple orchard.  She is home schooled by her mother, and spends hours among her trees.  They speak to her and she hears their poetry in the wind.  Her mother gets cancer and her father has to sell part of the farm to a housing development and they cut down trees--her trees.  Her mother gets cancer and she has to be enrolled in public school.  Ida's heart is hardened by the terror and pain that she feels . . . it is softened by the understanding and patience of her teacher, Ms. Washington, and magic--the magic of words read aloud.

I love the book, because it not only speaks to me, but speaks the words that have defined me during times in my life.  The story is not mine . . . but it is mine.  As Ida cries, I also cry and my soul feels the barbs of her hardened heart.  As she listens to her teacher read aloud to the class, my mind fills with words from the stories that I have listened to, read out loud to my children . . . and have also read to myself in quiet times and quiet places when I needed to hear the magic of their sound. 

Words we say to each other land in the heart and grow.
                          CEWH

Words have power, more than we can know

Words we say to others, land in the heart and grow.

By words, the earth created,  By words, the stars are paired

In words we hear eternity, by words our hearts are shared.

Words have power, more than we can know

Words we say to others, land in the heart and grow.

Will they bloom, sustaining life? or will they root and rot?

Will I be traitor-coward or be the hero sought.
                                                  from Words Have Power, talk given June 2012, CEWH

Ms.Hannigan's book, Ida B, is a work of art rendered in words.  I have been blessed by her talent and am grateful for the chance I've had to read and re-read her creation.

What To Do

1.  brush the 3 rabbits, 2 cats and dog
2.  clean the bathrooms
3.  vacuum for dust bunnies
4.  read scriptures
5.  physical therapy
6.  check email
7.  check calendar for coming appointments
8.  work on school with Nate
9.  work with photos
10. eat
11. water plants
12. remember to take meds
13. finish cleaning out clothes closet
14. prep foot care for Brent
15. sweep porch
16. play with Brent, the kids, the pets
17. love Brent
18. pray
19. sleep
20. study for my classes
21. remember to smile
22. remember to sit up straight
23. remember who I am
24. look around me
25. prep house to paint
26. look for kitchen table with drop leaves
27. do laundry
28. clean up
29. cook dinner
30. love Brent better

The House is Piling Up Around Me

While I was putting some things we wanted to sell onto Craig's List, Brent was cleaning the living room.  I saw, out of the corner of my eye, him come and go--bringing stuff in and putting it down.  After about half an hour I look up and I find that I am surrounded by piles of papers and piles of books and piles of notebooks.  When I catch his eye--he smiles at me and tells me that he has brought me all the things that I needed to look at and put them all in one place for me.

!

I think that I will try to find something else to put on Craig's List.