Archive for the ‘beyond the surface’ Category
Pareidolia
pareidolia: the tendency to perceive a specific, often meaningful image in a random or ambiguous visual pattern
(Merriam-Webster Dictionary)
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When you look at marble, or at clouds in the sky, or bubbles in a glass of milk, do you see faces? Can you see The Man in the Moon? Pareidolia refers to the seeing of human faces or other images where they don’t exist. Pareidolia is a normal human tendency.
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I often see images in the marble patterns of our flooring. It can be quite entertaining. Mostly, I see animals. I think it is the biologist in me!
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Perhaps aliens also have pareidolia. In my upcoming book Meniscus: The Knife, I devote a chapter to this phenomenon. On planet Meniscus, there is a dirth of paper. One of my early characters, Ning, made paper from plant fibres for her girlfriend Kathryn, an artist. By Meniscus: The Knife, Book 8 in the series, (spoiler alert) only three sheets of Ning’s paper remain. Don-est, the alien child, wants to draw, so Kathryn shows her how to draw on the marble walls of the dwellings in the Village.
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Vicki sets her laundry
on the marble floor.
Tries to see
what Don’est is doing.
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As her eyes adjust
to smoky light,
she sees markings on the walls.
Drawings of bug-eyed evernells
and fuzzy elginards.
A slear-snake
with myriad eyes.
A cardoth moon,
slim sickle
of glowing white
in marble green.
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Don’est feels eyes on her.
Swivels her neck.
“What do you think
of my drawings?”
she says.
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“What are you doing?”
says Vicki.
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“I asked Kathryn for paper
but she has only a sheet or two
of the paper Ning made.
“So she showed me
an idea she had.
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“The marble walls,
you see,
have hidden secrets.
Lines and shadows
look like evernells
and Humans and slear-snakes
and grammid trees.”
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Vicki looks
at faint green lines on the walls.
Sees an old man in the pattern.
A thready waterfall.
A leaf-bare tree,
branches reaching for sky.
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“But what are you using to draw?”
she says.
“
Eyebrow pencil.
Kathryn and Ning
found it on a transport
long ago.”
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All my best,
staying at home,
drawing on the floors and walls,
Jane
Stay Home
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Don’t know how many times
I can say it.
Stay home!”
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“Stay home?
What are you talking about?
I am rooted to the ground.
All I can do is
Stay Home.”
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“You can’t fool me.
I know you’ve been sneaking around.
Letting your roots grow
into all kinds of places.
Communicating with other trees.”
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“What are you talking about?
My tap root grows deep.
All I can do is
Stay Home.”
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“You can’t fool me.
I know you’ve been sneaking around.
Letting your leaves drop,
blow all over the woods.
Mixing with those of other trees.”
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“What are you talking about?
Can’t help it if my leaves are dry.
All I can do is
Stay Home.”
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“You can’t fool me.
I know you’ve been
conspiring with squirrels.
Spreading your acorns
all over the woods.
Mingling with other trees.”
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“What are you talking about?
I can’t be responsible
for what my children do.
All I can do is
Stay Home.”
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“All I can do
is repeat myself.
Stay Home.”
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All my best,
Jane
Staying Home!
Jack-o-lanterns
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pumpkins, anonymous Jack-o-lanterns
huddle in snow, flakes melt
and tears slide down
undifferentiated
cheeks
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people pass by and fail
to recognize
featureless
family
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Happy Hallowe’en
Jane
creepy camera
Today as I was making trips to the bird feeders, I set my camera down in the entry-way. I did fumble with it a bit as I left, trying to turn it off.
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Later, as I went through my bird-feeder photos, I found this in with the rest of the files. The photo is one frame of a one minute video. Me, leaving to go outside.
Creepy camera.
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Copyright Jane Tims 2018
adventure at 3:30 am and 5 degrees C
Occasionally we have an adventure, outside our usual experience. This morning was one of those times.
Call us crazy, but my husband and I joined a much younger group this morning and spent four and a half hours waiting in the cold wind and dark. Our purpose, to get a Super Nintendo Classic Mini for our son for his birthday.
In the electronic gaming world new products are so popular, they are sold primarily in pre-release. Stores also get a few extra products … to get one of these, gamers stand in line, sometimes all night.
We have had some previous experience. Back during the Cabbage Patch Kid craze, I stood in a pre-opening line-up to get Lola Rhonda, our Cabbage Patch doll. And about ten years ago my husband went at 4 in the morning to get a popular toy at Walmart.
For today’s adventure, we arrived, not knowing what to expect, at 3:30 in the morning. It was dark and windy and cold (5 degrees C). At first, it seemed no one was there ahead of us, but then we found the line … seven brave souls, some fast asleep in their sleeping bags, down the side of the building.
To the right of the dark building, down a side alley, are my husband and about 20 other brave souls!
We joined the line. We were warmly dressed and had a folding chair to sit on. We took turns (leave your space in the line and lose it). It was shivering cold and perhaps pneumonia will be the outcome, but gradually I found ways to keep warmer. One was to clutch my pillow (brought in case I wanted to sleep) to my core, another was to remember that your head is responsible for most heat loss (I discovered a hood in my jacket) and best of all, a cup of hot tea from a nearby Tim Hortons and a pack of jumbo raisins from home.
Me, huddled under my newly discovered hood, trying to keep warm!
We had lots to do as we waited … the high school my husband attended was just across the way and there was a clear sky with great views of Orion and the planet Venus. At about seven, there was a wonderful, warming sunrise.
The mood in the line was good and it was fun to listen to the passionate discussion of Nintendo, games won and lost, adventures undertaken.
A cheer went up when the store folk came out to say there were products available for everyone in line (there was some doubt)! This was followed by another buzz of excitement when the store passed out tickets to each person in the line.
The green ticket, first reward for our wait …
Then the line closed up and my husband went into the store to buy the game system.
A happy group, in the line-up to get their game systems, after four or more hours waiting in the cold and dark … my husband is inside, paying for our new Super Nintendo Classic Mini …
The reward for our wait? Besides the game system and a gift for my son’s upcoming birthday, we had a great McDonald’s breakfast and the warmth of our home to return to. Also, an unusual adventure. It’s interesting how you go from ‘no knowledge’ to ‘expert’. I can now write the Survivors Guide to Standing in Line!
Copyright 2017 Jane Tims
after the ice storm
Our drive in the crystal world after the ice storm reminded me of a poem I wrote years ago.
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It is a rebellious poem (for me), written when I was entering the workforce and unwilling to be viewed from any traditional point of view. Part of the poem uses the metaphor of ‘breaking the glass ceiling’ (Marilyn Davidson and Cary Cooper. Shattering the Glass Ceiling: The Woman Manager. Paul Chapman, Pub., 1992). The poem is about an experience in 1979 of walking in a forest after an ice storm, on one of my earliest dates with my husband. Apparently I didn’t want him to think of me in any traditional role!
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Breaking the Glass Ceiling
we still see birch
bent in the forest
broken yet grown
fifteen years
since the ice storm
years translucent
as the curtain of fir
you held back for me
I ran ahead
wanted to walk with you
but hoped you knew
how alone I could be
above me branches
burdened
with ice
your hand on my arm
go softly ! (you said)
a touch
will shatter
twigs and tree-tops
chiselled from ice
breathe
and hear a million cymbals
tied to our wrists with ribbon
I wanted to listen with you
but hoped you knew
I would never be
coins in a wishing well
a ballerina bolted to a box of jewels
goblets clinking for a kiss
I will not let you
shelter me
I know only
shards of glass
from the ceiling
(some days I am fragile
only needing warmth
to keep from breaking)
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Copyright 2016 Jane Tims
crows too
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Grim Women
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1.
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the crows burden the trees
gather their iron grits
criticize one another
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they slip through gaps
in the matrix
and are gone
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their wings are bruises
on the afternoon
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their wind is deliberate
and desperate
hardened to the goal
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2.
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in black
grim women
watch one-another
hide the key
beneath the doormat
and glide
towards the town
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Published as ‘Grim Women’, Women & Environments International Magazine (WEIM) No 86/87 Spring/Summer, 2011, p 8
Copyright 2014 Jane Tims
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writing weekend
This weekend, I will be attending WordSpring. WordSpring is the annual spring meeting and workshop of the New Brunswick Writers’ Federation. I will be reading some of the poetry from my ‘harvesting colour’ manuscript and I will get another eye on part of my novel at a Blue Pencil Café.
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Preparations for the weekend made me think of a poem I wrote after the workshop in Saint Andrews a few years ago …
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October 9, 2011 ‘Moon through the trees’ Jane Tims
encounters
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on a windy night
in Saint Andrews, a toad
hop-toddies across the road,
bewildered
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and on Prince of Wales, a deer
pauses on the sidewalk, stares
up the hill, and I hesitate
before driving on
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in the Algonquin, a light
switches on, in the room I know is mine
and a couple huddles on the open porch,
and leaves, mottled, skid
along the street
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Copyright 2014 Jane Tims
dressing in black
on this wintry day …
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Rebecca
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in black
advances
down the middle
of the street
oblivious to traffic
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dark mists
and Avalon
the perfect rupture of sky
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from her fingers
black threads
spin skirt
and widow’s weeds
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black painted nails
blackened sockets of eye
her lips black also
from a feast of berries
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Copyright 2000 Jane Tims
excusing the difference
On this cold and wintry day …
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When my son went to school, we often went to theatrical presentations at the school. The young people were so talented and the presentations so well executed, I often went away with the lines of a poem running through my head.
One evening performance was particularly memorable and inspiring. It was a production of Romeo and Juliet, and in this ‘version’ Rosaline was given an on-stage role. Rosaline is the character who does not appear in Shakespeare’s play but has a background role as Romeo’s first love.
The young lady who played the part of Rosaline was memorable for her costuming and her on-stage presence. She was dressed entirely in black Goth except for her hair – bright pink. I remember her soliloquy – she begged us to look past her difference and see the person within.
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heroine
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her hair
a stroke of pink
on the brown audience
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more compelling
than the script
or the decorated stage
not surprising to see her name
on the program
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Rose
in the part of Rosaline
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in black but for the hair
even her lips
implore the audience
to pardon the difference
to understand
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if only he had lived
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she, of course, the heroic one
not Romeo
or Juliet
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not the dead
but the left-behind
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Copyright 2014 Jane Tims
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