My friend Jonathan wrote to me about "making pesto like an Italian grandmother."  I got to thinking that fresh basil and extra virgin olive oil aren't enough, in and of themselves, to make pesto on par with an Italian grandmother's.  It occurred to me that in order to make pesto like a real Italian grandmother, one would have to somehow be an Italian grandmother.  Improbable, perhaps ... but not impossible, thanks to the Honorary Italian Grandmother (and Saint) Certificate.

Italian grandmothers are famous for being dauntless, affectionate, and inspirational.  The spirit of Nonna, the archetypal Italian Grandmother, is the zest for life.  Nonna is present whenever a family and guests are well fed and whenever something is created by hand, with care and love.

I created the Honorary Italian Grandmother (and Saint) Certificate for those rare individuals with a flair for maintaining tradition, improvising without blinking, and turning anything into a nurturing experience.  The Certificate is personalized in fine calligraphy, easy for you to generate, and completely free!  Click here to check it out.

Today's "symbolic outlook" from MysteryArts.com is rather exciting.  Notice the elegant progression of spirals, from a tiny spiraling line within the crystal-ball (left), to the full spiral in the circle (middle), to the uncoiling spirals forming the magic lamp (right).  The small spiral is but one of many things floating inside the crystal ball.  Whether symbolizing a spiritual journey, evolution, growth, or the balance of light and dark (as in ancient Chinese art), the outlook seems to suggest that focusing on the spiral brings it to the foreground and enlarges it.  Then, in the third panel, the spiral doubles itself to cradle the flame of a genii's lamp.  Therefore, looking inward (the crystal ball) provides insights into nurturing the spark of life (the spirit contained within the physical shell of the lamp).  Even better are the captions for each symbol.  Reading left to right, enchantment (finding delight, being charming), if put into motion (acted upon), will fuel the imagination (make-believe, as in the Aladdin story). 

Q: How do they make rye bread?

A: It's grown from caraway seeds.

(Literary humorist Jonathan Caws-Elwitt's plays, stories, essays, letters, parodies, wordplay, witticisms and miscellaneous tomfoolery can be found at Monkeys 1, Typewriters 0.  Here you'll encounter frivolous, urbane writings about symbolic yams, pigs in bikinis, donut costumes, vacationing pikas, nonexistent movies, cross-continental peppermills, and other compelling subjects.)

From Prof. Oddfellow's sketchbook:

I've been compiling a list of things I excitedly told my kid brother 20 years ago, which he (annoyingly) scoffed at.  These were ideas (from any number of sources) that captured my imagination but which irritated my brother's skeptical brain and stimulated his argumentative nature:

1. Had dinosaurs not died out, they would have evolved into human beings.  [I had seen a computer model proving this one, with an illustration of what a dino-human would have looked like (scaly skin, lizard-like features, human frame).  In fairness to me, this was long, long before the general public had any reason to doubt computer models.  So-called evidence aside, I'd say my brother's suspicions about this one were overly exaggerated.  Here's a short article about the theoretical "dinosauroid."]

2. The Navy cannot train dolphins to plant underwater bombs, because dolphins are pacifists.  [I still like the idea of dolphins being pacifists.  I heard this one from my professor of transformational/generative grammar.  He didn't have the Navy's unclassified reports on hand.  Here's a brief mention of "the dolphin who refused to fight" in the Persian Gulf.]

3. Eskimos have hundreds of words for "snow," proving that different cultures experience different realities.  [This is indeed an urban legend.  My brother was right, though not necessarily for the right reasons.  Here's a Wikipedia article about the origins and significance of the myth.]

4. The only reason dolphins don't paint, sculpt, play instruments, and build buildings is that they don't have hands.  [In other words, dolphins don't have a culture due to a physical handicap, not because they're otherwise unevolved.  I still like this idea.  Here's an article entitled "Dolphins and Man — Equals?"]

Well, that's all I can think of right off the bat, though I recall my brother scoffing at me hundreds (if not thousands) of times.  Luckily, kid brothers don't carry much clout ... though here I am 20 years later still thinking about what mine scoffed at!

Walking on air (with Hanan Levin)

High on life

A parachuter is taking one giant step, on an invisible current of air

A glass floor is transparent section of a floor in a building or a boat. Usually made of a reinforced glass, the most common use is as a tourist attraction. The highest above ground level is in the CN Tower in Toronto. The highest glass floor in a building in Europe is in the Spinnaker Tower in Portsmouth. The highest in Oceania is in the observation deck of Sky Tower in Auckland

Design and construction of Spinnaker Tower (From Apothecary's Drawer)

Here's a snapshot of "Sarah and Debbie standing on glass plates in the Auckland Sky Tower about 700 feet up in the air. This was just a few moments before lightning struck the tower." I'd say this counts as "walking on air"

One attraction of the Macau Tower is the "skywalk," which can be quite scary in cases of strong winds

The making of the Grand Canyon glass bridge

These lone Converse shoes hanging on a power line are walking on air. These occupied shoes are walking even higher

King Crimson

Back in 1934, Popular Mechanics featured newfangled boots with built-in rubber bladders, promising the sensation of "walking on air"

These guys in the treetops may be secured by ropes, but they're certainly walking on air

Mohammad Asif walking on air

Is this Washington Post photo an optical illusion or a Photoshop job?

Of course, the masters of walking on air are caterpillars

This is a post that I am “co-blogging” with Hanan Levin of Grow-a-Brain. Thank you, Hanan, for the links you suggested!

On this dreary day I spun the Follow Your Bliss compass, and the dial landed on "Study something new to expand your body, mind, spirit."  I decided to add something to the end of that instruction: "which will also help you to meet the deadline for your magazine article that's due next week."  So I did some more research into the ancient Near Eastern concept of a three-tiered universe.  Blissful?  Indeed!  Especially when I did some impromptu globe-hopping and lost myself in various Native American creation myths.

From Prof. Oddfellow's sketchbook:

The other day a woman tearfully recalled a traumatic moment from her childhood.  Her mother had sent her on an errand, and she had failed.  Her mother confronted her, saying that she must try again, threatening that if she failed this time, she needn't bother coming home ever again.  Though six decades had passed, that merciless confrontation was as real in this woman's mind as if it had happened today.  And that got me to thinking: if physicists and philosophers are correct that linear time is illusory (and I have no reason to doubt them), then there's nothing wrong with dwelling on the past or daydreaming about the future.  In fact, reminiscing about long-distant events could actually be empowering.  In the absence of linear time, everything in our lives is happening simultaneously.  When we dwell on a so-called past event, we're bringing additional consciousness to that timeless moment.  On those occasions when we feel especially alert, perhaps even anticipating (as if through precognition) what's about to happen, it might be because in the so-called future our minds are racing back to that event, bringing new focus and increased knowledge or wisdom.  In other words, perhaps our "future" selves are offering the benefit of hindsight, in advance, as it were.  In any case, if linear time is an illusion then past events are as "real" as anything in the present.  All I know for sure is that I'll never tell anyone to "get over" the past again.

If linear time is an illusion, then daydreaming about the future might be related to future memories.  When we set goals, we're simply remembering the future.  That's why goal-setting helps to ensure success—it's a self-fulfilling prophecy, a foregone conclusion.  When we daydream about the future, perhaps it's our future-selves thinking back, saying, "Look how far I've come!"  Or perhaps it's our future-selves offering a little solace, saying, "Cheer up, kiddo—things will get better."

I've always loved Ram Dass' teaching: "Be here now."  I can't help but consider some slight revisions: "Be there now" and "Be then now."

From Prof. Oddfellow's sketchbook:

• a set of shot glasses
• a crystal ball
• a transparent novelty toilet seat
• a clear quartz pendant
• a beveled glass suncatcher
• translucent sandals
• a clear vinyl shower curtain
• a clear rain poncho
• a set of empty CD cases
• bottled water
• a clear glass paperweight
• plastic wrap
• acrylic martini glasses
• a crystal clear iPOD NANO case
• a pressed glass serving platter
• a cut lead crystal flower vase
• a window pane
• a clear plastic comb
• an invisible painting
• a lucite and mirror coffee table

Awaking from a deep sleep, I experienced that uncanny phenomenon in which everything appears new and familiar all at once.  It was almost psychedelic, the way I seemed to see beneath the surface of things.  All veils of subjectivity—the distorting filters of my own expectations, fears, and desires—were stripped away.  The air was alive with the colored light of dawn.  All was revealed to be in a state of flux.  The random movements of the swarming seagulls out my window seemed governed by some higher ordering principle.  The plants and trees seemed to be hovering above the architecture.  Everything everywhere seemed to be vibrantly humming in excitement and joy.  On top of it all, time seemed to have no meaning.  It was like standing at the South Pole.  All the time zones come together at the end of the world.  A single pirouette can last an eternity.

From Prof. Oddfellow's sketchbook:

From Prof. Oddfellow's sketchbook:

From Prof. Oddfellow's sketchbook:

From Prof. Oddfellow's sketchbook:

While visiting Peanut Lake in Wisconsin, I could swear I spotted the elusive Peanut Duck.  According to The New Biology site, "Peanut ducks were first discovered in 1671, when they were proclaimed 'a fear-some mishe-mashe of plante and fowle' by the Church.  However, after two centuries of relentless persecution, it became clear that the creatures were far too clumsy on land to be any threat, and they were left to their own devices.  The peanut duck is also a dance."

Today's posting is in honor of my caterer friend Cathi, who badly poked her thumb while preparing a client's holiday feast.

From Jonathan Caws-Elwitt:

Literary humorist Jonathan Caws-Elwitt's plays, stories, essays, letters, parodies, wordplay, witticisms and miscellaneous tomfoolery can be found at Monkeys 1, Typewriters 0. Here you'll encounter frivolous, urbane writings about symbolic yams, pigs in bikinis, donut costumes, vacationing pikas, nonexistent movies, cross-continental peppermills, and other compelling subjects.