Print by Marvin Oliver
The hot days of summer make us move a little slower, taking time for puttering. But they also give us time for introspection; for taking stock of what is important. Dailiness sounds like my childhood diary, where page after page said “Nothing happened today.” But of course something happens every day. I’m happy with our morning routine where Dr. A presents me with a latte to start the day. It’s a nice gesture intended to soften the TV news of fires and politics which is never good. We keep thinking we will turn the news off and cancel the newspaper which is nothing more than two or three pages of what was seen the night before. But we do not, because the habits of a lifetime keep us curious, and that constitutes dailiness.
Greek mythology relates how a large white bird fell from favor and was transformed into a large black raven, a favorite omen of warning, tragedy or disaster, and the negative messenger in Poe’s famous poem.
The image above is by my friend Marvin Oliver, Professor of Indian Studies at University of Washington. The interpretation of Art is in the eyes of the beholder, without which there is no Art. To me the broken heart he is presenting to the ancient abandoned village in the background signifies loss. Loss of a way of life and of a proud people whose Dailiness was not enough to sustain their culture. The tribal Journey Paddle to Puyallup brought canoes from as far away as Alaska and from California, which shows that the culture is alive and well.
The days of our youth and unyouth did not include frequent trips to visit the doctor, or the quack as my British friend calls him. Today if I miss calling a friend I find that he/she has had a hip or a knee replaced in the meantime and is already up and ready to go. Our capacity to maintain seems to lessen as we grow older, so I was not surprised to learn yesterday from the young foreign-born eye quack that I am now considered legally blind. Of course that term is broad and subject to qualification. I cannot drive, which I accept as another of those things I don’t have to worry about. One learns to gracefully say goodbye to things with as little regret as possible. The handicapped have so many options for a so-called “normal” life today, we should be grateful. The good new that day was from the leg surgeon who said he would see me in one year.
While waiting somewhat patiently for the pretty young retinal specialist to appear, I thought of the days when if you went to a doctor he could fix your hang nail, clean your ears, offer advice on every part of your body, and possibly tell you to stop complaining. Today each of those parts needs someone whose expertise seems to have ended after they learned to spell their discipline.
The interesting thing about Dailiness, is that it really does change every day. If it doesn’t try using the new app GOYA; Get Off Your Apps. Turn the TV off, stop looking at your e-mail, go for a walk. It’s a beautiful summer day.
Pachofa-Unfinished 
We now only watch TV for the movies on ‘Demand’ and have a special TV to ‘download’ them. For some reason we are now binging on Dark Scandinavian movies. We sometimes watch 2 or 3 sessions which get us so nervous and tense we forget to drink our beverages. ( which might be a good thing).
We are on quack’s binges as well. Endless referrals to see specialists in full waiting rooms with faded magazines and Princess Diane articles. So far, no knee, hip or other body parts but that might be next. The referrals seem to lead to another one and so it goes, Kayti. No day repeats itself, and Milo keeps us sane and that is without referral.
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The endless palliative effect all the Milos and Charlies have should be bottled. We went through a lot of those dark Scandinavian mysteries. Now on Dr. Blake from Australia.
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The print is intriguing, as is your interpretation of it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a better depiction of a crow. The expression in the eye seems to provide a window into the nature of the bird and all it has ever symbolized.
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The raven’s cousin, Henry the pesky crow has not visited us for some time. I have hot missed him. Periodically a few crows sail overhead but do not land. I found the faint depiction of the abandoned village resting in the background heartbreaking. Sort of the end of another era.
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Strangely, I didn’t see the raven bringing the heart to the broken and fading village. Instead, I saw him as the rescuer, who had plucked the heart from the village, obeying a charge to carry it elsewhere, to safety.
I read the most interesting article about Rich Francis, an indigenous (Gwich’in and Haudenosaunee) Canadian chef who has made it his business to bring back indigenous cuisine. In a way, it’s akin to the Paddle to Seattle. Rebuilding and reclaiming aren’t easy, but sometimes the effort are successful.
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Yes, very interesting article about the young chef. I can see where it would be difficult to use some of the ingredients such as wild game etc. The photos of some of the dishes are very colorful. It’s good to see people trying to keep old customs alive in our busy world. We seem to welcome all immigrant customs but fail to realize things which were taken away from the indiginous population. I’m sure if it were brought up to our Australian friends, it would be the same.
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To me the raven’s wings are held in a protective way, sheltering the land and guarding the heart. I agree with you, I am trying to spend less time in front of a screen, unless I am actually writing something, and not getting distracted! I do not consider you to be a distraction, always a pleasure x
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I like the way both you and Shoreacres interpreted the painting instead of mine. They were more hopeful. I look forward to your posts each day! Where else would I see beautiful flowers?
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I am very happy to share 🙂
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