I love the term orientation. It’s connected to my past and my future. And now all at once.
The days I choose to orient around “love” or “hope,” I wind up noticing how these things are true in my life. “Grace” is another one. For obvious reasons, these orientations feel good. But some days I forget to orient myself, like this morning, and I instead mill about my house, making coffee and feeling wildly grateful I have time alone before the rest of my family comes down the stairs to sew loudness and stories and random unspoken demands. It’s like a rush, a rush to finish being peaceful before everyone is up. How oddly ridiculous, to rush about my peace-making, but here we are.
This morning I gathered a bunch of old postcards and note cards to use for Christmas Thank You notes, made myself a mocha1, and fought internally about what was better: bowing to Buddha, taking my dog for a walk, or writing myself this little post. Oh yeah, or cleaning my house. Which sucks
Orienting to Land: a pattern by sea
Thinking about my Dad’s role in the Navy, and the little experience I have steering boats, I remember what most stuck with me. If you are steering without instruments, you can orient yourself by the constellations, or by aiming toward a lit object on the shoreline. Unless on glassy ocean, your ship will not appear to be on target nearly moment of your cruise– that is, with the bow pointing directly at desired port– because each wave tosses you up and down, left and right, making your bow draw a kind of a wave pattern in front of the target, resembling an unraveling infinity sign or funky ampersand on it’s side.
Getting there: to a port in the storm, that is.
If your aim is true, you will get to the harbor. Of course, instruments are incredibly valuable, but from the standpoint of the original mariners or pirates, you’ll get there even if you don’t seem to be headed that way “by bow” at any given moment. So, landing is a correction thing, and a paying attention thing too. Below is a diagram of the pattern of waves from a bow’s perspective while aiming at a singular point on shore.
Welcome to School: Getting Oriented
Before you start college, or any other program of study, you often have a chance to attend an orientation. That is, a tour of the campus to show new how the environment is mapped out both practically and culturally. In some ways, this is related to the animal behavior of “skirting and scouting,” and also includes culture to help new students orient themselves socially too. It’s helpful in building confidence in the environment and facilitate connection before attending. I’m pretty sure I never set foot on the U of M campus before I decided to attend, at least it felt that way: getting passed up the student stadium seats was damn fun though.
Thank you cards trains…
When I ‘caught’ myself pulling out a Burlington Zephyr postcard from my storehouse of cards & mailing stuffs, I remembered how our family had a connection to this train. It filled me with wonder at the man Karl Fisher (I just confirmed his name’s spelling, but before that went down a rando rabbit history hole about the Lincoln Highway)2 who worked his way up from conductor to VP and was instrumental in the development of the Zephyr. He married my great-grandmother on my dad’s side, and adopted my grandmother Annabelle. Many moons ago, I got a tour of the art deco train which was known for speed and style in it’s day. You can see the Pioneer Zephyr at the Museum of Science and Industry in Chicago.
