Catching up

This is going to be a random entry: I haven't posted for a while and I have a lot to say. [Edit: As usual, I ran out of energy way before I ran out of things to write about, so the rest of the topics will remain on my new "action" list, Weblog.]

First, this rather inspiring article in the LA Times last week about a high school science class raising worms and using the worm castings in their container gardens.

Next, the self-help book of the month: Getting Things Done: The Art of Stress-Free Productivity by David Allen. Like many self-help books, it's not much more than codified common sense, but I found some useful reminders in it. The notion of developing a system to keep track of all the things my mind is going to try keep track of anyway so that I can free my mind to concentrate on what I have in front of me at the moment was a timely nudge! I even finished a way overdue booknote yesterday and submitted it to the editor. So, common sense it may be, but I'll take help from where ever I can get it!

Then, at work, my new mantra is, "What Would H. [my former colleague] Do?" I really admired the way she tackled problems head on without fretting over them, always treating people graciously while making sure they did what she needed them to do.

Meanwhile, back at home, my calathea is unfurling two new leaves. I am very pleased. My white African violet buds, however, shriveled into brown berries. I think it's too hot for them in my living room. I don't know where else to put the plant, though, where it would be cooler yet still receive enough light.

Finally, currently reading: Markings by Dag Hammarskjöd. I have written pages of quotes from him in my off-line journal. Here's one of his passages (p. 76).

Now.  When I have overcome my fears—of others, of my-
self, of the underlying darkness:
    at the frontier of the unheard-of.
    Here ends the known.  But, from a source beyond it,
      something fills my being with its possibilities.
    Here desire is purified and made lucid: each action is
      a preparation for, each choice an assent to the unknown.
    Prevented by the duties of life on the surface from
      looking down into the depths, yet all the while being
      slowly trained and molded by them to take the plunge
      into the deep whence rises the fragrance of a forest
      star, bearing the promise of a new affection.
    At the frontier—