What will you be and become in 2013? How about using focus w o r d s instead of resolutions to get the job done? Pick three words and post them everywhere in your world. Let's goooooooooo!
Be the word you wish to see in this world!
love
Wednesday, December 26, 2012
w o r d s instead of resolutions???
What will you be and become in 2013? How about using focus w o r d s instead of resolutions to get the job done? Pick three words and post them everywhere in your world. Let's goooooooooo!
Be the word you wish to see in this world!
love
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
h a p p y m e r r y!
t o p ten p i c t u r e l e s s countries. thank you for reading this blog & our w o r d s!
United States
Russia
l o v e you!
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
w o r d s on no w o r d s
"there are no words" read the status update of one of our pictureless' friends. It was my first indication that something went wrong in the world.
Hours later I spoke with one of our Connecticut pictureless' tween babies.
"Ms. Teffanie, we are okay."
"Oh, yeah. What happened?"
She explained her understanding, her version, of the atrocity.
At home we didn't talk about it. We prepared for dinner, band practice and a thirteen year old's gymnastic birthday party. I shared with them the Christmas carol mall flash mob my fabulous boss sent me earlier.
"Mom, did you hear what happened?"
"What happened, Baby?"
She explained her understanding, her version, of the atrocity.
I still had no words. I would need some soon, and I couldn't continue to rely on tweens for the 411. Eventually, I would be expected to make a statement to have words as is the nature of all of my chosen professions.
Over the weekend I read the New York Times and I listened by the facebook water cooler. The words were there. People had lots of words to create their understanding, their version, of chaos.
They weren't mine.
I didn't want words from national leaders not standing on the educational front line. I didn't want words that voiced people's response to those politicians.
I didn't want words of where God was allowed, or not.
I didn't want words of fashion solidarity protocols of hoodies, and colors, and ribbons to don. Within moments, three different posts announcing five different colors to be worn on Monday popped onto my feed.
I didn't want words about gun control or mental illness or gun control and mental illness.
I kind of wanted words of Scandal... What did happen to the other shooter? I still knew that it wouldn't bring relevancy to my world or prompt the words I needed to make sense.
Monday, the day arrived. I still didn't have a single word let alone a statement. What had I said in the past? I am from the 254... we lived through Luby's, we lived through Darnell.
Nothing.
You can't stop will. That's all I had or some variation of it.
What do we tell the students?
You can't stop will.
Should we lock the doors? Should we post people at the entry ways? Should we arm teachers?
Review Crisis Management. You can't stop will.
It was my answer to it all. Poor leadership. Poor words.
Maybe... there WERE no words.
Then Tracy's melody began, and in seconds the notes floated outside of my head all Calista Flockhart style. Not Brothers & Sisters, Calista Flockhart, Ally McBeal, Calista.
Sorry
is all that you can't say
Years gone by and still
Words don't come easily
Like sorry like s o r r y
Forgive me
is all that you can't say
Years gone by and still
Words don't come easily
Like forgive me f o r g i v e me
But you can say baby
Baby can I hold you tonight
Maybe if I told you the right words
As the right time you'd be mine
I love you
Is all that you can't say
Years gone by and still
Words don't come easily
Like I love you I l o v e you
There they were.
s o r r y
f o r g i v e
l o v e
The forgiveness stood out. I thought of the Amish. Remember when a milkman killed five girls in an Amish schoolhouse. The Amish of that community immediately displayed ginormous forgiveness to the shooter and kindness to his family.
It was so bizarre, yet so b e a u t i f u l.
For date night a few months back Farmer Guy and I viewed the documentary, The Amish. We both remembered the same man. He indicated that he didn't want to be the judge of something like that. That wasn't his job. It resonated and had relevance.
Sorry, Forgive, and Love
I am so sorry that this happened on my watch.
I forgive the Lanzas'.
I love you. I love you. I love you. 26 times I love you.
l o v e
Hours later I spoke with one of our Connecticut pictureless' tween babies.
"Ms. Teffanie, we are okay."
"Oh, yeah. What happened?"
She explained her understanding, her version, of the atrocity.
At home we didn't talk about it. We prepared for dinner, band practice and a thirteen year old's gymnastic birthday party. I shared with them the Christmas carol mall flash mob my fabulous boss sent me earlier.
"Mom, did you hear what happened?"
"What happened, Baby?"
She explained her understanding, her version, of the atrocity.
I still had no words. I would need some soon, and I couldn't continue to rely on tweens for the 411. Eventually, I would be expected to make a statement to have words as is the nature of all of my chosen professions.
Over the weekend I read the New York Times and I listened by the facebook water cooler. The words were there. People had lots of words to create their understanding, their version, of chaos.
They weren't mine.
I didn't want words from national leaders not standing on the educational front line. I didn't want words that voiced people's response to those politicians.
I didn't want words of where God was allowed, or not.
I didn't want words of fashion solidarity protocols of hoodies, and colors, and ribbons to don. Within moments, three different posts announcing five different colors to be worn on Monday popped onto my feed.
I didn't want words about gun control or mental illness or gun control and mental illness.
I kind of wanted words of Scandal... What did happen to the other shooter? I still knew that it wouldn't bring relevancy to my world or prompt the words I needed to make sense.
Monday, the day arrived. I still didn't have a single word let alone a statement. What had I said in the past? I am from the 254... we lived through Luby's, we lived through Darnell.
Nothing.
You can't stop will. That's all I had or some variation of it.
What do we tell the students?
You can't stop will.
Should we lock the doors? Should we post people at the entry ways? Should we arm teachers?
Review Crisis Management. You can't stop will.
It was my answer to it all. Poor leadership. Poor words.
Maybe... there WERE no words.
Then Tracy's melody began, and in seconds the notes floated outside of my head all Calista Flockhart style. Not Brothers & Sisters, Calista Flockhart, Ally McBeal, Calista.
Sorry
is all that you can't say
Years gone by and still
Words don't come easily
Like sorry like s o r r y
Forgive me
is all that you can't say
Years gone by and still
Words don't come easily
Like forgive me f o r g i v e me
But you can say baby
Baby can I hold you tonight
Maybe if I told you the right words
As the right time you'd be mine
I love you
Is all that you can't say
Years gone by and still
Words don't come easily
Like I love you I l o v e you
There they were.
s o r r y
f o r g i v e
l o v e
The forgiveness stood out. I thought of the Amish. Remember when a milkman killed five girls in an Amish schoolhouse. The Amish of that community immediately displayed ginormous forgiveness to the shooter and kindness to his family.
It was so bizarre, yet so b e a u t i f u l.
For date night a few months back Farmer Guy and I viewed the documentary, The Amish. We both remembered the same man. He indicated that he didn't want to be the judge of something like that. That wasn't his job. It resonated and had relevance.
Sorry, Forgive, and Love
I am so sorry that this happened on my watch.
I forgive the Lanzas'.
I love you. I love you. I love you. 26 times I love you.
l o v e
Monday, December 3, 2012
Friday, November 30, 2012
Words are Things! Lesson Plan
Words are Things
Mood and Metaphor
Tools:
Dictionary, Basket of
Same Six Words, Index Cards, Writing Utensils
Set up:
Prior to class:
Place a single index
card on each student seating area. Place a sample near the front on a desk.
Create zones (in different
room areas) with post it notes for each word.
Write bolded
underlined info on boards left to right beginning with first.
As students enter
classroom allow them to draw a word from basket. Direct them to draw what they
drew. Allow settling time.
Introduction of self
Warm-up
Draw the word you drew on a card. Make a visual representation of that word.
When you select your word- write the word in
the center of the card and begin to draw what that word feels like.
pictureless
Words brighten my day!
Let me let you in on a secret. Words are things, and I have proof. Who can tell me the definition of a noun?
What for response. That is correct. Person, place or thing. I have a sentence
on the board. What’s the noun in this sentence. Words! Is it a person? Is it a
place? It’s a thing. So today we are going to create more proof of this
statement words are things by using metaphors to create a sensory poem.
Lesson
Words can allow writers and readers to bring
in mood.
MOOD: The words used in a piece of writing with the intention of
evoking a certain emotion or feeling from the reader. Reference
sentence.
METAPHOR: A comparison of two different things to create figurative
language to imply likeness. A simile is a metaphor using the words
"like," "as" or "as if."
Things have particular attributes that we can
also give to words through our senses using metaphors. The word I have to use
often is focus and I’ve given it some thing-like characteristics.
Focus is clear
Focus sounds like radio station static when
driving from one Texas town to the next.
Focus smells like the day before the rain.
Focus tastes like air and
It looks like the light. The light at
the end of the tunnel.
Focus feels like shoulders up.
Focus is clear
Let’s do one together: love, wealth, fun,
kisses. Take class responses
You can do the same with your word by creating
a sensory poem on the back of your card. Talk them through this, then give time
for extra response. Explain that their simile can be one word or many to get to
the point.
Name your positive word is and finish with a
color
Name the word Sounds like...
Name the word Smells like...
Name the word Tastes like..., and
It Looks like...
Name the word Feels like...
Name a positive word is and finish with a
color
On the front of your card write the word...
then add the mood you just created with your sensory poem.
On the back write your poem.
Start music play video while work walk around
and pass out stickers.
Extension and
Technology Inclusion
When the exercise is
finished have the same word students congregate in that word’s area that was
assigned with the post-it notes. Allow
them to share results. Cards can be arranged for phone photos for screensavers
or to post to twitter: @toimaginemore and fb: https://www.facebook.com/pictureless
In longer classes take
volunteers to act (silently mime) out the word – Name that word.
Talk about purpose as
it relates to life.
Close
class with t h a n k s.
see samples on this video:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0h8eAQUtrug&noredirect=1
see samples on this video:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0h8eAQUtrug&noredirect=1
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
p r i c e less
Just reviewed the Holmes and Rahe stress scale, I could be in
trouble. You see, within the last 4 0 days l i f e was the w h i r l w i
n d.
"Reap it." YoungGuns
Aside from the collective stress with the recent national elections, and the community stress of our farmers' market annual celebration,
I e x p e r i e n c e d...
memorial - 1
burials - 2
wakes - 3
funerals - 4
thousands of dollars for funeral expenses and travel... p r i c e l e s s.
I got E N G A G E D to the Farmer Guy (first public announcement) by accepting a big R O C K, started wedding planning, sat on a felony jury, traveled all over my great state, c e l e b r a t e d my son's 17th birthday, attempted NaNoWriMo, all while negotiating 42 SES provider contracts. Weren't there also a few f a b u l o u s holidays with a few more to plan?
w o o s a h...e x h a l e
Most tense moment - I overcooked a whole spaghetti squash in my oven (remnants still remain). I raced into the kitchen after the s o n i c b o o m and threw my beloved Blackberry into the dishwater.
Why was that so stressful?
Um, well, (eat crow) I switched over to this distracted living device called the iPhone (first public announcement), which I swore I would never - ever - ever do.
Surely I've left out a few critical moments, like ortho appointments, school events, volleyball tournaments, holiday photo shoots, adopting a very sick puppy, and my ex-husband moving to town.
When I looked at the Rahe scale of life's possible insanity juxtaposed with stress related health issues, I wondered why I wasn't rocking on the floor in a fetal position sucking on my dreadlocks.
I knew why. I had w o r d s! Peaceful words of g r a t i t u d e.
I repeated this m a n t r a.
"To whom much is given, much is required."
And I had been given lots.
p r i c e less gratefuls.
10. w o r d s
9. f a c e b o o k & t e x t s & c a l l s
8. t e x a s weather
7. fabulous m i r a c l e beads
6. g o s p e l on music choice & pandora
5. h o t green t e a
4. Epsom s a l t baths
3. y o g a
2. h u l a h o o p s
1. my s o f t p l a c e, my h e r o, & my r o c k
There are some things money can't buy. For everything else there is divine universal delivery.
You will have everything that you need. #priceless #love
"Reap it." YoungGuns
Aside from the collective stress with the recent national elections, and the community stress of our farmers' market annual celebration,
I e x p e r i e n c e d...
memorial - 1
burials - 2
wakes - 3
funerals - 4
thousands of dollars for funeral expenses and travel... p r i c e l e s s.
I got E N G A G E D to the Farmer Guy (first public announcement) by accepting a big R O C K, started wedding planning, sat on a felony jury, traveled all over my great state, c e l e b r a t e d my son's 17th birthday, attempted NaNoWriMo, all while negotiating 42 SES provider contracts. Weren't there also a few f a b u l o u s holidays with a few more to plan?
w o o s a h...e x h a l e
Most tense moment - I overcooked a whole spaghetti squash in my oven (remnants still remain). I raced into the kitchen after the s o n i c b o o m and threw my beloved Blackberry into the dishwater.
Why was that so stressful?
Um, well, (eat crow) I switched over to this distracted living device called the iPhone (first public announcement), which I swore I would never - ever - ever do.
Surely I've left out a few critical moments, like ortho appointments, school events, volleyball tournaments, holiday photo shoots, adopting a very sick puppy, and my ex-husband moving to town.
When I looked at the Rahe scale of life's possible insanity juxtaposed with stress related health issues, I wondered why I wasn't rocking on the floor in a fetal position sucking on my dreadlocks.
I knew why. I had w o r d s! Peaceful words of g r a t i t u d e.
I repeated this m a n t r a.
"To whom much is given, much is required."
And I had been given lots.
p r i c e less gratefuls.
10. w o r d s
9. f a c e b o o k & t e x t s & c a l l s
8. t e x a s weather
7. fabulous m i r a c l e beads
6. g o s p e l on music choice & pandora
5. h o t green t e a
4. Epsom s a l t baths
3. y o g a
2. h u l a h o o p s
1. my s o f t p l a c e, my h e r o, & my r o c k
There are some things money can't buy. For everything else there is divine universal delivery.
You will have everything that you need. #priceless #love
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Sunday, November 4, 2012
Saturday, November 3, 2012
i m a g i n e
To imagine more. Our tag line. To us, it says it all. The power of conjuring your own image is extraordinary. We are asking you to picture less so that you may imagine more. Not only is it a superior educational tool that grows one’s ability to think and form lasting knowledge, it builds self-esteem. Isn’t it gratifying to create images based on the feelings and sensations within yourself? Wow. That’s all we can say. Wow. More please. Much much more.
Sunday, October 28, 2012
Friday, October 19, 2012
f u n
No book, no blog entry, no tweet, no card, or speech is created at p i c t u r e l e s s books that isn’t fun and our fullest pleasure. When we have fun, we create fun. We love to take on fiery subjects and make them fun. Life’s biggest, toughest subjects deserve a little feisty fun. So, when things get funky, and make us feel like we’re falling over a big cliff, we first find the fun, then play from there.
Thursday, October 18, 2012
casual r e l i e f
We took a road-trip at the beginning of this month to Marfa, one of our
favorite small Texas towns. I settled in for my riding read, The Casual Vacancy, then hot off press by J.K. I read the engaging first chapter plus
some as we climbed the altitude into Balmorhea, another tiny Texas
town.
An excruciating pain flooded my forehead. The reading stopped. Not because the book's editors left a random 'towards' on page nine and not on page 14 (which could have prompted the head pain), but because if one believed in the power of words like I really do- a headache was not such a casual occurrence. Hope that does not qualify as a spoiler.
We stopped the car road side for a resting spell quasi altitude adjustment spell. The kids shot panoramic photos via the hot off press iPhone 5. I popped ibuprofen.
We continued to Marfa. In Marfa we made our usual stops (lunch, the rock shop, an ice cream parlor, a couple of galleries), or they did. I stayed near the car moaning and such. Intermittently between moans I meditated, did a few handstands and back bends in the town square trying to break the tension. Apparently, inverted positions drain sinus pressure. All of these actions made me able to tolerate my favorite Marfan spot, the Marfa Book Company. I would have endured the agony anyway. I love independent book nooks.
While in the store I learned that Me'shell Ndegeocello performed the night before our arrival. This information incited the nausea and the headache heightened. Mostly because I was determined to hum "Let me run my fingers through your dreadlocks" as loudly as I could stand.
On comfy bookstore couches we chatted about human trafficking with two attorneys from El Paso. I purchased a poet's collection.
"Can we go home now?" I whispered.
Back into the car we go. Extended day trip cut short.
If I could just make it to Balmorhea. I convinced myself the pressure would subside. Twisty turny descending pain.
"I thought you wanted to stop in Alpine," Farmer Guy said.
"I want to go home."
"Are you sure?"
Are you like kidding me. Uh, my brain is about to implode inside of my skull. And I just read that first chapter. I'm quite sure that I want to go home, and not become a next casual vacancy.
Okay, what's my word... peace? health?
relief. How do you spell relief?
Just when I thought he would ask about Alpine again.
"Do you wanna stop at the church?"
Without hesitation, "Yes."
In the middle of nowhere stands a magical mission. He had never seen it. The kids and I have played at Mission Mary before. Maybe I could pray for relief in Calera, Texas.
When we neared a cluster of cars lined the highway near the church.
Odd to me- because I believed the magical mystical place to be my own.
"Should we stop?" He asked.
"It's open to the public." Code for it's my mission. Of course, we should stop.
The kids dozed in the back seat.
Blocking the entry, an African man rocked a too antsy baby girl. There was plenty of silence on the outside to hear the happenings on the inside.
My head went all Nicki Minaj in reverse. You know- RAWR, GERRRR, GRUMBLE, GROWL to fairies, unicorns, rainbows and Bahbies.
Is this real?
Maybe, I've taken too many ibuprofen. A couple when the pain started... two outside of the bookstore... I think they were 200 mgs.
Maybe this is the white light.
Is this heaven?
Is this the relief of my focus.
"Bill, constant."
"Donna, faith."
"Micah, joyful."
I peered around the baby holding gent to see the couple walking the aisle. A positive word wedding! Shut-up!
The bride and groom gave positive words and a flower to each of their guests.
"Farmer Guy, am I dreaming? Did we just crash a positive word fete?"
I listened with salty misty relief coating my eyes.
It's happening. It's really happening! A good word revolution!
Give Words.
love
An excruciating pain flooded my forehead. The reading stopped. Not because the book's editors left a random 'towards' on page nine and not on page 14 (which could have prompted the head pain), but because if one believed in the power of words like I really do- a headache was not such a casual occurrence. Hope that does not qualify as a spoiler.
We stopped the car road side for a resting spell quasi altitude adjustment spell. The kids shot panoramic photos via the hot off press iPhone 5. I popped ibuprofen.
We continued to Marfa. In Marfa we made our usual stops (lunch, the rock shop, an ice cream parlor, a couple of galleries), or they did. I stayed near the car moaning and such. Intermittently between moans I meditated, did a few handstands and back bends in the town square trying to break the tension. Apparently, inverted positions drain sinus pressure. All of these actions made me able to tolerate my favorite Marfan spot, the Marfa Book Company. I would have endured the agony anyway. I love independent book nooks.
While in the store I learned that Me'shell Ndegeocello performed the night before our arrival. This information incited the nausea and the headache heightened. Mostly because I was determined to hum "Let me run my fingers through your dreadlocks" as loudly as I could stand.
On comfy bookstore couches we chatted about human trafficking with two attorneys from El Paso. I purchased a poet's collection.
"Can we go home now?" I whispered.
Back into the car we go. Extended day trip cut short.
If I could just make it to Balmorhea. I convinced myself the pressure would subside. Twisty turny descending pain.
"I thought you wanted to stop in Alpine," Farmer Guy said.
"I want to go home."
"Are you sure?"
Are you like kidding me. Uh, my brain is about to implode inside of my skull. And I just read that first chapter. I'm quite sure that I want to go home, and not become a next casual vacancy.
Okay, what's my word... peace? health?
relief. How do you spell relief?
Just when I thought he would ask about Alpine again.
"Do you wanna stop at the church?"
Without hesitation, "Yes."
In the middle of nowhere stands a magical mission. He had never seen it. The kids and I have played at Mission Mary before. Maybe I could pray for relief in Calera, Texas.
When we neared a cluster of cars lined the highway near the church.
Odd to me- because I believed the magical mystical place to be my own.
"Should we stop?" He asked.
"It's open to the public." Code for it's my mission. Of course, we should stop.
The kids dozed in the back seat.
Blocking the entry, an African man rocked a too antsy baby girl. There was plenty of silence on the outside to hear the happenings on the inside.
My head went all Nicki Minaj in reverse. You know- RAWR, GERRRR, GRUMBLE, GROWL to fairies, unicorns, rainbows and Bahbies.
Is this real?
Maybe, I've taken too many ibuprofen. A couple when the pain started... two outside of the bookstore... I think they were 200 mgs.
Maybe this is the white light.
Is this heaven?
Is this the relief of my focus.
"Bill, constant."
"Donna, faith."
"Micah, joyful."
I peered around the baby holding gent to see the couple walking the aisle. A positive word wedding! Shut-up!
The bride and groom gave positive words and a flower to each of their guests.
"Farmer Guy, am I dreaming? Did we just crash a positive word fete?"
I listened with salty misty relief coating my eyes.
It's happening. It's really happening! A good word revolution!
Give Words.
love
Thursday, October 11, 2012
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Saturday, October 6, 2012
la- la- la- la- la
We love the thought of you lifting up in luscious laughing lightning lessons. How do we know this happens? We let life lead our longing to learn more about the lure of lucratively leafing through letters. Less is so much more. Little letters lead to large lexicons of love. And that’s how we roll.
Friday, October 5, 2012
s c r e w e d - u p
My
fabulous girlfriends do more in a day than we presume others, and take glorious
pride in doing so.
“I’m a
doer.” S told me last week.
That, we
are.
We run.
We run
companies, research facilities, restaurants, classrooms, lecture halls, courtrooms,
estates, programs, festivals.
We run
households. We are class moms, team moms, band moms, fur moms, dance moms, home health
providers.
We hit
it from dawn until sometimes pre-dawn checking homework, dispensing meds and writing.
Writing dissertations, blogs, book proposals, papers, reviews, novels and lists.
It’s
as if the one who does the most, wins! Sometimes we do!
Last
night when chatting with D, she said, “I’m going to slow my world.”
Instantly,
I thought of a life in screw. I pondered the rest of the conversation of how to
obtain an ever more screwed- up version of my super busy life.
Some
may understand this reference. Mmmm? How do I explain? Okay, when the dj slows
the tempo of the music to a walking through water pace, and the listener’s
perception moves to slow-mo like the walls are melting – that’s screwed up.
Where IS Mike Jones?
I’m
the dj. I’m the listener. The music is my life. The word is s c r e w.
I need
a few accompanying tempo altering words. intention
& breath.
This
morning I’ve been alternating my focus of these three words.
intention
Deliberately
acting and solo-tasking
breath
Deep
and delicious
screw
Measured steps with precise
sensory perception
When I
left my house this morning, Bob began to blare from the radio television
station- “Rebel Music”!
I
dropped my bags and broke out into a slow wine.
I’m s
c r e w e d – u p and i n t e n t i o n a l l y loving every b r e a t h.
love
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