Showing posts with label Perspective. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Perspective. Show all posts

15 March 2010

3.14: pi day

π = C/d

Pi is an equation I learned somewhere along the mathematical education path long before grumpy old Mr. Collier in 8th Grade pre-algebra. Long before Mr. Mortensen's geometry class at Shelley High School. Its formula is burned into my brain, but in the last 20-ish years that I can think of, I haven't had to use it for anything. At least not directly.

There's all kinds of theory proven and otherwise about right-side and left-side brain activities. Do math-minded people write better novels? Do musicians program better software systems? If I make an amazing huckleberry pie, am I also disposed to write beautiful poetry?

The text for my Art 202: Drawing class at Weber State University was "Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain." The book remains one of my favorites to this day. Its theory is to engage the brain with a new perspective that opens up the ability to draw at a deeper state of creativity, even a subconscious level. I recommend it to every writer, poet, artist and math geek.

Because in the end, everything we do is all about perspective and the engagement of thought. Whether we are writing novels, designing bridges, practicing medicine or baking pies.

I baked two pies today. One blackberry and one huckleberry. In celebration of Pi Day.

3.14. Celebrate infinitely.


27 January 2008

Oh the Snow

My eyes are still a bit sun-affected after spending the day in the snow up in the Gifford Pinchot forest, above Swift Resevoir and south of Mount St. Helens. At Eagle Cliff, a sheriff flashed his lights at us to say that the roads ahead were unplowed with 14"-16" of new snow.

"I turned around. Not going to make a mail run today. But you can go if you want," he said. "Not like you can go off the road. The sides are all piled up."

Up the road to Curly Creek, we followed a truck pulling a snowmobile trailer, staying in the tracks cut ahead of us. The big fir trees were so weighed down by the snow they looked like folded up umbrellas. The Jeep slipped around, but Rick kept us more or less on track in between the walls, kind of like a pinball. Sans the giant flippers.

Random thought? It's a fine line of perspective whether you see your place and feel like you have something to do with how and why you are there or you feel like someone else got you into this mess and that same someone should probably step up and make it better for you.

Submission count this weekend: 13