I Sleep Between the Moons of New Mexico

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Hope to be with you all this weekend! What is True? There are bound to be questions, and we have answers! Is this a performance? In the traditional sense, no, this is not a performance, although you may come to witness it in the same way that you would come to witness a performance.

More than a performance this is an event to be experienced. You can think of it almost like a retreat - a time and a space to exit the ordinary world in order to contemplate the question: What is true?.

New Mexico United soccer match attendance breaks record

How yo How will I know what to do? A simple set of instructions will be laid out for you in the lobby of the DAC upon your arrival. There will also be a liaison to answer any questions you might have. Once you enter the space, you can revisit the posted instructions if you ever need to. You can also look to 20MOONS members recognizable in all white clothing as they will be engaging in the process, and serving as models for how to participate in the event. The level at which you would like to engage is entirely up to you at all times - you can come just to watch, or dive all the way into each possible avenue of exploration.

What times can community members come to the event? Come anytime before 11pm and after 6am. Stay as long as you like, and leave when you need to. Come as many times as you like. Just to reiterate: if you'd like to stay the night, you must come in before 11pm. You can leave at anytime. Do I need tickets or reservations? No tickets or reservations necessary. This event is offered by donation. Nothing is predetermined.

This is a living work of art being co-created in each moment. Jump to. Sections of this page. The team also found that an amino-acid-like molecule blocks the activity of E. Science But before its demise, the craft flew between Saturn and its rings, snapping images all the while. For example, the images show that as ring particles pass by and trail behind the moon Daphnis, which is just 8 kilometres across, they form a series of ripples that deteriorate over time.

Such bands might form when ring particles with particular properties collide and bounce off one another.

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Study participants who mainly consumed the nutritional drink Soylent still experienced fluctuations in their gut microbe populations over time. The influence of diet on gut microbes seems to be highly personal, according to a comprehensive analysis of microbiome complexity. Microbes residing in the gut are thought to influence health-related factors from glucose control to weight loss. Dan Knights at the University of Minnesota in Saint Paul and his colleagues looked at the impact of diet on gut microbes at a fine scale, assessing the microbiomes of 34 healthy people every day for 17 days.

The researchers also scrutinized dietary records kept by the study participants. The team also found that a monotonous diet did not correspond to a stable microbiome: two participants who relied primarily on the meal-replacement beverage Soylent for nourishment still showed changes in their microbiomes over time. Overall, responses to diet varied widely from person to person, suggesting that efforts to mould the microbiome will need to be tailored to individuals.

Cell Host Microbe Credit: J. Four engineered islands rising from Scottish lochs are more than 5, years old — a testament to the sweat and organizational skills of the early farmers who hauled tonnes of rock to build the structures. Lakes and inlets in Scotland and Ireland are dotted with hundreds of purpose-built islets called crannogs.

Scientists had long thought that almost all of these crannogs were erected after BC. Duncan Garrow at the University of Reading, UK, and Fraser Sturt at the University of Southampton, UK, studied pottery found in the waters around crannogs in the Outer Hebrides, a chain of islands off the Scottish coast, and surveyed two of the crannogs in detail. The researchers dated four crannogs to — BC.

One crannog measures 26 metres by 22 metres and includes rocks weighing as much as kilograms apiece. Antiquity Credit: S.

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Hess et al. A bizarre new microbe brings to mind the flying saucers of old films thanks to its unprecedented swimming technique. It is related to amoebae, but boasts a long, whip-like tail called a flagellum and can swim. Sebastian Hess at the University of Cologne in Germany and his colleagues noticed that Idionectes twirls like a Frisbee as it progresses through water.

It also spins its flagellum, which during movement is curved into a doughnut shape. This film then moves onto what would be the frosted part of a real doughnut, down its sides and back through the hole again. This circulating film of water creates a ring-like vortex that shoots Idionectes forward.

Nature Microbiol. A daguerreotype owes some of its optical qualities to the shape of nanometre-scale crystals on photographic plates. Invented in the 19 th century, daguerreotypes were one of the earliest types of photograph. They were produced using copper plates coated with a silvery mixture. During the taking of an image, light exposure caused the coating to form silver clusters.

A brain short on sleep dials up pain intensity

The plate was then treated with mercury vapour, producing a diverse array of nanometre-scale silver-mercury crystals. Each crystal scattered a colour that was composed of a combination of red and blue tones; together, the scattered light made up the image. Alejandro Manjavacas at the University of New Mexico in Albuquerque and his colleagues analysed daguerreotypes with modelling and microscopic imaging.

The findings could advance printing technologies that form colour images from metallic nanoparticles, the authors write. USA A reliance on bottled water results in a much higher consumption of minuscule plastic particles than a tap-water regimen. The average US resident consumes tens of thousands of tiny plastic particles each year, according to a detailed estimate.

Minute, often microscopic, plastic particles called microplastics can enter food, water and the air from sources such as plastic packaging. Kieran Cox and his colleagues at the University of Victoria in Canada analysed data from 26 published studies to determine the levels of microplastics in air and commonly consumed items such as water — bottled and tap — alcohol and seafood. The authors then estimated the total number of microplastics a person consumes and inhales. The team found that people in the United States take in 74,—, particles annually, depending on age and sex.

People who drink only bottled water might swallow 90, particles with their water each year, compared with just 4, for those who stick to tap water. More research is needed to understand the health implications of ingesting microplastics, the authors say.

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A decades-old mystery of astrophysics has been solved: a black hole can warp the disk of matter surrounding it into a particular alignment, according to computer simulations. Black holes spin rapidly, which affects the disk of gas and dust that encircles them. But this re-alignment has never been confirmed. Matthew Liska at the University of Amsterdam and his colleagues modified code written for conventional computer processors and ran it on a supercomputer that incorporates graphics cards designed for video games.

This method allowed them to make the most detailed simulations so far of a spinning black hole and its effect on a thin disk. The faster a black hole spins, the more powerful are the jets of ions that it spews. Such jets can affect galactic evolution. Machinery in a lab that aims to identify new drugs. A nifty method allows scientists to skip a tedious step when searching for enzymes for synthesizing drugs and other useful products. A streamlined method can screen large numbers of enzymes for those that have potential in manufacturing drugs and other useful compounds.

In conventional screening, candidate enzymes are put to work catalysing reactions. An analytical technique called mass spectrometry is then used to identify the reaction products, allowing researchers to determine whether the enzymes have the desired activity. But that method is difficult to use for complex mixtures of molecules because the mixture first needs to be painstakingly separated into its components. He worked construction, then started a house-painting business with his brothers to put me through school.

I got a fellowship for graduate school, and we both left: packed up a U-Haul and, with five hundred dollars in our pockets, moved to California, where he got a job running a painting crew full of undocumented workers from Australia, New Zealand, and Wales. When immigration officers showed up on the job site, they would go directly to Fernando and ask to see his papers.

The irony is, he was the only one born in this country. We had two children by then and became friends with other couples in married-student housing. Over dinner Fernando would have discussions about history and international politics with Moshe from Israel and Hans from Switzerland. On that Sunday night in January , I had not been sound asleep when Fernando spoke.

I had loved him for forty years, ever since I was a girl of eighteen. I could hear my son and brother-in-law talking in the living room. Bernie, the brother my husband was closest to out of his four brothers, was staying the night in case we needed help. Fernando was over six feet tall, and to get him to the bathroom was not easy. Was it the new prescription for Thorazine, or had the cancer gone to his brain?

Kathryn, who was in nursing school, had promised her father that she would not let him die the way Martha had: in a hospital, hooked up to machines, swollen from chemotherapy, in a drug-induced sleep. Earlier that week he had been walking two miles a day with me and complaining that I was starving him. He slipped in and out of sleep as he watched TV. We were afraid he would suffer. Fernando was only sixty. That Friday, a few days before he died, a nutritionist told Fernando he could eat whatever he wanted. I had been trying to get him to follow a diet that was easy on the liver, since he had liver cancer, and on the gallbladder, since he had indigestion from the chemotherapy.

On the way home I bought him a baguette piled high with lean roast beef, his favorite. We shared the chips and then took our walk. He said he wanted to stop and rest a minute — this was unusual — and I suggested we climb a little farther, to where there was a wall we could sit on and rest.

I want to go back down the hill. At night I would stand at the mirror and brush my hair and see a reflection of Fernando lying on the bed behind me. In the past he would have been watching me; he would have said something suggestive and patted the mattress beside him.

He had been growing a beard. It was gray, but his hair was not. He was aging faster than I was, which made me feel young and vital, which made me feel sad and guilty. If I cried, I did it in the backyard while he was napping. But then I realized: This is not a test. No one is grading you. When I came back inside, Fernando was up from his nap and had seen me in the yard. He knew I wanted him to comfort me, but there was no comfort for this. Only now, many months later, have I managed to think about other times in our lives.

The memories I can summon are snapshots, memories of memories, like the night we first brought Michael home from the hospital: when I woke up the next morning, Fernando was sitting in the rocking chair in his jeans, shirtless, the baby against his bare chest. I can see that. And he meant it, even though he was dying. Had he lived, he would have taken his grandchildren to Rome and given them a tour of the Coliseum. Had he lived, we would have visited our friends in Israel. Had he lived, we would have gone fishing more often.

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I can project him into the future much more easily than I can summon memories of the days before his illness. That last Friday night before he died, when Michael arrived from LA, Fernando told him that he wanted thick, juicy hamburgers and tacos the way his mother used to make them, the hamburger patted onto a corn tortilla and then dipped into hot oil.

He wanted cheese on the burgers and pico de gallo and guacamole with the tacos. And french fries. And a grilled cheese for lunch. And fresh beans! With bacon! He wanted all the things the chemotherapy had prevented him from eating but that the nutritionist now said he could have. Fernando got up, too, but instead of going down to the kitchen to make breakfast for himself and coffee for me, as he always did, he just used the bathroom and crawled back into bed, complaining that he was cold. I scooted over next to him, pressed my chest against his back, and rubbed his arm.

I fell back to sleep, and when I woke, I asked if he wanted breakfast. Fernando never stayed in bed that long or skipped breakfast. I was standing in the hallway in my nightgown, crying, when the kids came in from the store with several pounds of hamburger we would never eat. Michael looked alarmed, but Kathryn had seen me like this before. And if I had no hope, how could he have any? His hands were shaking. It was hard for him. And I wondered: how had Fernando been able to notice? I want to see the boys play soccer. He went back to work. I thought he should have stayed home with me.

Fuck work. Fuck his dull, boring job in a paint store, where no one was half as smart as he was. What a waste of his time, that job. What a waste of his life. One day, months before the diagnosis, Fernando told me that a man who was probably schizophrenic had come into the paint store. The man was talking to himself in the second person: Then you went there, and you did this, and they looked at you funny.

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But to Fernando it felt like a prophecy. After the surgery they said it was stage IV. Every time we went to a doctor from then on, we received more bad news. I knew it was a tumor.

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I knew it was malignant. He had grown six new veins to compensate. He had almost died from hepatitis C when he was twenty. Oh, man, I knew. But his mother made him steaks. She rubbed her hands together and put them over his liver and prayed. His mother laid her hands on him and cured him. He said it would be too much of a burden. It was that she would realize there was no hope. Fernando and I were at the beach, standing at the sea wall, looking out at the ocean.

No, I said.

I Sleep Between the Moons of New Mexico I Sleep Between the Moons of New Mexico
I Sleep Between the Moons of New Mexico I Sleep Between the Moons of New Mexico
I Sleep Between the Moons of New Mexico I Sleep Between the Moons of New Mexico
I Sleep Between the Moons of New Mexico I Sleep Between the Moons of New Mexico
I Sleep Between the Moons of New Mexico I Sleep Between the Moons of New Mexico
I Sleep Between the Moons of New Mexico I Sleep Between the Moons of New Mexico
I Sleep Between the Moons of New Mexico I Sleep Between the Moons of New Mexico
I Sleep Between the Moons of New Mexico I Sleep Between the Moons of New Mexico
I Sleep Between the Moons of New Mexico I Sleep Between the Moons of New Mexico

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