Steady As We Go (Dave Matthews Band)

Full disclosure:  The below is text that I've tweaked/adapted and posted, in some form or another, every year on my blog and/or Facebook.  Despite  my husband's ability to drive me crazy more often than not, he also drives me crazy in the good kinda way, which you will understand if you're able to machete through my missive below (sorry/not sorry it's so long!).

I love him dearly, and I can't imagine being with anyone else for a lifetime; he truly is My Person... 💓

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Tell the story of your marriage,” my young friend Niki says to me. “Write down how it is you have a happy marriage.” But the story of my marriage, which is the great joy and astonishment of my life, is too much like a fairy tale, the German kind, unsweetened by Disney.” ~ Ann Patchett, from her book of essays, The Story of a Happy Marriage

September 18, 2021 (this past Saturday) marked our 45th wedding anniversary.  It's been a long-standing joke of mine that, like the famous 12-step program, we do our marriage One Day at a Time (that would be 16,425 days, but who's counting?... 😃 )

Chico (given name Robert) and I met when he was a senior and I was a sophomore in college (Fall 1974).  One Sunday a group of my friends had been challenged to an impromptu football game by another group on campus, and I went along to watch. I was recruited to be one of the holders of the down-markers (two pointed brooms with string tied between).  Chico flirted with me all day, but saw me leaving with my "gang" and assumed I was dating one of them (I wasn't). The next day I was in my usual spot/routine in The Student Center, drinking coffee/reading a book/smoking cigarettes (gave up that bad habit when I found out I was pregnant with our daughter Sarah, over 38 years ago).  He came up, introduced himself to me and asked permission to sit down.

I was impressed by his good manners, among other things, and we were "an item" for the remainder of the year.  He graduated with a degree in Latin American Studies and got a job in Ft. Campbell, Kentucky with the Red Cross, counseling servicemen. I stayed to finish my degree and we carried on a long-distance relationship for the remaining two years, writing, calling, and visiting when we could.  The April of my senior year, during one of his visits, he asked me to marry him… and we rolled out of bed to call our parents to share the good news.  I graduated in June and we were married the following September.

An aside: During my last two years of school, I worked at a clothing boutique not far from the college.  I would walk there directly after classes, putting in about 30 hours a week and getting a 30% discount.  Chico and I had only been dating a few months when a beautiful dress came into the store.  I knew then I had to have it, whether to be married or buried (whichever came first) in such elegance, and I put it on layaway immediately. It was an off-white muslin with long, crocheted-lace sleeves and an empire bodice (very Guinevere-ish).  The big joke in my family is that, with my discount, I paid $28. When my wedding day was finally announced, my mom tried hard to talk me into something more traditional but I would not be swayed.  I still think it was the perfect dress… 💖

We stayed in our small college town for the next 8 years, moving temporarily to Atlanta en route to Puerto Rico for a company transfer (where we put in 4 1/2 years).  Back to Atlanta for almost three years and then to South Florida, where we've resided for the last 29. 

During the first twenty-five years of our marriage, Chico traveled quite a bit (twice a month, a week or more at a time). I've always been a strong and spirited soul and when the children were younger, we talked about the time he was away, not as better or worse but just different.  I belonged to AAA (although AA seemed more appropriate some days... 😉), I learned to fix small household items, I became responsible for my own entertainment.  When it had to be done, I did it. The worst were his two-week trips, when I didn't want to relax and appreciate having him home the weekend in-between, because it just meant giving him up again.  I learned various coping mechanisms, but I missed him.

Career moves found Chico home more, and the rest of us having to readjust, awkwardly at first, but happily.  He and I have always had separate interests (my music, his soccer), meeting in the middle more often than not for conversation, intimacy and intensity. 

My husband is of Brazilian descent and I am of Italian/Native American heritage... so emotions run high most of the time.  We pendulum between pondering what to name our wished-for houseboat when we retire... to me threatening to run away with the Renaissance Festival each February. 

My husband makes me crazy... and he makes me feel adored.  He is frustrating... and he is flattering. He is honest, even when I don't want to hear it... and I know I can trust his words and his actions (how many people in our lives can we say that about?!?).  He is intuitive, which is sometimes annoying but mostly a blessing. 

I wholeheartedly cherish our ongoing flare-ups, passions, commitment, disconnects, conversations, silences. It has never been easy; it has always been worthwhile.  As Brian Joseph sings in Cal’s Chevy:  “it ain’t easy… but it’s ours.”
I vowed that *happy* and *marriage* didn't have to be mutually exclusive.  My parents divorced after 29 years so I learned early on that one is never safe, and I try not to take it for granted.

Chico and I have made a conscious decision to stay together in this hectic and unsettling world (especially now during the pandemic). I crave and cherish my independence, but I don't worry any more that I'll have to "give in" (reminds me of a Dar Williams' song, In Love But Not at Peace: "I still need the beauty of words sung and spoken and I live with the fear that my spirit will be broken").  We seem to have forged a wonderful agreement where we both manage to get our own way a good bit of the time, but we haven't forgotten the art of the happy medium.

When we got married in 1976, a popular reading to include in weddings was “On Marriage” by Kahlil Gibran.  I loved it at the time, but even more so now.  The concept was, and remains, groundbreaking.  Remember these lines?

“You were born together, and together you shall be forevermore. 
You shall be together when the white wings of death scatter your days
Ay, you shall be together even in the silent memory of God
But let there be spaces in your togetherness
And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.
Love one another, but make not a bond of love:
Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.
Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup.
Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf
Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone,
Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.
Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping.
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together yet not too near together:
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow.”

I've spent the last few weeks re-evaluating what's kept us going these 4+ decades.  We have had just as many troubles as everyone else, but the risk is the reward, and the leap of faith is the longevity... and, to quote Jackson Browne, we just keep getting up and doing it again... amen... 🌅

I have always hated the term soulmate which, in my mind, used to conjure up images of Hallmark movies with couples joined-at-the-hip in that "you-complete-me" kinda way. Ugh. Many years ago, a dear friend (who is also a therapist) offered up her definition of soulmate:  someone who challenges you to be the best person you can be. Chico does that for me and, I'd like to think, I for him. We have "a head and a heart marriage" (a phrase I heard on a TV show recently). It suits us... ♥

When it comes to troubleshooting, I am in constant awe of Chico’s ability to stay calm, to let go and to move forward, in all aspects of his life.  His oft-repeated phrase is "let's not worry about how something got to be a problem; let's just figure out how to fix it". Wow.  With my tendency to finger-point, internalize and dramatize, he sets a wonderful example.

Chico loves me unconditionally, a status I am always trying to achieve but come up short.  I love him no less, but my family history includes strings attached, a very difficult pattern to break.

He is the calm to my storm, the ground to my clouds, the 33 1/3 to my 45, the waltz to my polka, the reason to my emotion, the carousel to my rollercoaster, the string to my kite, the balance to my spinning.  He supports but never suffocates, respects but never expects.

In an anniversary card one year, Chico thanked me for my enduring love and patience with his failings.  I can say the same.

Ups and downs, ins and outs, betters and worses go with the territory.  We've lived to tell about it ("fairy tales and diaper pails" indeed, as Amy Rigby sings).  My marriage has endured for many reasons (one of which is just good old-fashioned luck).  Cheers to the two of us for our perseverance, patience and passion with each other.  Tomorrow is another day!

SONG:  Steady As We Go by Dave Matthews Band (thanks to Sarah for sending this "just a love song" in our direction... 💕 )

BOOK:  What Makes a Marriage Last: 40 Celebrated Couples Share with Us the Secrets to a Happy Life by Marlo Thomas, Phil Donahue

POEM:  A Love Note by Adeeba Shahid Talukder

for Willem

My love,

you are water upon water

upon water until it turns

azure, mountainous.

The horizon fills like sand

between glass marbles. So much

has passed between us—

last night you told me

to press your hand

harder and harder as I pained.

The sunset was at its last

embers. The dark was stealing

the blue light from our room.

I was falling into you.

~ ~

Compress water and it turns to ice— compress beauty

and it loses breath. Gaze at it too long, and even the wide

mirror of the ocean will shatter.

~ ~

My Willem,

between us, God has descended in all His atoms.

We have not yet learned to hold Him.

QUOTE:  "Wasn’t marriage, like life, unstimulating and unprofitable and somewhat empty when *too* well-ordered and protected and guarded. Wasn’t it finer, more splendid, more nourishing when it was, like life itself, a mixture of the sordid and the magnificent; of mud and stars; of earth and flowers; of love and hate and laughter and tears and ugliness and beauty and hurt." ~ Edna Ferber

Amendment (Ani DiFranco)

I had such a sweet, thoughtful post scheduled for today... but, in the last 48 hours, I am just more and more pissed off!

F*cking Texas and their f*cking abortion ban (which I now read is also being planned by Florida, Arkansas, and South Dakota).  I may have my head in the sand/been living under a rock, but I'd never before heard of a shadow docket.  I call bullsh*t.

What can we do?  What *are* we going to do?  This is unacceptable.  We worked too hard for Roe v. Wade to see it crumble like the spines of the Republicans who are behind this offensive and oppressive legislation.

“Our strategy should be not only to confront empire, but to lay siege to it. To deprive it of oxygen. To shame it. To mock it. With our art, our music, our literature, our stubbornness, our joy, our brilliance, our sheer relentlessness – and our ability to tell our own stories. Stories that are different from the ones we’re being brainwashed to believe.

The corporate revolution will collapse if we refuse to buy what they are selling – their ideas, their version of history, their wars, their weapons, their notion of inevitability.  Remember this: We be many and they be few. They need us more than we need them. Another world is not only possible, she is on her way. On a quiet day, I can hear her breathing.” ~ Arundhati Roy, War Talk

and...

“One by one the women step up

and commit the forbidden act

of biting into patriarchal thought

refuting it, smashing it,

discarding it and beginning again

in the very beginning when women

loved their bodies

named their gods

authored their lives

when women refused to surrender

except to life as it pulsated through them.

Women reminding us

there is nothing wrong

there never has been anything wrong

there never will be anything wrong

with woman.”

~ Patricia Lynn Reilly

It is indeed Feel Good Friday and, as is tradition, five items below of beauty, interest, and humor to brighten/enlighten your day/weekend/week.  Enjoy! 

~ First Look: Paradis Books & Bread, Miami’s Gamechanging Natural Wine Bar and Bookshop:  “It’s all an experiment."

~ A Simple 5-Step Process for Finding Peace in Times of Conflict:  Ever feel like you are living a life of chaos? Are you feeling overwhelmed and frustrated over these crazy past two years? When difficult things happen or conflict arises, it can be hard to feel peace.

~ Inviting Readers to ‘Dig Into the Whole Garden’:  Margaret Roach, a gardening columnist for The Times, wants readers to see planting and landscaping as more than outdoor decorating.

~ Spike Lee, Exultant at the ‘Epicenter’:  The filmmaker’s epic new documentary series, “NYC Epicenters 9/11-2021½,” is an alternately mournful and irreverent tribute to New York.

~ Could you wear a dress for 100 days?  When Emma Beddington took part in a challenge to wear the same dress for 100 days, she wasn’t expecting to feel the positive force of sisterhood alongside a few neat cleaning hacks.

SONG:  Amendment by Ani DiFranco

BOOK: On Freedom: Four Songs of Care and Constraint by Maggie Nelson

POEM:  The Nothing by Sarah la Rosa

Dark water

muddy water

groundwater.

Creativity is like this

swirling 

and circling

and thick.

There is no easy, clear flow

of sparkling oceans and singing rivers.

My muse comes to me in the mud--

that sacred mixture

dirt and dark water

that heals blind eyes

and draws toxins

from the skin and deeper organs.

The smell is pungent.

This is the artery of the earth

this is the tar-coloured pitch

that feeds the tributaries

flowing toward La Loba who gathers

to Kali who destroys

to the truths I'd rather avoid

inside of myself

about myself

in spite of myself.

One has no choice

but to face the Great Nothing

if one is to find

the Underneath River.

It is a gift, the nothing.

It empties us utterly

of falsity and the hollow stubbornness

that claims to be abiding strength of spirit

but drains us of genuine courage instead.

And we must be emptied

if we are to be fed the living water of spirit.

And so, what is one to do?

What is the solution

the course of action

while stranded in the desert?

Do you sit and conserve your strength?

praying that you live

through this painful dehydration

of the soul?

No.

Continue on

feel the burning sand 

between your toes

feel yourself melting

and merging

with the Great Nothing.

Sink

below

dunes and heat.

There you will find

a cool, dark place

that smells of ancient rains

collected on the ground

beneath your blistered feet.

The waters rise.

QUOTE(S):  "I write because it makes me feel like someone's listening - or I am finally listening to myself." ~ Unknown

"I have a soft spot for books by tough, radically honest women with an uncommon antenna for magic, language, and landscape." ~ Maggie Nelson

Midsummer Hailstorm (Danny Schmidt)

Nothing fancy tonight, but I haven't posted in a while and felt the need to honor the last day of August.  Goodbye, Birth Month... 😃💖🌅

SONG:  Midsummer Hailstorm by Danny Schmidt

BOOK:  Earth Prayers: 365 Prayers, Poems, and Invocations from Around the World by Elizabeth Roberts, Elias Amidon

POEM(S):  Crickets by Sue Owen

Some summer nights you

can hear them getting all

worked up over this idea

of cheerfulness and song.

Deep in the grasses where

they hide, there is a need

to be heard in the darkness,

even if their voices are

so small they sound

like a door creaking on

its hinge, or the squeak

a drawer makes when

it opens up at last.

It seems as if the damp

air and dew are trying

to hold their song down

out of sheer gravity,

but neither dampness nor

darkness makes them stop.

In fact, the crickets like

to show off their song,

to let it lift up off

the earth the way that

all notes rise to the stars,

and float up through the

thick night, as if their

joy itself were the only light

we needed to follow.

before August goes by Maya Stein

Let me remember the vivid hue of the baseball green and the Little Leaguers

timid but determined at the plate. The thin film of pollen

dusting the pond late afternoon. The knocking of two woodpeckers

on the porch roof. The crunch of moviehouse popcorn. Leaves, fallen

after a thundershower, and the carpet they made of the driveway.

The view from Mt. Ida and Sugarloaf and Holyoke. Rainbow Chicklets.

Slices of tomato flecked with sea salt and ground pepper. The smells of hay

and mint and barbecue. How the light changes, incremental, until the crickets

come out. The loose threads of cutoff shorts. Lemonade stands. An ice cream drip.

And time trickling out, not a threat or cautionary tale but permission slip.

QUOTE:  “When summer opens, I see how fast it matures, and fear it will be short; but after the heats of July and August, I am reconciled, like one who has had his swing, to the cool of autumn.” ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

Weight of the World (Dar Williams)

Remember our Love in the Time of CoronaVirus journal?  It was Rob's brilliant idea (mid-March 2020, only a few weeks into the pandemic) to start and pass a blank notebook back and forth among family members, to share our thoughts, drawings, poems, songs, etc. during this challenging time.  What a tangible gift this has been to ourselves, and each other.  The book, and the act of rotation, has served to remind us that Family. Is. Everything... and the MossFam6 is indeed a strong and powerful force to Do Good in the world... 💞

It became obvious a few days ago that the journal had gone MIA; indeed, no one had written in it since mid-April (the culprits were discovered, and we are back in busy-ness).  Then again, four months ago, the pandemic seemed to be less threatening, since most people took advantage of the free vaccines and there were fewer COVID outbreaks, and certainly of less severity.  

Unfortunately, there is a segment of the population who have *refused* to get vaccinated which, because of the new Delta variant, has now fostered additional illness, as well as death.  Are you f*cking kidding me?!?  The first poem below says it all.

It is indeed Feel Good Friday and, as is tradition, five items below of beauty, interest, and humor to brighten/enlighten your day/weekend/week.  Enjoy! 

~ Op-Ed: As a doctor in a COVID unit, I’m running out of compassion for the unvaccinated. Get the shot:  In a letter to the unvaccinated, Dr. Anita Sircar writes: If you believe you can ride out the pandemic without getting vaccinated, “you could not be more wrong. This virus will find you.” 

~  How Walking (Just Walking!) Changed My Life:  When I was in college, my roommate, Kristi, convinced me to go to the gym with her. I remember feeling intimidated. I was slight, pale and Goth-leaning with oxblood lipstick and zero muscle tone. I was certain everyone could tell I was an imposter in borrowed Lycra.


~ Lorde’s Work Here Is Done. Now, She Vibes.:  She was a teen phenom who followed her hit “Royals” with a critically acclaimed album. But now 24, the New Zealand musician isn’t chasing hits. She’s following the sun.


~ Modern Mrs Darcy:  Modern Mrs Darcy, which derives its name from a Jane Austen book, is a lifestyle blog for nerds who appreciate Anne’s modus operandi of approaching old, familiar ideas from new and fresh angles. While Modern Mrs. Darcy isn’t strictly a book blog, Anne writes frequently about books and reading. (thanks to Michele for the heads-up!)


~ MUST HAVE (2): A Friend With An “Oh Sh*t Kit” (scroll about halfway down): In my circle, I am that friend, the one who comes prepared. But I'm an amateur compared to my friend, S. She’s got Hermione Granger-level wizardry happening in her bag, which she calls her “oh sh*t kit.”

SONG:  Weight of the World by Dar Williams

BOOK:  Miracle in the Mundane: Poems, Prompts, and Inspiration to Unlock Your Creativity and Unfiltered Joy by Tyler Knott Gregson

POEM(S):  Delta by Rachel Mallalieu

You remember what it was like

in the early days—

when restaurants sent food

and churches dropped off

care packages

Everyone said thank you

& sometimes clapped

and even when the waves

of patients crashed

into your emergency room,

you were able to breathe

Now, you’re so weary,

that when it begins again,

you can hardly muster

energy to care as

your vaccine antibodies

engage in combat with

the squadron of medications

you consume in order to control

your autoimmune disease &

you hope the antibodies win

because you’re placing

breathing tubes

into eager airways again &

when your friends

don’t get vaccinated,

you take it personally & you

know this isn’t about you,

but you’re spent, nothing’s

left & you don’t think

you can watch

people die alone again

while you hold their iPhones as

they gasp goodbye

You stop kissing your children

for a little while & you also

update your will

But on your days off,

you take long hikes and

walk the ridge

where butterflies flit

among the milkweed blossoms

You kneel beside a monarch

& pray that your vaccine holds

as you rest in the shadow

of its stained glass wings

[Rachel Mallalieu: “I am an emergency physician who’s been on the front lines of the Covid battle for 18 months. I also developed an autoimmune illness this year, which makes every Covid encounter feel even more dangerous. As spring gave way to summer, it felt like we had turned a corner. I went weeks without seeing cases in my ER. My teen children were vaccinated, and my younger kids went to camp. Suddenly, my ER has multiple Covid patients every shift again. They’re younger, sicker, and some are dying. It is exhausting to be in this battle; we finally have the weapon with which to fight, and some refuse that weapon. These days, I just try to do right by my patients and take care of myself and my family when I’m off.”]

Moss-Gathering by Theodore Roethke 

To loosen with all ten fingers held wide and limber

And lift up a patch, dark-green, the kind for lining cemetery baskets,

Thick and cushiony, like an old-fashioned doormat, 

The crumbling small hollow sticks on the underside mixed with roots, 

And wintergreen berries and leaves still stuck to the top, —

That was moss-gathering. 

But something always went out of me when I dug loose those carpets 

Of green, or plunged to my elbows in the spongy yellowish moss of the marshes:

And afterwards I always felt mean, jogging back over the logging road, 

As if I had broken the natural order of things in that swampland;

Disturbed some rhythm, old and of vast importance,

By pulling off flesh from the living planet;

As if I had committed, against the whole scheme of life, a desecration. 

[Susan's note:  with that title, how could I resist?!?]

QUOTE:  "Here's the thing: If you wait for ‘normal’ to return, if you endlessly torture yourself with the fact that reality refuses to match your expectations, if you complain nonstop about all the surreal shifts and vagaries of the culture, if you halt all deep, inquiry-based practices - spiritual, physical, otherwise - until the mask mandate drops or the virus is cured or all QAnon/anti-vaxxers slither back into the muck and the world somehow rights itself in a way you agree with, well, you will likely be miserable for quite a long time.  We must move. Invoke more life. Seek more truth, ever more skillfully. Smile and sigh through the cotton/Lycra covering part of your face and just. Get. On. With. It. Because the other option is just fatalism and doom and endless whining. And no one wants that." ~ Mark Morford

Sun, Flood, or Drought (The Avett Brothers)

Our regular Thursday morning weeding in the Hope Outreach Community Garden was cancelled yesterday, because we are meeting up Saturday (tomorrow) morning to plant cover crops, a term that was heretofore unknown to me.  It's basically a "placeholder" to add nutrients to the soil until we plant the regular fruits and vegetables in late-September.  Ours will be sunn hemp... ☀

On the recommendation of a friend (over a month ago), I watched a film that was so beautiful, my heart literally hurt... and I want to view it again, soon.  They even discuss cover crops!

The Biggest Little Farm chronicles the eight-year quest of John and Molly Chester as they trade city living for 200 acres of barren farmland and a dream to harvest in harmony with nature. Through dogged perseverance and embracing the opportunity provided by nature's conflicts, the Chesters unlock and uncover a biodiverse design for living that exists far beyond their farm, its seasons, and our wildest imagination. Featuring breathtaking cinematography, captivating animals, and an urgent message to heed Mother Nature's call, The Biggest Little Farm provides us all a vital blueprint for better living and a healthier planet.

Thinking positive thoughts that Tropical Storm Fred does not become a hurricane and, even if it does, hoping it causes little to no destruction.  At this point, it appears to be headed up the west coast of Florida (after it crosses The Keys), but one never knows with these disturbances.

It is indeed Feel Good Friday and, as is tradition, five items below of beauty, interest, and humor to brighten your day/weekend/week.  Enjoy! 

~ Allison Larkin’s love for Ithaca inspires the setting in her new novel:  “The People We Keep” is a coming-of-age novel that follows a 16-year-old songwriter as she leaves home and tries to find herself in the world. (partially inspired by Dar Williams' song Iowa... 💗 )


~ How to Shop Online More Sustainably:  As I’ve since learned, the consensus among independent researchers is that online shopping can in fact be much less damaging to the environment than traditional, in-store shopping—but only if we do it the right way.


~  The Desert Dolphin Skatepark was constructed as a part of the international feature film titled ‘SKATER GIRL’:  After filming completed in April 2019, the skatepark remains a free public use skatepark, with the aim of continuing the social impact such skateparks have on rural Indian villages. 


~ Inside the Annual Ernest Hemingway Look-Alike Competition:  If you’d gone for a walk around Key West in the 1930s, chances are you might have bumped into Ernest Hemingway. Whether making the short stroll from his house on Whitehead Street to the bars on Duval, one block over and several up, or perhaps on his way to the nearby marina where he moored his deep sea fishing boat, the Pilar, Hemingway was a near constant feature of island life between 1931 and 1940. 


~ Strong Back, Soft Front, Wild Heart:  Brené Brown says our belonging to each other can’t be lost, but it can be forgotten. Her research has reminded the world in recent years of the uncomfortable, life-giving link between vulnerability and courage. Now she’s turning her attention to how we walked into the crisis of our life together and how we can move beyond it...

SONG:  Sun, Flood, or Drought by The Avett Brothers (written for The Biggest Little Farm film documentary)

BOOK:  Homegrown Humus: Cover Crops in a No-Till Garden by Anna Hess

POEM:  Self-Portrait by Afaa Michael Weaver

I see myself in the shadows of a leaf

compressed to the green blades growing

to a point like the shards of miles of mirrors

falling and cracking to perfect gardens.

I never inspect the withered assumption

of my face’s petty dialogue in raindrops,

the deceptive spreading of the words

oozing from the skin to the edges of water

etched on the ground by gravity and wishing.

Passing for the seriousness of my eye,

platitudes of my white collar or

the perfect posture of my lips, it skirts

from the leaves of the plant hiding me

and sits stoic like stone in my pupil,

mute and unassuming, like Rashi.

To gather myself I will swim naked

in the wind, bending my blind elbows

in circles, stopping now to dance

like the cherubic gold on the ark,

and gather myself from the particles

of this excitement another structure,

one closely resembling the beginning.

QUOTE:  "A good morning text that says, 'have a good day and try not to burn anything to the ground in a furious rage.' " ~ Samantha Irby

Brighter Day (Forest Sun)

Feels to me, at least in our family, that the pandemic, despite the fact there is much tragedy surrounding, has provided each of us with many opportunities for personal growth:  mindfulness, compassion, patience, awareness, self-care, gratitude, listening skills, thoughtfulness.  We actually talk about it often, and we are noticing each other's progress.  Sweet.

The poem and quote below appeared on my radar at the same time, albeit from two different sources, and the rest fell into place, all magical gifts from The Universe... 💖

SONG:  Brighter Day by Forest Sun

BOOK:  Make Someone Happy: Favorite Postings by Elizabeth Berg

POEM:  the windows of Liberty, Maine by Maya Stein

for Kate

Which is another way of saying, What will you do when the chips are down,

or How will you make a life that beats the odds, or Where does your mind go

when the enemy recedes, or Have you ever loved a place you haven’t been,

or Who do you think you are…no, really? or, What is it that feels the most

impossible, or Why walk when you can run, or What do you call that moment

when the light changes for good, or Who is holding the stopwatch, or Where

does it say that broken isn’t beautiful, or How many times are you willing

to break, or What do you get when you cross the road without

the f***ing chicken, or Which language is the one you want to be speaking, or

What is the sound of one window opening, and another, and another?

QUOTE:  “Admit it. You aren’t like them. You’re not even close. You may occasionally dress yourself up as one of them, watch the same mindless television shows as they do, maybe even eat the same fast food sometimes. But it seems that the more you try to fit in, the more you feel like an outsider, watching the “normal people” as they go about their automatic existences. For every time you say club passwords like “Have a nice day” and “Weather’s awful today, eh?”, you yearn inside to say forbidden things like “Tell me something that makes you cry” or “What do you think deja vu is for?”. Face it, you even want to talk to that girl in the elevator. But what if that girl in the elevator (and the balding man who walks past your cubicle at work) are thinking the same thing? Who knows what you might learn from taking a chance on conversation with a stranger? Everyone carries a piece of the puzzle. Nobody comes into your life by mere coincidence. Trust your instincts. Do the unexpected. Find the others…” ~ Timothy Leary

Watching the Wheels (John Lennon and Yoko Ono)

Such a great birthday yesterday; I hit the ground running in the local community outreach garden, which I have committed to do once a week.  It kicked my *ss, but in the best possible way; I was dirty but happy (and delighted to wear a pair of the adorable gardening gloves Melanie sent... 😍 )

Chico and Rob took me out for lunch (Pollo Tropical has a vegan wrap - yum!).  Came home, showered, napped, then headed to Sarah and Colin's for an early dinner from Parlour Vegan (and Eric surprised me there, when I thought he had to work!).

Was delighted by the plethora of phone calls, texts, e-mails, gifts, and thoughtfulness in general all day from family and friends near and far.  I remain grateful for my support circle, which is sometimes a parallelogram, which is perfectly fine as well... 💞  

Lower back.  Ouch!  Upper hamstrings.  Eek!  More stretching in my future so I can kick the garden's *ss this time, instead of the other way around... 😁

It is indeed Feel Good Friday and, as is tradition, five items below of beauty, interest, and humor to brighten your day/weekend/week.  Enjoy! 

~ The 2021 Met Gala Is Going Plant-Based—Here’s Why:  Yes, people eat at the Met Gala. And this year, for the first time ever, the chef-curated menu will be 100% plant-based.

~ So Many Tchotchkes, So Little Time:  Instagram stores that specialize in knickknacks are booming. Blame the pandemic.

~ ‘Wicked’ Hits the Road, Carrying the Hopes of Broadway Tours:  The production, which starts Tuesday in Dallas, is the first Broadway tour back onstage, a test as American theaters seek to rebound from the pandemic shutdown.

~ Our Buy Nothing Project Mission:  We offer people a way to give and receive, share, lend, and express gratitude through a worldwide network of hyper-local gift economies in which the true wealth is the web of connections formed between people who are real-life neighbors. (thanks and love to Michele for the heads-up to this wonderful project... ❤ )

~ The Extraordinary Presence of Frida Kahlo

SONG:  Watching the Wheels by John Lennon and Yoko Ono

BOOK:  Great Quotes For Gardeners: Reflection, Inspiration, And Some Humor For Those Who Love Gardens by Craig Hlas

POEM:  I Would Like by Jane Hirshfield

I would like

my living to inhabit me

the way

rain, sun, and their wanting

inhabit a fig or apple.

I would like to meet it

also in pieces,

scattered:

a conversation set down

on a long hallway table;

a disappointment

pocketed inside a jacket;

some long-ago longing glimpsed,

half-recognized,

in the corner of a thrift store painting.

To discover my happiness,

walking first

toward

then away from me

down a stairwell,

on two strong legs all its own.

Also,

the uncountable

wheat stalks,

how many times broken,

beaten, sent

between grindstones,

before entering

the marriage

of oven and bread—

Let me find my life in that, too.

In my moments

of clumsiness, solitude;

in days of vertigo and hesitation;

in the many year-ends

that found me

standing on top of a stovetop

to take down a track light.

In my nights’ asked,

sometimes answered, questions.

I would like

to add to my life,

while we are still living,

a little salt and butter,

one more slice of the edible apple,

a teaspoon of jam

from the long-simmered fig.

To taste

as if something tasted for the first time

what we will have become then.

QUOTE:  "First say to yourself what you would be; and then do what you have to do." ~ Epictetus

Trip Around the Sun (Jimmy Buffett & Martina McBride)

Posting this at 12:10 a.m., August 5; today is my 67th birthday!  What a boring, nondescript number/age but, hey, I'm just glad to still be on this planet, not only doing well but Doing Good, as evidenced by my new ventures (elaborated on in my last few blog posts).

It's actually been a good year since August 2020 (of course the bar was low from last year's sh*tshow), as we celebrated the election of a new President and Vice President (Joe and Kamala!), and are having regular press conferences again (Jen Psaki!)... most of us have chosen to get the COVID vaccine (if only we could convince the hold-outs to step it up, as their hesitation has allowed the Delta variant to run rampant)... we're watching the year-delayed Olympics... we're in process of auditioning a replacement for Jeopardy's Alex Trebek (I have some favorites, of course, including this week's David Faber, who I'd never even heard of before Monday)... live music and hugs are back in my life, although cautiously, given the aforementioned outbreak... my grandson Colin has only gotten funnier, more verbal, cuter (as if that were even possible!).

Doing my first volunteer stint this morning from 9-11 a.m. in the community outreach garden (so excited!), have plans to get together with Rob and Sarah for lunch (the new vegan wrap at Pollo Tropical), and not a clue what's in store for the rest of the day, but I have no doubt I'll be pleasantly surprised with well-wishes of all types.

I am still without social media so, I would love to ask, as I did last year that, at some point, if you are reading this, could you please wish me a Happy Birthday in the Comments box below (moderated, so it might not show up right away!) and let me know what you're reading (or not... 😍 )

Thanks in advance for celebrating with me, and much love always... 💖

My NR:  My Autobiography of Carson McCullers: A Memoir by Jenn Shapland

Also, bonus horoscope overview; interesting reflections/predictions, and some of it is already happening!

Leo has a reputation for being self-focused, but this year you will feel as if the self you've so carefully constructed is being unraveled. The people you feel closest to will offer you reflections about who you are, and the truth may bring about a shift of radical proportions. 

New people will come into your life to assist you in uncovering more of your uniqueness and even eccentricities. Allow yourself to become a wilder, stranger version of yourself. 

With partners and close friends, there may be challenges as you learn more about what you need in order to feel loved. The key to success this year involves letting go of stubborn tendencies with regard to your significant others, and instead allowing more freedom and space between you and your beloveds. 

if you set love free, it could lead to even more security. 

Take time in late spring and summer to reevaluate your own aspirations and dreams for your life. Is the universe urging you to take on more of a leadership role in your community? Are you striving to live up to ideals that are unrealistic?

Are you too scattered to come up with a plan for the future? 

You are learning how to balance your desire for social stimulation with the need to make a lasting contribution to the world. 

Rather than than over-relying on yourself, listen to your chosen family and the broader community to see how your creative gifts may be best utilized. 

~ Rhea Wolf © Mother Tongue Ink 2020

SONG:  Trip Around the Sun by Jimmy Buffett (with Martina McBride)

BOOK(S):  Heart Talk: Poetic Wisdom for a Better Life by Cleo Wade

Shit I Can't Remember: Organizer, Log Book & Notebook for Passwords and Shit by Phil D. Organizers

POEM:  A Whole Other Stage by Judith Viorst

I've reached the stage where my lawyer, my broker, my allergist, and my president are all significantly younger than I.

I've reached the stage where I recognize, when I'm buying new living-room drapes or a new set of dishes, that they're likely to be the last ones that I'll ever buy.

And when I'm starting to tell my friends some really terrific story, and I ask them whether I've told them this story before, and no matter what story I've started to tell, they say yes,

I know I have reached a whole other stage.

I've reached the stage where I find that most of the spaces I used to park in are now too small for my car.

I've reached the stage where I'm no longer able to call myself middle-aged because that's what my children are.

And when going to see two movies at two separate theaters on the same day, followed by eating a sausage-and-anchovy pizza, is what I'm defining as orgiastic excess,

I know that I have reached a whole other stage.

I've reached the stage where a lot of the reading I'm doing is at the market checking salt-free and fat-free and expiration dates.

I've reached the stage where nobody bothers to look at my driver's license when I want to purchase tickets at senior rates.

And when I'm out of town and I phone my husband at six A.M., and I ring and ring but he doesn't answer the phone, and my first thought is not infidelity but cardiac arrest,

I know that I have reached a whole other stage.

I've reached the stage where the people with whom I once discussed Marcel Proust are discussing inheritance taxes and living wills.

I've reached the stage where I couldn't leave my house for twenty-four hours unaccompanied by eight different kinds of pills.

And when I have to admit that, offered the choice, I'd - unhesitatingly - give up a night of wild rapture with Denzel Washington for a nice report on my next bone density test,

I know that I have reached a whole other stage.

QUOTE(S):  "And so it is of human life the goal to seek, forever seek, the kindred soul." ~ José Martí

"To find what you seek in the road of life, the best proverb of all is that which says:  Leave no stone unturned." ~ Edward Bulwer-Lytton

Rise (Katy Perry)

An amazingly great week, such that I've posted twice (which hasn't happened in a while).  Busy, too!  

Monday was Zoom with Nancy and Judi, moved from our usual Tuesday because Nance and I headed up to SusanP's for Beach Day on Tuesday (it's been a while, because SP went back to the classroom in January, taught three weeks of summer school, and is just now free again, but only for a few weeks until she starts back teaching on August 9); babysat Colin Monday night; Wednesday morning the aforementioned get-together with Cynthia; Thursday lunch with Eric (his birthday was Wednesday, but he had to work), a library pick-up, and an afternoon phone chat with Michele... 💗

I've volunteered to nanny/governess/Lala this weekend for Colin so Sarah can attend both Dave Matthews' concerts in West Palm Beach (I will go up with her this afternoon to hang with the little guy tonight and Saturday, returning Sunday morning; we're staying with friends of hers who have a pool and, much as I'll miss attending the show, which I used to do with her years ago, it will be a bit of a vacation for me, not to mention a chance to hang with my darling grandbaby!

I haven't watched much of the Olympics, but I'm inspired by what I have seen, and read, and what others have reported back.  Proud of Simone Biles for giving herself time and space from all the pressure.  Very cool that skateboarding is now an Olympic sport.  See article below about Pink and the Norwegian women's handball team.  Our DVRs are full, we're all losing sleep, and "the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat" is a cliche for a reason.  Especially since the Summer Games were cancelled last year because of the pandemic, it's more than a bit heartwarming to escape, even for a few moments, from Delta variants, long COVID, and anti-vaxxers.  

It is indeed Feel Good Friday and, as is tradition, five items below of beauty, interest, and humor to brighten your day/weekend/week.  Enjoy! 

~ Medals That Were Won Not in Pentathlon or 100 Meters, but in Iambic Pentameter:  But few people today recall that poetry, just like the 100 meters, was an official Olympic competition from 1912 to 1948. Sadly, the names of the medal winners are not listed on the International Olympic Committee’s rosters. (When I read the poem below, I of course had to Google the epigraph and d*mn if it's not true.  Wow!)

~ Jill Biden, Changing the Fashion Game:  Cheering the American Olympians, the first lady broke with recent sartorial customs.

~ Pink offers to pay fines for Norwegian women’s beach handball team:  European Handball Federation fined players €1,500 for wearing shorts instead of bikini bottoms

~ How to Get Things Done When You Don’t Want to Do Anything:  The drive to be your best can be hard to muster right about now. Here are some ways to get your mojo back.

~ Vegan Cinnamon Roll Chair Cinnaholic to Nearly Double in Size with 60 New Locations:  Cinnaholic—which offers an array of customizable vegan cinnamon rolls—has 60 new locations in development across the United States and Canada.  (Um, hello... there's already a Cinnaholic in Coral Springs, and no one thought to tell me?!?  Can you say Road Trip?... 😍 )

SONG:  Rise by Katy Perry

BOOK:  Total Olympics: Every Obscure, Hilarious, Dramatic, and Inspiring Tale Worth Knowing by Jeremy Fuchs

POEM:  Taking Your Olympic Measure by Alberto Ríos

—Poetry was an Olympic event from 1912-1948.

Think of the records you have held:

For one second, you were the world’s youngest person.

It was a long time ago, but still.

At this moment, you are living 

In the farthest thousandth-of-a-second in the history of time.

You have beaten yesterday’s record, again.

You were perhaps the only participant,

But in the race to get from your bedroom to the bathroom, 

You won.

You win so much, all the time in all things.

Your heart simply beats and beats and beats—

It does not lose, although perhaps one day.

Nevertheless, the lists of firsts for you is endless—

Doing what you have not done before,

Tasting sake and mole, smelling bergamot, hearing

Less well than you used to—

Not all records are for the scrapbook, of course—

Sometimes you are the best at being the worst.

Some records are secret—you know which ones.

Some records you’re not even aware of.

In general, however, at the end of a long day, you are—

Unlikely as it may seem—the record holder of note.  

QUOTE:  "Keep some room in your heart for the unimaginable." ~ Mary Oliver

Bowl of Oranges (Bright Eyes)

Last Friday, I promised to elaborate on "two perfectly-made-for-me opportunities presented on the proverbial silver platter" at a later date... and that time is now!

~ Okay, I still adore Anne Lamott, and Patricia Lockwood, and Maizy Rae Bukalele... but Cynthia is my new spirit animal!  I was with her for three hours this morning, and she shared her time, energy, and passion with me.  From avocado gleaning (we harvested 2 crates/70 lbs. worth and dropped them off at a local food bank) to fire cider (she gave me her recipe!) to CSAs (starts up in the winter, and I plan to join), and everything in between, I learned so much, and will also begin working in the community garden every Thursday.  As I said:  Mind Blown!

I am excited about life again, re-emerging from my comforting dormancy to challenging growth, with this new connection making me feel that I am exactly where I need to be, finding the balance between doing well and Doing Good.

Cynthia is writing a few books:  the focus of one is Sustainable Ways to Make the Community Better (she is most definitely a conscious bridger, which Dar talks about!), another a cookbook (for some of the less common foods that are able to be grown prolifically in our area), and a few e-books about herbs and their uses for illness/health/women/aging, etc.  She does speaking engagements, teaches classes, sells the fire cider, tinctures, herbs, plants, seeds, etc. from her home.  What an inspiration, and I am beyond excited to contribute my enthusiasm as well as skillsets to The Caring Community!

~ Then, my friend Sandy, knowing of my obsession with language as well as my craving for intentional connection, told me about this project, which spoke to me too.  "We’re willing to bet you’re just like us— eager to make a difference and craving a chance to use your words for good. We hope you know you serve a purpose here and that your words do count. If you’re looking for ways to start shaking up the world today, browse our ways to get involved..."  I just bought the very cool Sun Science stamps and, having no commitments tomorrow (after a very busy last three days), will sit down and write to all five spotlighted recipients (with five new prospects each month).  The World Needs More Love Letters indeed... 💞

My gifts of “time and talent" (I *did* donate "treasure" to various causes/organizations/individuals throughout the pandemic) have gone under the radar during these last 18 months... and it feels like a new day, month, year... 💫

NR:  Blacktop Wasteland by S. A. Crosby

SONG:  Bowl of Oranges by Bright Eyes (thanks to my son Rob for the heads-up to this song... 💓)

BOOK:  Planting a Rainbow by Lois Ehlert

POEM(S):  The Seven Of Pentacles by Marge Piercy

Under a sky the color of pea soup

she is looking at her work growing away there

actively, thickly like grapevines or pole beans

as things grow in the real world, slowly enough.

If you tend them properly, if you mulch, if you water,

if you provide birds that eat insects a home and winter food,

if the sun shines and you pick off caterpillars,

if the praying mantis comes and the ladybugs and the bees,

then the plants flourish, but at their own internal clock.

Connections are made slowly, sometimes they grow underground.

You cannot tell always by looking what is happening.

More than half the tree is spread out in the soil under your feet.

Penetrate quietly as the earthworm that blows no trumpet.

Fight persistently as the creeper that brings down the tree.

Spread like the squash plant that overruns the garden.

Gnaw in the dark and use the sun to make sugar.

Weave real connections, create real nodes, build real houses.

Live a life you can endure: Make love that is loving.

Keep tangling and interweaving and taking more in,

a thicket and bramble wilderness to the outside but to us

interconnected with rabbit runs and burrows and lairs.

Live as if you liked yourself, and it may happen:

reach out, keep reaching out, keep bringing in.

This is how we are going to live for a long time: not always,

for every gardener knows that after the digging, after

the planting,

after the long season of tending and growth, the harvest comes.

You See, I Want a Lot by Rainer Maria Rilke

You see, I want a lot.

Perhaps I want everything:

The darkness that comes with every infinite fall

And the shivering blaze of every step up.

So many live on and want nothing

And are raised to the rank of prince

By the slippery ease of their light judgments

But what you love to see are faces

That do work and feel thirst.

You love most of all those who need you

as they need a crowbar or a hoe.

You have not grown old,

And it is not too late 

To dive into your increasing depths 

where life calmly gives out its own secret.

QUOTE(S):  "The power of imagination makes us infinite." ~ John Muir

"In times to come, when we are all gone, people not yet born will walk in the sunshine of their own days because of what women and men did at this hour to feed the sick, to heal and to comfort.” ~ John Dwyer

All Shall Be Well (The Accidentals and Mary Gauthier)

S invited me for coffee at her home yesterday morning, along with her friend C, who used to live next door but has moved a few towns over.  They have been getting together every Thursday from 10 a.m. to noon for *many* years, and S felt C and I needed to meet (soulmates, she called us).  Confused yet?... 😍

D*mn!  The force is strong with those two.  I felt an instant connection, and it was the most delightful two hours I've spent in a very long time (other than reading - ha!).   The conversation was easy, entertaining, stimulating.  If you know me at all, you understand that I feel I am in the right place at the right time when everything just clicks.  So. Many. Clicks!  You will also recall that I believe there are no accidents (Synchronicity for the win).  It was honestly as if metaphorical stepping stones were appearing right before my very eyes (feet?), as one topic of discussion (boom!) led to something else (pow!) which unveiled another epiphany (bam!).

I have mentioned previously that, now I'm retired, job/career-wise as well as from the concert series, I've been struggling with re-finding my Life Purpose.  I know I have a lot to offer, but it's been on a back burner during the pandemic... and I'm now ready to shine my light and spirit back into the world again.

All this to say, I have been handed two perfectly-made-for-me opportunities on the proverbial silver platter, which I will discuss more in detail next week.  For now just let me say that I am throwing myself All In with both, at least a once-a-week commitment for now.  For the first time in a while, I am very Very VERY excited about the Future with a capital F... 💖

My sweet grandbaby Colin turned three years old this past Wednesday; he deserves a full blog post and, by god, he'll get it... next week!

Long-story-short (look for the Extended Dance Mix, also next week), my dear friend Melanie *finally* had her long-awaited kidney transplant and, because those operations are not cheap, our mutual friend Dave set up a GoFundMe page.  Please contribute if you're able... 💞

NR:  Heart Berries: A Memoir by Terese Marie Mailhot

It is indeed Feel Good Friday and, as is tradition, five items below of beauty, interest, and humor to brighten your day/weekend/week.  Enjoy! 

~ Why Jane Goodall Still Has Hope for Us Humans:  Wherever the story of our natural world ultimately lands, Jane Goodall will have earned a proud place in its telling.

~ These vegan crayons are made from green onions, purple potatoes, corn, and other would-be wasted vegetables:  Created by a mother in Japan, the Vegetable Crayons use discarded vegetable waste to create safer and more eco-friendly crayons for kids. 

~ When My World Fell Apart, I Turned to Puzzles:  A woman found that when her life was unstable, jigsaw puzzles provided a reliable solution.

~ RealWomenRealSongs Season 3:  This page serves as home to 28 women. They are all songwriters and all committed to writing 52 songs this year.  Each week the women will be given a prompt to write their songs from. And on their specific day of the week, they will post their newly-written, untweaked songs RIGHT HERE for your listening pleasure.  We hope that you will follow their journey: the ups and downs, the writer's block, the grand successes when they get it right. AND we hope that in in watching them take risks and being vulnerable with their dreams, YOU will become inspired to create something of your own, be it a song, a painting, that book you've been dying to write...the possibilities are endless! 

~ What Matters in a Name Sign?  We look at the origins of name signs in deaf culture, including one recently assigned to Vice President Harris.

SONG:  All Shall Be Well by The Accidentals and Mary Gauthier

BOOK:  How Far You Have Come: Musings on Beauty and Courage by Morgan Harper Nichols

POEM:  I Am Much Too Alone in This World, Yet Not Alone by Rainer Maria Rilke

I am much too alone in this world, yet not alone

    enough

to truly consecrate the hour.

I am much too small in this world, yet not small

    enough

to be to you just object and thing,

dark and smart.

I want my free will and want it accompanying

the path which leads to action;

and want during times that beg questions,

where something is up,

to be among those in the know,

or else be alone.

I want to mirror your image to its fullest perfection,

never be blind or too old

to uphold your weighty wavering reflection.

I want to unfold.

Nowhere I wish to stay crooked, bent;

for there I would be dishonest, untrue.

I want my conscience to be

true before you;

want to describe myself like a picture I observed

for a long time, one close up,

like a new word I learned and embraced,

like the everday jug,

like my mother's face,

like a ship that carried me along

through the deadliest storm.

QUOTE:  "Your imagination is your preview of life's coming attractions." ~ Albert Einstein

Cosmic Egg (Carrie Elkin)

Hey, Peeps!  I hope all is well.  If you have the time/energy/inclination, pop in below and offer up a comment (25-words-or-less or a lengthy treatise) on how you are doing... 💞

It's been quiet, here on the blog and in my real life... and I realized I not only don't mind, but I am actually loving it.  I shared a meme with someone the other day that said:  "People who say 'go big or go home' seriously underestimate my willingness to go home.  Like, it's literally my only goal."  Or, in my case, it's *stay* home.  The pandemic was the catalyst for me to channel my inner hermit, and I am feeling no desire to emerge from my cocoon, even now that it's safe to do so.  I have never feared alone time; rather, I actually relish it, probably going back to the days of when the children were small, my husband was traveling, I read the last bedtime story, shared the last sips of water, tucked everyone in, and then... silence.  Aaahhh!

I'm still ordering my groceries via Amazon (Whole Foods) and Instacart (Sprouts and Costco; continuing to boycott Publix!), Target is still the only store I have physically stepped foot in, still no live music opportunities (other than Dave's house concert a month or so ago).  I'm still scheduling catch-up phone calls once or twice a week with various friends (although this last week got away from me).  Inspired by the article on The Value of Letter Writing (below), I will toe-dip back into the world of actual penned correspondence soon... 😍

I did venture forth into the medical world last week to have a routine colonoscopy (it had been 11 years since my last one); there were not only *no* polyps, but my colon was declared "spic 'n span", and she said she'd see me in ten years (thankyoujesus).

I am not making as much progress as I'd like on my To Do (Ta Dah!) List, but I have been reading so many wonderful books (Brandi Carlile's memoir!), viewing some great British crime drama (thanks, Judi!), and cooking up so many delish dishes (the best curry I've ever put in my mouth!).

I was sad to hear that singer, songwriter, slide guitarist Ellen McIlwaine died a few weeks ago.  I discovered her in college (early-70s) and, in addition to her original work, was completely enamored with her cover of Blind Faith’s “Can’t Find My Way Home”.  Wow!

The pandemic has changed me in many ways and, for the record, I like "The New Me":  speaking up/pushing back more... a lower tolerance for things/people that don't bring me joy... feeling a greater need to live in/embrace the moment (probably spurred by the tragic collapse of Champlain Towers South in Surfside)... trusting my intuition of self-worth and self-confidence... the continued pursuit of brain challenges (NYT mini-crossword puzzle and Spelling Bee, Jeopardy, reading like a motherf*cker)... taking much better care of myself physically, emotionally, and spiritually... all adding up to more awareness/mindfulness in every aspect of my life.

N(ow)R(eading):  A long-distance friend and I began our own Party-of-Two book club a few months ago, taking turns choosing monthly selections.  My pick for July/our third is The Night Watchman by Louise Erdrich, which was recently declared the 2021 Pulitzer Prize Winner in Fiction.

It is indeed Feel Good Friday and, as is tradition, five items below of beauty, interest, and humor to brighten your day/weekend/week.  Enjoy! 

~ 50 Reasons to Love Joni Mitchell’s ‘Blue’:  The singer-songwriter questioned everything on her fourth album. Twenty-five musicians speak about the LP’s enduring power on its 50th anniversary.

~ LeVar Burton’s Quest to Succeed Alex Trebek:  If the right person catches the right project at the right time, the culture will always hold that person close. Do it three times, as LeVar Burton has done, and our relationship becomes something even deeper. 

~ If You Give a Mom a Cookie:  If you give a mom a cookie, she’ll ask whether you remembered to turn the oven off after you baked it.

~ Oliver Burkeman's last column: the eight secrets to a (fairly) fulfilled life:  After more than a decade of writing life-changing advice, I know when to move on. Here’s what else I learned


~ The Value of Letter Writing:  There are so many different kinds of letters that I’ve written and received over the years. I remember running to the mailbox as a child and as a teenager, glancing quickly through the stack to find my name, immediately turning the envelope to identify the sender—a girlfriend, boyfriend, crush, or my twelve-years-older brother who often lived elsewhere—and then running to a quiet place where I could read and re-read my letter in private. 

SONG:  Cosmic Egg by Carrie Elkin (Cosmic Egg symbolism, dreamwork, and meanings)

BOOK:  Hatching the Cosmic Egg by Michael J Dorer, Andrew Kutt (Composer), Beth Wilson (Illustrator)

POEM:  Born. Living. Will. Die. by Camonghne Felix

          for my favorite auntie, Jeanette

Sometimes I think I’m never going to write a poem again

and then there’s a full moon.

I miss being in love but I miss

myself most when I’m gone.

In the salty wet air of my ancestry

my auntie peels a mango with her teeth

and I’m no longer

writing political poems; because there are

mangoes and my favorite memory is still alive.

I’m digging for meaning but haunted by purpose

and it’s an insufficient approach.

What’s the margin of loss on words not spent today?

I’m getting older. I’m buying smaller images to travel light.

I wake up, I light up, I tidy, and it’s all over now.

  

[Camonghne Felix:  “This poem is an ode to my auntie, who is the freest person I know. In her garden in Antigua, she grows mangoes, which represent the sweetness of life and the serenity of self-sufficiency.”]

QUOTE:  "If life's journey be endless, where is its goal? The answer is, it is everywhere. We are in a palace which has no end, but which we have reached. By exploring it and extending our relationship with it we are ever making it more and more our own. The infant is born in the same universe where lives the adult of ripe mind. But its position is not like a schoolboy who has yet to learn his alphabet, finding himself in a college class. The infant has it own joy of life because the world is not a mere road, but a home, of which it will have more and more as it grows up in wisdom. With our road that gain is at every step, for it is the road and the home in one; it leads us on yet gives us shelter." ~ Rabindranath Tagore