Surprised myself

Even as I wane this evening, I’m moving my fingers to make the words I want to put out there to move my hopes and dreams forward, and -fatuous as it might seem- thicken one more gossamer thread between myself and another human being. Didn’t expect to overcome my desire to stop for a while. Goes to show what fuel is passion. How true and long-burning it can be. And so I did what I needed to, more priming of the soil. I look forward with open heart to whatsoever will bloom.

Six on one hand

I arrived fashionably late to the party, except it started early.

Found a super-sweet, legal parking space, after running over a hazard cone, in front of the construction crew.

I roasted all the potatoes and made carrot soup; for lunch tomorrow.

I did not have the wine, but I think I’ll probably have ice cream for dinner.

Still making cookies, but I ran out of parchment.

Walked, and lugged, and sweated, but didn’t stretch.

Got that book out of the library I won’t have time to start.

Washed all the dishes just to make ‘em dirty again.

Leaned against the headstones and watched the cloudless blue sky on this day when summer’s come back to cha-cha with fall.

Well then, perfect.


Attention is elsewhere

Family breakfast. Visit with a friend. Birthday dinner and dim sum. Deadline Monday for the best I can do, with what I’ve got, in the time I have. And oh my soul! do I want to succeed. So these words are true, but distracted. My inner peripheral vision is keenly spying the shapes, that make up the idea, that are Tetris-ing around the imaginary landscape of my thought lab actively seeking to fit together just so.

And maybe you need a puzzle. So dream of winning and enter to do so: The 1865 Project w/ Defibrillator Theatre company –¬†

Intensity loves (spiritual) company.


Thursday, September 25, 2014

Someone’s bad brakes are squealing outside. Our cool August was a slick trick to slide right into an autumn that -just 3 days old!- is already asking for coats. My feet get cold when I take them out of my slippers and they could easily be pleased by a blanket over them. I’m not sure I have enough gas for the airport run I’m not sure I have to make. Practicalities are my swinging nightlife today. Happens to the best of us.

Hi there!

Hi. How are you? I know you are beautiful. That’s the faith I have. A faith in each person’s individual potential to be beautiful. It makes me sad when I meet people who have turned away from that potential. But I know it is possible for them to be redeemed. I jump and shout and clap for joy when I meet those who keep faith and keep trying when finding that potential in themselves and in their circumstances (let alone tapping it) is difficult. It is often difficult. Perhaps the greatest malice we should fear as a civilization is the layers we willfully put between individuals and beauty, their own and that of this serendipitous gravity-bound, rock-in-a-gas-chamber, we ride around the universe on.

By now, surely you understand that I don’t mean beauty as in a magazine cover. But even there -color, technique, precision, the gloss and heft of the paper- are details that may sum up to beauty. Surprise, delight, a persistent small amazement, that is beauty. The way Gerbera daisies can always make you smile. That the sunset is captivating every single time it happens. When you squeal at being tickled. When you’re struck dumb by your lover’s profile as they brush their teeth or laugh in that horsey way. Enjoying a moment of pride for earning the trust of a child. The warmth that spreads when someone treats you with genuine respect and kindness. A piece of music that gets you every time, in exactly the same place. An unexpectedly juicy peach. Beauty.

Think you can recognize it now? Look for it every place you go, and especially in the mirror. Make a little beauty in someone else’s life and watch what happens. It’s better than a magic trick.

The turnaround

It turns out the whole day doesn’t have to be wonderful for it to be a good one. It turns out a good meal, a song, the non-judgmental embrace of home, can topple a whole day of little sins. It turns out there is some choice to joy and optimism and continuing up that ladder of a little better each day. It turns out breathing is tremendous! Every second of living we take for granted has a crystalline, dewdrop beauty when, at rest a moment, we observe these tiny amazing, automatic acts.

Tonight, I will borrow some words. Pablo Neruda says of “This present moment…

…Take a saw to its delicious wooden perfume. And make a chair; braid its back; test it. Or then, build a staircase! Yes, a staircase. Climb into the present, step by step, press your feet onto the resinous wood of this moment, going up, going up, not very high, just so you repair the leaky roof. Don’t go all the way to heaven. Reach for apples not the clouds. Let them fluff through the sky, skimming passage, in the past. “

From Ode To The Present – Pablo Neruda.

Don’t go all the way to heaven.