the other actor
January 23, 2011 § Leave a comment
Recently my husband treated me to a long anticipated theater excursion. My body relaxed into the well-worn theater seat as the first notes from the orchestra cast its spell. I felt myself let go of the day’s events as I slipped into the storyteller’s world. Then, with the fortuitousness of so many discoveries, I caught the conductor dancing. Stop.
I tumbled quickly out of the performance into wonder. I tried to dismiss the distraction, but I caught myself peeking at the unexpected performer. The questions clinked noisily in my mind like a soda bottle rattling to the ground. What did this man see on stage that inspired the sway and smiles that seemed simultaneously intimate and unintentional? My thoughts were scattered; amusement and curiosity held me tightly.
The actors have taken their bows and the music has long ended, but the image of the conductor dancing continues to make me smile.
love letter
January 21, 2011 § Leave a comment
My blog is an experiment of sorts, an exercise in faith. I often lack the confidence to share my words outside of letters to those I love. This space is becoming a love letter to myself, that piece of me that waits patiently to be acknowledged. With each simple entry there is a whisper in my mind that echos through my spirit resonating with something silent…
the Americano and Me
January 19, 2011 § 1 Comment
I am predictable in my indulgences. On most days, you will find me balancing a Mocha and an oversized tote, varying from my signature beverage only occasionally for a seasonal treat. On an ordinary day filled with mandatory errands I wished for something new. Recalling a friend’s signature coffee, but uncertain of its nature, I submitted a simple inquiry to the ambiguous voice in my neighborhood drive-thru: “What is an Americano?”
My barista unfolded the history of the Americano with authority and efficiency, claiming the curious beverage originated when Italian soldiers attempted to make a cup of coffee. The vision my mind created of debonaire Italian soldiers fumbling over a cup of coffee in a fashion not unlike my first endeavors as a sleep deprived mother of two had me suddenly smitten. With a simple order I felt myself shaking hands with history; stepping gently in the footprints of another.
I will never possess the thick Italian accent or dangerous curves of an Italian leading lady, but with this simple cup of coffee I poured myself into something new and fell in love with a story.
theory of evolution
January 6, 2011 § Leave a comment
We make resolutions with aspirations of evolution; good intentions for self-improvement propelled forcefully into a New Year. Today, armed with enthusiasm and a project I set forth to right my domestic wrongs. My foray into organization began in the kitchen. I shifted gadgets sorting them into logical, functional spaces. I then visited my wardrobe and began a new set of questions that centered on the odds that I might in fact ever wear garments largely intended for another life. Slowly and with great hesitation I approached my daily organizational tools – the folders, drawers, and boxes where I “sort” important information concerning my children. These, the most important documents in my home, were chaos. It was with resignation and a good deal of caffeine that I spread said documents across my dining room table and began a lengthy acknowledgment that I am, indeed a mess. In the stark light of day I came to see that I have been hiding what matters beneath clean countertops, inside tidy spaces.
My initial reaction to my hidden hindrance was to brew a cup of coffee, pick-up a new book, run an errand, and plan meals for the week ahead. It must be said that I rarely plan meals in advance and this became a clear indication that I was procrastinating. I could barely look at my disheveled table without wanting to take a nap; I physically and emotionally shut down to avoid the work required to properly sort the important from the insignificant. Hours later, with a deep sigh, I forced myself into a chair and began assigning titles and thereby locations to each document. Keepsake, receipt, garbage. I could have added a dozen categories to rationalize the importance of each item, but these three simple labels allowed me the focus and direction to simplify an overwhelming task.
This challenge began with a feeling and evolved into a moment of serenity that I will carry with me into the New Year. Each day I will remember to simplify, organize, and prioritize my world that I might live in a greater state of peace and productivity.
unlisted
December 30, 2010 § 1 Comment
Thoughts flow through me with little direction and so I have come to value the quiet power of a list. From my daily to-do and encompassing whimsical daydreams, each concept seems pulled from the pages of possibility into stark reality when pen meets pad. So, to honor that strength and to gather steam for the New Year I am publishing my numbers.
1. Fitness First. I have become fluent in putting off exercise for “a little later.” Two years ago fitness was as much a part of my day as brushing my teeth and my spirit aches for that connection to my body.
2. Writing. I often overlook the simple gift of fleshing out my thoughts; when I write I seem to stumble into myself and see the world around me with greater clarity.
3. Something new. I haven’t identified a specific challenge, but I find I am most inspired when fighting to prove “I can.”
4. Presence. I am often planning ahead and not absorbing the now; less multi-tasking and more stillness.
These are the four firsts; the ideas that poke at my consciousness and beg permission to become priorities rather than possibilities. New goals unfold and make their way onto new lists, but this a beginning.
pen, paper, people
December 16, 2010 § 1 Comment
Three of my favorite ingredients to a beautiful moment are a pen, paper, and people. I am forever slipping into a stranger’s story and then longing to share my simple moment of humor, growth, or grace with another soul. I won’t pretend to know where to begin; instead, I will share these moments I scribble in my mind.
