we have found that little bits of wisdom are all around us. we were on the train to chicago when we encountered a wise man named lester. he seemed a gentle soul, a big man with soft eyes, he was sitting across the aisle from us. he talked to us about his life, about life in general. he had had a long day already, commuting by numerous trains in a circuitous route to go to a job interview; he wanted to make some changes and the interview he had been to was part of that.
he told us of a relationship he was in – nothing that was all that serious – but there was this woman…. the thing that stuck with us was his comment that in the morning as he awoke with her, she was on her phone….scrolling, scrolling, scrolling. the early sun bright in the room, this lovely man by her side, she was endlessly looking on various social media platforms for what was trending. “put down your phone,” he pleaded to the side of her that had forgotten he was even there. “i’m trending.”
we’ve talked about presence before. we’ve talked about being in the moment and not missing it. we’ve talked about gratitude and time together. we’ve talked about how fleeting time really is. we’ve talked about relationship and listening and appreciating the place you are, the minute you are in. and yet, in six words, lester said it better – “put down your phone. i’m trending.” wisdom indeed.
remember when you carefully wrapped your toddler’s presents, expecting their absolute glee when he or she opened the gift? and then, moments after the gift was opened, with wrappings and gift cast aside, you found them ecstatically playing with the box the gift came in? well, welcome to babycatworld.
b-cat has lots of toys. we struggle with keeping dogdog from devouring them. we gave him fun new things for christmas, but he doesn’t seem all that interested. however, the moment we put a carry-your-stuff-out-box we used at costco on the floor in the kitchen, babycat decided it was his. no matter where we move it, he sits in it. he has claimed it; it is his safe spot. it would be impossible for him to lay down in it; his hulking “big-boned” body dwarfs the box. but sitting in it seems to suffice for him. i guess everyone/every creature has their special spot. so for now, this crest box has become a part of our home.
i might add that it doesn’t match our decor in any way. i’m wondering if he would still sit in it if we spray-painted it black…
this bonus track was a surprise for my sweet momma and poppo. playing God be with you till we meet again as the last track on this, my first christmas album, seemed apropos back then. it was a favorite of theirs, spoken to us or sometimes even sung as we left to depart to places far away or even close by. and i get that. goodbyes are so hard.
in the last couple of months we have been lucky enough to see My Girl, My Boy and his boyfriend, my wendy aka ben aka saul, and some dear long-time friends. in the next month or so we will see my heather aka feath and her brian, my sister and her sweet bill. we have communicated with holiday greetings…on the phone, via texts, emails, cards or letters sent in old-fashioned-times postal mail, sealed and seasonal-stamped, with those whom we hold close. soon, other family and friends will cross our paths; perhaps we will even drive to them or they to us. maybe we will meet halfway. maybe we’ll talk on the phone or facetime or text. any way we have the opportunity to be with them, upon their departure or ours, i will quietly whisper – as i always do – God be with you till we meet again.
God be with you till we meet again…by good counsels guide, uphold you….
with a shepherd’s care enfold you…God be with you till we meet again.
we walked past macy’s in downtown chicago and i noticed a digital billboard as it transitioned into its next message. “the best present? being present.” i couldn’t agree more. as trite as that message may be, it is a truth that spans the ages, spans time, spans generations. if there is one consistent thing i talk about, it is moments. moments i’ve noticed. moments i’ve memorized. moments i’ve written down. always – moments i’ve spent being present. whether present for someone else or present in the universe for myself, it matters not. it is the act of showing up….all-in….that makes all the difference.
the beloved moments on facetime with my daughter, son and his boyfriend. the moments spent laughing on a phone call with friends or family. the moments watching a dear one open a present or two. the moments walking outside under a cold dark sky of stars. the moments in the dark room alit only with twinkling lights. the moments snuggled under a blanket. the moments cooking or eating together. the moments singing carols at the top of your lungs. the moments sharing stories. the moments making music. moments where distraction would make you would miss it.
in this time of full-tiltedness…heading into the new year, i hope that you are gathering moments like this in your heart. they are the best presents.
she sent us a video of her snowboarding with friends. it was a crazy-good-full-tilt-snow-flying amazing video of them on a magnificently majestic mountain. my heart literally sang watching it; you could feel the rush, the joy! and then….there was this spoken line…at the end…My Girl, breathless from an outstanding run, with a laugh said, “my legs are tired; my heart is happy!” this is how she lives.
i could stop writing right here, because that really says it all. as we go full-tilt at these holidays, full-tilt at the end of this year, full-tilt toward a new year, full-tilt toward our goals and dreams and wishes, we believe that giving our all – and then some – brings us ever closer to that elusive place of “getting there.”
but at the bottom of that powder-run there were no medals; there was no bonus, no ribbon or gold watch. there was something more precious. and kirsten knew it. there was the moment of running it, of sharing it, of living it. the absolute euphoria that comes with just doing the best you can, and putting your body and soul into it, capturing the moments you soar.
may this holiday season – and really, all your days – bring you those moments. at the bottom of the slope, on christmas eve when you are in a dark room with a lighted tree, on a day you gather with family and friends and look around grabbing a few seconds to store away for later, on a facetime with those most beloved to you, when you’ve put away the last dish or driven the last couple hundred miles, when you have gone full-tilt, i know you will be a little tired. but it is my hope your heart will be happy.
“…i love to watch the lights shine on my baby’s face…”
the place this song came from. motherhood. the full-body-overwhelming-love-feeling for me of holding my babies those first christmases. seeing the lights from the tree play on their faces was magic-on-earth. i suddenly understood my sweet momma and her joy having us there at christmas, surrounded by her babies (forever her babies, regardless of age.) this is a story-song. i’ll say little else about it. you’ll understand when you listen to the lyrics.
this painting!! i fell in love with it the instant i saw the horses. utter-arms-outstretched-bliss on horseback. what is not to love? i have been horse-crazy ever since i was little. my room decorations at one point in my life included stable-brown walls, burlap curtains, horse statues and ribbons on shelves and wall space and my headboard.
i took horseback-riding lessons as a little girl; i relished every minute of it. it was expensive (horses in general are expensive, whether you own or rent or just go on a trail ride) and the opportunity ran out for these lessons, but when i can, i ride. a couple years ago My Girl and i went on a trail ride out in the mountains of aspen. it was sheer heaven!
this painting!! it makes me think of other recent times looking-into-the-gentle-eyes of these beautiful animals. we walked later at night in holland past fields and obvious horse-fencing. i heard the sound of a horse nickering, that blowing-out of air so easily identifiable. i walked in the dark toward the sound. there at the fenceline was this beautiful horse, just waiting for us to quietly talk to him, stroke his face. no treats, just love.
this painting!! linda and bill can relate to horse-love. their horse chance is the sweetest. she literally finds her way to the side kitchen door in the morning if they haven’t gone out to feed her yet and will stick her head right inside the car as you drive slowly by.
this painting!! it transports me to warm springs ranch, a budweiser clydesdale eden with sweet foals and gentle giant mares. a glorious afternoon with wendy and jani, david followed me around with a camera, documenting my glee.
this painting!! it brings back all my having-a-horse-one-day yearning. ahhh. someday, i think. i have many brochures about the wild mustangs of out west, all needing homes and an adoptive chance at life, not to be swept up in roundups due to an imbalance of excess and lack.
this painting!! how will i be able to let it go – because someone will want this stunning painting for their home…
we spent a wonderful day thanksgiving friday in boston with craig and dan. taking trains here and there, we had brunch at the greatest little dietary-restrictions-aware-diner called the friendly toast, walked through a magnificently decorated copley place, had drinks together and went bowling, a tradition that has been established now for a few years. it would have been hard not to feel the holiday spirit; carols were playing and everything was decorated…and we were together.
copley place had enormous decorations. i mean eNORmous. everywhere you looked there were oversized ornaments and lights. now, normally i might find that gauche; in this case it was stunning. they really made you take notice. i wanted to sing carols and skip through the mall.
i keep carols on pretty much non-stop in this season. in the house they play on a boombox booming out of my studio. we drive with them on in the car. i sing in the shower. i make up new words to old standards and sing LALALALALA really loudly when i can’t think of the lyrics. joy joy joy! big joy!
thank you to copley place for the reminder that THE JOY of the season – those moments we are together – is enormous. it is oversized. it is stunning. take notice.
a couple of weeks ago i ran into a couple i hadn’t seen in many years. they asked me about my children and how they were; i excitedly rambled on about them for several minutes, explaining where they were living – 20 hours west and 20 hours east – and what they were doing in life. then they asked me how i was. i said, “you can always gauge a mom’s happiness by how recently she last got to see her grown children.” i was fortunate enough to see my daughter in november AND my son in november, so i was happy-happy-happy. time spent with them. a wondrous thing.
i was perched on one edge and My Girl on another, a ways down the side of the canyon. we yelled back and forth, listening to the echo, ultimately dissolving into laughter. the beauty. the joy. the echo. the laughing. a wondrous thing.
it was not his best bowling day; the planets clearly were out of alignment for My Boy, who pretty much rocks at bowling and many other sports, but he goofed around and cartooned and had us all laughing. so much fun on that lane. a wondrous thing.
we stood around the piano and sang in my studio, wendy’s voice next to my own. suddenly, that thing-that-happens-when-two-people-who-are-related-sing-together happened. my sweet niece’s voice and mine had the same timbre and it took my breath away. i had to stop for a moment to take it in. a wondrous thing.
from the moment we walked into their house, my girlfriend-since-elementary-school and i laughed. we told stories, reminisced, struggled to remember details, poured a little wine, shared some more. our husbands sipped lemon drop martinis and we talked non-stop. i wanted to stay longer, talk more, remember more. so much of my growing-up-history was standing next to me, hugging me as we left. a wondrous thing.
we don’t really leave the kitchen table when we are there. we sit on high stools and the chatter starts as soon as we arrive. our dear friends jen and brad and the two of us have potluck dinners on many friday nights; each couple has leftovers from the week and no one has to worry about cooking. we just heat up our leftovers and plate them and talk, wine glasses (or a beer in brad’s case) in hand. conversations about our children, our work, politics, travel, ukuleles, npr…the spectrum is wide and we relish the time that flies by; six hours later we glance at the clock pointing to post-midnight. a wondrous thing.
as glorious as the high mountains, ocean-front waves, flowers birthing out of winter, exquisite melodies, the first sip of coffee in the morning, a magical snowfall, texts with heart emojis, a hand holding yours, finding an old note in your child’s little-kid handwriting, black and white pictures of your parents in young days, shooting stars and sunrises…the list of wondrous things we can see around us is endless…limitless…boundless…
and moments shared? also endless…limitless…boundless…
reverse threading 