sometimes something comes out of the blue. and it just makes you feel oh-so-good.
a wisconsin high school contacted us about a month ago – they wanted to order a few hundred of our “be kind” buttons for their kindness week. with my sweet momma smiling over my shoulder, i tended to all the extra paperwork and steps that a district purchase entails, happily thinking about hundreds of people wearing our buttons.
i originally designed them when we had a showing of the movie wonder at the performing arts center we co-managed on washington island. i wanted everyone to have a “be kind” button as they left the theatre. i’ve ordered and re-ordered these for various reasons and various organizations since. every single time i think about my mom – thrilled that this gentle reminder would be on someone’s lapel, someone’s backpack, someone’s jacket or maybe hanging from their rearview mirror. i personally have them pinned on a few purses – because – well – too many people need to be reminded.
it’s a simplicity. “be kind”…a choice. it echoes out and out in concentric circles and douses people with the magic dust of generosity. i wish that every school, every business, every service or religious organization, every politician, every single person might wear one – to remember.
i am ecstatic each time these buttons are ordered. and i was inordinately proud of the personnel in this high school student services department. so very happy to know that spreading kindness throughout their school mattered. grateful they went the extra mile. that though this district’s per capita spending may have gone up by just the teeniest-tiniest smidge with the purchase of these buttons, the payoff must have been brilliant.
reminders to be kind. to choose kindness. to experience kindness. to live kindness.
and my momma smiled broadly, knowing she inspired these buttons. hundreds of them.
that would be everything except the fact that i can no longer view any reversethreading wordpress blogsite images on my laptop. any. there is an “empty-alt-attribute” problem – in every single one of my images in every single one of my blogposts. all 1899 of them. i see a problem.
a while back i loaded chrome as a browser because – all of a sudden – firefox would not host the writeable portion of my blogsite. it wouldn’t even open it. one day, after having no issue every single other day – for years and years – it just refused to go there.
so i started writing my blogposts on chrome. now, that soundsss like an easy fix – except for the fact that chrome would not allow me to preview the completed post – it says that there is a “privacy error” and that my “connection is not private” and that there are those out there attempting to steal information from me.
sooo, i would write the post on chrome and then open firefox to view it. and then, suddenly, firefox decided that was also an issue and will not take me to the viewable preview of my blogpost. but i can see that on my iPad mini, so i can open that up and view the preview, even though i cannot size any images on that device.
but now, i cannot see any images whatsoever on my site – in chrome (where i can write) or in firefox (where i can do nothing at all). i have read much commentary on the “empty-alt-attribute” debacle – and i have attempted fixes – but to no avail.
everything is not figureoutable.
but i sense that the problem is not the fault of wordpress.
what i believe is happening here is that my handed-down-handed-down laptop – which is from 2008 – is reaching the end of its rope. it can’t handle updates and – because it can’t handle updates – there is less and less i am able to do. it’s time for a new macbook. with all the imagery i fuss with and our smack-dab (and other) cartoons on photoshop, with a six-day-a-week blog, i need to figure out a way to get a new laptop.
some things are just not figureoutable.
some things are just obvious. impossible, but obvious.
right now i am typing on my mini, which is from 2016.
because i know you want to experience this as firsthand as you possibly can, here’s the sordid story:
first, i emailed the image from my iphone to my email and downloaded it to my laptop desktop (because my devices are not capable of talking to each other). next, i loaded the image into wordpress on my laptop (even though i can’t see it, i know it’s there when i check on the mini.) i am unable to size or position the image (remember, i can’t see it), so my sensibility is knocked off by that. i write on the mini so that i can refer to the image (which i can see, but not size). and – because i cannot preview in chrome or in firefox, i can preview the post on this tiny mini ipad screen – with my dollar store readers. when the ipad suddenly balks, i panic a little and take a screenshot with my iphone6s of my post so that i don’t lose it entirely. the attachable keyboard to the mini loses power so i attach the cord and an extension cord to continue writing. i transfer to the laptop to do all my tags and such on chrome – but i have to switch to firefox to grab the link for kerrianddavid.com and to check the melange tab of our site because chrome won’t allow me to go there – another “privacy error”. i grab the link and go back to chrome, insert the link and schedule the post. i can’t see the other images i place within (like website boxes and qr codes), but i trust that they are there. when d isn’t using his laptop, I borrow it, sign out of his blogsite and into mine and size my images so that they are not obnoxiously large on my post. then i sign out and give him back his computer, trusting that the process (which used to be inordinately smoother and required far less patience) is now complete – even with all its figureouts. and it only took two laptops, two browsers, an ipad mini and an iphone to complete. and some laughter. definitely some laughter.
i guess things are figureoutable. sometimes a big pain and ridiculously workaroundish, but figureoutable nonetheless.
eh. i’m thinking that i need to figure something else out.
i pointed and said, “look!!!!” david turned his attention to the suv one lane over, the one with “flawed” stenciled under the back window, next to the weeping rust spot.
i read it aloud and nodded. yes. flawed. indeed.
it occurs to me that the world would be a better place if everyone would consider their flawedness. we could all post it somewhere to remind ourselves. or carry it around like a mantra in our hearts. it would add a little grace, a little flexibility, a little humility to every situation. it could be a really good thing.
back a buncha years ago, we – 61 – that’s me, 14 and 20 – sat around our little (flawed) kitchen table and brainstormed, laughing. we came up with a cartoon called “flawed cartoon” and 20 and 14 started feverishly writing one-liners, one after another. because their brains are, well, their brains (flawed), i didn’t think every single thing they came up with was funny (because i am also flawed), but it made me laugh aloud. and some of it made me cringe like when you play cards against humanity – which is a dreadful game – apples to apples is much easier on the soul.
d drew tons of single panels. being human is messy so they all had great potential to point out the absurdity of living as a sentient being. not to mention the ridiculous ego ride many people seem to be surfing. or the necessity of taking things in stride or realizing – once again – that you are not as “all that” as you think. mostly, they’re pretty amusing and laughter is a good thing.
there are a lot of bumper stickers out there. some are pretty inspiring; some make me laugh. and some are pretty despicable and make me wonder what kind of person peels off the backing and places it on their vehicle for all the world to see.
one of the best things i’ve seen of late is the back of this suv.
FLAWED.
because we are.
“still, what i want in my life is to be willing to be dazzled –
to cast aside the weight of facts
and maybe even
to float a little
above this difficult world.
i want to believe i am looking
into the white fire of a great mystery.
i want to believe that the imperfections are nothing –
that the light is everything –
that it is more than the sum of of each flawed blossom rising and falling.
we ordered fried rice and eggrolls the same day i blogged about joy sprinkles. it doesn’t take much to get us enthused and fried rice and eggrolls do it. because we don’t eat out often, it is always a treat to have something someone else has prepared and this dinner is no different.
we only got one fortune cookie in our brown stapled bag of deliciousness; our order must be considered a small order. we saved it for later.
i got to be the one to crack it open.
“sprinkles of joy will shower upon you in unexpected ways.”
it was one of those stunning moments in the universe when all comes to a screeching halt and you realize it is – indeed – all connected. just when you felt a little bit untethered, a little unsteady, the universe shows up with an anchor.
and here it was. simply the words “sprinkles of joy”.
i texted heidi – forever my keeper of the word “sprinkles” – and we laughed to realize we had juuust spoken these very words, that i had just written them. unexpected, for sure. it was like the universe had its own personal siri listening in – like when you talk about mumbai – never touching your computer or phone or any device – and then it shows up on your facebook feed or in your instagram. here it was – the universe echoing back to me the words “sprinkles” and “joy”.
we walked past the cemetery at the end of our road on the way back from the corner store. it was sunny saturday and, having spent the day doing chores inside and outside around the house, we were going to sit out back on the patio with dogga, sip a glass of wine and eat – yes – chips. we haven’t had chips in a week and thought, “eh…what’s a few chips?!!” it was with chip-guilt in a plastic bag walking home – as we strolled past the cemetery – that d looked over at me.
“i’m glad the cemetery is at the end of our block,” he said. “it reminds me that these people all had lives, too,” going on to talk about perspective, stuff that matters and stuff that doesn’t matter, the passage of time, the not-knowing.
every moment is one in which to create joy. for oneself. for others. together. to be showered by sprinkles of joy. in unexpected ways.
i proudly carried our bag of chips the rest of the way home.
“neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment, it is as perennial as the grass.” (desiderata – max ehrmann)
we wander down roads peppered with aridity and disenchantment. the impact is exhausting. the fallout can be long-lasting. they – aridity and disenchantment – wind around our fragile hearts, pressing, making us short of breath.
we are disappointed. we believed that others were different. we believed we were cared about, appreciated, that we were held in grace.
we are shaken. for some things take us by surprise, some people take us by surprise. we flail and stumble over these rugged rocks slyly hiding just beneath the road’s surface.
we are hurting. for we feel betrayed. aridity and disenchantment pale; they are dim heartbeats of betrayal.
and we find we must take a moment, a respite on the side of the road. our hearts are floundering.
and – somehow, somewhere – we are reminded. just as we were about to pick up the cynicism white flag, we can see it: love.
and we can feel the river flowing through us and we can feel hope rising. for under the snow the grass is greening.
and we turn away from that which causes us profound thirst, that which prevents growth. and we discard that which has been a rude awakening, that which has elicited utter disillusionment.
and soon, the world around us will explode with flowers. and spring ephemerals will rise out of thawing ground. crocus follow on the heels of earliest rising snowdrops. and then daffodils and tulips and maybe even hyacinths sneak into view. skunk cabbage joins the fray of the dance and trilliums send up their periscope stalks. jack-in-the-pulpit stands righteously in the savanna underbrush, sharing energy with jill-in-the-pulpit. and the mayapples…those mayapples wait to burst their canopy umbrellas up, protecting their delicate white blossoms. all together, it is a community of the transitory, sharing space. all thorns are set aside to regale the world with beauty.
george told us on the trail that many, many – most, he ventured to guess – do not look about as they hike. he said that it is rare to see someone stop on the trail to really notice, to pay attention, to ponder. he was pleased to see us – two strangers – standing and photographing.
for us, it is most-of-the-time impossible to hike and not pay notice. but, i can tell you, it is very difficult to hike – and really, truly pay attention – if there is something heavy on our hearts. i would think it impossible to hike – and wander in the fields of flowers – if there are thorns in your heart.
as far as i know, thorns in your heart may preclude your seeing of any beauty at all. they may predispose you, color your view, cloud your eyes to what-really-is, ruin any chance of you experiencing the ephemerally blissful moments of this life.
because – in terms of this world, this universe – we are really more like spring flowers than any other. we emerge and are quickly fading. we are gifted with ever so little time.
and, just like we are like spring flowers, we are also unlike spring flowers. we are not perennials. this moment – now – is our chance…to grow and bud and bloom.
how much better to wander in fields of flowers – of beauty – than to squander time and languish in thorns.
in direct contrast with the front door we pass on our way to the trail – the one that says “go away!” – there are many, many “welcome” signs at the front doors, on the front stoops, propped against the porches of other homes. big wooden signs, rubber door mats, hanging signs – all varieties of these ‘you are welcome here’ messages.
we make assumptions about other places. we believe we are welcome – at grocery stores, in bistros, in boutique shoppes, in schools, in religious institutions, in galleries and museums. they don’t really need a sign because we believe that the whole purpose of their existence is to encourage people to come in, take part in what they offer – whether it is shopping, dining, browsing, studying, being in community – whatever their mission. and we believe that we will be welcomed with open arms, open hearts.
but there are go-away-ers out there, even those without signs of loud proclamation. they are uninterested, unmoved, closed, uninvolved, unquestioning, passive, complicit. they are not with open arms, open hearts. their apathy is clear; their aloofness is cold.
we passed the magical heart entrance to a tiny home inside the trunk of a tree. i was drawn to it, for – as we know – hearts are sometimes where we least expect them. but here it is…the way in, through a heart-door.
there are people each of us know who are heart-door people. the people who are always happy to see you, the people who never turn away from you, the people who hold you when you need holding, the people who listen when you need to talk. heart-door people are not found in one particular place – they are not simply gathered, waiting for you. instead, heart-door people keep their eyes open, their minds open. theirs are doors that open into empathy and compassion. they are the comfy quilts of our lives, the steadfast longtimers, the warm newbies, the balance-givers, the standing-by-you folks, the speaking-up-for-you truthtellers.
there is a big disparity between the go-away-ers and the heart-doors. sometimes it’s easy to see the difference. sometimes it’s not.
it’s important to learn good discernment.
and then, it’s important to be grateful for your heart-doors.
somewhere around 3:30 this morning i really wanted to flip on the cuisinart. i was pining for a good strong cup of coffee. i was awake and i was suddenly hungry and most-definitely coffee-deficient. i laid awake for a few hours, thinking, thinking, thinking, as is not uncommon these days.
and then i got a text. my dear friend was up in the night holding her brand-new one-day-old beautiful baby granddaughter and wrote to me about the joy of the moment. i could feel her amazement. a new little person in the world and it was happening at that moment that jen was gently holding her, swaddled and warm.
i thought about my own children, picturing the last time i saw each of them, hoping they are both sleeping, hoping they know – in a tiny corner of their minds – they are still gently held.
earlier – somewhere around 2:30 or so – i had pestered d and we watched a trail or two. there was some new footage of everest and, though a little rough on the video front, we tuned in. it occurred to me that somewhere out there – high in the cold himalayas – roughly twelve hours ahead – at that moment – there were perhaps porters in the khumbu valley moving supplies into their towns or to market with yaks and – incredibly – on their backs.
and maybe some scientist was out studying volcanoes in indonesia or glacial movement in the arctic.
and there were people in the sierra nevadas dealing with blizzard conditions and avalanches and exorbitant wind and others in texas dealing with unchecked wildfires.
there are people in mexico city, worried that fresh water will run out.
and somewhere there was someone holding tightly onto the last moments of life, maybe memorizing the last details or reaching and touching a loved one.
somewhere – in too many lands under siege to count – people were wondering if their home, their town, their region would survive the next day.
and somewhere – someone was sitting, meditating, peace in their soul.
everything going on…all at once. the tutti of life everywhere – the whole orchestra.
and now – in the morning – birds outside our window and sun streaming in – dogga at our feet – i sip hot coffee out of the hydroflask our daughter gave us a few years back – and think about the concurrence of it all.
and i realize – once again – there is no one person who is “all-that”.
i guess it’s true. you don’t know what you don’t know.
the only thing certain is change and, i suppose, the most important thing about that is being able to remain an amorphous blob, malleable enough that you can bend and wriggle and twist and turn and do somersaults and cartwheels in all paths heading forward.
because there will always be a curve ahead. because nothing is guaranteed. because life is kind of like some sort of mash-up cross between the cupid shuffle, the disco hustle, the electric slide…no dull straight lines. you can’t return to before, so you might as well allow lift in your wings to carry you on, to embrace the turns. because we are constantly reminded: “welcome to the present moment. here. now. the only moment there ever is.”(eckhart tolle)
and because – well, yes – you really don’t know what you don’t know.
so in this moment, i will clap my hands, put on my sunglasses, have another sip of my coffee and face forward, flap my wings, and get ready to cartwheel.
in a bag inside a box on a shelf inside the closet i found this. a hug coupon.
there are coupons on the back for an automotive a/c inspection and a fuel injection cleaning. they expire in 2009. so that would mean i’ve had this hug coupon since 2009. fifteen years.
my sweet momma sent it to me. she was the world’s best letter-writer. always sending mail – since we lived long-distance – i’d open an envelope to reveal a handwritten note or a letter she typed on her word processor and printed. maybe there’d be newspaper or magazine articles she thought i’d like to read. maybe an astrological horoscope she wanted me to see. and coupons. always coupons. she and my poppo would sit and clip coupons and then divvy them out – anticipating the needs of various members of the family and mailing them off – in business size envelopes or big brown envelopes or even envelopes they repurposed from other mailings. mail from my momma. i could count on it.
today is hug day. (so, i also read, was january 21st.) no matter. each day should be hug day. cause there really is nothing that can get you more back on track than a good hug. hugs to and from your children, your partner, your parents, your dear friends, your new friends, your posse, long-lost pals, your beloved pets. we – d and i – are pretty smushy. hugging is par for the course. i know, even in the worst of moments, our hug will change the air around us. i can count on it.
i’m continuing to go through the bags and the boxes, the shelves and the bins and the things tucked away. some items will be harder to figure out – what to do with them.
i found this hug coupon and instantly thought of my momma sending it to me. i photographed it, knowing that is at least the first step in letting it go. and then i showed david. and then i got lost in all the memories of mail arriving at my doorstep.
so what do i now do with this sweet gesture that expires the day after eternity?
well, it’s still redeemable. maybe i should just save it and put it on the fridge.
*****
❤️feel free to copy this image and print it out to give to all the people you want to hug. ❤️
reverse threading 