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Tag Archives: mica moments


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shiny and matte. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

each morning now, as dogga awakens us or we just mosey out of sleep unprompted by a cold nose snuffling us, i can hear the birds. in the middle of every everything, it is the birdsong that gives me joy as i wake.

when i was growing up on long island, my birthday was serious spring-cusping-time. no longer were winter coats or down vests necessary. the forsythia was blooming and the sweaters were out. i can still hear the birds in the woods behind our house.

i’ve been watching the weather, hoping for a nice day. it’s supposed to be cloudy with a high of 54. surprisingly, though there is a definite absence of forsythia, it will be warmer today than in my old hometown. we will likely go for a hike somewhere – one of our familiar – but loved – trails. because it’s a thursday we’ll have dinner with 20 and we will probably play rummikub together.

and sometime during the day i will sit and ponder turning 66. I’m not sure what 66 is supposed to look like – physically, emotionally, spiritually, economically. i know that many people around me have had different journeys to 66, some of which are much more predictably stable than my own.

nevertheless, i plan on being in wonder. i’ll put lack of perfection aside, next to disappointments and failures. instead, i will look at abundance and think about what would be blue-notebook entries – the mica moments that glitter, the blooms that are ready to blossom, the things that can’t be contrived or spun – all those shiny times and matte times that just simply happen so that we might notice, pay attention and embrace them for all the rest of time.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

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the glitter glueline. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

the glitter is gone. but the line of glitter glue – a vestige of its shinybrite glory – is still there. the ornament is no less beautiful in its wornness.

like life. the glitter wears off, gets blown off, is scrubbed off. tiny fragile mica chips scatter and the glueline is left – an indicator of what was. there was glitter there.

there’s nothing my children like less in a wrapped present than glitter ribbon. they complain that it gets all over (which it does). for a few years i wrapped in glitter ribbon anyway – i love the juxtaposition of simple brown paper and white or silver glitter ribbon. 

but then, i decided to listen to their imploring not to use the glitter ribbon on their gifts. 

and it occurred to me that they already have plenty of glitter. their very lives are full of glitter – new experiences, new adventures, new friends and relationships, new challenges, new jobs, new places and homes and travels.

and so, i’m suddenly aware that the glitter ribbon is for me. 

there is a snowglobe that i have previously purchased as a gift for a special friend. it is a beautiful four inch heavy glass globe on a black base. and all that is in it is the snow. no tiny scene. no trees. no holiday norman rockwell. just the snow. 

i took it out of its beautiful box and wrappings to be sure it was in perfect shape after it was shipped to us. and i marveled at it. i shook it, watching the snow. glittery flitter drifted and floated. and then it was clear again. like glitter ribbon curled around brown paper – these smidges of mica. it was one of those gifts i wanted to keep. but – at the time – it was a message i wanted him to have: all things are possible. it’s a blank slate, the flitter ready to be shaken up a little.

because glitter exists. 

and there is a glueline on us all. it waits for us to dance in the falling flitter – to gather tiny mica – to stick to our lively and worn bodies, all. we wield the gluesticks. we are the shaker-uppers. we are the recipients, the restorers, the sustainers. glitter is our legacy.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY

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pray for our nation. [not-so-flawed wednesday]

pray for our nation copy

i am a sign-reader.  whether i am driving or riding in the car, i read signs.  billboards, people’s clever license plates, bumper stickers, storefronts, oh, and road signs.  there are certain areas of the country where signs for attorneys are rampant.  other areas tout strong religious beliefs.  some signs are clever “buckle up next million miles” and some are deeply insightful “when there’s only one race and that’s mankind… love is in you.”  because we adore both road trips and short drives, we are privy to signs galore.  one of my pet peeves is to see blatant spelling or punctuation errors on billboards; it makes me rant for several minutes about editors and proof-reading and the propensity for people to ignore the amazing thing called the dictionary.

we took a drive the other day.  it was after all the services of the week were over and we were unplugging.  turning the car west we headed out in search of a new hiking trail.  on our drive we passed this sign.  PRAY FOR OUR NATION.  no fancy font, no centered spacing, just four simple words.  i don’t know how long that sign has been there.  it’s not in the front yard of any religious building; it’s just there, in a small park-like setting.  i thought, “no kidding.”  it seems apt timing.

instead of reading the paper first thing everyday now, we are reading meditations.  we are considering the mica moments of the day before, the mica moments to come.  we are trying to be hopeful, trying to slough off pettiness and disagreement, trying to avoid those who are clearly toxic to themselves and others, trying to engage in positive ways, trying to spend time doing things that advance us as humans in a big world rather than mire us in stunted selfish plots to further polarize and make inequity even more profound.

PRAY FOR OUR NATION doesn’t just start with folding hands and closing eyes, as much as that may help.  it also starts with reaching out hands, opening your eyes, listening, learning, believing that there is only one race and it is mankind.

buckle up.  next million miles.

read DAVID’S thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY

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