All in a day’s work

Soundtrack.

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Why don’t I listen to music more often?

I say this to myself each time I open up iTunes to download something I hear on a Glee episode (So addicted. This time, it’s the lovely, “I Feel Pretty/Unpretty”).

Come to think of it, why don’t I sing more often?

There was a time in my life when I listened and sang  -and laughed- every day. Seems like I have to make a conscious effort these days (don’t worry if it’s not good enough for anyone else to hear…).

Such a lovely way to express joy.

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Knowing the joy of yes.

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Instead of arrogance, why not cultivate appreciation?

Instead of tearing a person down, why not build up their self esteem?

Instead of outrageous reaction, why not grace under fire? Blowhards puff away, pontificating, while a leader engages with powerfully chosen words.

Instead of “no-ing” the hours away, consider knowing the joy of yes!

Instead of checking text messages upon waking, why not get on your knees and pray?

Instead of pissing and moaning, why not Rise, Pee, Meditate? (The great meditation teacher, davidji of The Chopra Center, uses the RPM method every day!)

Why can it be so hard to listen to your heart, when all you can hear is its steady, unwavering beat?

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Self motion.

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Some days I’m one with it; other days I’m the one

throwing obstacles into the flow.

It is the flow that motivates … the ebb and flow,

one day to the next.

Foot in front of the other.

The breath of imagination.

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Good in the kitchen.

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Some say those who can, write. Those who can’t (at least right now), cook.

OK, I’m probably the only one who actually says this because it works for me.

Several years ago, after I lose my groove –a burnout, really- I end up getting it back by cooking. I pour all my intention out in front of the stove instead of a computer, until it boils over into my writing practice. Even now, if I’m stuck, I whip up something to eat –generally for someone else. That’s key, too. The entire process clears my mind, helps me to be ready to articulate in my word smith way, if you will.

It isn’t until I hear Alaska-based Bearfoot perform this song at the Grand Targee Bluegrass Festival a couple of years ago, that I get a theme song for cookin’ … at work:

Today’s the kind of day when I’m singing my theme song … “Good in the kitchen, then get ready to be…”

I’m still working on Bearfoot’s follow-up: “You ought a see me in my apron when you’re away…” (That’s right, sweetheart. Smooches.)

Thanks, Bearfoot!

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God given window of opportunity.

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Here in the Northwest, we experience the (possibly conceived by man) phenomenon known as sun breaks.

During a cloudy day, the sun breaks through, offering a bit of blue sky and a respite from relentless rain drops. Weather people indicate possible sun breaks by showing both cloud and sun icons in their forecasts.

This is always a good sign.

Sun breaks can last a few minutes or a few hours; it all depends. They’re a God-given window of opportunity; all I know is, you’ve gotta take your shot -at an outdoor walk, for instance- the moment you see one. My kitties stretch themselves out immediately in the ray of light coming through a window. Otherwise, they stay curled up and cozy for warmth.

It’s easy to see the value of a sun break. Far less so to appreciate it.

I try and take a cue from my kitties … I can compose a sentence just as easily sitting in the light as I can in the gray, can’t I?

Indeed.

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Going through the motions.

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Some days are like this. Just going through the motions.

I’m talkin’ daily exercise, folks. Physical and mental.

That two-mile-walk-100-situp routine you do every day feels stale. The three-stream-of-conscious pages you’re writing down on paper every morning read rote. You’re dawdling during your mid-day meditation. You’re preparing Hamburger Helper for dinner –again.

Lots of a daily practice may not seem authentic, yet it’s a practice nonetheless. Little parts that add up to a whole.

If you’re feeling like you’re going through the motions today, keep your eyes on the prize.

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Photo credit: Flickr, Nevada Tumbleweed

 

A hopeful sign.

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They call it poor man’s fertilizer.

It’s the effect of late-season snowfall on the land, an unexpected nourishment for the soil. We in the Northwest are experiencing this kind of weather right now, which always brings to mind this farmer’s wisdom. My mom used to comment on it when I was a child. I can hear my little self asking her about it right now.

The memory makes me feel all warm inside. So it turns out that this new occurrence of poor man’s fertilizer is a little unexpected nourishment for my soul, too.

A hopeful sign.

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Words I like.

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As Peter Bowler mentions in the proglegomena of his book, The Superior Person’s Book of Words:

“Words are not only tools; they are also weapons.”

His “funny, useful and elevating little book” attempts to provide verbal weapons for the common man. So that he can be a Superior Person. Indeed. I chose my words with a different purpose, although I do find some of my favorites in Mr. Bowler’s little book:

Plethora … Egregious … Boondoggle

When a word appeals to my sense of the positive, I like it.

Remarkable … Loving … Kindness

Lonesome … Silly … Healing

Soul … Grace … Practice

Nincompoop … Wordsmith … Prankster

Great War … Cool beans … What if

What are some of your favorite words?

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Out of Africa.

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Over the past weekend, I prepare a meal of beef, adapted from one of Hassan M’Souli’s fabulous  recipes he serves at his restaurant, Out of Africa. Yummy. “Hassan’s decision to leave family and friends behind him brought him to the shores of Sydney – he wanted to be as far away from familiarity as possible – to start an exciting journey in life, in a new and challenging environment…”

… It is Christmas Day, and I am watching the movie, Out of Africa, for the first time. My mom is sitting next to me. Hearing the first note of the late, great John Barry‘s moving soundtrack, my tears flow unchecked. Random experiences like these can touch a person, and it is like this for me now. With silence all around, I hear a loud whisper in my heart and mind, an unexpected connection, an aha moment, a lasting revelation.

Fast forward … “Give me work,” I hear Karen say, joining field workers harvesting coffee beans on her farm …

And I start today.

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Journey … man to master.

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At what point does an artist move from journeyman to master? Is it the confidence of experience, or position, recognition or satisfaction … ability, skill, knowledge, talent, practice, aptitude – excellence – what makes the difference?

Some live their whole lives as a master in journeyman’s clothing. Is it a question of, value?

I don’t know.

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Artwork by Isaac Salazar