Lavender Socks

Of Red Lions and Green Dragons: The Auspicious Magic of Small Moments

If, as they say, the devil is in the details, then I suppose the opposite must also be true, that the divine is in the generalities. That, unbeknownst to us, some of the most meaningful things in our lives are those mundane, everyday customs, occurrences, or items that are so ubiquitous that we hardly even even notice them. And the most ironic part of it all, is that all too often it is not until we find ourselves in a time or place where those things are no longer the norm that we recognize them and in doing so begin to understand just how important they are/were to us.

It is for these divine generalities that I search for most when I get the opportunity to travel.

But what about when one cannot travel?

Lunar New Year Celebration – Seattle

It’s not all bad.

This morning I awoke several hours before dawn. Unable to go back to sleep, I opted to get up and start my day. I was not happy about this, at all. Not only because I was still tired, but because this seems to be happening more and more often. In fact, sometimes the idea of being able to quiet my head long enough to revel in more than just a few hours of sleep feels more like a fantasy than a reality. A bedtime fairy tale I tell myself.

Waffles

Schrödinger’s Waffles

Today I am in no man’s land, the place that sits in-between a Cancer screening and receiving the results of that screening. On every other day of my life, I go about my business secure in the knowledge that I am Cancer-free. I live a relatively healthy lifestyle, I have no ostensible symptoms, and am fastidious about completing all of recommended checks and tests, no matter how uncomfortable or embarrassing.

However, when one opens Pandora’s Jar, it releases a whole maelstrom of plagues, the most heinous of which is “What If?”

Just watching the world go by

A near perfect place to watch the world go by.

Pea Soup, a true tale of culinary terror

Whenever I see people enjoying a meal at their grandmother’s house in a movie, television show, or book, I get a little sad, because this is an experience I have never had. One of my grandmothers lived 6,000 miles away and by all reports was an amazing cook, and the other, the one that lived only an hour a way, was not a very good cook. And l when I say ‘not very good,’ what I actually mean is terrible. Seriously, my grandmother was an amazing woman, with many talents. But sadly, cooking was not one of them.

Whenever we visited, we would always either try to arrive at a time that avoided meal times, or if that was not possible, take her out to eat. But at least a few times a year, she insist on cooking. On feeding the whole clan as it were. And on these occasions we would actually pray on the drive down for bagels and cream cheese, instead of a cooked meal. Because, it was just that bad.

Don’t believe me?

Well, let me tell you about one of the more memorable meals we shared together.

You want to check my hair for what?!

Our morning had started early, very early, made more so by the fact that we were traveling with four young children and it was still dark outside. And as those of you with young children know, getting them up, dressed, and out the door can be as simple and as easy a task as push starting a locomotive, by hand, alone.

Fifty Pages

Recently, my daughter who is currently studying Art at the University of Washington, called home to ask for some advice. She, and some other artists, had been approached by a team of business school students. They wanted to develop a 50-page comic book to accompany the launch of their project. They wanted the storyboarding, writing, drawing, and framing, the whole shebang, and at a professional level…in three weeks…and for this opportunity, they offered absolutely no compensation whatsoever. Well, other than experience, and of course the industry standard of “resume building.”

Emotional Hospice

Years ago, when I was a student, I was taught that according to the founding mother of Cultural Anthropology, Margaret Mead, the first sign of civilization and culture amongst humans was a healed femur bone. This was because the healed bone served as evidence that the injured party had been cared for by others, nursed back to health if you will, rather than simply being abandoned by the group because of the liability that their inability to move presented. And as a Psychology student, with an innate need to help others, this notion appealed to me. It spoke to a kinder gentler view of humanity than the one offered by most of history, or even, by almost anything else Mead said privately or professionally. In fact, there is now a growing belief that the whole story may be beautiful fiction.