All the Little Things

The way the sunlight spills across the barnwood table. The way tomatoes and basil on the windowsill softens the winter chill beside origami offerings from my son, a tulip, a Raven. Blood orange and jasmine also. The way milk foam on my coffee feels like a bubble bath. Patchouli or sandalwood. Candles always. A scarf that still smells of bonfire and moonlight. Mango.

Big Thoughts from a Big Boy

"Mama, I don't like school."

"I know you don't and I know it's hard sometimes and boring sometimes, but use it as a tool to discover your path...the thing that sparks curiosity, the thing that makes you want to know more, the thing that gets you excited, the thing that makes you happy - and remember those things - explore those things - because childhood is the time when you are closest to you true self. 

You don't have to be the smartest student, or the best athlete...the only thing that really matters is that you grow up to be a really good person.  So, just use school as sort of a menu, take a taste of all the different plates and decide for yourself what you want seconds of".

(Laughter)  "I never thought of it like that".

"Me neither".

(Laughter)

"Here's the thing, Satch, life is like a ginormous puzzle with lots of tiny little pieces.  You are one of those pieces.  There is no other piece like you on the earth, but there is a place for you.  A place where no other piece fits...only you can fit.  That's the great mystery...finding that place. 

When you grow up, here's what you need to remember: 

It's about love...what you love to do, people you love to be with, places you love to go...learning how to love and learning how to be loved.  AND...

Try your best to make the thing you love what you do as a job.  That would be the ultimate.  If that kind of job doesn't exist, maybe you can invent that job...and if you can't invent that job then maybe you can find a job that you like to do that will give you the money and the time to do what you really love".

"That puzzle part....that's the wisest thing I ever heard...how did you get so wise?"

"You taught me".

(laughter)

"Mama", I'm sorry".

"What for?"

"Well, when we babysat the other night...I had no idea how hard it was to take care of babies".

"Yeah, it's hard but you were really great at it". 

"I learned from the best....all you need is love da da da da da".

"You got it!

(laughter)

Snow Days & Bliss

The snow is melting, and everywhere mud like a blessing holds the fox tracks and below my bedroom window at 3 am Lucy the vixen wakes me from deep sleep.  I don't mind that waking.  Lying there in the darkness knowing that I'm the only person on earth awakened by and present with that fox.  I don't mind that one bit.  I don't mind the snow and the sky flavored icicles or the naked trees that grace me with a sliver of sunrise which in all other seasons is obscured.

These are the bliss measures:

The hot soups and homemade bread. 

The one where I chased a band of pink clouds until I could find a place to park the car, stood there with my finger locked on the shutter button, my hands so cold they felt like they were on fire...and then suddenly the clouds drifted far enough above a power line for a clear shot and I clicked the button and the bliss of that moment.

The one where I learned to make the most exquisite cup of coffee that ever existed ( because coffee should taste as good as it smells, but rarely does).  And I did it!  Having asked lots of questions, sampled lots of roasts, and grinders, and extractions.  I did it.  And how when I sipped it I sighed, "HOLY MOTHER OF JAVA" with a milk foam mustache. 

The one where my lemon tree bloomed in my kitchen, and the jasmine, and the ranunculus.

The one where I bought noise cancelling headphones so the excruciatingly-loudness of the kids that flock to my home to play on snow days can finally be the one where I stop saying, "use your indoor voices"...and instead retreat to my kitchen and make roasted tomatoes and vegetarian bacon while dodging Nerf gun ammo in the bliss of muffled mayhem. 

These are the bliss measures:

The one knowing, the one smiling, the one silently nodding. 

The ghost ache, the heart clenching beauty, the one who is tender.

The hand reaching, unabashedly dancing, the rib-bruising laughter.

These are the bliss measures:

The folding and unfolding, the slant of the light and all the colors. 

The will,

the want,

and the corpuscular rush of embodiment.

Fog on Frozen Lake

"Look at the lake!", he shouted.
I found a place to park and walked the edge for a closer look.