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The Price We Pay

12/23/2022

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I usually manage to get something posted here around this time of year. Perhaps I get more introspective about my life, but this feels like a need to connect on an even deeper level, beyond personal. I suppose this is a normal feeling during the holidays as we think of what it is to give to one another. I learned long ago that giving doesn’t come in measured time only during specific holidays or other celebrations in life, although these are perfectly good reasons to go there. We need to celebrate each other for whatever reasons we wish to use as an excuse to do so. We need to bring back our love for one another.

The pandemic put us into a jump-start mode for change, whether we wanted to go there or not. We were forced to isolate from one another, to stay at home and ruminate in our surroundings, and often in our own complex heads. This was particularly difficult for many, especially those who live alone, which is understandable, but I do believe we were given a gift. We were stretched, reshaped and perhaps pulled unwillingly, but we came out the other side with a new sense of who we are and perhaps most importantly, what we value most in life.

I do not say this lightly. There were stages of frustration, grief and even anger. There was a sadness that set in for many of us, and I know I wavered about many things I once p
erceived as important, even about subject matter I would choose to paint. I could not bring forth anything that seemed significant enough, and I still puzzle about this. I know I was processing all this change, but I have not quit jumped back to my former creative self and have come to accept that this is okay. I must say here that I know there were and still are many subjects/issues worthy of painting, but my heart wasn’t feeling it enough.

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Now I sit here on my couch knowing full well that I cannot go see any loved ones this Christmas. I cannot hug and kiss my grand children, share in stories and laughter, delicious food and warm intentions. Covid has finally taken me for its unpleasant ride. I knew that many viruses have been on an upswing, but I was so enjoying not having to wear a mask. It is an inevitable consequence. I am feeling better each day, but wake up to new issues. Today my ears hurt and were so stuffed that hearing is an even bigger issue.

This is also happening during yet another arctic freeze, with a temperature of 17 degrees this morning, the wind chill being 2 degrees. This is Houston, Texas. My tropical plants are looking worried, or maybe that is me. I have the heat turned up to 72 but the thermometer reads 50. Not exactly the plants favorite kind of weather.

Getting back to something we never want to experience – grief. Just over 2 months ago, my daughter-in-law, Lesley, passed away. There is such sadness in my son’s face. He doesn’t talk about it, but I can see it there. My grandchildren seem to be coping, but children deal with grief in different ways. It is a long trek ahead for them, probably the rest of their lives. Grieving the loss of a wife, a mother, a daughter, a sister, doesn’t ever just end. One hopes that its hard edges will smooth over time, but it will still be there.

I know many of us are reminded of loved ones who have left us at this time of year as we gather during this season of light. I know Christmas lights always bring a smile to my face
and have written about it many times. Right now with this chilling weather, I am reminded of why a fire is important. Gathering around the fire to warm ourselves, which is the primal place for connecting as stories were told, food was shared and the hearth became the center of a home.

I have heard it said that grief is the price we pay for love. Having lived as long as I have allows me the realization that I am willing to pay the price, because really, all we have is love.

God breaks the heart again and again and again until the heart stays open – Hazrat Inayat Khan


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Focus

4/16/2022

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Although I have recently posted about two of my dear furry, family members leaving this earthly plane, I have not said much here for a long while. There was a mention around last Christmas, always wanting to say something about lights. Seems I cannot get enough of those sparkly reminders of what I believe we all need more of… light. And yes, my makeshift, Xmas tree is still on my wall, now on it’s 3rd year.

Beyond the growing need to help supplement our food resources as so many food items seemed a bit more scarce these past two years, gardening has been a kind of meditation. similar to what painting has almost always been for me. Now the deeper question is, why did I find it so easy to become distracted from this form of beloved creating in my life?

The pandemic had a massive influence on all our lives for as many different reasons as there are of us. I went through multiple phases; shock, fear, frustration and grief, to a new kind of awareness that even embraces uncertainty, allowing myself to go through whatever emotions arise along the way.

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Not so long ago I saw an impressive interview on Rich Roll youtube podcast with Johann Hari. It’s long, but worth the watch/listen. I was left with the strong desire to pick up his book on Amazon, Stolen Focus: Why You Can’t Pay Attention and How To Think Deeply Again. As I pondered this title, it was like remembering that uncomfortable feeling of not being able to quite grasp a really good dream, or a clear idea that I once coveted to fulfill. Something seemed to slip through these unwanted cracks, something that I had held so close to my heart since I was a small child.

I often clean and prepare my studio, maybe do a few sketches, put together a few new wood panels and gesso them, organize my paints and brushes, readying them for the energy to somehow change and for my artist’s heart to awaken. They say so many things, but one that I know to be true is that an artist will lose the magic of their gift if they do not practice. I tell myself I am just processing life, and I am, but this goes beyond what is simply refereed to as a “block”.

It seemed worth mentioning, because I think I am not alone. I do know other artists who have really leaned into their work, creating like there is no tomorrow. I get an energetic buzz, not just seeing their work, but listening to them talk about their process. Perhaps their deeper self knows something I am not quite grasping. Perhaps my deeper self knows something I am really needing to fulfill, but somehow, I do know that the painting will come back, and it will be with the utmost honesty and unwavering love that its long wait has absorbed, nothing less.

Meanwhile, keeping the faith, and wishing all you creatives the joy of creating whatever completes you in each and every, precious moment.

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My Boy, Louie

4/10/2022

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Like an elderly couple you may read about, one passes on and the other soon follows. My Louie left us yesterday, just two weeks after my sweet Sophie. Living as long as I have allows me the  familiarity of grief, but I did not think I would have to visit this sadness again, so soon.

Nearly 19 years ago, I was walking in my neighborhood as I often do now, and noticed a stocky, brown puppy trying to keep up with an older women, who was moving as if she was trying to lose him. I asked her if he was her puppy, and in Spanish along with some body language, it was clear to me that he was not. I walked toward him as he ran to me, me scooping him up into my arms. His tired head dropped onto my shoulder, and just like that he fell asleep. After some funny greetings with my then-dogs, I dispersed signs throughout the neighborhood, but no one came forward. Of course, we were quickly falling in love, and he was already a member of our family.

I cannot really begin to sum up Louie in a few sentences, but I will make a an attempt. He had a rather comical, yet serious personality. Do dogs know they are funny? We humans seem to think so. He often smelled like corn tortillas. He loved going for walks, sleeping in “his” favorite chair, eating almost anything and being the first one to finish, and barking at the dogs on the other side of the fence. My favorite was how he loved cleaning Sophie’s ears – a behavior that I believe to be an affectionate and tender moment between them that lasted till the very end. He was a devoted studio dog, always sleeping near me when I was painting. My partner found him to be a good office dog as well, usually there with him every evening. He did become a bit grumpy in his older age, no sense of humor left, probably due to aches and pains he could not tell us about. The house is oddly quiet, even with one dog now living here. My dear boy, Louie, we miss you so.

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My Sweet Girl, Sophie

3/26/2022

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This never gets any easier, even though there were many dogs I have loved and lost over the years. This one was very special, to say the least. She was such a tiny ball of white fur when I first brought her home. She was a scared puppy, probably too young to be away from her mother, who was a husky. We do not know who the father was, as the mother was found on the street somewhere in this big city. That is all we were told. The lady who brought her to me was working for some small non-profit to help place dogs in homes. This was 17 years ago. Today, my heart is breaking.

Yesterday it appeared she had some sort of a stroke, which took out one of her front legs. It was just hanging, being dragged as she stumbled into the house. I thought there may be something in her paw, but it didn’t look right. When I lifted her leg, it was clearly without life… paralyzed. This was a bit shocking and it became apparent that she was having great difficulty walking. Her back legs were already compromised, weakened by arthritis and muscle loss from aging. After a very emotional visit to my veterinarian's yesterday and then again today, it was made clear that she was ready to leave this earthly plane.

I fought the urge more than once to turn my car around and go back home. I tried to rationalize that she would be okay, but the pictures in my head were playing over and over again, telling me what I was seeing since yesterday, how she couldn’t get up, how she fell when she did, how she tried to go out but ended up slumping over then to fall asleep, where I found her laying in a pool of urine.

Today was the hardest drive I have ever taken, constantly questioning if I should go through with this. No one should have to make this decision, and yet we are so grateful that this humane act is there for them… for us.

17 years of love, funny dog moments that always made us laugh, even not so funny ones too. The way she howled, talking to us, if only we humans understood. The way she played with her pack mates, and her charming way of begging for a treat. A loyal companion, a sweet soul always there for us. I will miss you so much, my sweet, beautiful girl, my Sophie.

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A New Year

1/25/2022

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A New Year


It’s been 3 extraordinary years
and my Christmas “wall-tree” still hangs
string-tied branches dangle
in the classic shape
tiny fairy lights glowing all around
adored ornaments
new ones crowd in each year
after January sales
a delicate glass cardinal, a hand-carved polar bear
that begin to gather their own dust layers
in wispy spider webs.

I said I would finally take it down in 2022
but keep finding reasons to do something else.
On our neighborhood social media
a person scolded
“please take down your lights!”
I wondered at their need to say this.
Did they feel that somebody had to?
Is it that same perfectionism that creates
such tightly manicured lawns
slipping past what really matters
between reason
and some unbearable fixation
unable to ignore
the camouflaged string of unlit pearls
lining their neighbor’s rooftop?

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Ready For "Feel Good"

12/21/2020

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It was some word game on Facebook that someone posted. The image was filled with a puzzle of hundreds of letters set in a grid. The saying was that the first 4 words you see are key to how 2021 will unfold for you. I never play these games as many of them are just a way for Facebook’s advertisers to know more about us, but I couldn’t help but stare at the graphic and these were the 4 words that came up, in this order: Power, purpose, breakthrough, and family.

I was going to slough it off, but then realized it is only another form of divination and I am always intrigued with how things play out, whether we draw taro cards, swing a pendulum, do I-Ching or just open a book to any page and read a sentence. I began to think about these words, what they mean to me and how this could open up many possibilities in the coming months. They sort of gave me an easier route to help clarify my intentions, even though I have pause about how I wish this to actually happen. Perhaps it's not so much about the "how" as it is the "what". 

One thing is for certain, we can say goodbye to this year. Some of us probably feel more like kicking it out the backdoor, or at least burning some sage as we enter the new year… not a bad idea. As for me on this important day, December 21st, the winter solstice, I am hopeful.

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These last few days I have felt the urge to watch some old, “feel good” Christmas movies, and realized that Netflix wasn't doing it for me. It’s a Wonderful Life, although quite long, keeps me fascinated with the many scenes and messages along the way, most that I feel are still relevant, even though this film was made 73 years ago! Our country had just seen the end to a devastating world war. They must have needed “feel good” in a big way. Many, old Hollywood-style movies that came out at this time were a testament to this.

We are so ready for “feel good” right now. With Covid ragging as never before and the vaccine just beginning its journey into our lives, we need to reclaim some sense of joy, some kind of new normal in our lives, knowing full well it will never be what it was before, and awakening to the idea that this is a good thing.

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So, I found Elf on Youtube last night. I have already watched this movie countless times, always sparked by my deep need to laugh a lot. I didn’t watch the entire thing, as I reached my goal midway and know this movie by heart anyway.  I'll probably watch the rest sometime today.

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One of my favorite holiday movies is A Christmas Carol, with Albert Finney, although there are so many versions of this story worth watching. But the one that I probably whore out on a DVD was Scrooged, with Bill Murray. I still have that DVD player, yet I have no videos. Truth is, we also got rid of our TV a few years ago. No regrets here as my laptop works well enough for anything I wish to watch. But why do I still hold onto that player?

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There are other versions of the story behind It’s a Wonderful Life, such as Family Man, with Nicholas Cage, another movie I obsessed over as my heart loved this flip version, where the main character suddenly wakes up to the life he could have had, had he made a different decision when he was younger, rather than chasing the big money dream that he was living in his current life. Kind of a Scrooge/It’s a Wonderful Life combined. This film was not billed as a Christmas movie, but if you watch it, you will know why I feel the vibe here.

Try googling “feel good” movies, and perhaps you will find as I did that most of what is described as “feel good” is a far cry from what I thought I knew it to be. Perhaps this is my age showing, but I know that this form of creativity has the power to touch the human heart in such a way that the viewer walks away forever changed.  They are more in love with life.

Many things can do this to us in real life. Sometimes it comes with the harshness of health issues, financial changes, losing one’s home or a loved one, or a year in isolation because of a pandemic. We are in that place.

We have been given this opportunity to make change, to see a new way and to cherish what we most value. We are walking away forever changed and hopefully, we are more in love with life. I am hopeful, and mean this when I say, may this new year, 2021, be full of power, purpose, breakthroughs, family (friends) and above all, love.

Have a Happy New Year!
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Who We Really Are

3/20/2020

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My house quarantine probably started at least two weeks before COVID-19 reached our area of the world. I had some sort of weird cold and then a painful, twisted ankle/foot from a fall in my studio. When I injured myself, one of my dogs came over to comfort me, and I happily reached out to pet her fluffy neck, suddenly realizing that it had been freshly rolled in one of her favorite doggie perfumes, better known as “some other dog’s crap”. I was momentarily struck with a hysterical laughter mixed with pain-endued tears.

Fast forward three weeks into what would have just been another, lovely Spring day with a high pollen count, and life has morphed us all into a full-blown, science fiction movie of pandemic proportions. So much has happened in such a short time.

Clearly, we are seeing this crisis unfold each day with eye-opening changes, starting with the canceled Houston rodeo, to the canceling of all other public events, then quickly followed by the closing of restaurants, bars and gyms. Most museums, galleries and stores have also closed their doors, as we are being asked to stay home and practice social distancing. We are all a bit stunned, anxious, and even fearful, while many of us are still looking for toilet paper. Who knew?

Soon after I injured my foot, I was reminded by a friend that I was being given this chance to rest, heal, and to nurture myself. Indeed in astrology, March of 2020 was showing itself to be a time for all of us to do so, however that looked to each of us individually. Now it is clear that on a large-scale, collective level, this is even more profound.

We are being given a chance to slow down, to see what is important, what is not, and how we will or will not adapt to our fast-changing world. It is an awakening, an opportunity, difficult as it may seem, to make our world a better, more sustainable place for all life on the planet. But still, it is a bit scary. How long will this take, and what will cripple us the most; the virus or the state of the world economy?

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Some of us have already been struggling financially, and I am certain that after the huge storm/flood, Harvey, we in Houston have still been picking up the pieces and trying to get back on track. But now, we are talking about most developing countries and beyond, the aftermath of which none of us have ever seen before.

It will not be life as we once knew it. We will need to embrace this with all of our collective minds and hearts. Of course, most of us will get through this and carry on with our lives with some sense of sanity and the new, yet-to-be-discovered normal, but the repercussions from such a world wide event is beginning to dawn on many of us, and it’s not hard to see that it’s going to be a staggering journey.

Our true test is in the coming weeks and months, as many will be sick, some will die, and those of us left to start anew will need to be ever more present, more caring, more resilient, inventive and definitely more connected to each other with a very real sense of love.

I am not sure any of us can say how this will actually play out, but in the aftermath, I see us changing the paradigm, making a new life, and not settling for the destructive practices of our old selves. I have hope for humanity, for most of us meeting this challenge and evolving to a higher vibration that will bring more balance and harmony, restoring our memory of who we really are. We are the guardians of our planet. We are love.

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The Softer Edge of Being

3/23/2019

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Fairy Lights
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There is this saying, that when we stay on top of the news, there is a fine line between being well-informed and falling into madness. I am often finding balance between the two, on a softer edge of being: the place where one can find some inner peace. Paintings of my favorite wool socks, a cup of coffee, an afternoon nap on the couch, or a relaxing child’s pose are all part of my focus to keep the chaos down, practicing a simpler, more enjoyable existence. There are also my dogs, a faithful, saving-grace constant in my life. They are my family, and a healthy reminder to see the humor in life, to love unconditionally, to practice patience and to focus on what is right in front of me.

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Worrying about the craziness in the world will not change anything except to bring us closer to possible depression and eventual illness. Changing the world starts from within each of us, which is where true peace begins. I care about what is happening, and take steps where I am able, but I have learned not to carry the load. Look for what brings a smile to your face, and may you find your softer edge of being.

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Nap Time
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Stirring the Grounds

11/29/2018

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A falcon swooped just a few feet in front of me  this morning, her stealth apparent in my surprise, hearing the wind in her widespread wings as she moved swiftly into a tree across the street. A group of doves exploded from the tree in every direction. She was not concerned about me being so close to her flight, as she came in low, passing by where I was walking. I stood there for a moment, waiting to see the large bird emerge, yet nothing stirred. There were too many leaves to see into the tree canopy, but it did get very quiet, so I imagined her morning meal was fulfilled. I wondered why this happened for me to see, to experience just now in my life. It stopped me in my tracks, and continued to replay in my mind off and on throughout my day.

In my last blog post, I promised that my next post would be about my art. I even put off writing another post because, quite frankly, I didn’t feel like I had something I wanted to share. This is partly my wavering uncertainty about my work, which seems to always be in transition. I work on a few paintings that are relevant for a bit, and then I become distracted, either by other projects, or just life happening. I tend to lose interest, finding I am not driven enough to continue the series or idea. Not very productive for building a healthy body of work.

I suppose some would call this the equivalent of writer’s block for visual artists, but it doesn’t seem that severe to me. It’s more like some kind of uncertainty, inner doubt, that notorious inner-critic raising its ugly head to challenge my resolve. It’s hard to eliminate this noise, but maybe it is also about just accepting that this is part of the process of creation, and it will enter at different stages of our lives, for various reasons. I have become more aware that I need to let it be till I sort it out – not to fight it so much, and to just keep working. Although I am presently enjoying another new series of paintings, which feel right at this moment, who knows where this will go? It is in a playful stage, which always feels good to me.

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It’s finally looking like fall in Houston, as we approach December in a few days. That’s how it happens here in this part of the country. Even though our fall is not nearly so apparent as those areas up north, where vibrant colors simply take one’s breathe away in every, splendid moment.

I still find it worthy to note the subtle, gradient tones scattered here and there in our area, with leaves falling into mosaic piles that only Nature could arrange. Are things really so random? Are we able to appreciate this perfect order that looks more like chaos in our everyday lives?


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To add to another perspective, yes, I am that person who stirs my coffee grounds. I saw someone talking about doing this in order to fully benefit from all those complex and robust flavors in coffee beans. I have learned that with the pour-over method, which is my favorite, if the beans are not freshly and more finely rather than coarsely ground, much of the goodness is wasted as the hot water sifts through. You end up with a weaker version of coffee. When you stir the grounds, it seems to awaken the true nature of the beans, allowing more of the roasted essence to come forward. I like to get to those deep flavors that the bean was meant to impart into a fine cup of coffee!

Why did I bring this up? It is that same scenario when it comes to making our own lives. Although I am most grateful for what I have in my life, and do believe I have come a long way, I do wish to further grow, evolve, and to fulfill my dreams of a more bountiful, meaningful, creative and joyful life.

I have seen patterns in my life, in all of life, really. Things seem to be happening for a reason, not quite as spontaneous as I have always imagined. We are generally not tuned in to our world, our environment, where Nature becomes the great teacher and healer. Some call this receiving signs, messages from the source, from the Universe, the Great Creator, or if you prefer, from God. Even when we dream, we receive a kind of universal, unspoken language of guidance in symbols, archetypes, and metaphors. I am seeing that there truly are no accidents, or perhaps better said, “no coincidences”. I have often said that I feel like I am channeling energy from another source when I am fully engaged in what I am creating. It is more like I am co-creating with something much bigger than who I am.


The metaphor was clear when I first heard it, “you have to stir the grounds to get the best flavor”. Stir things up, shake the foundation to bring possibilities to the surface, agitate the mix to cook up those opportunities and savor the best, quality results, actualizing goals, dreams and more specifically, your creative process. You have to spread your wings, swoop in for what feeds you, feeds your process, see with keen, open eyes the beauty and wonder in the smallest and most subtle of things, creating those deep ah-ha moments.

Oh, and while you are at it, try stirring those coffee grounds. You may be pleasantly surprised!


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Hitting a Curb

8/23/2018

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I was turning into my son’s neighborhood while watching a fast-moving car pass by my car in a flash. I have turned into that neighborhood a multitude of times, for that matter, I have turned corners with street curbs thousands upon thousands of times, but this time I was not focused enough to notice that there was a curb right in my path.

Needless to say, I trashed the tire, which went flat immediately, and although I knew I had a spare, I was most appreciative to be so close to my son’s home. Without a pause, he was there with my two-year-old grandson, who didn’t want any part of staying inside daddy’s cool, air-conditioned car. He was certain it was much more interesting watching daddy change a tire, no matter that the temperature was near 100 degrees with a heat index of 108.

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Did you ever notice how kids don’t seem to really feel the temperature outside? When I was little, there was a woods behind us, and every winter the most fun thing in my child’s heart was to go out and walk, play and to take in the magic while sitting and listening to the silence of the snow all around me. I never seemed to feel the cold, but remember coming back fairly wet in my wool snowsuit, eventually revealing red-numb hands and feet. It all worked out though, as radiators were most efficient at warming any body parts within a few feet of their steaming pipes.

Back to today, the intense heat and me holding my two-year-old grandson, who by this time was delighted by all the things going on, and pointing them out with that refreshing level of excitement that such a young child has. The butterfly moving over our heads, the massive, jet air-plane flying close to the ground and our heads, the man fertilizing the lawn across the street with his big, white truck, who kindly came over to give us some much appreciated, cold bottles of water. My grandson quickly pointed out “he’s not daddy”, and then pointed to my son, “that’s daddy”, and in my amusement, I had to agree.

After my tire was changed we proceeded back to their home where I began to take care of my grandson so mommy and daddy could go appreciate their adult life in a restaurant without any of their three, lovely children, two of which were in school. We had a delightful one-on-one time together, going upstairs, downstairs, upstairs again, eating, watching Mother Goose, searching for Playdough, searching for a specific hat, eating more, going back upstairs again, watching more Mother Goose, singing, building with blocks, and you get the picture. Nothing compares to the energy of a two-year-old.
Later that evening I posted a short video on facebook of us on the couch, him being his usual, never-ending-source of joyful entertainment. As I wrote a few words about our visit, I threw in the incident about hitting the curb, and suddenly realized why it happened. The words pulled such weight, yet seemed to come from lightness herself, focus on what is right in front of you. You know... be in the moment. It just might prevent you from hitting a curb, another car, or from missing an opportunity, from seeing the beauty, from noticing what matters most, like someone you love.

We don’t hit a curb to suffer or struggle with resolving it. Oh, sure, it is a pain in the butt to take care of it, and there is growth in that too, but the main thing is what shakes us, what wakes us up and grabs our attention is just trying to help us “see”. Message received, and most grateful for the reminder.

Next post will be about my art, I promise.

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