[post twenty eight] we made it!

Beloveds,

I’m late, I know, for the posting deadline I set myself. This morning, someone said to me, “I can’t believe it’s already March!” I was defensive. I wanted to shout back, “NO! It is still February! There is still one more post on the February blog!” You all gave me such a gift – after a February that was, though not the worst I’ve had, thank goodness, not the best I’ve had, I still didn’t want it to end. Perhaps that’s why I waited until the last possible moment to post. Or perhaps that is because I just got home from a surprise party involving chocolate passion fruit cake and delicious French fries and also the waiter brought me my own personal plate of celery. Who knows. Regardless, here I am.

Here is the plate of celery, and my celery-induced smile (celery is my favorite food):

There are a few things I want to say. The first, and also I am going to say this more times again, is thank you. I sometimes have ideas for things and projects, and I don’t always make them happen, and you all gave me this gift of making an idea real. Beyond that, you breathed life into this idea, and made it SO incredible. I really did have something to look forward to every day this month, and for that I cannot thank you enough.

Next, I want to share a poem about the way that I feel different every day. Depending on the day, I need different things (of course) and another thing for which I am grateful is that now, instead of the repertoire of things I had in my own bag o’ tricks to nourish my soul on those different days, I now also have all the beautiful things you shared.

The poem:

some days i feel small

some days i feel small.

my feet slide around in my boots.

perhaps it is because i am wearing thinner socks, but maybe, while i slept,

my body pulled into itself and became, for today, more small.

the beings that surround me, whether buildings or tall trees,

dwarf me

though yesterday, i considered them my equals.

some days i feel small.

you seem not to notice me.

it could be because you are thinking of other things, but maybe, since the last time we spoke,

you have forgotten all about me, and no longer know that i exist.

this morning, my coat felt too big.

though it protected me from the cold as it always does,

i felt myself swimming inside of it.

there seemed to be space for a second, or even a third, pair of arms

with mine in the sleeves.

it makes me wonder

really wonder

if the others can see the changing of my size.

sometimes i am big, sometimes i am full or tall or cloud-like,

and some days

i feel small.

And also, a couple of things I have loved, when I’ve been in different moments:

This song from a Lysol commercial

This essay by Joan Didion

And this “joke” my mom spontaneously made up about my dual degree program that a classmate and I turned into this weird monkey thing.

Finally (I know, longest post ever, let it GO, ruthie!) I want to tell you that I maybe am a little bit thinking of how to take as much of what I can from this blog and make it into a book through snapfish or one of those things or whatever. More on that if it happens to be one of the ideas I make real, instead of one of the ones I don’t.

And finally finally, thank you, thank you, thank you. Again and again. Same time next year?

Love,

Ruthie

2/27/13 Wednesday "Case in point, I had a date last night..."

I had a new teacher recently:

who reminded me of a old lesson from an earlier teacher:

"Watch children play, they just immerse and inhabit themselves in the moment fully."

"Don't be better, just be!"

My wish for all of us,
Brando

Hey Folks,

Just a heads up--it looks like in my post, the embedded links are in grey.  So they look kind of invisible.  You'll notice when you see it, but don't worry--they are there!

-Jana

Don't worry--there's fun stuff embedded here too!  If you don't want to read the whole thing, I won't be offended.  But you can still find the links :)  They are all to things I love/recommend/appreciate/miss/am grateful for.

So here's what:

This year, as February approached, I was chill.  I looked around at my blessed life, and I was pretty sure this month would go by with much remembrance, but not much new loss.  I kind of thought I had this February thing beat.  After all, outside, where I live in California, it doesn't even look like February.  It looks like eternal May.  Roses are blooming all over town.  Cherry blossoms.  And just a few weeks ago, fall leaves were still on the ground.  In a region that skips winter, I figured I'd skip February.

But I actually began February in New York City, when I returned there for an alumni reunion of my yeshiva.  I arrived at JFK at 6:30am on Feb 1, felt the frigid air of NYC coming through the jetway, and practically cried with joy as I bought a MetroCard.  I hadn't been in NYC since I drove away from the city in August, in tears--listening to this song, duh, with this image in my rearview.  It was cold, and I was immediately more annoyed about trivial things than I normally am, and I was inappropriately dressed, figuring that since I live in California now, a fleece is really all you ever need.  I ate a bagel the size of my face within 3 hours of landing.

Everything looked like time had passed, but nothing was really forgotten.  Some storefronts looked different, some restaurants promising they were coming soon when I left were now up and running.  My old apartment, where my ex-boyfriend now lives, was still painted a calming baby blue, and the baker's rack in the corner was still full to the brim with kitchen appliances.  But small things were different: the bathmat, the painting on the wall, the black couch which had replaced my roommates' beloved brown leather, the books on the shelves were someone else's.  He was proud to show me what he had done with the place, especially his room, which was spotless (because he woke up at 5am to clean it for my arrival).   I bit my lip; I nodded.

I still thought I was totally going to beat the whole damned month.  Look!  Here I was!  Back where it all happened in every possible way--and I was grateful!  So put that in your pipe and smoke it, February!  Here I was in my beloved city, which I was loathe to leave!  I can stand in this beloved apartment with a past beloved and a beloved past and I can totally handle this!  I skipped off happily to the alumni gathering of my yeshiva.  I reunited with my beloved former roommate, and my beloved Berkeley neighbor who is in Israel all spring, and when I arrived at the conference there were all of my beloved teachers and rabbis, and then we were praying to my Beloved G-d, and...do you get how much love I was feeling on February 1st?

And.

It all started to hurt so, so much.  It still really does.

Sometimes I wonder if I spent February 1st loving everything I love, and every day after that just missing it.  Just the missing part of love.  The part that, when you feel it all on its own, makes it all just very confusing.

Purim barreled in and made a lot of joyful demands on me.  I received a beautiful gift basket today from my synagogue and felt the power of belonging here.  I danced a lot.

I think about Februaries past, how traumatic they were, how keeping the community to organized support like this blog has become would have been very difficult for many of us, because our needs were too varied and confusing and spontaneous, and all we could do was just hold each other all the time.

Which is really how it feels whenever I read a new post on this blog, which with deep gratitude, I do every day.  Because it's February.

Even for me.

So thank you.

Selah.

February [colon]; birds.

Dear humans I love,

Because I
a- Have not turned anything in on time since matriculating to Brown
and
b- Am advocating for west coast equality,

my post is going up after the 8PM EST deadline, and well before its west coast counterpart.

and
Because I
a- am a grandma
and
b- therefore do not watch many you-tube videos, or know how to post on this blog without Aleeza texting me and my roommate showing me,

here it goes.

The ONE video I have seen and adored in 2013 and have been excited share, I just noticed, Tali posted already.  Instead of only feeling sad about this, I am also re-posting it.  You should all actually watch this one.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qR3rK0kZFkg

In honor of me simultaneously feeling like a grandma who has been surpassed by technology, and an adolescent that cannot ever get too much done at once:

www.snotr.com/video/8965/

http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2010/06/this-is-why-ill-never-be-adult.html


And because I really like birds and Terry Tempest Williams  and praying (so much so that I am holding the book this comes from, Refuge, hostage from the Oakland library and praying that the library gods do not hold this against me):

I pray to the birds.

I pray to the birds because I believe they will carry the messages of my heart upward.  I pray to them because I believe in their existence, the way their songs begin and end each day--- the invocations and benedictions of Earth.  I pray to the birds because they remind me of what I love rather than what I fear.  And at the end of my prayers, they teach me how to listen.


It's been a weird day.  I imagine you all grasped that if you glanced at this post without my even needing to say it.

BIG amounts of love and sillyness,
Lizzita

Though I am not an avid poetry reader or lover, sometimes something just sticks. Here's one that I love.  Sending you all love and warmth.

Aleeza

The Journey

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice--
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do--
determined to save
the only life you could save.

- Mary Oliver

[twenty-three] Openness, Justice, and Haircuts gone wrong

Loved ones,

You all remind me of how lucky I am to be a part of this broader community, so thank you. I am impressed by your thoughtfulness, your humor, your gratitude, and your deep reflection each day.

I know the idea of this blog is to appreciate joy even in February, and I'll get there. But some days are especially heavy, and it feels right to acknowledge our beloved Einat and her mother Naomi Prawer Kadar. In the spirit of embracing whatever emotions come our way, I want to share a poem that my mom gave me, which has been traveling with me from room to room since college.

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house. 

Ever morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,

some momentary awareness comes 

as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!

Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,

who violently sweep your house

empty of its furniture,

still, treat each guest honorably.

He may be clearing you out

for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,

meet them at the door laughing,

and invite them in.

Be grateful for whatever comes,

because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond.

Unrelated, I'm sharing a talk by Brian Stevenson, who I heard speak last night a a "Rebellious Lawyering" conference. Some of you have definitely heard him speak, and if not, it will provide a pep talk for pursuing justice, however you envision that. 

http://www.ted.com/talks/bryan_stevenson_we_need_to_talk_about_an_injustice.html

And on an only light note, I have to share my favorite audio clip. The context: two daughters, one bad haircut, and a father who just happens to be an NPR reporter. I hope you've all heard it before. I think you can't listen too many times. In fact, my roommate and I had to limit ourselves to quoting it only twice per day. 

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/06/28/sister-haircut_n_1635143.html

Love,

Sophie

P.S. I'm not sure if these links work, so a follow-up post may be in order.

[post twenty-two and a half] february 23, 2013

I forgot I wanted to post these videos too. They give me the chills.

For a commercial back in '06, Sony launched 250,000 colorful bouncy balls down the hilly streets of San Francisco. It's truly "a visual celebration of color." There's a longer, even more high-res version but I couldn't find it online so this will have to suffice. 

Here's a link for the making of the balls video.

For another commercial in '06, Sony detonated barrels of environmentally friendly paint in abandoned buildings in Glasgow. There was only one take for each part.

Here's a link for the making of the paint video. 

[post twenty-two] february 22, 2013

First, I wanted to share with you all that today is my brother's 30th birthday! WOW. In light of someone's birthday, Shulamit (some of you know her) once said, "The world is celebrating you exist!" Somehow, that concept wasn't totally obvious to me at the time; it felt like a revelation and has really stuck with me ever since. Today, I am celebrating my brother's existence, for which I am infinitely grateful.

Moving on.

This is a song I adore:

A reminder that there are so many things we can love ("I LOVE MY HAIRCUTS!"):

As a follow-up to Ruthie's first post:

For the cartographer in you: maps you never knew you needed (I love maps.)

If you're a Nate Silver fan like I am: Nate Silver's Oscar predictions, done election style

Shabbat shalom!

With love,

Tali

Thursday, Feb. 21st

A day of few words (I've used too many at work).  Inspired by my sister, who recently posted a David Bowie picture as her prof pic, I'm going through random old snippets that make me happy.  Here are a few:

1) "Magic Dance" from the movie Labryinth with David Bowie and a baby Jennifer Connelly: (the lyrics to this song make my heart sing. I heavily encourage watching this movie if it's not already a part of your childhood.)

2) my new favorite song by some fellow brownies:

3) classic:

<3

It's so cold, and when it's cold outside, I have a hard time getting up in the morning. "Safari Disco Club" by Yelle makes me dance under the covers.

These are fruits, flowers, fungi and I photographed in my favorite places.

This is an interview with a beautiful mind, Dovid Hartmann z"l, from one of my favorite podcasts "On Being." Hartmann says, "we meet reality through the visions of other people." Thanks for all of your beautiful visions, beloved ones.

A belated post for Monday, February 18th

Hello All,

Two cute videos and something I wrote:

These two videos were made by Bianca Giaever,  a friend of my roommates, who happened to be crashing in our Jerusalem apartment these past few days as part of her post-graduation trip from Middlebury College. We had the honor of witnessing the viral spread of the videos (one of which has nearly one millions views worldwide) - I hope you enjoy them:

1) The Scared is Scared (An imaginary story narrated by a six-year old hits the big screen)

2) Holy Cow Lisa (A conversation with a college advisor about heartbreak with a creative twist)

Lastly, here is a link to the remarks that I shared at the 3rd Annual Avi Schaefer Symposium that was hosted in Jerusalem this past sunday - I was asked to present my personal perspective on, "The Meaning and Purpose of Israel as a Jewish State."

Enjoy,

Jonah

if only every day were presidents' day

For truth, a poem Einat shared with me at a time when I desperately needed a poem -- "The Laughing Heart" by Charles Bukowski -- read here by Tom Waits. Those of you who know me know that I'm no connaisseur (connaisseuse?) of poetry, but this one really drives it home in my opinion: 

And, for some actual laughing (1) my favorite Portlandia sketch, (2) a new Portlandia clip that may resonate with this crowd, and (3) some funny social commentary from Key & Peele:

with boundless love,

'Rel

February 17th: The Expansive Property of Love

Nearly every week, it's inevitable that at some point I will think to myself, "Just when I thought I couldn't love [insert name] anymore, I do." And just like that, every week, I familiarize myself more and more with what I imagine parents who have more than one child or people with more than one lover already know: our love can balloon if we let it, like so much ice cream in an already-full belly, without (maybe) limit. I've taken to calling this feeling in my head The Expansive Property of Love. 

This is a curious phenomenon, though, unlike any other I've experienced, in part because The Expansive Property of Love (for me) requires a willing recipient. It looks a little something like this. "Hey, you, will you let me love you a little bit more even if it's messy and things fall apart and we learn things about each other in the process that we may loathe?" This feeling  is a beautiful corollary to The Expansive Property of Love. Here's what the corollary teaches me: 

• We don't know if we will live "ad meiah v'esrim" (to 120).
• We don't know if we will die tomorrow.
• It doesn't matter in the end because we will allow ourselves to love each other anyway. 

When I feel panicked by the vast task of loving the people I love without condition even while knowing that we don't know what will come tomorrow, I re-read a passage from Joan Didion's The Year of Magical Thinking in which she transcribes what her late husband of several decades, John Gregory Dunne, had written of their wedding day in his private journal. He wrote, "[Joan] wore sunglasses throughout the service the day we got married, at the little mission church in San Juan Bautista, California; she also wept through the entire ceremony. As we walked down the aisle, we promised each other that we could get out of this next week and not wait until death did us part."
So for all that I get from this expansive love today, tomorrow, and until "death did us part," I give thanks, so much thanks, in fact, that it balloons and balloons without (maybe) limit.

Shavua tov,

Caroline

How can I sleep while you're dancing?

Hi friends/family/family-friends,

Sorry I'm also late on my post.  I'm still getting used to the "internet".

Here is a song that I played for Einat and Lizzie maybe exactly 3 years ago.  I chose a really inopportune time to play the song, so I don't think they could really "hear" it.  And then about a year ago, I think Einat sent me the same song and asked "have you ever heard this before?"  I'm not sure if I ever told her that I'd played the same song for her two years earlier.

It's by Shye Ben Tzur who sings Sufi devotional Qawali music in Hebrew.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=maWdDRRJ2sg

It is a love song to the Divine (isn't everything?):

איך אוכל להמשיך לישון עכשיו
כשאתה בחוץ רוקד
יצאתי לרקוד איתך
ולהיות לקולך עד

הציפורים שרות כל בוקר
שמך
השמש נושקת לאדמה
ואני
אני חולם

How can I continue sleeping
When you are outside dancing
I went out to dance with you
And to be a witness to your voice

Every morning the birds sing
Your name
The sun kisses the ground
And I
I'm dreaming

Shabbat Shalom

-nat

Agh! I suck. I missed my day.

February has been a brutal month. It is connected to Adar wherein we've lost friends and students. Both at Brown and when I was a student in Israel. It is also the month in the mid-90's when there was a spate of suicide bombings on buses in Jerusalem. I was there. It was horrible.

But, like the Purim story, which also takes place in Adar,  everything is about turnaround and redemption. And really, my day is February 14. Valentine's Day. Sweet. Commercialism. Fakery. Imported flowers with a carbon footprint bigger than a Quarter Pounder with Cheese. But I digress.

This is a story about one moment. It's a long one.

Thirteen years ago on February 14th I went on my first date with my nice wife, Nechama Lea. We were both living in Bat Ayin in the middle of nowhere. I was studying in a Yeshiva and she was in a Midrasha. We were amongst men and women who were hot to get married. It was a crazy time. We had a wedding every two weeks. In those days I learned what it was like to live in the middle-ages, not only because we lacked warm housing, but because we had no entertainment outside of communal simchas - celebrations.

Rabbi Kohn was my teacher and his wife, Batya, was a matchmaker. For reals. Batya and I had met but we'd never spent much time getting to know each other. I mean there was no Starbucks. So Batya corners me one day and says, "Hey. How'd you like to go out with Nechama Lea?" And I was like, "You mean that woman with the beautiful smile and gorgeous blue eyes?" (I swear that's what I said.) And she said, "Yes."

While I was being coy the truth is I had recently met NL. She and I had been introduced at the wedding of Jonah and Alison by my very good friend Charlie. NL had been Alison's roommate. Char and I had known each other for years. I was drunk, weddings you know. And I had literally just walked in from breaking up with a woman. (It was by mutual agreement - we were great friends but not lovers. Still are. She's married, lives in Golan with 4 boys.) And the next woman I saw was NL. We said hello and I went on my way.

Then a day later Batya asked if I'd like to go out with her. I didn't want to seem like a man-slut, I had, after all, just broken up with 'Jenny,' so I said let me think about it.

That night I went to a party. Sheva Berachot. This is a party that is held every night for the week following a wedding. It's awesome. So at a Mexican themed Sheva Berachot in Nachloat at the home of Sara Lea, I sat down on a bench and lo and behold who should be next to me but Nechama Lea.

She was drinking beer. From a bottle. Awesome. It felt strange. We had escaped our medieval village. Men and women were shmoozing. Beer was being consumed. We were all adults who had found religious Judaism later in life and this was a space that was clearly a bridge between our 'former' and present lifestyles.

There was no chance of 'going home' with a girl. We were all celibate and we were all committed to abstaining from pre-marital sex and even pre-marital touching. So we talked. It was great. And, in the end, we did 'go home' together, but it was just mutual hitch-hiking back out to Bat Ayin. Our first encounter turned into a 4.5 hour tunnel-visioned experience. We were at a party but I don't remember much about it. We were in Jerusalem, and then in a car and then walking, but I don't remember. At some point we were with a third person, Josh, but we lost him. I think he caught the vibe and took off.

The next morning I contacted Batya and gave her the code word and she set up the next meet. We were going to go into Jerusalem, for dinner. We decided on a vegetarian place in the German Colony on Emek Refaim. Yeah, we were on Emek before Emek was Emek. We got a lift and then a bus and then we walked and we went into the restaurant. I think she had a quiche of some kind and I had a Greek Salad.

At some point during the meal we offered each other tastes of our respective food choices. And here was the moment. So small. So insignificant. But so deep. We each took our fork and picked a piece of food from the other's plate.

Nothing. The smallest most benign gesture. But I remember, at the time, that it was so so powerful. We had crossed into intimacy. We had broken through the barrier that our place-settings represented. We had fulfilled the innate mammalian desire of providing food for those you care for. It was really really deep.

I remember her eyes from that meal. Later I would compare them to sunflowers. Her eyes are blue but there are flecks that bring me to those flowers. In later years, after losing friends, the sunflower was my visual meditative cue. I still use it when times are terrible. It is a place of safety and beauty.

We finished dinner and then went to a pizza shop and drank beer. She's Czech. I'm Canadian. We talked about our families and hockey and beer.

I don't remember going home. And then we got married.

[post twelve] february 13th, 2013

Hi friends,

Because we skipped a day and because everyone deserves a pre-Valentine's Day treat, I thought I'd add some more stuff than I was originally planning to post. Also, I just want to explode for a second with SO MUCH LOVE for this blog.

1.  How major cities would look with a full sky of brilliant stars -- A photographer used "night skies from less populated locations that fall on the same latitudes" to show us what these cities would look like. Wild.

2.  Hilarious banana slicer product comments -- Read at least the first page of comments on this item. In the words of my mom, "This is a scream!!!"

3.  New Yorker 4-Part Series: Simon Rich's Sell Out -- It takes a while to read, but I promise it's worth it. Read all four parts. It's Jewy; it's New Yorky; it's funny; it's wonderful.

4.  Marvin Gaye's National Anthem -- The smoothest version of the National Anthem I've ever heard.

5.  And a poem that I love:

To My Twenties

By Kenneth Koch
How lucky that I ran into you
When everything was possible
For my legs and arms, and with hope in my heart
And so happy to see any woman—
O woman! O my twentieth year!
Basking in you, you
Oasis from both growing and decay
Fantastic unheard of nine- or ten-year oasis
A palm tree, hey! And then another
And another—and water!
I’m still very impressed by you. Whither,
Midst falling decades, have you gone? Oh in what lucky fellow,
Unsure of himself, upset, and unemployable
For the moment in any case, do you live now?
From my window I drop a nickel
By mistake. With
You I race down to get it
But I find there on
The street instead, a good friend,
X— N—, who says to me
Kenneth do you have a minute?
And I say yes! I am in my twenties!
I have plenty of time! In you I marry,
In you I first go to France; I make my best friends
In you, and a few enemies. I
Write a lot and am living all the time
And thinking about living. I loved to frequent you
After my teens and before my thirties.
You three together in a bar
I always preferred you because you were midmost
Most lustrous apparently strongest
Although now that I look back on you
What part have you played?
You never, ever, were stingy.
What you gave me you gave whole
But as for telling
Me how best to use it
You weren’t a genius at that.
Twenties, my soul
Is yours for the asking
You know that, if you ever come back.

Lots of love,
Tali

I'm an idiot (See below). This is obviously my first blogging experience. LINKS! Here they are:

1. SNOW STORY

2. Valentine's Video

3. Best Thing Ever

MONDAY (Yay!) Feb 11, 2013

In honor of 1. Snow Days, 2. Valentine's Day, and 3. Adorable Shit:

1. A short story by one of my favs:  http://www.newyorker.com/archive/2003/12/22/031222fa_fact3

2. A Postsecret valentine's video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tzq3srbYEUY&feature=player_embedded

3. The best thing I've seen on the interwebs in a long time: http://www.berkeleyside.com/2013/02/07/children-read-in-the-company-of-dogs-at-berkeley-library/

XOXO
E

baby babble, empowerment, a love competition and cheetahs

Hey guys,

4 videos!

      1.  Here’s to good conversation:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_JmA2ClUvUY[features babies]

2. Here’s to knowing our own potential:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NexqrXbJM-Q [from Kennedy Odede’s school]

3. Here’s to loving, hard, in all kinds of ways:

http://www.openculture.com/2012/02/this_is_your_brain_in_love_scenes_from_the_stanford_love_competition.html[this one is long but very very worth it].

4.  Here’s to cheetahs:

http://vimeo.com/53914149 [ahhh HD nature]

Sending big, mad love to you all,

Nomi

[post nine] february 9th, 2013

Friends,

Thank you to Ruthie for the reminder that today was/is my day.  I was having a kind of grumpy/frustrated day, and decided to go on a hike.  I was feeling wonky until all of a sudden, I look to my right and in the field, about 10 feet away from me, was a coyote like this one:

He (I assume he's a he, I don't know why) really snapped me out of it.  Pure, breathing, on the hunt coyote.  Making it even better was right after when Caroline Landau and I were debriefing what we would have done had the coyote been a bit friskier.  I said I'd climb a tree. And Caroline said... "but can't coyotes climb trees? Don't dogs climb trees?" Joy.

Today's one of those days where I'm appreciating all of the little moments, plants, and animals that remind me to breathe.  And in that theme, here's the poem I recently posted on my desk at work:

Everything is Waiting for You

Your great mistake is to act the drama
as if you were alone.  As if life
were a progressive and cunning crime
with no witness to the tiny hidden
transgressions.  To feel abandoned is to deny
the intimacy of your surroundings.  Surely,
even you, at times, have felt the grand array;
the swelling presence, and the chorus, crowding
out your solo voice.  You must note
the way the soap dish enables you,
or the window latch grants you freedom.
Alertness is the hidden discipline of familiarity.
The stairs are your mentor of things
to come, the doors have always been there
to frighten you and invite you,
and the tiny speaker in the phone
is your dream-ladder to divinity.

Put down the weight of your aloneness and ease into
the conversation.  The kettle is singing
even as it pours you a drink, the cooking pots
have left their arrogant aloofness and
seen the good in you at last.  All the birds
and creatures of the world are unutterably
themselves.  Everything is waiting for you.

~ David Whyte ~

Much love to you all.  Wishing you a moment to feel your toes on the ground (or in your bed, or in your socks, wherever they may be right at this moment).

-Megan