Category: mindfulness

anxiety, discretion, friendship, humor, life lessons, love, mindfulness

Over-thinking And Missing The Point

mimijk

See High Above – Marlena Morling

You step outside

into the early morning

in autumn –

 

And at the exact same instant

a scrap of paper

floats over –

 

High in the blue

blustery library

of the air –

 

You look up

and you see it rushing

and lifting

 

even higher

into the transparent layers

of the sky –

 

And at once,

you know

it is a message –

 

A message

that there is no message.

The scrap of paper

 

is just a scrap of paper!

It is weightless

and free

 

The world is just

the world –

And you are exactly

 

who you are –

Also floating now

high inside

 

The invisible

balloon of

another moment.

What if we could just let it go?  Give ourselves the grace of not second-guessing, seeking the ever-deeper answer, reflecting on our belly buttons until we can no longer remember why we got so engrossed in the first place (hint – there’s nothing going on worthy of self scrutiny of your navel)?  What if we took the worry du moment and greeted it, acknowledged it for what it is and then remember that whether or not we hold it, its resolution will come?  How would our day unfold if we wrote our sorrows on bits of paper and cast them into the wind – for whether we clutch them with tight fist or hold them loosely or let them go – the only thing that will change is the cramp in our fingers?

I hold onto things for too, too long.  I carry them with me as if they are some unique treasure that must be coddled and cared for, when realistically they have little long term value.  The typical takeaway for me is that I shouldn’t have wasted so much emotional energy.  ‘Lesson learned for next time’, I tell myself.  And this little voice in my ear laughs and wonders who I’m kidding.  The truth is, that which should be held onto for that extra moment longer are often the things we miss as we’re moving on – a hug that transmits love, a conversation with a friend who just needs you to be one, a tumbler of Grand Marnier in front of a fire (or hot chocolate with marshmallows – and you have to get to the marshmallows at the perfect in-between-time when they’ve melted but are still formed).

Why is it that every time – every time I look up at the sky and ask “Please?” and say “Thank you” (which I do often enough in a day that I probably am developing a reputation in the neighborhood as the lady with the dogs who walks around talking to the sky), I am lighter?  And if we know that our most peaceful moments come when we let go, do we insist that each time we don’t, we’re justified for doing so?   I swear to you I have some thoughts on this – and I know you do too.  In the interest of perpetuating my adapted version of National Listening Day, I’d rather hear why you hold on so tight, when we could instead release such encumbrances?  What do you think?  Anyone feel like letting go of the string?

discretion, friendship, inspiration, life lessons, love, mindfulness

Here’s An Idea

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According to NPR, the day after Thanksgiving is the National Day Of Listening.  The concept stems from their highly successful StoryCorps Program, and the theory is that the most important way to honor someone is to listen to him/her.  To hear a story with full attention, so intent that you could integrate it into a memory worth saving.  Listening with your mind free of anticipated responses, shopping lists, wandering thoughts – can you quantify the value of such a gift?  Can you imagine how much it would be appreciated?

Ask someone to tell you a story.  If you are indulging in some quiet after the deluge of family and friends, listen to the silence.  It too has a tale to tell.  Our stories matter, they are our perspectives of personal history and seminal moments,  unfettered joy and unhealed wounds.  They define us far more than adjectives.  They shape us far more than any exercise regimen (which is not a knock on exercise).  Yet, when was the last time you heard a tale?  And, what would be the story you would tell?

To me, that is where the wonder of this season is – in the giving of one’s heart while lending an ear.  And in being awed by the gift we’re given every time we  listen.  Happy Friday everybody.

 

 

 

discretion, friendship, inspiration, life lessons, love, mindfulness, music, parenting

Home Ec.

mimijk

“Hem your blessings with thankfulness so they don’t unravel”

Good advice, though I can’t sew.  I can’t even loosely baste a seam.  I failed sewing in the seventh grade, for the teacher didn’t consider it fashion forward to have the armhole of my jumper positioned at the hip.  I didn’t do much better at home economics (yes, they had courses such as this – let’s save the shock and awe for another day, shall we?), though I excelled at pudding.  And passing notes.

Which retrospectively suggests that I had my priorities straight even then – as long as you had good people around you, everything else would follow.  Take care of the ones you love.  Pass the notes, hold the secret, righteously defend (“Mimi would be an exemplary student if she were a bit less social”).  Ah well.  It is with this limited skill set that I have built my house.  Ultimately I bought the drapes and learned how to cook.  And though no one would mistake me for Martha Stewart, I’d say this is a pretty awesome home.  People curl up when they get here, they nestle in.  Shoes come off, defenses are shed, talk is uncensored, silence is religious.  There is nothing more transcendent than this.

Our Thanksgiving plans got derailed by my little surgery a few days back and we’re staying here instead of heading up to New Jersey.  The kids will be with their in-laws.  And as much as I will miss the noise, the laughter, the hugs – I am fortunate enough to have all this love around me every day.  The air is filled with “I love you’s”,  each room holds secrets told in whispers that repeat as favorite lyrics co-written once upon a time, and there is comfort in the sighs of the couch as I settle in to listen to the stories of home.  When I feel the sun on my back and I find magic in this very moment, I know that my bounty is as massive as my gratitude.

So as many of you head points north, east, west or south – travel safe.  Eat a lot, laugh more, grab a nap.  Take a walk, give out hugs.  Share your love.   Enfold these moments in your heart, for they will become the most gorgeous aspects of your home.  They become the most treasured parts of you.

anxiety, discretion, friendship, humor, inspiration, life lessons, love, mindfulness, music

When There Are No Answers

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“There are years that ask questions and years that answer.” — Zora Neale Hurston

It really is a little frustrating to consider how long it’s taking to get back into my groove.  I’m still crazy tired,  remain in stitches (though I’m not laughing), swollen, sore and without the energy to even consider where my get-up-and-go has relocated.  I know it hasn’t even been a week.  I’m petulant.  I don’t care.  This place I’m sitting in feels like really thick  pea soup and I don’t even like pea soup.  At about this point in my kvetching  I begin to talk to myself (needless to say the tone is harsh and very imperious – you don’t argue with a voice like that).  In effect she says, “Will you just knock it the hell off?  So what?  You’re uncomfortable?  Get in line and in the interim, puleeze shut up.”  And I do.

In the span of time that I have assumed the position of a lump, so much has been happening around me that perhaps my absence of movement is by universal design.  Someone’s heart is aching with the uncertainty that comes with self-doubt and fear of loss;  another prepares for a familial re-arrangement that will demand her energy and facility with the emotional bob-and-weave.  One friend works to rebuild her family’s factory post-Sandy, ending each day more exhausted and spent than the day before,  knowing full well that tomorrow the day begins again.  And another story is beginning as an amazing soul works to establish herself in a new position which combines her tremendous talent with her equally impressive sense of aesthetic.  I see a person I care about being forced to consider new employment for reasons which make an ethical retired HR exec break out in hives.  No one is curled up on the couch right now, covered up in the deliciously soft and worn blanket with the embroidered words “just be”.

My friends are caught in various stages of the years that pose the queries.  Some perhaps are closer to answers than others.  And if there is one thing that we all share it is the need to embrace the times when we just don’t know, when the answers are elusive (perhaps because we’re asking the wrong questions),  and the only option available is to keep asking.  Keep being uncomfortable.  Wonder, doubt, assert, withdraw, huddle, hide – and ask.  Now is not the time to stop asking, for closure without answers that feel good in your skin,  is no closure at all.  Learning to love the questions is a little like learning to love being out of balance.  Out of balance means that you can grab for something to keep you from falling without having to hold onto it forever.  Out of balance means that you see the world with the perception needed to focus on one thing – and perhaps seeing it with the most exquisite clarity.  Out of balance means that you are exercising the emotional muscles that have to be toned to keep you upright, albeit shakily.  Love the  questions as much as you seek the answers.  They must be posed – this is their time.

I too am asking questions all the time — from the mundane (why can’t they just find out what is taking up real estate in my jaw) to the more complicated (what is my next dance step?  what music feels right?  what am I waiting for?).  This is the time and I am not shying away from the exercise.  Yes, it makes my heart beat faster, tears fall with a little less censorship and sometimes I’m sure that I am jumping out of my skin.  And then I focus on an enormous blue jay holding a twig of crepe myrtle in its mouth, knowing with certainty he’s off to build a future.  Aren’t we all?

[youtube.com/watch?v=EcH6rHAH43w]
anxiety, discretion, friendship, humor, inspiration, life lessons, love, mindfulness

That Space In Between

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Home from the hospital – sore, swollen, fat jaw, bruised eye.  You should see the other guy.  Seriously, he looks great because I was asleep during my limited introduction to the doctor’s graceful hands and exacting instruments.   To add insult to injury, I think I even shook his hand before the procedure began.  Of course, I befriended the nurses, anesthesiologist, anesthesiologist’s assistant, nurse’s aide, phlebotomist and the volunteer who checked me in.  My interest is genuine and it also hedges my bets.  To like me is to help me if I need it and I really try to be a likable kind of patient.  Because mostly all I seek is a smile, a little reassurance and a cup of coffee.

I woke up with my heart pounding in my ears – “You’re awake!  You’re alive”  I silently repeated my name and address,  the names of family members, all the dogs we’ve had in proper order.  Wiggled my toes, fingers, nose – all present and accounted for.  Kelly the red-haired nurse who got engaged two weeks ago and is trying to plan a Christmas wedding because she’s also two seconds pregnant, brought me some ginger ale.  Ah, the art of sucking soda through a straw with a fat jaw is a challenge.  Half of the soda stains my hospital gown, the rest manages to make it down my throat.  “Where’s your pain level Mimi?”  About six, I gesture with my fingers.  “Do you want me to give you something for the pain”  Nope – just want to go home and put my head on my pillow.  Someone give Andy permission to get me home.

The reality is that with a circle of angels and a firm belief that there is a God, I got home pretty damn quickly.  And now that I’ve got nowhere I have to be, I will settle in and calm down, spend a bit more time soothing the voices in my head that tend to repeat stressful moments over and over – and over.  The whole thing took far longer than originally planned, for they removed two nodes instead of one.  But it’s all good – between the slices sent to microbiology and the samples to pathology perhaps we’ll know exactly what these interlopers are made of and how we can kick them out of their residences. Hey, maybe there’s a poem about neoplasm in here!   I hesitate to write too much because I still have a lot of meds in my system.  True story – after one of my spinal fusions, I received a call from work with news about a fantastic year-end merit bonus I had received.  Good manners being important to me, I immediately sent off an email to the Chair and the Vice Chair thanking them profusely for such largesse.  A few days later when I was corpus mentos, I read the sent email and it looked in part  like this –  “Thank you so much – I amrealyslpeesed…”  Was I horrified?  Yup – and when I called them they each laughingly assured me they were archiving the messages as a sample of when my writing ability eluded me.  Nice guys.  But I learned the valuable lesson that it is better sometimes to defer your communications until you are able.  In fact, there should be a warning label on medication which says “don’t drive or operate heavy machinery and if you feel inclined to write something, move away from the keyboard and whatever you do, don’t hit ‘send'”.

So before I make a WordPress fool of myself (wouldn’t be the first time, though it may be the first time it was unintended), I’m going to sign off.  Thank you for your prayers, your smiles, your sunshine, your teasing.  Thank you for your good wishes, better friendships and outstanding support.  Thank you for grinning if you find this sounds a little un-Mimi like and still read it all the way through.  And when I can lift a glass of something less benign than ginger ale, I will raise a glass to you.

 

anxiety, discretion, friendship, inspiration, life lessons, love, mindfulness, motivation, music

So Much Love

mimijk

My in-laws celebrated their 63rd wedding anniversary yesterday.  What do you say about two people who have successfully navigated the tricky waters of marriage and have spent  far more time together in their union than as single people alone?  My mom used to say you never really understood another couple’s relationship unless you slept under their bed.  I have no intention of crawling under anybody’s bed –  least of all my in-laws.  So, I can tell you what I see.  I see two people with a profound abiding love, who memorized the steps to their dance and have never tired of the music.  I see a man who will go to the ends of the earth for the girl he fell for only yesterday, who protects her with a stoic dignity that requires no bluster or bellow.  You don’t cross Pop when it comes to his wife.  And why would you – seeing and celebrating their love teaches more than most life lessons – and without the pain it usually takes to learn something once and for all.  I’m not going to pretend to understand the chapters of their story, the private moments that define their relationship, the challenges they have faced.  I can marvel and applaud their love, their devotion and their unity.

Next Wednesday I go into the hospital so the surgeon can remove one of these little gremlins that has taken up residence in my jaw.  Though we know it’s benign, we still don’t know what they are, or frankly why the hell they’re there.  All will be well.  I know this – it’s not a Pollyanna thing.  I’m not saying that I have no anxiety – that’s just disingenuous.  But as long as we can keep this to one procedure, I’m good.   I’m good because of my small constellation of friends who have been circling me like the angels that they are.  My friends who don’t ask me to let them know what they can do, they just somehow know what to do.  My daughter-in-law who just checks in with a  concern that leaves me weepy (there’s nothing that can make me weepier than my children).  I’m good because of Andy, though sometimes his sensitivity chip is disengaged.  Because even when he misses the cue, or waits for guidance I can’t provide because I’m groping around in the dark, he really loves me very hard.  And in that way, he’s like his dad.  And in that way, I’m a very lucky woman.

In these chilling days with winds that blow in personal moments of uncertainty, we gravitate to those elements that warm us, anchor us to the ground so that we don’t fly away on the breeze.  I look at my in-laws and know that together they are in the most loving of hands.  I look at my husband and I know I am home.

[youtube.com/watch?v=c4D40r-E7yk]
anxiety, discretion, friendship, humor, inspiration, life lessons, love, mindfulness

A Shocking Admission

mimijk

I suppose it’s time that I tell you a long-held secret about me.  It will certainly surprise you;  perhaps you will feel that I have duped you for these past seven months.  I’m truly sorry, but it was something I needed to do.  Now that I am coming forward with this admission, I can only hope you’ll understand.

I am a super hero.

If I could lower my head in shame for having withheld this from you for so long, I would – but then I couldn’t see the screen and would make too many typing errors.  By day, I am a completely unassuming woman, hardly distinguishable from any other woman of a certain age.  In this persona my height serves me well,  for often I can go practically unseen (unless of course someone trips over me).  The Sirs rest comfortably – the house is filled with that mellow glow associated with abundant calm.  I walk gently through life – thankful, secure and full of granola.

As the sun begins its descent in the western sky, my synapses begin to fire with a fervency that is hard to control and my breathing accelerates.  I feel my heart pumping with the  intensity that Olive Oyl used to have when she would see Popeye (yes, I’m dating myself – but work with me).  My thoughts begin to race as if they were competing in a track and field event.  Yes, it is time.  As the moon rises, I become

 I use the nighttime to obsess and worry issues and potential issues to death.  If there are no problems to be slain with my powerful concern, I will create some.  After all, I consider it my duty to keep my little circle of friends and family safe from disconcerting  ‘what ifs’ and ‘could bes’.  I leap from one outcome to the next, determining options and exit strategies, potential routes to happiness and/or obstacles to success.  Have a terrible boss?  I’ll worry that one for you.  Are you feeling flu-ish?  Don’t fret – I’ll jump to pneumonia and back with the expectation that by the time I return you will be feeling much better.  Kids plucking your very last nerve?  Fear not, I can go from worst case diagnoses to kids just being irritating,  before you can say “Mimi, put the DSM-IV down”.  As you can imagine, these midnight meanderings are exhausting.  I am probably the only person who is happy that Daylight Savings Time is over, because the sun rises earlier – shortening my super hero work schedule.   Now you know why I post so early in the morning – it’s my way of capping off another fretful night of slaying imaginary scenarios and plotting the capture of one too many unpleasant outcomes.

As the sun comes up I return to my leggings and sweatshirt, take the Sirs out to commiserate with a tree or two and look up at the sky.  And I become the person you have come to know.  The person who literally thanks God everyday for the gift of the morning.  The person who can’t yet meditate but can take up a small, easy space in this world and delight in doing so.  The one who believes that miracles happen all the time if you keep your eyes open, so why the heck am I worrying anyway?  At the end of the day, we are all contradictions in terms – super hero and every-man/woman;  Broadway star and bathroom lounge lizard; successful professional and frightened sham;  Big Kahuna and one who wipes out before even reaching the wave.

“To be alive, to be able to see, to walk, to have houses, music, paintings – it’s all a miracle.  I have adopted the technique of living life from miracle to miracle.” — Arthur Rubenstein

 

friendship, humor, inspiration, life lessons, mindfulness, motivation

It’s A Muse-thing

mimijk

Sunday at Camp Karma is lazy – and I have every intention of staying true to form this morning.  I look forward to the Sunday Times with my second cup of coffee,  weekend crossword puzzles in The Washington Post and The New York Times.  Comfort food and cozy naps.  Glimpses of the Animal Planet (arguably one of my favorite channels) when the remote control is left unattended.   Well, let’s rewind the tape – at least for a little while. I will return to my sloth-like Sunday shortly (by the way, if you have never seen a baby sloth…truly adorable, and they have the most endearing smiles..damn, I did it again…another ‘look a chicken’ moment).

One of the most common puzzle clues references a muse – and the answer is almost always  ‘Erato’.  A muse – a source of inspiration, most typically the font of ideas that fuels creative efforts.  Erato was one of nine sisters – the offspring of Mnemosyne and Zeus.  My hunch is that they were probably known around the neighborhood as the girls that every mother wanted to keep her kids away from – because after a certain point, kids don’t need a lot of inspiration to get into creative mischief.  And besides, nine daughters had to be enough entertainment for one family – especially if they spent their time inspiring each other and fighting for time in the bathroom.  Not a lot of testosterone coursing through that house (although Zeus certainly held his own in that area, no pun intended).

(Here’s a picture of the nine sisters – can you imagine, they wouldn’t even pose for a family snapshot?  Someone had to ‘carve’ them from memory because they weren’t speaking to each other)

Ah, the sibling rivalry!  It has to be pretty hard on the ego to see your sister routinely associated with creativity, passion and inspiration.  Clio got a nod every now and then, but can you name the other seven without checking Wikipedia?  How does that play into your self-esteem?  To have a house in a gated community, have famous parents and all the accoutrements of celebrity and still know that  the only reason anyone wants to sit next to you in homeroom is because you’re related to the most popular girl in the zip code?  I don’t know – sounds pretty uninspiring in my book.  Growing up is tough enough – I feel badly for these girls.

I realize too that for me,  inspiration is found in the words of many who happen to read this post.  The stories of our days, the hours of endless question and the occasional ‘aha’ moments that propel us forward.  The open heart and the unthinking words – all inspiration.  Phenomenal sunrises and relentless clouds;  disequilibrium and exquisite balance; doors that slam shut with one finger still stuck in the jamb and the smell of fresh air as an unseen window yawns opens.  The music of each day and the construction of dreams at night.  Perhaps the murmurings of the heart.  Perhaps Erato felt like her hands were full every once in awhile (and don’t think she didn’t use that argument as a reason to get a better make of car upon graduating  Mt. Olympus High School), but I for one have had better luck just noticing life.

“You don’t have a soul.

You are a soul.

You have a body.” —- C.S. Lewis

discretion, friendship, inspiration, life lessons, love, mindfulness

Saying ‘Yes’ – Though I Really Don’t Know

mimijk

Midlife – Julie Cadwallader-Staub

This is as far as the light

of my understanding

has carried me:

an October morning

a canoe built by hand

a quiet current

above me the trees are

green and golden

against a cloudy sky

below me the river responds

with perfect reflection

a hundred feet deep

a hundred feet high.

To take a cup of this river

to drink its purple and gray

its golden and green

to see

a bend in the river up ahead

and still

say

yes.

If there is anything that the last few days has taught us, it’s that we can be awed, humbled, frightened, moved and bested.  We can be rendered powerless and exhibit mind-boggling levels of strength and determination.

I can’t help but notice how simply exhausted the trees look.  Everything but their trunks looks bowed and submissive.  I feel like they need the winter.  They need the rest.  As impressively as they stand, as they cradle the birds (who were having an absolute flight fest yesterday as they celebrated the end of the storm and were just heading in droves over to each other’s houses to catch up on the neighborhood news), as they release their leaves, I can feel them sigh.  It’s enough.  Just a little break, a time to be fallow.  It sounds silly – I look at them and my eyes fill.

I had the misfortune of hearing an Ann Coulter sound byte where she was opining about the presidential campaign in the States, and defended her use of the word  ‘retard’ as a descriptive.  My shoulders sagged, my head bent and my breath caught.  Really?  Please don’t lecture me on the finer points of free speech.  I’m tired.  I’ve wearied of the season – the glaring examples of ugliness, the mean-spirited back-and-forth that in my view diminishes any substance to drivel.   Name calling – on Facebook, Twitter – are we done yet?  I am interested and intrigued by opinions other than my own, but honestly I don’t do offensive posturing well.  You lost me with your first epithet, your first invective.  I’m done.  I need the arrival of the fallow season.

I try (emphasis on ‘try’)  to ask myself a few questions before I open my mouth (unless I’m singing of course) – “Is it honest?”  “Is it true?”  “Is it kind?”  Would that these would be the rules that govern our more incendiary social conversations.   Of course I realize that there are many who prefer the in-your-face discussion, voices raised, opinions morphing into facts – bet they don’t like me very much.  I will not engage.

And so the day moves inexorably into its morning, and the sun is still hesitating to make an appearance.  As the clouds cast shadows on the remaining golds and reds and yellows above me, I honor the insistent posture of the trees.  I stand with the people who have lost so much and still rise with some belief and inner conviction that there will be a new season.  And though I am not sure why, I too say ‘yes’.

anxiety, discretion, friendship, inspiration, life lessons, love, mindfulness

Coming Home

mimijk

We pulled into the driveway last night, and I exhaled.  Home.  We could hear the Sirs barking – they knew we were here.  Everything was just as we had left it on Wednesday, nothing had changed.  That craving for the familiar finally satisfied.  My anchor, my protection, my comfort.  Home.  I need to be here right now.

I submit that in the medical lexicon, there is no more magnificent adjective than ‘benign’.  The pathologist called me while we were in Hilton Head and said “benign”.  I remember saying “Thank God and thank you so, so much for calling me.”  She liked my hair – I gave her the name of the woman who turns my gray hair into some credible fictional derivative.  I love horses – she told me about an organization where I can volunteer by helping children with disabilities experience the confidence-boosting experience of riding.  Then she added that word I abhor – “but”.   “But, I have never seen anything like this before…sending the sample to a colleague at Georgetown…probably should be removed.”  Do I tell her that I feel a third little coffee klatch of ‘rogue’ cells getting together for a little chat?  Does it matter?  “Benign”, I tell myself and take long deep breaths.  I really should learn how to meditate.  Andy tried to teach me once, suggesting I select a word that I could repeat in my head to help eliminate extraneous thoughts from interrupting my concentration.  I came up with ‘Pepsi Cola’ because I liked the rhythm of the two words together and started to laugh so hard that I ended up rolling on the bed, clutching my stomach and snorting.  Pepsi Cola – really?

At the end of the day, all will be well – I know this – I have no doubts.  It is just that time between now and getting-to-fine that makes me want to cocoon, and feel the safety of my familiar.  Knowing how perfect the coffee will be each morning, which way to turn the kitchen faucet so it doesn’t drip, sharing my kitchen chair with Teddy and rubbing Archie’s tummy with my foot.  Sunday crossword puzzles and fuzzy socks.  Football.  A storm coming in (actually a storm coming in wherever you may live on the East Coast of the U.S.) and power outages expected.  I am ever hopeful that our lights will stay on this time, even though our history this year suggests otherwise.

When I walked the Sirs early this morning, the silence was too loud not to notice.  A few crickets insisted on continuing their conversation; other than that –  not even a whisper on the wind.  A leaf fell on the asphalt.  I heard everything acutely, having so few sounds to identify.  An hour and a half later and the wind is beginning to wake, each bend of the trees an acknowledgement perhaps of what is about to come.  ‘Get ready’, the air muses,  ‘for change is always on the wing’.  And despite the uncertainty, I challenge the breeze – for it is benign.

friendship, humor, inspiration, life lessons, love, mindfulness

So Much To Appreciate

mimijk

Last week, Ivon Prefontaine (ivonprefontaine.wordpress.com) graciously included me among of list of bloggers he appreciates.  His blog – “Teacher As Transformer” –  delights, teases the imagination, encourages wonder and provides glimpses of beauty that can leave one sighing.  I look forward to his posts, never knowing what I will read yet confident that I will feel inspired in some way.  So first and foremost – thank you Ivon, for expanding my view, sharing your perspective and generously including me in this wonderful circle of impressive talent.

Interestingly, what Ivon appreciates about this blog helps me to meet the requirement of completing the sentence “A blog is…”.  Although I’m hopeful that he enjoys the content most of the time,  my posts weren’t the driver for his inclusion of me ‘in the circle’.  Ivon appreciates the dialogues that occur after a post is published, that I respond to each comment.  Of course I write back – that’s the greatest  joy of blogging to me.

In my head, a blog is a conversation.  The post in and of itself represents the context for further discussion – and it is the feedback that propels the movement from one topic to another.  I have no illusions about my talent as a writer – I wouldn’t buy a book of mine even if I had the focus to write one.  I write as I speak, tangents included.  What I am though,  is really curious about how we think about the world, how we react to the big and little experiences that occur throughout our days.  I will share an observation – from the silly to the sublime – to ‘hear’ what you think.  It’s not a selfless expression, for I learn about myself while on the karma truck too.  Those lessons?  That should wait for another day.

The pleasure of being in a circle is found in the expectation that one can expand it further.  As such, I am asked to invite two more bloggers along. This is tricky, for there are many I follow and admire and appreciate deeply.  So I offer two, with the caveat that I could write an entire post just listing the incredible people who have found me and who I have found.

I appreciate Cathy Ulrich who writes largeself.com for the wide breadth of topics and genres she so beautifully introduces on her blog.  I love her sensitivity to that which is around her, even if it is the subtle bend of a petal on a flower.

And I appreciate Keith who writes keiththegreen@wordpress.com.  Keith also addresses diverse topics and observations on his blog.  I appreciate his humor, his patience and consistent return to lessons about walking through life with the gentlest of steps.  And he doesn’t mind answering some of my really ignorant questions!

Again, there are so many – and I would venture to guess that you know who you are because I have written about you often.  You are all in my circle, because without you there is no conversation, there is no back-and-forth that define the best of relationships.  For me that’s the best delivery from the karma truck.