Tuesday

Day 193




when I remember our third day,
my mind wanders to an open meadow
embroidered with patches of purple and white –
a bed of wildflowers to cushion delicate beginnings –
whispered secrets and brushed fingertips.

and as minutes eased into hours,
the world held its breath for the stillness.
even the moonlight would have been too strident
for the eyes of an infant “us,”
as we pondered the stars and wishes and thoughts of
who we were, who we are, and who we long to be.

it was this picture –
framed by a cushion of darkness
and laced with the shadows
of scrub oak and aspens
that gave life to that most fragile word
full of hesitance and hope-

a weightless sigh hovering lithely above our silhouettes,
small forms dwarfed so precariously by the grandeur of the world-

a word that rang through my head
as you swallowed me up in your possibility.

one word to catch my breath
and my imagination.

maybe.


Thursday

Day 188



Oh hey there internet. 

So. June was fun. Was June fun for you too? Good. You deserve it. Truly.

But, really. Remember this post? The one where I waxed on semi-eloquently about summer and love and stars and stuff? Me too. Gosh that was great. But can I tell you a secret? Yes? Okay, come in close so no one else will hear. Closer....closer...perfect.

Friends, June delivered in a big way. Romance, I mean. Which I'm especially glad of because let me tell you he sure as heck dropped the ball last year. (It's okay, June, I forgive you. We can't all be on all the time.) 

And along with this most recent and tender development - that if personified might take the form of a handsome young man with dimples and a soul-stirring laugh - June also provided the setting for several things on the Summer 2011 List. 

Proof:

Farmer's markets on Saturday mornings
Exploring new places (on foot preferably)
Picking wildflowers
Learning to sew some
Playing more
Sunbathing
Exploring libraries
Making/enjoying homemade ice cream and popsicles
Salads
Stretching
Reading for fun
Taking pictures (more)
Saving up
Going make-up less
Being barefoot

Feeding ducks
Lavender Lemonade
Painting
Watching a sunrise
Watching a sunset
Dancing in the rain
Stargazing
Writing letters
Dresses on weekdays
Climbing trees
etc.

Come back tomorrow for stories? Good ones? Stories of adventure and rapture and ease and wonder? Stories of my life and the ways I love to live it? 

I hope you do. I'll be here waiting.

Monday

Day 156

Getty - August 2010

I didn't write this, but I love it.
 I love how it questions beauty and genius and the modern audience. As a society that puts so much weight on name and legitimacy, what does this say about our standard and definition of "art." Are we really so ignorant as to limit beauty to museums and concert halls? Are we seeking for truth of talent and the spiritual epiphany of artistic expression? Or do we limit our sophistication and education to terms of convenience?
via 

Washington, DC Metro Station on a cold January morning in 2007.

The man with a violin played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. 

During that time approximately two thousand people went through the station, most of them on their way to work. 

After 3 minutes a middle aged man noticed there was a musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds and then hurried to meet his schedule. 

4 minutes later: The violinist received his first dollar: a woman threw the money in the hat and, without stopping, continued to walk. 

6 minutes: A young man leaned against the wall to listen to him, then looked at his watch and started to walk again. 

10 minutes: A 3-year old boy stopped but his mother tugged him along hurriedly. The kid stopped to look at the violinist again, but the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk, turning his head all the time. This action was repeated by several other children.. Every parent, without exception, forced their children to move on quickly. 

45 minutes: The musician played continuously. Only 6 people stopped and listened for a short while. About 20 gave money but continued to walk at their normal pace. The man collected a total of $32. 

1 hour: He finished playing and silence took over. No one noticed. No one applauded, nor was there any recognition. 

No one knew this, but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the greatest musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written, with a violin worth $3.5 million dollars.

Two days before Joshua Bell sold out a theater in Boston where the seats averaged $100. 

This is a true story. Joshua Bell playing incognito in the metro station was organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about perception, taste and people's priorities. 

The questions raised: In a common place environment at an inappropriate hour, do we perceive beauty? Do we stop to appreciate it? Do we recognize talent in an unexpected context? 

One possible conclusion reached from this experiment could be this: If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world, playing some of the finest music ever written, with one of the most beautiful instruments ever made. 

How many other things are we missing?

Saturday

Day 154




Pretend this was for yesterday.
Now sit back, close your eyes, and just drown in this.

Thursday

Day 153


If a June night could talk, it would probably boast that it invented romance. bern williams




 
For the first many years of my tender life the word “Romance” (capital R) and the color red were mutually exclusive. The word sparked an immediate reaction in my mind that had me picturing the shoebox from third grade. Clumsily decorated with crimson shades of construction paper and glitter dumped excessively over squiggles of Elmer’s glue, this box sat proudly in the center of every student’s desk and held with reverence the only true symbol of Romance: Valentines (capital V). 

Romance meant hearts and lace and bows and little candies that could double as Tums in an emergency. Romance was the Hallmark store next door to Trader Joe’s and Frazee Paint.

Now, I am grown and it has been a great many years since my last Valentine and Romance is no longer a commercial experiment in crafts.

No, Romance is a warm summer night in June. Romance is fireflies at dusk and the sweet smell of grass on the air that rustles through oak trees and sagebrush. Romance is wildflowers and bursts of rain in the middle of the afternoon and the rush of breath in that moment right before a first kiss.

June snuck up on me again this year. I hope it stays awhile. If I could I would take June by the hand and we would lay beneath the stars until they burned out, and only then could I welcome sunny days by the water with July.

Friend, I've missed June. I've missed nights spent with the windows open listening as the crickets serenade the world away to dreams. 

I've missed June. But I've missed Romance more.

    Wednesday

    Day 152


     
    Goal for June: 

    POST. EVERYDAY.
    (excepting weekends) 

    Keep me honest, people. Let's make it happen.