When people appreciate the raucous hilarity of subtlety, I just die.
Right? You can smile at someone, even a total stranger, and just know that you both are inwardly laughing at the same thing and you float like a balloon because you've harnessed the power of a secret joke.
No? Just me?
I shared a secret joke with a customer today.
We'll call him Bernardo. He could pass for a Bernardo. Or a Luigi. I hope you have a mental picture of what that means.
He was in sometime last week at the same time the writer who clears his throat [incessantly] was in.
The writer left first, and this customer came up after he walked out the door.
"Have you ever noticed how often that guy clears his throat?" Bernardo asked me, almost incredulous.
I laughed. "All the time."
"Yes! Like twice a minute! Doesn't it drive you crazy?"
I shrugged.
"He's so nice. I don't mind. It is funny though."
He shook his head at me. "I mean...how many times did he clear his throat. It seriously must have been at least twice a minute. Maybe once every ten seconds."
"Let's count next time," I said.
He laughed.
"Ok, next time we'll count," he said as he was leaving.
That next time was today.
"Medium Americano with room," Bernardo said when he came in, not noticing the writer sitting with his wife at a table.
I made it and handed to him. He walked over to the counter and began pouring cream in.
The writer cleared his throat.
Bernardo's head snapped up, then craned around looking for me. When our eyes met he had to duck his head because he had already started laughing.
He waited four more throat clearings, stirring his coffee and laughing, before walking out the door.
"Have a nice day," he said with a sly smile and holding his hand up. It was both a wave and the number 5 for how many times the writer had cleared his throat.
Well played, Bernardo.
Twice in the past week I've been called an old soul.
I'm aged by a love for old music and old things. I'm aged by heartbreak and loss. Aged by literature and fierce joys. I've aged a hundred years more by the time the leaves in the tree have stopped rustling in the dark this evening.
With all of the strings on my fingers there are still things I forget.
8.28.2012
8.27.2012
two hundred. eighteen.
I write so much less here.
It's not that I have less to say
In conversations my words come tumbling out when it's my turn to talk & I've written novels for letters.
Just putting my words in different places these days.
Everything always makes so much more sense when the weather turns cooler.
My head is clearer and the music is better and the sky is overwhelming and my hands are at my heart because of it.
It is your hands I wish I could grab and say "Don't you know this all?"
It doesn't work that way, though.
My book list is ever advancing. One day, though, I must stop reading about things and do them better. I've always thought that there would be a cap on how much you could read about something before you could really just jump up and do it, but I don't think there is. I believe that I could read about something and think on it for ages, for forever, and never really do a thing about it.
I was talking with a friend about this recently - it had something to do with generosity at the time. How to give things away? & everyone has an opinion. I could talk about it and ask for wisdom on it and read about good ways to give away money, time, possessions for the rest of my days and never really do anything about it.
And yet the reading and the talking and the thinking about the thing is almost enough to make me forget that I've not done anything at all. But not quite, because every once in a while I'll remember, and despair at what my indecision has made me.
So. Working on being bold enough to do.
Hope you are feeling the fullness and feeling quite rooted these days.
My heart & soul grow fuller and more grounded
[but my feet are restless
there are still some things to find.]
It's not that I have less to say
In conversations my words come tumbling out when it's my turn to talk & I've written novels for letters.
Just putting my words in different places these days.
Everything always makes so much more sense when the weather turns cooler.
My head is clearer and the music is better and the sky is overwhelming and my hands are at my heart because of it.
It is your hands I wish I could grab and say "Don't you know this all?"
It doesn't work that way, though.
My book list is ever advancing. One day, though, I must stop reading about things and do them better. I've always thought that there would be a cap on how much you could read about something before you could really just jump up and do it, but I don't think there is. I believe that I could read about something and think on it for ages, for forever, and never really do a thing about it.
I was talking with a friend about this recently - it had something to do with generosity at the time. How to give things away? & everyone has an opinion. I could talk about it and ask for wisdom on it and read about good ways to give away money, time, possessions for the rest of my days and never really do anything about it.
And yet the reading and the talking and the thinking about the thing is almost enough to make me forget that I've not done anything at all. But not quite, because every once in a while I'll remember, and despair at what my indecision has made me.
So. Working on being bold enough to do.
Hope you are feeling the fullness and feeling quite rooted these days.
My heart & soul grow fuller and more grounded
[but my feet are restless
there are still some things to find.]
7.07.2012
two hundred. seventeen.
I was up earlier than usual this morning (for a Saturday morning, that is).
Inspiration strikes when Kim Janssen is singing and I typed the morning away, sipping on iced coffee and kept company by the dogs.
This lack of rain means no mowing, and the spiders have declared the uncut, dry grass their own - webs are covering much of our lawn. They look like tiny layers of fog lying over tiny kingdoms hidden in the grass.
A candle labeled "Joy" burns at my desk and it's that which I feel this morning.
I've pulled aside the curtain and light floods this room.
We're almost ready.
We always use the word "nearly" to describe where we are in terms of getting there.
Nearly there.
It's the "nearly" that fills our steps with longing and this forward motion, the promise and the hope that sits neatly in that word.
for the beauty of the earth
I'm learning as I'm writing, which is the best way to write.
It's nearly time for that chat.
We'll keep pushing forward -
let's find our feet sandy from the beach.
this our hymn of grateful praise
If you were here with me we'd sit in this room and be able to say nearly everything on our minds.
One day we'll get there.
Inspiration strikes when Kim Janssen is singing and I typed the morning away, sipping on iced coffee and kept company by the dogs.
This lack of rain means no mowing, and the spiders have declared the uncut, dry grass their own - webs are covering much of our lawn. They look like tiny layers of fog lying over tiny kingdoms hidden in the grass.
A candle labeled "Joy" burns at my desk and it's that which I feel this morning.
I've pulled aside the curtain and light floods this room.
We're almost ready.
We always use the word "nearly" to describe where we are in terms of getting there.
Nearly there.
It's the "nearly" that fills our steps with longing and this forward motion, the promise and the hope that sits neatly in that word.
for the beauty of the earth
I'm learning as I'm writing, which is the best way to write.
It's nearly time for that chat.
We'll keep pushing forward -
let's find our feet sandy from the beach.
this our hymn of grateful praise
If you were here with me we'd sit in this room and be able to say nearly everything on our minds.
One day we'll get there.
6.24.2012
two hundred. sixteen.
This morning I wanted to finish both the books I've been reading and I've done just that.
One was Toxic Charity [giving to those in need what they could be gaining from their own initiative may well be the kindest way to destroy people.]
and the other was a novel called To The Wedding ["It is strange how the place, where music comes from, changes. Sometimes it enters the body. It no longer comes in through the ears. It takes up residence there. When two bodies dance, this can happen swiftly. What is being played is then heard by the dancers as if it were a recording, a millionth of a second late, of the music already beating in their bodies. With music, hope too enters the body."].
Some good reading.
This week has been so busy. Decorating fever - I am redoing a room in our house and it's become quite involved. On the plus side, the window seat has officially become a window seat, and I've been delighted to find that I am a perfect fit encased within the wooden frame.
It is my new favorite place [nearly in the whole world, but not quite], and I'm so ready to watch the first snowfall from this massive, glorious window.
More perfect fits: a new white dress, a picture in a frame, the smile on her face and the way the sunset held us.
I told Tai yesterday that I keep thinking of being swallowed, and I do. There is a restrained frenzy in certain moments and all I can wildly hope for is to be swallowed whole - by waves, or the sky or the earth.
It's strange.
But it was the first image and the only recurring one that's come to my mind.
[to clarify:: i don't mean swallowed necessarily with a sense of grimness, as if i visualized my death. there's a safety to it - a stillness. like jonah.]
There is change.
Here at the beginning of the summer when we settle into the sweltering heat, ready only for the same for the next several months,
there is change.
There are evenings where all we can hope for is a place to dip our toes in the water.
So Tai and I drove to the nearest body of water, sat on the pier and did just that.
One was Toxic Charity [giving to those in need what they could be gaining from their own initiative may well be the kindest way to destroy people.]
and the other was a novel called To The Wedding ["It is strange how the place, where music comes from, changes. Sometimes it enters the body. It no longer comes in through the ears. It takes up residence there. When two bodies dance, this can happen swiftly. What is being played is then heard by the dancers as if it were a recording, a millionth of a second late, of the music already beating in their bodies. With music, hope too enters the body."].
Some good reading.
This week has been so busy. Decorating fever - I am redoing a room in our house and it's become quite involved. On the plus side, the window seat has officially become a window seat, and I've been delighted to find that I am a perfect fit encased within the wooden frame.
It is my new favorite place [nearly in the whole world, but not quite], and I'm so ready to watch the first snowfall from this massive, glorious window.
More perfect fits: a new white dress, a picture in a frame, the smile on her face and the way the sunset held us.
I told Tai yesterday that I keep thinking of being swallowed, and I do. There is a restrained frenzy in certain moments and all I can wildly hope for is to be swallowed whole - by waves, or the sky or the earth.
It's strange.
But it was the first image and the only recurring one that's come to my mind.
[to clarify:: i don't mean swallowed necessarily with a sense of grimness, as if i visualized my death. there's a safety to it - a stillness. like jonah.]
There is change.
Here at the beginning of the summer when we settle into the sweltering heat, ready only for the same for the next several months,
there is change.
There are evenings where all we can hope for is a place to dip our toes in the water.
So Tai and I drove to the nearest body of water, sat on the pier and did just that.
6.12.2012
two hundred. fifteen.
I'm still disoriented by the light in the early mornings. My brain is so used to the quiet, darkness of winter dawn. I know just when I've gotten used to this brightness it'll switch back, and I'll be groggy and confused. For now, I wake in a panic. It must be so late! But no, that early morning glow is the sweetest assurance that I have 7 minutes left to lay in a peaceful doze.
The downside to this is that the sun is right in my eyeballs as soon as I open up shop. I force customers to stand in such a way to block the blinding light. They are usually obliging enough, but there are those early morning folks who haven't had their coffee and truly can't comprehend anything quite yet. So I blink furiously and hope that I give them the right change back.
[Such a great thing to remember where I stashed a bar of dark chocolate.]
I have been reading more & writing less.
Working more too - at the coffee shop and here at home. We're moving a few rooms around and packing up millions of books to put them in different places. I could Hulk out at any moment with the strength I've gotten from toting around boxes of books. If you're looking to pick a fight, look elsewhere.
Perfect weather today. I read a bit under a tree. Looked back at my journal and found this from 4.24, just after Arkansas:
I crave the light
so I turn myself out of doors.
I need some space to stretch my arms.
"You look so refreshed," said Joe today.
"I am."
Something about camping and climbing leaves me feeling full
& longing
which is always the best place to be.
Other old journal bits - some of the words aren't mine, just things I wanted to remember:
//Ebbing, I've been swept
down the wrong way.
The water is descending so I'll have to
beat myself bloody
to get back to you.
I should.
But I'm weak & lazy.
And I find myself instead wanting to crawl back
to when we didn't have to be holy.
Just happy.
We just had to make each other laugh.
//And do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul.
Do not be afraid.
"Too long we have been waiting for one another to begin!... Should such men as we fear? Before the whole world, aye, before the sleepy, lukewarm, faithless, namby-pamby Christian world, we will dare to trust our God, we will venture our all for Him, we will live and we will die for Him, and we will do it with His joy unspeakable singing aloud in our hearts." -C.T. Studd.
Wondering lately about why all I do with some truths is defend them staunchly when attacked, but then the rest of the time act like they aren't even there.
Sometimes I read the back of books, and while sitting there, begin to read because it is a book for stillness.
Other times I read the back and the first few lines and tuck it away. It's a train and traveling book. It must read moving and in new places.
[We taught each other to see beauty long ago. Now we find ourselves overwhelmed by it, missing it. Always, I see the hunger in your eyes.]
& what if we stopped asking what would fulfill us?
The downside to this is that the sun is right in my eyeballs as soon as I open up shop. I force customers to stand in such a way to block the blinding light. They are usually obliging enough, but there are those early morning folks who haven't had their coffee and truly can't comprehend anything quite yet. So I blink furiously and hope that I give them the right change back.
[Such a great thing to remember where I stashed a bar of dark chocolate.]
I have been reading more & writing less.
Working more too - at the coffee shop and here at home. We're moving a few rooms around and packing up millions of books to put them in different places. I could Hulk out at any moment with the strength I've gotten from toting around boxes of books. If you're looking to pick a fight, look elsewhere.
Perfect weather today. I read a bit under a tree. Looked back at my journal and found this from 4.24, just after Arkansas:
I crave the light
so I turn myself out of doors.
I need some space to stretch my arms.
"You look so refreshed," said Joe today.
"I am."
Something about camping and climbing leaves me feeling full
& longing
which is always the best place to be.
Other old journal bits - some of the words aren't mine, just things I wanted to remember:
//Ebbing, I've been swept
down the wrong way.
The water is descending so I'll have to
beat myself bloody
to get back to you.
I should.
But I'm weak & lazy.
And I find myself instead wanting to crawl back
to when we didn't have to be holy.
Just happy.
We just had to make each other laugh.
//And do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul.
Do not be afraid.
"Too long we have been waiting for one another to begin!... Should such men as we fear? Before the whole world, aye, before the sleepy, lukewarm, faithless, namby-pamby Christian world, we will dare to trust our God, we will venture our all for Him, we will live and we will die for Him, and we will do it with His joy unspeakable singing aloud in our hearts." -C.T. Studd.
Wondering lately about why all I do with some truths is defend them staunchly when attacked, but then the rest of the time act like they aren't even there.
Sometimes I read the back of books, and while sitting there, begin to read because it is a book for stillness.
Other times I read the back and the first few lines and tuck it away. It's a train and traveling book. It must read moving and in new places.
[We taught each other to see beauty long ago. Now we find ourselves overwhelmed by it, missing it. Always, I see the hunger in your eyes.]
& what if we stopped asking what would fulfill us?
5.02.2012
two hundred. fourteen.
There was no sun this morning as I skipped across the wet sidewalk to my car.
Always five minutes late these days.
Such silence and calm in the mornings - even in my hurried state.
[it's the simplicity & i'm held by it.]
I feel it settled just under my skin. That's the way of things. I've tried to write a bit all day today but I'm mostly staring.
I get frightened to touch things in case I ruin it. It'll crumble quick, I know. Later, when I go back and read it and edit it, it's a bit more fearless. There's some aggressive hacking to be done.
But for now I am shy and hesitant.
I wait until the wind catches my back and brings me to the end.
That way I'm barely treading on it.
Just finished a book called "Real Food."
I love reading about food. Seriously, it's so much of what I've been reading recently. If I'm not reading about it, I like watching documentaries about food, or talking about food. All sorts of food. Don't get me started. The book was good, though. Great insight. There is much to be done and I'm even more excited for tomatoes in the middle of summer. I've been thinking about smelling one all day.
Catching up with friends reminds us of all the things that are changing and all the things that aren't. Bittersweet reminders.
If you'd like to know what I can't stop listening to, my answer would be: "Ancient Crimes" by Kim Janssen, Of Monsters and Men, and The Lumineers.
What would your answer be?
Always five minutes late these days.
Such silence and calm in the mornings - even in my hurried state.
[it's the simplicity & i'm held by it.]
I feel it settled just under my skin. That's the way of things. I've tried to write a bit all day today but I'm mostly staring.
I get frightened to touch things in case I ruin it. It'll crumble quick, I know. Later, when I go back and read it and edit it, it's a bit more fearless. There's some aggressive hacking to be done.
But for now I am shy and hesitant.
I wait until the wind catches my back and brings me to the end.
That way I'm barely treading on it.
Just finished a book called "Real Food."
I love reading about food. Seriously, it's so much of what I've been reading recently. If I'm not reading about it, I like watching documentaries about food, or talking about food. All sorts of food. Don't get me started. The book was good, though. Great insight. There is much to be done and I'm even more excited for tomatoes in the middle of summer. I've been thinking about smelling one all day.
Catching up with friends reminds us of all the things that are changing and all the things that aren't. Bittersweet reminders.
If you'd like to know what I can't stop listening to, my answer would be: "Ancient Crimes" by Kim Janssen, Of Monsters and Men, and The Lumineers.
What would your answer be?
4.17.2012
two hundred. thirteen.
& I heard
"You aren't called to fully understand God. You are called to worship Him."
which made me think
perhaps I've been worrying about and mulling over the wrong bits.
then I wonder where the line is between being steadfast in your faith and being stubborn in your beliefs.
and who is too fearful to be one or the other
but sits in neutrality?
What is in front of you?
Do that.
& freedom must begin in obedience.
[at which I balk, I know.]
Here are some words that aren't mine
since mine aren't very concise:
"Reason tells me about the truth, but I really cannot grasp what it means; I can’t understand it without art. Edwards said that unless you use imagination, unless you take a truth and you image it – which of course is art – you don’t know what it means. If you cannot visualize it, you don’t have a sense of it on your heart."
[Tim Keller]
What do you think?
Grateful for the crescent moon hanging in the sky this morning as I drove off to work and the loud greetings of the birds who were far more awake than I.
Yesterday, we were inspired by the various food/farm documentaries we've been watching and books we've been reading, so we all went out and hunted down some farms in the area. Some were out of our price range but some we could afford. In a year or two, perhaps, we'll get one.
For now, it turns out the study downstairs will be *mostly* mine and I'll hole up in there to write & sew. Or we'll all gather there. Things are going so well I think it's about time to ask for a kitten again. Yes?
"You aren't called to fully understand God. You are called to worship Him."
which made me think
perhaps I've been worrying about and mulling over the wrong bits.
then I wonder where the line is between being steadfast in your faith and being stubborn in your beliefs.
and who is too fearful to be one or the other
but sits in neutrality?
What is in front of you?
Do that.
& freedom must begin in obedience.
[at which I balk, I know.]
Here are some words that aren't mine
since mine aren't very concise:
"Reason tells me about the truth, but I really cannot grasp what it means; I can’t understand it without art. Edwards said that unless you use imagination, unless you take a truth and you image it – which of course is art – you don’t know what it means. If you cannot visualize it, you don’t have a sense of it on your heart."
[Tim Keller]
What do you think?
Grateful for the crescent moon hanging in the sky this morning as I drove off to work and the loud greetings of the birds who were far more awake than I.
Yesterday, we were inspired by the various food/farm documentaries we've been watching and books we've been reading, so we all went out and hunted down some farms in the area. Some were out of our price range but some we could afford. In a year or two, perhaps, we'll get one.
For now, it turns out the study downstairs will be *mostly* mine and I'll hole up in there to write & sew. Or we'll all gather there. Things are going so well I think it's about time to ask for a kitten again. Yes?
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