Archive | Spirit Matters

The Church of Grown Ups

The older I get, the less interested I am in spending time with people who haven’t weathered serious failure or loss or opposition yet. Choosing to navigate hardship with certitude, with grace, with open eyes and open heart is not only what introduces us to true adulthood but to our best selves. And selfish as I am, people’s best selves are the ones I want to know. As Benjamin Franklin, of whom I’m ridiculously fond, said: “You will know failure. Continue to reach out.” As an unnamed beau, of whom I was once ridiculously fond, said: “It’s all part of growing up.”

When ’70s Babies Trust the Force

I was speeding north to Hawthorne today from Brooklyn when my GPS abruptly punked out. Totally flatlined. Since I’m still not iPhoney (they’ll have to pry my Blackberry out of dead fingers), I was plum out of luck; I’d only driven to my destination once before, and had given my car atlas to a friend’s kid as an artifact of the primitive 20th century. So how did I find my destination? I used the Force, of course. Seriously, it was as if I were hurtling toward the Death Star in my tiny Rebel X-wing with a recently deceased Obi Wan Kenobi whispering in my ear, and, in a trance, I had finally pushed away my targeting device. Only the spacecraft in this case was Sadie, my increasingly compromised 2001 Hyundai, and the Imperial Death Star littered with murderous storm troopers was the Saw Mill Parkway littered with murderous Sunday drivers. Whatever, man, it worked. I arrived just in time to tackle the complicated French lesbian movie du jour with the delightful Westchester Cinema Club and afterward celebrated in the Mos Eisley Cantina aka Enchantments. Mawing french fries proffered by the brilliant ladywitch Michelle, I kept one eye peeled on the door lest Han Solo cross the threshold. Appear he did not but I think Yoda would have approved of my imperfect journey. It’s like I used to warble as a little girl climbing into her Star Wars sleeping bag: “Say la veeee.” At that, I’m off to braid my hair into two perfectly coiled puffs, Princess Lisa style.

The True Harvest

I consider nothing more luxuriant than waking naturally, unprompted by an alarm, fixing a cup of strong coffee with cream, and then settling back into bed amidst a drift of peonies, pillows, sheets, unread books. A mild wind fluttering through the curtain, a kitten poised at the open window’s sill. And silence. Voluptuous, soft silence. Yes, yes, another effusive post that could be chalked up to much ado about nothing. But I never forego the power in appreciating small pleasures. It allows you to find happiness pretty much everywhere.

"All, everything I understand, I understand only because I love."
― Leo Tolstoy