February 28, 2012 § 16 Comments
The weeks are continuing to double time it in their march forward. The days downright hurtle. I duck as something goes whizzing uncontrollably over my head, then stand back up muttering, “holy bleep, was that Thursday?!”
I feel the insight of Lewis Carroll’s winsome scene in which Alice, on the cooky side of the looking glass, runs beside the Red Queen as the Queen explains that they’re not going anywhere, but rather everything is moving swiftly by them and, “it takes all the running you can do, to keep in place.” (I’m afraid I’ve been neglecting my work on believing impossible things before breakfast, though.)
As I run to stay in place, I try to remember to notice my breath, feel my hands and feet, and to keep around a bottomless pot of soup and a sturdy salad so I can dip into them for several days.
January 18, 2011 § 19 Comments
It’s another snowy day in Boston. It is not yet a day where school and work has been canceled, but it’s beginning to look as though it could turn into one. We had a true snow day last week. We, and like three-quarters of this country. I heard somewhere that one day last week, every single state in the United States had snow (even Hawaii!) on the ground. Well, except Florida. That troublemaker. Waking up to a snow day, the edges of the world taken off by the softness of the white, the stillness that hangs in the air, the celebratory confetti of fluffy flakes, always fills me with the giddiness of a child who knows instantly – without having to check the television or radio reports – that she does not have to go anywhere today. She can stay home and play in the growing drifts.
Watching the snow falling always makes me think of grace. Grace, cascading down to cover the world, making it look clean and new, reminding us of how marvelously beautiful it is. It’s something we need so very much. Of course, I suppose I would have a hard time selling this notion to the commuters stuck in traffic, or in snowbanks. And isn’t that just so like us, to take grace and instead of just accepting it, letting it be a gift, we want it to be what we want. We try to drive around in it, plow it and salt it to conform to our paths. And then we’re surprised or annoyed when we start fishtailing around or spinning our wheels. Instead of frolicking in it, or sliding on it, or letting it gently stick to our eyelashes and melt on our noses. Or simply watching it while drinking hot chocolate and sharing a warming meal. « Read the rest of this entry »
November 23, 2010 § 31 Comments
We had a gathering of friends last night to give a little thanks and have a festive potluck before everyone voyages off to their various destinations for the big day. A little Thanksgiving pre-gaming, if you will. And it was exactly what you would hope for from a Thanksgiving before Thanksgiving, full of good company and good cheer, and no shortage of mildly inappropriate jokes and misuse of acronyms. Standard, wholesome fare.
A dear friend, who we actually celebrated Turkey day with last year (the year when Joel made a really concerted effort to land himself in the emergency room through the cavalier use of a oyster shucker – those pesky little buggers are hard to open!), told me that this year she was going to a vegetarian Thanksgiving, hosted by her fabulous friend/downstairs neighbor/landlady. It had been a hard decision, especially given she was also invited to a party across the river where a beautifully brined turkey – and things with bacon in them – would be waiting. But, we are both people who value the importance of home and place, and I can definitely understand why she came down on the side of staying for the party in her own home. And, she explained, when you really reflect on it, Thanksgiving is not so much about the turkey (mine certainly isn’t! I don’t much care for turkey, though last year I splurged on a delicious and flavorful heritage breed turkey. And had to sell my first born child for it. Also my left arm.) as it is about the idea of a meal planned with a great deal of care and intentionality.