37days

Come, let's ride brightly painted inner tubes, you and I

If you have watched TV commercials for the new teeniny microscopic MacBook Air, perhaps you will recognize this song by Yael Naim. Come, let's ride brightly painted inner tubes, play cymbals in a field of sunflowers, sing with a gorgeous Israeli-French accent, and realize that there is a whole big world out there, ripe for the dancing and for the floating. That's real air.

J is for jijnasu

Somewhere, something incredible is waiting to be known. -Carl Sagan

In 2008, I want to be a jijnasu, a seeker of wisdom, an inquirer.

When I was preparing to talk with Billy Collins the other day (doesn’t that sound casual?), Mr Brilliant was holding the paper bag while I hyperventilated, metaphorically speaking, helping me think about what questions I wanted to ask the dear poet of my dreams.

“Ask him what his favorite word is,” he said, excitedly. Mr Brilliant is a great cataloguer of such information.

I blinked at him.

Tess ran by. “Tess!” he shouted as she sped by. “What’s your favorite word?”

“WHY!” she yelled without stopping, making a tiny circular path from living room to family room to dining room and back. Just as Mr Brilliant started to answer her, she shouted again: “WHY IS MY FAVORITE WORD!”

He beamed.

“What a fantastic favorite word,” he murmured, contentedly. “You should tell Billy Collins that ‘why’ is your four-year-old’s favorite word.”

I blinked at him.

“Yeah,” I said. “I’ll do that right after I pass out when he answers the phone.”

With gratitude for this intentional community

We were born to unite with our fellow men, and to join in community with the human race. -Cicero

As this third year of 37days ends, I’ve spent this last week reading again the comments left on this site in 2007—and visiting the websites of their authors, as well as re-reading the hundreds of emails I’ve received from 37days readers these past twelve months, each telling a story, holding me up, helping me understand things I hadn’t seen before. And for that, my gratitude, my thanks.

To everyone who has emailed me directly, my thanks to you. It is a gift to hear from you about how my stories have held meaning for you, and to hear your own stories—and to acknowledge how similar our journeys are, after all. And to the people below who posted comments on 37days in 2007, my thanks again for engaging, for leaving words of wisdom for us all to ponder and learn from. So much of the charm of Blog World comes from our serendipitous “findings”; perhaps in this list, if you dip into the links, you’ll find whole new worlds of insight from wonderful writers and thinkers and human beings becoming. I hope I haven’t missed anyone; if I have, let me know and please accept my apologies. With thanks for your engagement with me in this exploration of life; you give me so much:

Marilyn, Dan, Carolyn, Catherine, Nicole, Gay, Sarah, Leanne (may she rest in peace--Leanne passed away this year at age 48 after a brief illness), Mr Brilliant, Christy, Andy, Kismet, Marcia, Katie, Carol, Joy, Esther, Shelley, Ferruty, Theresa, Chris, Joy K, RedSonja, Aurora, Betsy, Franky, Sue, Karrie, Heidi, Elizabeth, Deirdre, Cate, Nicholas, Tana, Wendy, Mel, Cynthia, Jane Poe, Pearl, Hilde, Melanie, Kim, Jeff, Denise, runliarun, Mardougrrl, Dan, Liesl, Sally, vanesscipes, Jylene, Bill, Diana, Tracy, Michael, Shawn, Maryam in Marrakesh, Sebastian, Mahima, Meg, Sognatrice, Jasper, Jackie, Ellouise, Shelley, Anitha, Danielle, Bob, Nikki, Andrea, Eliza, Chris K., Josiane, Pete A., Robert, Leah, Karen, Carmen, Ruby, Donna T., Brenda L., Robert, Kelly, Jill, Becca, Clem, Carla, Tori, Mary, Roberta, Lisa G., Kelly, Lyco, David, SL, Julie, Meg, Nina, Chris B., Kay, Ro, RDL, Shonnie, Kylie, Lydia, David Z., David D., Colleen, Writerbug, Michelle, JCR, terrilynn, Angelfeet, Mary M., iswan, Kate I, Adele W., eb, Lela, Grace T., AdriftAtSea, Virginia P., Martha A., Shephard, Marcia, Zoely, Callipygia, Shannon, Carolyn, M-S, Marie, Stella, Jim, ChelleR, Catherine, inlandempiregirl, The Purloined Letter, Viaggiatore, Kurt, Barbara, Lisa G., Kelly Rae, Lisa, Lucy, Maggie, Laura, David Z., Boadicea, Donna S., janewilk, Sue M., Heather R., Nicole, Howard H., Kat, Brain, Per Stromsjo, Paul T., Becca, Teresa, Red, SSH, thodarumm, t, Kikipotamus the Hobo, Miss G Marshall, Timothy, Eva, k, Laurel, Midwest Kitchen, Maura, Alexander, JL, jana, Melissa, Callipygia, Emma W., John, Amy, Roger von Oech, Jim Ley, aileen, Ann Moore, amy, m, tali, vfa, Emily, Dawn, tallulah, Terri, Frivolitea, Lill, Debra Roby, Dean, Pia K, Granny Sue, Timothy Johnson, Jay River, Michael Wagner, Lela Davidson, Tim Davies, Roselyn, Anitha, Ramona, david cooper, Andy, Rosemary a.k.a. Ms. Marshall, Kate, Rick, Leia Lona, Allan Smithee, Beth, Sergio Fucchi, Christine Martell, Katiebean, K, Marica Sevelj, Fey, Margery Glickman, Emily, Betsey, Becky, Brandi, Deborah, Adriaan, Bill Mea, Richard Atkinson, grace, T., Meta Hara, Julie, Megan, Priscilla Palmer, Joh, Steve Sherlock, Terri, carolee, Amy McCracken, ellouise, Roger, Shelley Dickerson, Lill Hawkins, Radiant woman, Raquel Xamani Icart, maddie, Roberta Youtan Kay, Carmen, Esther, Catherine, Mary Anne, Ann Moore, Toni, Chelsea, Kim Moser, Karen (Lion and Magic Boy), Jack Yan, blue girl, ren.kat, Chris, Shula, Mike Duffy, rebecca, Sara Gold, Jayne, Jennifer, Julie, david, Trish, Chris Bailey, Donna (kygirl), bee, Cate, Maxine Dangerous, tanaya, Lori Pelham Cobbs, Carla, Meg, Voice of Sanity, Susi, Kerstin, Carrine Langley, Jillian, Ann Torrence, Dean Fuhrman, Kris, Vera, Virginia W. Pence, Dr. Jillian T. Weiss, Joan Fowler, Nancy MacDonald, The Old Foodie, Jeannie, Lela, Susan, Gerry, mary castagnoli, Connie, Jeannie, Chris Corrigan, Jeris, Jeremy, Rita Cartwright, Danielle Keister, Christine Kane, Catherine Faherty, storyteller, Karynne Courts, kim, David B. Drake, Liz Plummer, Jill, jenclair, Tina Su, Judy, Kait, Sandy Renshaw, Tyn, Lela, Cindy Jones Lantier, NaughtsNCrosses, Nina, Princess Haiku, Wyanne, stephanie, Judith Green, sue, Susan, atticus, Joan, LLinda, e.beck, Kathryn Knoll, Talia, Callie, Viv McWaters, Nancy Bea, Amy Lenzo, Matt, Kelli Schwert, Victoria, Fred, Tawanda, Dawn, colleen, Jeris, Nancy, Caren, John Maver, piscesgrrl, dandelionseeds, Cat, Dave Pollard, Carrie K, lawyerpoet, Betsy Hilt, Katie Green, Ronnie Brown, Sharon, t -rae, Donna, Joh, Barbara D., Karen...

Shall we continue the conversation on the other side of 2007, in 2008 and beyond? Let's.

[sculpture from here]

Becoming Larger Than Our Skin Allows

And no, that title isn't a reference to overeating.

In the U.S., today is Thanksgiving Day (and my friend Karrie Manson's birthday, so a shout out to her for being so powerful that the nation stops when she ages). This year, I'm not spending Thanksgiving at a long table full of vegan alternatives to turkey, but hunched over a computer screen like a madwoman, panicked at my book deadline next week and snarking at my family when they breathe too loudly. What was I thinking?, I'll be thinking, in one of those beautiful infinite regresses of thinking, the fear that emerges from finality, essays congealed into book form.

Soon, I'm sure I'll give in to the overwhelming urge to eat cranberry sauce from a can, as detailed last year this time on 37days,and will pop the Tofurky into the oven. But not before being thankful, and deeply so, for all of you who come here and read my few words and email and comment and hold me up when I'm falling. My deepest thanks.

My glorious friend Sid Jordan sent a Thanksgiving message this morning that I'd like to share with you this fine day. Let us lift each other up.

Becoming Larger Than Our Skin Allows

We seek metaphors
To describe our friendships
But alas, even these fall short of our true emotions
So we joke, tell stories, and hold each other
Accepting the inner weaving of our connections
As part of the evolving tapestry of our lives

What is amazing to me
Is how little it takes to impact another human being
In profound and deep ways
Simply by being present
By witnessing each others stories
By honoring each others thoughts and feelings

It is physically possible to lift each other up
And hold each other under a starlit sky
Enough to feel the power of the universe enfold us
Wrapping us up with simultaneous feelings of love and immensity
Yes, we are only a speck in the whole of things
Yet, our love mingled with the love of others
Is more immense than we can ever intellectually know

Our ability to tap into the collective energy of the world
Allows us to transcend our language
Each of us becoming larger than our skin allows
Each of us finding power
From the source of our humility and awe
But mostly from each other
As our hands work to lift each other higher

-Doc Klein

Let go of the monkey bar

“When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be.” - Lao Tzu

Sometimes taking flight takes letting go.

Letting go takes faith.

Faith takes letting go.

It all requires wings.

And so it goes.

As Kierkegaard has said, “Without risk there is no faith, and the greater the risk, the greater the faith.” Flying begins with a leap of faith. And with someone to catch you when you’re falling, perhaps?

At the end of each year, I ask myself two questions: 1) what do I want to create in this new year? and, perhaps even more importantly,  2) what do I want to let go of?

With gratitude for the ampersand

"I am a part of all that I have met." - Tennyson

The end of a year brings closure of many kinds. Some involve owning what didn’t get done that year; others involve thankfulness, still others center on the celebration of things accomplished, friendships deepened, things and people let go of, even.

As this second year of 37days ends, I spent today reading again the comments left on this site in 2006, as well as the hundreds of emails I’ve received from 37days readers these past twelve months, each telling a story, holding me up, helping me understand things I hadn’t seen before. And for that, my gratitude, my thanks.

Draw circles

“The eye is the first circle; the horizon which it forms is the second; and throughout nature this primary figure is repeated without end. It is the highest emblem in the cipher of the world.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson, Essays -"Circles”

Let’s imagine that all learning takes place in a dense, primordial forest, like the one you drive through on the way from Forest Grove, Oregon, to Manzanita on the coast. Get off the highway and into the woods and every once in a blue moon, there is a clearing just big enough for a brilliant blue sky or glowing moon to shine through onto a miniscule circular spot on the forest floor, its translucence revealing flowers working hard to bloom between dark green trees. That tiny shot of light is learning, a double espresso of insight, light, then dark again.

That light has a big job, illuminating the way, one circle at a time.

I am spending a lot of time thinking about dense woods, sun, circles, lines, and infinite games these days.

Open your hand

“To receive everything, one must open one's hands and give.” –Taisen Deshimaru

“If my hands are fully occupied in holding on to something, I can neither give nor receive.”  -Dorothee Solle

One of the wisest people I know is a man named Eliav Zakay from Israel, CEO of a national youth leadership program there and formerly with the Israel Defense Force Leadership Development School.

Break stride

"We don't see things as they are. We see things as we are." -Anais Nin

Coming home from Chicago two weeks ago, I was struck irretrievably ill in the cab on the way to the airport, that kind of I’ve- eaten- an- alien- food- poisoning- I’m- unable- to- stop- shaking nauseous kind of ill, the sort where you focus all your attention on staying upright, in which not vomiting becomes the only measure of success you can muster. An immediate, swift, and unstoppable sick that--like a train in a tunnel--just keeps barreling toward the light of day.

Use more verbs

“Life is a verb.” – Charlotte Perkins Gilman

I learned to read by painstakingly pronouncing the rambunctious adventures of two knee-socked, slightly irritating, good-as-gold, simple-minded, very white, and really downright boring children named Dick and Jane.

The text for one of those primers begins “See Dick. See Dick run. See Dick play. See Dick run and play.” Dick seems mighty lonely—or at the very least unimaginative and the tiniest bit anal, what with the pristine play outfit complete with clean shoes and his shirt always tucked in.

As psychologist Richard Nisbett reminds us, Dick and Jane and their dog, Spot, were quite the active individualists. They each run and play and kick balls independent of one another and sometimes tease each other and appear to gloat in their superior set of belongings—see Jane buy a new Mercedes. See Dick cringe and plot her downfall.