The first two songs are by bright eyes ("old soul song", and "another travelin' song")
The third one is regina spektor: "poor little rich boy".
I don't know how to make the album art show up for those.
I took this picture on a windy day with my mediocre camera, standing in my backyard and zooming across two houses to the electrical wires, a squirming baby on my hip. It was in a moment of pointing at airplanes in the sky to my boy, and watching my girl twist branches of rosemary into bracelets and crowns that I spied those little birds across the way all lined up and facing the wind. It's the time of the year for making resolutions but what's more resolute than a tiny hollow boned creature clutching a wire and holding tight against what may come? I give up on slighter challenges daily. So this is a little reminder. My bones are solid and my hands are strong. I can hold on.
I can't wait to see my little nephew Liam.
Here's the thing. We all will grow old and die someday. Some of us will die before we're old. But for right now, this moment, we're alive. I'm alive and if you're reading this, you are too. And this moment will jump to the next and then the next and then they all blur together and one can't be distinguished from another. It would be so easy to miss them and get distracted. How effortlessly we get mixed up in all the little details, all the tiny scraps of paperwork and people and obligations and expectations and miss the quiet reminders along the way, the subtle signposts that keep us grounded to wherever we happen to be Right Now. Because this, this Now, this is what we've got. So how do we remember to be watchful? How can we notice and appreciate and experience even the smallest seconds of our life? I think the answer is Ritual. If the word Routine connotates oppression and drudgery, then Ritual might describe something sacred and special, but I'm essentially speaking of the same things. Because the mundane details can be drudgery or they can be sacred. We are attached to this world, right now, whether we want to be or not and we might as well recognize it as an honor. Ritual tethers us in the moment, but stretches back to Memory and forward to Hope, providing a firm handhold when our legs our shaky, when our motivation wanes, when our emotions scatter. Ritual allows us to become a part of something bigger than ourselves, something that began before and will continue once we're gone. Something beyond the tenuous Now. Right now I might be tired and cranky, I might be short-tempered and cross with the children, but our Ritual requires that I read a bedtime story, that I sing a certain repertoire of lulling songs, that I say the same little rhyme and then bid goodnight, and I can plug into that, I can let the Ritual take over when my Self is inadequate and we are all encouraged. If we don't attach significance to the mundane, then our lives are pretty insignificant. There are simply not enough culturally important rites of passage to transfer all importance and meaning away from the actual, regular work of just Being. I think it's all important. I believe in honoring this space we are in right now, in recognizing that it's an essential part of whatever lies ahead. I believe in Ritual.
Pensive. In a good way.
Just because.
Also, this:
Must be the time of year.
still very much over at livejournal.(id there is also medesign). not much to say so thought to post this song as i have been enjoying it lately.
What food or drink do you love when it's cold out? (Recipes and recommendations, please!)
pumpkin pie, a good hearty soup and chai tea = yummy autumn goodness.
if your looking for some good recipies try
http://www.veganmania.com/recipes/
Today's farmers market haul:
1 bunch celery (who grows celery in central Illinois? My friend Lisa the Biker. It's v strong, will be good for stock)
3 baskets cherry tomatoes of all shapes and colors
8# apples (Granny Smith and Pink Lady)
2# walnuts (I used to hate walnuts!)
3 bulbs garlic
1# salad greens
2 heads broccoli
1 bunch gorgeous flowers
2 pastured chickens
2# pastured ground turkey
1# grassfed ground beef
I've had too much coffee already today.
I go to one of two (or sometimes, both) very nearby Goodwills every other saturday, when the whole store is fifty percent off. I admit to preferring to thrift in quiet, on weekday evenings when I'm the only customer in the store, for example, and I can lose myself and my tiring everyday thoughts in the racks I slowly scan for treasure. But I can't deny the extra thrill of finding My New Favorite ________ (which maybe I didn't even know I needed, but as soon as I spy it I wonder how I ever lived without?) for half off.
The first thing I do every morning is to set the kettle on the stove for tea. I look forward to my first cup of tea in the morning before I even go to bed at night. Yeah, sure, the caffeine boost is swell. I don't remember what adequate sleep feels like so I'll take whatever help I can get. But it's more than that. It's the whistling of my kettle, it's the steam, the smell of the tea in the cannister when I take off the lid. It's an important anchor in my day, a simple ritual of Beginning. And I am very particular about which mugs I will use. Oh, in a pinch, I'll use whatever is clean. And if I'm having a cup of herbal tea before bed, any cup or mug will do, it doesn't matter. I have several I rotate through and they've served me well over the years. I wasn't looking for a new one. But last Saturday, I found my New Favorite Teacup. It's surprisingly sturdy, slightly oversized, lovely to look at (bird graphic, hello!), and it has a lid! Secondhand perfection for a dollar.
