back from the writing dead...

...it's been a whirlwind lately. no time to write on this little ol' blog of mine.

hello to all of you out there...if you're still out there!

in the midst of great joys and challenges of late, autumn has continued to take my breath away with its colors of earth. i only wish it could last for a bit longer. thanksgiving -- my favorite holiday -- is upon us this week and it seemed fitting to share this prayer with you.

"Oh God, when I have food, help me to remember the hungry; when I have work, help me to remember the jobless; when I have a warm home, help me to remember the homeless; when I am without pain, help me to remember those who suffer; and remembering, help me to destroy my complacency and bestir my compassion. Make me concerned enough to help, by word and deed, those who cry out for what we take for granted."

many blessings this holiday season to you and yours...

storms a'brewin'...

market street is weeping this morning. rain from the heavens is cascading religiously down the window panes and purifying the city from a week of chaos and calamity.

how i adore storms! probably the sexiest weather pattern in existence, i think. the roll of the thunder thrusting a shudder down your spine. the glimpse of a lightening bolt catches your breath and you wonder -- since its flash burns out as quickly as it came -- if you actually saw it. oh, and the downpour of sweet rain! deliciously inviting you to either stay indoors in warmth or hurriedly pull on your rain boots.

maybe it's the romantic in me but i cannot imagine life without storms. the literal kind in particular give one reflection for the figurative kind, for they do share common purpose:

~washing away the impurities and reminding us we are perfectly small in comparison to the great mysteries of our world and He who created it.

~offering a multitude of raindrops to augment our tears and chase away the cobwebs of our soul.

~forcing upon us a thunderous clap of wind to knock away our masks and hold up a mirror to both our ugliness and our beauty.

~striking our spirits with a small, but mighty power -- the bolt of clarity we often stumble upon in a rather choppy sea of discontent and blurred vision.

~and then comes the silence -- the moment the storm begins to fade, rolling on. rinsing us clean and laughing purple...

breaking down...

after a crisp, clear autumn day, i arrived home from work to find an extremely cold apartment. seriously...like shivering-in-your-bones cold.

now, market street has always been rather drafty. truth be told, it's part of its old world charm. a light breeze sneaking silently through the window panes. the molding around the door frame rendered completely incapable of shushing the whisper of wind off the porch. the wear-multiple-layers-of-clothing-to-bed-every-night chill. or lighting tall vigil candles in your bedroom to keep a flame of warmth nearby. the kind of cold that sparks good memories every year...

but tonight i broke down and turned on the ol' heater. it resides near the porch door in the living room and, after ticking its way on for a few minutes, began to blast hot air into the room. incidentally, the living room is usually the only warm area in the apartment every winter -- there is little distribution of heat to the other corners of this place in the cool months. so one must occupy the living room quarters constantly to avoid frostbite. another quirk i have come to love on market street.

as i write, i am laying on the floor in front of this archaic ol' heater. like my father taught me, my 'feet to the fire,' so to speak.

i also broke down and am eating junior mints. an old pasttime from my grandmother's house. she used to have this tall cupboard with boxes of junior mints stored high above the reach of her grandchildren's fingers. those little boxes weren't immune to our use of a broom, however. ;)

heat. junior mints. an early retirement to a cozy bed. not a bad monday evening in october, my favorite month of the year.

taking a day...

there is nothing quite like taking a monday off of work.

especially when you're not terribly ill, suntanning on a faraway sandy beach, or dressed in black garb at a funeral for someone you barely got to know before having to say goodbye.

part of you feels guilty for not schlepping alongside the thousand (or so) other commuters on the train in a hurry to wherever.

but the larger part of you is grateful to hang up "the usual" in exchange for the "mundane bliss" of a monday with no responsibilities. to forget about the office dirt, your harried bustling from meeting to meeting, and the countless emails clogging your inbox.

today was such a day for me on market street. it was good.

i slept in. i took my time around the apartment this morning. i read. i wrote. i cooked a lasagna, complete with fresh basil. i folded laundry. i cleaned my room. i laughed and chatted with a friend while watching her darling six week old baby coo at us. i listened to billie holiday. i took a walk in the neighborhood. i will retire early with a book or a movie...not sure which.

can i honestly say i am relaxed, rested, and ready for tuesday? no...not at all. but tuesday is coming, regardless.

so i'll enjoy these last hours of bliss. and then begin "the usual" again tomorrow with a prayer to find the extraordinary in the ordinary of the day.

beneath the cover...

...of a book lies many a truth. some truths meant to be found. others, desperate to hide.

i've been thinking a lot about how much we judge simply "by the book's cover." people. experiences. animals. even ourselves at times.

on my train ride home the other day, i sat next to a woman who immediately covered up the book in her lap as i nestled into my seat. she seemed clearly embarrassed for me -- or anyone -- to catch the title of her book.

this didn't work. i looked anyway. ;)

entitled, "one week as lovers," the opened page of the novel on her lap indicated two things: a character named mrs. pell and something about a disagreement about a particular sleeping arrangement.

despite being 1/3 of the way through the book, the woman read only that page before shifting to the end, reading the last few pages of the story. i must admit -- i was absolutely stunned! what possessed her to skip the rest? why did she hurry toward the resolution so quickly? how much had she now missed that even those last three pages of the book couldn't give her?

sadly, here's where my judgement began. i started to wonder if this woman read books the same way she lives. putting minor effort into things and rushing toward a great outcome. or trying to embrace only the roses of life without acknowledging that it takes thorns to make a rose in the first place.

i also wondered about the woman's relationships -- did she see herself in this book in some way? was she mrs. pell? or perhaps the buxom beauty on the cover rather enraptured in the sinewy arms of a man far too handsome to be real. or maybe she's always wanted to live this way and never has...?

(yes, i noticed the cover as she put it away in her bag)

then i realized what i was doing. judging a woman (and a book) by the cover. and i was ashamed. deeply ashamed.

i walked home thinking about this experience. and recognizing i do such things with far more regularity than i would like. and i need to stop. i've since spent a good deal of time thinking on how i could best cease this habit.

here's what i've decided:

every time i catch myself doing this, i plan to offer up a little prayer for the truths within that "book." that each truth meant to be discovered will be by who is meant to learn from it. that the hidden truths will find healing -- whether spoken or forever in silence.

so there you have it. a brush with reality i needed. a resolve to catch myself when i fall into "reading a book by the cover." and through it -- hopefully -- truths unearthed in sincerity or laid to rest in peace.

yearnings...

raindrops fell upon market street today, bringing with them a sharp coolness. though sunshine plans to visit this week, the advent of autumn is near.

i love this time of the year more than any other. my heart fumbles for the right words or description of why. so many reasons, but none i feel equipped to share just now. maybe another time. admittedly both joyous and melancholic, i ache in body and am weary in spirit today.

the rain spoke quietly to me this morning. and i've been entrenched in thought ever since. what about, you ask? i still have no words, even upon reflection. words don't go far enough today, i guess.

i am yearning. yearning for what i am missing...or what i imagine i am missing. also yearning to no longer miss anything, for i have been given much.

why do we do that to ourselves? forget our blessings so easily and cling to our failings so tightly? vehemently pursue what we feel entitled to and often discard all that is sacred in our lives along the way?

a single candle burns in this darkened room on market street. the smell of this new season emanating from the flame. my eyes fixed upon its glow, my mind rambling on...

sunrise pondering...

"Only when we can be guaranteed anonymity, can we take our masks off and bare our souls. When we are no one, we become who we are."

~introvert power