Never-In-My-Life [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Never-in-my-life did I imagine that I’d sit on a deck and wile away a day peering through binoculars at a crow’s nest. We cooed and awed at the babies when they showed their beaks or flapped their young wings, the diligent parents flying to and fro to feed the bottomless bellies of their hatchlings.

Never-in-my-life did I imagine that discovering a turtle’s nest, the eggs newly hatched, could inspire the depths of wonderment that we felt. It was such an unusual find that, at first, we had no idea what we were seeing. We pondered what kind of bird nests in the ground and then it hit us. We were witness to an ancient birth rite, turtle eggs cracked open from the inside. With no mother to guide them, feed them or protect them, the newly hatched turtles somehow knew where to go, what to do. They scrambled to the safety of the river, at least that is what I imagined. We were giddy with excitement.

Last night we watched – again – the movie About Time. It remains my favorite movie of all time. Even after multiple viewings I laugh aloud and struggle not to sob along the way. Even knowing what is about to come, I am deliciously caught by surprise. It makes me yearn to go back and do things differently AND to not change a single precious moment. Both/And. Every single time we watch it. Never-in-my-life.

Enjoy life. Morsels. Alan Watts might say, the ever-present now. Last night, while setting up the coffee for the morning, I wondered how many bags of Cameron’s Velvet Moon Espresso Roast I have ground and thoroughly enjoyed. Maybe hundreds. Lately, I’m paying attention to how much I enjoy the evening ritual of closing our day by grinding coffee, the smell and the anticipation. Watching Dogga wind-down by following the chipmunk trail across the yard one last time. Never-in-my-life did I think I would love so extraordinarily so much…ordinary.

Kerri is sitting next to me – her writing interrupted, caught in the hate-stream and disbelief of a conservative’s rhetoric. It brought to mind a quote by Neil Postman, written in another era but prophetically describing our era: “…irrelevance seems to us to be filled with import, and incoherence seems eminently sane.” Entertainment posing as the news-of-the-day. Noise without substance. A manufactured thrill. Contextless content. Like a drug it is meant to keep us hooked. Nothing more, nothing less. Never-in-my-life did I imagine…

Never-in-my-life did I think I would so thoroughly delight in living upside-down, so appreciate my quirky capacity to question, my driving desire to detach from the noise. It is no wonder that I find the reality of the crows nesting so refreshing. The smell of the coffee so grounding. The miracle of turtles emerging from the earth to find the water so utterly hopeful.

read Kerri’s blogpost about ENJOY LIFE MORSELS

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The Daily Gorgeous [on Merely A Thought Monday]

I’ve started thinking of our happy hour as “the daily gorgeous.” The intentional act of attention and appreciation. The great bit-of-blowback from the ritual expression of gratitude over a glass of wine and a cracker with cheese is that, the next day, you pay attention. You start looking for the gratitudes you will share. They are everywhere.

There are a few big events. For instance, knowing we lost our job, an envelope arrived in the mail with some money-to-give-us-hope.

It’s the small moments that are the surprise. When you look for them, they are ubiquitous. For instance, right now, I’m sitting next to my wife on a cold and snowy day. We are sitting under a quilt doing something we love to do. We are writing together. Here’s another: this morning while making breakfast, Dogga came into the kitchen and pressed his head into my leg. I stopped what I was doing and ruffled his ears.

Here’s another: each night I set up coffee for the next morning. The smell of freshly ground coffee beans fills the house. We look at each and say, “I can’t wait until morning so we can drink coffee!”

It’s the willingness to stop that brings the awareness. The ever availability of the abundance of gratitude, I’m learning, is readily accessible when the next moment is not granted more status than the present moment.

Central on my wall of quotes is this: I create my own stress. I will add a new Post-it note next to it that reads: I miss the gorgeous by racing through it. Necessary reminders.

My all-time favorite movie is About Time. Richard Curtis both wrote the screenplay and directed the film. It scribes a path to the realization that each day, each moment is gorgeous in all its simplicity. If you fully touch the moment you are in there’ll be no reason to try and lasso it later. Plus, you’ll have plenty to share at the daily gorgeous.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE GORGEOUS

Collapse And Decide [on Merely A Thought Monday]

Brad calls it “paralysis by analysis”. Over thinking. Over researching. Reading every label. Considering every color combination relative to every other possible color combination. If you do some quick math, you’ll note that there are an infinite number of color combinations so arrival at a choice is a process of exhaustion. Waving the white flag. Conclusion via collapse. Decision by despair.

Neither Brad nor I suffer from this debilitating condition but both of our partners in life do.

It’s hard to watch. I learned at the very beginning to detach from the process. If I wait for the research and comparison phase to pass, if I say nothing until the desperation arrives, then I can tip the turmoil into a choice. And then I return to detachment because the paralysis has only reached its midpoint..

They say that summiting a high peak is not the dangerous part. Most climbers die on the return trip, the descent from the mountain. The same is true for analysis-paralysis-style-decision-makers. Once the decision is made, a river of decision-doubt and choice-remorse rushes in. The real paralysis happens after the decision is finally made. And revoked. And made again. And revoked. More spouses have collapsed on the way down from Mount Decision than on the initial ascent.

There’s a terrific scene in the movie About Time. The wife wants help from her husband in deciding which dress to wear to an important dinner meeting. She models dozens of dresses. He finds goodness in every option. She finds flaws in every dress. He becomes increasingly desperate, no matter what he says or enthusiastic support he offers, he finds himself swirling into the quagmire of no-good-answer.

I love that movie. Every time I watch that scene, I both howl with laughter and close my eyes. I know his desperation. I feel his fatigue. The minute she circles back and decides on the very first dress she modeled, with his wave of relief I whisper to the screen, “Now you’re really in trouble.”

read Kerri’s blogpost about DECISION FATIGUE

Appreciate The Other Life [on Two Artists Tuesday]

Every so often we pick images for the melange according to a theme. A few weeks ago all of the images were green. This week we noticed that we had several photos of words or phrases so we decided to have a theme week. Yesterday featured a message on the tailgate of a truck, “Every day above ground is a blessing.” Today, the other life. La Otra Vida.

Kerri and I met in middle age so our history together is short. Our pals are couples who’ve been married for decades. It is common for us to leave dinner with friends, after lively conversation of raising kids, vacation stories or tales of pets from the past, and need to talk about the eras in life that we didn’t pass through together. Our cartoon, Chicken Marsala, came from a conversation about the kids that we didn’t have. What kind of parents would we have been together? What would we have done differently in life had we met when we were younger? Would we have fallen in love had the previous-versions-of-ourselves met at an earlier phase in our lives?

La Otra Vida. The other life. We’ll never know the answers to our speculative questions. I was not the person at 25 that I am today. Kerri did not know me during my train-wreck years. I was – and in many ways still am – a restless wanderer but I have developed over the years the capacity to sit still. To appreciate where I am.

Last night, sitting on the deck sipping wine, the sun was down and we had the torches burning. Dogga was asleep at our feet. We were listening to the soundtrack from the movie About Time and Arvo Pärt’s Spiegel im Spiegel, a heartbreaking piece for piano and cello, began playing. I memorized the moment because, in another life, at a time that I was not so happy, I knew that La Otra Vida was out there somewhere. The other life. I knew someday, minus a few demons and with a few more miles behind me, that I would one day sit outside on a cool evening, my wife’s hand in mine, my dog asleep at my feet, and know with absolute certainty that life could not possibly be better.

I savored the moment. I will never take for granted this, the other life.

read Kerri’s blog post about LA OTRA VIDA

Do It For Yourself [on Merely A Thought Monday]

I have been writing long enough to know that there are sedimentary layers to my themes. The top layer, the most superficial, is the political layer, current events. I am not above shouting into the storm. When I run to the keyboard and ring the alarm or presume that my point of view is relevant enough to roundly criticize others, I know that, above all, I’m breaking the first rule of happiness: I can never determine what another person thinks or does or feels. On my superficial days, in my ranting, I write for myself.

When I was at my saddest, I set about looking for goodness. I walked the streets of Seattle with the single intention of counting acts of kindness. As you might suspect there were more than I could count. In this world where we story ourselves as aggressive, unthinking and unkind, we are remarkably compassionate. Good will is simply more difficult to see. It is not the focus. The deeper layers of my writing-archaeology emerge when I direct my attention, when I exercise the artist in me and attempt to see beyond what I think. Since these are the layers where I desire to live and work, I suppose it is also true that on those days I also write for myself.

It is a looping life-lesson for me: I have the capacity to choose where I place my focus. I will see in the dark ocean where I decide to shine my light. I will author myself according to what/where I decide to give my focus. It is, among other things, why the film ABOUT TIME is among my favorite movies.

Lately, as one of our get-through-the-pandemic-winter-strategies, we’ve taken to assembling jigsaw puzzles. Entire evenings disappear into our intense pursuit of pieces. Our puzzle sessions require absolute focus – all of the other nonsense and monsters that vie to plague our brains are banished. Our focus is so thorough that we rarely speak. We do, however, listen to the soundtrack of ABOUT TIME. Again and again. When it finishes, one of us walks to the CD player (yes…we play CDs) and play it again. Sometimes we don’t make it past the first track, Ben Fold’s THE LUCKIEST. “Do you mind?” one of us asks. It’s a rhetorical question. It warms us so a repeat is always welcome.

Sitting at the dining room table, hunting for bits of colored cardboard, with the soundtrack playing, all things come into focus. While the surface-layer is on fire with a circus of instability, a pandemic, a climate that is changing, all jobs gone, a broken wrist that is not mending,…the deeper layer beckons: DogDog sits under the table, BabyCat is asleep on the chair, 20 just called and made us laugh, a postcard from Jen made us cry, my phone dinged with a text from a dear friend. I look across the table at my wife, pursing her lips as she plucks a piece of the puzzle from the table and attempts to make it fit, and I know to my bones that I am the luckiest.

To see it or not to see it; it’s my choice.

read Kerri’s blog post about REPEAT

What Would You Give? [on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

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At the end of his life, Tom told me that, when reviewing his time on this earth, what he most valued, what made his life rich, was not the triumphant play openings or any achievement, title, or status symbol that he’d accumulated. It was the ordinary moments, the infinitely unimportant moments that gave color and shape to his story. Sitting on the porch with his aunt Bunty. Teaching his second grade class. Burning trash with his grandfather. As a boy, racing across the unplowed fields.

It sounds like a cliché’, doesn’t it? We hear it over and over again but rarely heed the wisdom. It is in the ordinary that the extraordinary is found. Pay special attention to the utterly normal and life will burst open and flow.

The film ABOUT TIME has ascended to the top of my favorites list. We watched it more than a few times this week. The quote says it all. Live everyday as if it was the final day in this extraordinary, ordinary life. It reads like a cliché’.

And yet, a few weeks ago I stared into my father’s eyes, and for a few moments he did not know who I was. Dementia is leading him away. I know that soon there will come a day when he will not come back. On that day, what might I give to simply sit and have a chat with my dad? Something so ordinary. Something beyond price.

 

read Kerri’s blog post about LIVING EVERYDAY

 

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