It’s still early, only 9:30 on Saturday morning. Ah, Saturday morning, possibly the best time of the week (now that the kids are grown). The house and the neighborhood are practically silent; no trains or sirens yet to jangle your nerves. The only sounds are the quiet hum of the boiler downstairs, heating up the radiators; Rich’s munching of something in front of his computer in the other room; and Honey Girl’s sighs as she breathes right here, lying by my side on the dining room rug. I sit on a nice wood chair and feel just right.
In the hopes of passing along the peaceful feeling, here are some favorite things.
In the kitchen, deep in a corner behind a cluster of stern-looking wooden spoons and a menacing rolling pin, stands a hopeful frog. He was given to me years ago, destined for a garden I think, but I prefer to keep him closer at hand, as a sweet reminder of the Frog Prince. He is the hapless amphibian who wins the girl over through patience and love. An apt symbol for my household! (according to the Grimm version, however, the frog transforms into a prince upon impact, when the princess throws him against a wall in disgust! Ouch!).
Another favorite thing is breakfast: plain Greek-style yogurt with sliced banana, roasted almonds with sea salt, and honey drizzled on top. Plus a double espresso with steamed milk of course, from our vintage Cimbali machine.
After breakfast, I still practice the “morning routine” every day, or at least six days out of seven. When I do not have the time or feel good enough to do it, I really miss it, and the next day think to myself, “Finally, I get to get back into shape!” It has become a sacred ritual, just like Twyla Tharp says in The Creative Habit: only in this case, my creation is my life!
I’ll leave you two other picture-thoughts: both from Mai-Mai Sze’s lovely and erudite Tao of Painting, seen here alongside a little pot of pink flowers I received from the Ruiz children, students in “Write YOUR Story,” at Christmas time.
Growing, changing, and flowering, those words apply very well to the fun, bright children I’ve grown to love. The same processes are all around us! Just think of the Mustard Seed Garden Manual description of youthful bamboo. Despite their recent arrival, the bamboo branches are portrayed as wise and deep:
… they are like the hermits who follow unswervingly the Tao. With the power of their spirit, they could comb the wind and sweep clear the full moon. They should not be painted confused or crowded, for the air around them is clear and pure.
–quoted in Mai-Mai Sze, The Tao of Painting, 123.
I like the image of a being which is not confused or crowded, for the air around it is clear and pure.
Wouldn’t we all like to live, breathe, and feel like that? Young yet wise. Supple yet inflexibly devoted to creativity, kindness and life!
off to do T’ai chi now…
good day to you!
Daily Joy with Honey Girl 