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Same Old Lesson

Once again I learned that same old lesson. The day that looks gloomy from inside can be glorious when you’re out in it.

A couple of weeks ago we had a cold, wet, cloudy Sunday, the sky packed full of clouds. I was not eager to go out again into the dreary weather after my two short dog walks. I had a couple of big computer projects to work on. Well, the first was my MerryThoughts letter, which I almost always write on Sunday morning. Then another bigger task took a few hours. Well, my body was crying out for a walk by the time I was close to finishing. Back, neck, shoulder all so sick and tired of sitting at my desk.

Despite the look of the day, I bundled up, put on my waterproof boots, and went out, with an especially lovely walking meditation to listen to.

So you already know, then, that the walk was absolutely glorious. I went over to a little neighborhood park where a friend has carved a narrow path through the tiny woods. There’s a stream running through, too. Charming. Lovely. Soul satisfying. The wet only accentuated the fall colors against the black bark and branches, just as it does. Remember? Remember? Just as it always does. I did not need sun to jazz up the color or open my eyes wider. It was all there, all the beauty, the glory of nature, just as it always is, at the ready, no matter what the bigger elements decide to do. Always.

The chill on my face was enlivening, as the rest of me was bundled up. My feet were dry. (You know what they say–there’s no bad weather; only bad clothes. Remember?) I had some beautiful words to listen to. I felt refreshed, rejuvenated, reborn, both during and after that absolutely glorious walk. I felt bouncy and boundless, full of life, renewed and wanting to tell everyone this thing that I had (once again) discovered.

And I felt chastened, as well. How many times have I learned that lesson? So many! I once had a card and still have a print that reads, “Be patient. Sometimes you have to learn the same thing over and over again.” Boy oh boy. I will probably learn this again, too, since I am a human being. But as with meditation, I don’t have to learn it. I get to. Yeah, I get to.

“You are the one who declared a gloomy day as gloomy! In fact, there is neither a joyful nor a gloomy day, only a mind that evaluates what that day is!”― Mehmet Murat ildan

“And from the midst of cheerless gloom/I passed to bright unclouded day.” ― Emily Bronte

“When a bad thing happens a pessimist thinks, ‘just my luck’, an optimist thinks, ‘this will pass’, and a teacher thinks, ‘what’s the lesson here?’.” ― Garry Fitchett

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. If you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. And if someone forwarded this one to you, you can sign up here to receive the letters right in your Inbox. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

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Daylight Savings

What, really, does it mean to save daylight?

We change our clocks in a misguided effort to somehow change the nature of days. In reality, of course, a day is a day, twenty-four hours, however you slice it. The silliness and hubris that resulted in having us change our clocks every six months or so does not change the fact that a day is a day. It does irritate and bother many people and dogs, however.

I propose a different approach.

Since saving daylight, in a physical sense, is not actually possible, I suggest we try to save daylight within ourselves. We could strive to save up all those golden hours, the ones that are lit up by the sun as well as those that lit us up on the inside, the ones that made us feel happy, loved, and contented. We all have those. We don’t need calendars or clocks or politicians to tell us when those hours are happening, or why. We don’t need to confine them to certain months of the year. And maybe we could store up those bright happy hours for the darker times, when we struggle to find reasons to smile.

Let’s put all of those hours in our Daylight Savings Accounts, tucked away and banked for the lean times, when we need them.

It might even help to write them down, keep a running list, and hang it up on the wall. Then on those gloomy, grim days, when we feel beset with the world’s problems or our own, we could take a peek at our Daylight Savings Accounts and think, Oh yes, there’s that, still bright and lovely, still gaining interest! And what about that lovely time? I remember that. That still makes me smile. And we’d see how much, really, we have banked, stored carefully away, untouchable by whatever might be getting us down right now.

That’s what I call Daylight Savings! That is something I can get on board with. What about you?

“I object to being told that I am saving daylight when my reason tells me that I am doing nothing of the kind . . . At the back of the Daylight Saving scheme, I detect the bony, blue-fingered hand of Puritanism, eager to push people into bed earlier, and get them up earlier, to make them healthy, wealthy, and wise in spite of themselves.”― Robertson Davies, The Papers of Samuel Marchbanks

“He asked me once what I wanted when I died, what I wanted out of life, and I told him I just wanted more happy memories than sad ones.”― R. YS Perez, I Hope You Fall in Love

“Happy memories are the best shields against unhappy days.” ― T.M Cicinski, A Patchwork Of Moonlight And Shadow

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. If you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. And if someone forwarded this one to you, you can sign up here to receive the letters right in your Inbox. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

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Traveling Light

Yikes! Look at that baggage!

How often do we have an unpleasant experience and then carry it around with us for hours, days, weeks, or even years? I do it and I bet you do, too. It’s called being human.

But boy, I’d much rather not do it! I’d rather be like my dogs. Although, thinking about that, I know there are some things dogs carry. Trauma. The memory of going to the groomer or the vet. More often, Miles, at least, carries happy memories. He totally remembers every house where a kind friend lives. He knows which of my adult piano students brings treats or sits down on the floor to play with him. And those are much stronger with him than any bad things.

Maybe a scooter backpack?

You’ve probably heard the story of the two monks who were walking along and were confronted by a wealthy woman and her servant. There was a big mud puddle between them and the woman was very upset at the thought of having to walk through that. So the older monk carried her across and set her down gently on the other side. She did not thank him and went away still grumbling. After a few miles, the younger monk angrily asked his elder, “How could you carry her and then let her treat you like she did?” The elder said, “I put her down long ago. Why are you still carrying her?”

Those unpleasant memories we carry around are heavy. And yet we’ve stuffed our backpacks with them, maybe put them on wheels so we could drag them along, or shoved them into heavy bags that weigh down our shoulders. Boy. It’s hard to just leave them. And yet, just think how much more joy we’d have without them! These are our journeys, our own lives that we burden with hurts, slights, and bad memories. Not someone else’s. We only punish ourselves by carrying these things around forever.

Ahh. Much better.

Here’s what I want to have in my little backpack.
* Equanimity
* Openness
* Acceptance
* Love
* Wonder
* Joy
* A cozy jacket
* A tiny stuffed dog
* A little chocolate

Having a list of what you do want is helpful.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if you had your own inner TSA agent going through that backpack and pulling out all those burdensome things, saying, “I’m sorry, ma’am, you’re not allowed to carry that. You’re going to have to throw this out, too, if you want to go on.” Trash can sitting right there. Toss, toss, toss. I know just what I’d throw out. And I can see myself skipping away, light as a feather. La!

Oh, it’s not as easy as all that but we can lighten our loads. I love this image. I just now made it up, too. I hope it helps you on your journey.

“I was coming to see the heavier your heart got, the stronger you had to be to keep carrying it around.” ― Alexandra Bracken, In the Afterlight

“Resentment is like taking poison and waiting for the other person to die.” – Malachy McCourt

“Accept yourself, love yourself, and keep moving forward. If you want to fly, you have to give up what weighs you down.”― Roy T. Bennett, The Light in the Heart

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. If you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. And if someone forwarded this one to you, you can sign up here to receive the letters right in your Inbox. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

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Ten Years From Now

In an effort at being published, I made up a big glorious package of stuff and sent it to Chronicle Books! August 2012

I did an exercise on Calm, the meditation and sleep app (LOVE & highly recommend), in which I was asked to imagine myself ten years from now, happy. Then think about what it is that’s making me feel happy. Whoa. Mind-blowing.

You wouldn’t think it would be, would you? Well, I’ve done this type of thing many times before, with Julia Cameron and others, when I was younger. Back then, I imagined all sorts of things in my future. I had big ambitions, including: Published Writer at Chronicle Books (with an agent), Successful Artist, Love of My Life Found, Nice Big House (no repairs waiting to be done), Plenty of Money for travel or whatever, and when I was really on a roll, Apartment Overlooking Central Park (in addition to the house). As I say, I was younger and more ambitious.

I thought I could catch someone’s eye.

This time I had an immediate vision of myself ten years from now, smiling, decidedly wrinkly, with wispy grey hair pulled back, standing in front of a painting in progress in my messy studio right here in this same house where I live now and that I really do love, even with its many problems, just plain happy. A simple life, my house paid off, less to do, less to worry about, a little creaky but obviously healthy, happily working on a painting. No big ambition or plan. It was a quiet little smile of contentment that I had. And I did not need a moment of reflection or thought to have that vision arrive in my mind’s eye. It just popped up, easy as pie. It was wonderful!

I packed it all up in this enticing box and sent it off! No response.

I’m so shocked at how different this exercise turned out from when I was younger. I had so many ambitions for myself! I used to go off to art shows thinking, “Anything can happen!” Maybe at this show I’d be discovered! By whom? I don’t know. I guess an agent. I wanted to be able to use the phrase, “my publisher.” That was big. When I went to the NY Stationery Show in 2009, I honestly hoped that I might a) be signed by Chronicle Books b) find the love of my life and c) end up with that apartment overlooking Central Park, where I’d stay part of the year visiting my sons and being a famous New York writer/artist.

Age really does make a remarkable difference. I love the difference, in this case. I like this version of Ten Years From Now very much. Oh, I still very occasionally think of maybe having these letters find their way to a publishing house–but that’s about it. Mostly I’m just happy that I get to write them and you are willing to read them and some of you write me back. All wonderful. Contentment is a pretty great thing.

Again, I know I’m lucky and so far, fingers crossed, aging well, though I know anything can happen. Not necessarily the “Anything can happen!” of going off to shows, either. But so far, very lucky.

“The afternoon knows what the morning never suspected.” ― Robert Frost

“Wrinkles here and there seem unimportant compared to the Gestalt of the whole person I have become in this past year.”― May Sarton, Journal of a Solitude

“At 11, I could say ‘I am sodium’ (Element 11), and now at 79, I am gold.”― Oliver Sacks

“But if we are truly happy inside, then age brings with it a maturity, a depth, and a power that only magnifies our radiance.”― David Deida, Intimate Communion

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. If you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. And if someone forwarded this one to you, you can sign up here to receive the letters right in your Inbox. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

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Prizes? Prizes!

My painting, “Frolic”

This past weekend a local art show was held at the bank downtown where I won Third Place in painting last year. I always enter and I did so again this year. I had intended to write this letter about prizes in art and what they mean, since I was not expecting to win again this year. I was going to write about the roller coaster ride of prizes, shows, acceptance, rejection, and sales.

Well, this year I got First Place in Painting! WOW. I heard the news from a friend. Gobsmacked. Stunned. Very very happy. Told many people the happy news. Right as I was going to bed last night I worried that my friend may have gotten it wrong. Maybe it was Third Place or Honorable Mention and I’d already told all those people I got First. But no. It was true. Wow.

The thing is, a few weeks earlier another of my paintings had been rejected from a show put on by this same arts group. But I am no stranger to rejection, as anyone who’s done art shows will also say. I once met a guy who helped found the Plaza Art Fair in Kansas City and after the first couple of years, he was rejected! Another artist I know had his work used on the brochure for a show for which he was rejected. It is not uncommon to win a prize one year and be rejected the next.

So, prizes in art–what do they even mean? Generally, they mean that a particular judge or set of judges really likes your work. It’s great to win, of course. It feels wonderful and I am thrilled. I love my painting and somebody else out there loves it, too! Validation is always welcome when you’re putting yourself out into the world through art or writing or anything creative. I mean, many of us would say that when we show our art, we are essentially saying, “See me. Look at what I did! Love me.” This is why I appreciate those people who take the time to really look at my work as much as I do those who buy it. I feel seen.

Had I not won a prize, my day still would have included something like this. Win!

I will, of course, continue to let people know about this prize. Of course! My painting and ribbon were even shown on the news! Wahoo!! More people to see me, look at what I did, love me. By the time you read this, I will have received my prize in front of everyone gathered there. I will have felt seen and celebrated. As long as I don’t let not winning or being rejected rule me, I’m good.

Prizes encourage me to keep painting, even when the painting is ugly at some point in the middle. Ugh. Prizes help me remember that I have managed to pull other paintings through to the other side. They remind me that I can do it again, even if I have to struggle (as I often do). But they are not everything, by any means. I don’t paint for prizes. I do it because I love doing it. It’s fun and it takes me back to being a kid, playing, getting messy. It is just so much JOY. How lucky am I? Sheesh!

“Far and away the best prize that life offers is the chance to work hard at work worth doing.” ― Theodore Roosevelt

“It is deeply satisfying to win a prize in front of a lot of people.” ― E.B. White, Charlotte’s Web

“Art must be an expression of love or it is nothing.” Marc Chagall

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. If you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. And if someone forwarded this one to you, you can sign up here to receive the letters right in your Inbox. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

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Square Foot of Wonders

Yesterday I was sitting out on my stoop, actually almost in my driveway, waiting for a friend to arrive for a walk and from there I made a wonderful, though not really earth-shattering, discovery.

I had just listened to a short meditation by Jeff Warren called “Whole Body Listening.” Very nice. And it was a gorgeous autumnal day. Bright and crisp, with a deep blue sky. I was lying on my back in the sun, right there by my driveway, eyes open to my neighbor’s tree against that blue sky and as so often happens, was inspired to take a photo looking straight up. Lovely.

Then the magic happened. I was further inspired by the light and the colors to take photos all around me, from just right there, without getting up or finding a different vantage point, just right from where I was (reminding me of Pema Chodron’s lovely book, Start Where You Are). There were so many beautiful little things right there around me, in that very humble spot, the sidewalk at the edge of my cracked driveway. Each way I turned my head I found something picture worthy, at least, to my mind.

And isn’t that the simple truth? That anywhere we are, there are little humble things, pretty or interesting things, worthy of our attention and gratitude. You might even say worthy of love and you might even call them wonders. All these unassuming things everywhere around us, ripe for the eye’s picking. If you’re game for looking, for seeing, for spending a little time in a way that others might call pointless, and you don’t have any particular expectations, you will be rewarded, practically anyplace you find yourself.

I found this fossil rock years ago and put it in my messy “rock garden.”

I wasn’t looking for New England fall colors or Rocky Mountain views. I was just looking. Looking and seeing while sitting still in that simple spot. And it was such a pleasure. It just goes to show that simple pleasures, and even wonders, abound, as long as we’re open to them.

I had an aching back that day, too, which is why I lay down to listen to that meditation in the first place and why I saw the beguiling sky and tree above when I opened my eyes. That aching back gave me such an opportunity. I truly believe opportunities, too, are all around us and we need to seize upon them whenever we can.

What might you see just outside your door, at the end of the sidewalk, or just by the nearby curb? Wonders, I’ll bet. What little bodily grievance might lead you to something wonder-full?

“I have learned over a period of time to be almost unconsciously grateful–as a child is–for a sunny day, blue water, flowers in a vase, a tree turning red. I have learned to be glad at dawn and when the sky is dark. Only children and a few spiritually evolved people are born to feel gratitude as naturally as they breathe, without even thinking. Most of us come to it step by painful step, to discover that gratitude is a form of acceptance.” ― Faith Baldwin, Many Windows, Seasons of the Heart

“I hope these simple things are what I forever love about life, for then I will be happy no matter where I find myself.”― R. YS Perez, I Hope You Fall in Love

“When simple is more than enough, you will feel happy more than enough!”― Mehmet Murat Ildan

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. If you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. And if someone forwarded this one to you, you can sign up here to receive the letters right in your Inbox. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

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Decisions, Decisions

This is how I feel when I have a hard choice to make.

It takes me forever to make certain decisions. There are times when I’m paralyzed by two choices that both seem too hard. Surely that’s just human, isn’t it? Isn’t it?

My sister had a big birthday this past weekend, with most of the family going to be there, old friends, too, and I was not feeling well. For me, being with all of them for her big day meant travel–by car, then shuttle, then two airplanes, then BART–a big full exhausting day of travel. I’ve done it many times, no problem, but this time I did not feel at all well. Throughout the week, I took six Covid tests, all negative. I wanted a definitive answer. You have Covid; therefore you cannot go. Ahh. Decision made for me. Meaning I’d rather have Covid than take responsibility for my own choices? Hmm.

Here’s the sister who had the birthday party that I missed, and who is now a woman of a certain age.

But no. I had conversations with all three of my sisters, my son, and a couple of good friends, all of whom asked good questions and made wise comments. Still. The decision felt like a choice between me (actually, my body) and someone I love. Ooh. That is hard. Plus, there are Others to think of. I could make others sick! In the end, I stayed home. It was the right thing to do. But not fun.

No one can tell you what to do when you’re caught in this kind of conundrum. You can talk and talk and listen and listen, but eventually you just have to decide. You have to pick one. I suppose I just really didn’t want to choose either.

And here’s the universe, doing its thing, a la Deeprak Chopra (below).

Some people seem to have no trouble making decisions. Sheesh! I know all the tricks. Make a list of pros and cons. Easy. Imagine yourself doing each of the things and note how you feel as you imagine it. Sure, I’ve done that. I’ve advised Others to do it. Toss a coin and notice how you feel about the outcome. Sure. Toss a coin and accept the outcome. No, thank you. There are just times when neither choice feels right, and therefore, it’s nearly impossible to decide.

What I know for sure is that being in that state of indecision is terrible, worse as time drags on. It is the worst. But in the end, I almost always make good decisions. I generally don’t leap at dumb ideas, throw money away on things I have no business owning, or say yes to things I really don’t want to do. But what about my pain and suffering when I cannot decide? Ugh.

Now look, below, at what I just found from dear old Deepak Chopra!

“If you obsess over whether you are making the right decision, you are basically assuming that the universe will reward you for one thing and punish you for another.

The universe has no fixed agenda. Once you make any decision, it works around that decision. There is no right or wrong, only a series of possibilities that shift with each thought, feeling, and action that you experience.

If this sounds too mystical, refer again to the body. Every significant vital sign–body temperature, heart rate, oxygen consumption, hormone level, brain activity, and so on–alters the moment you decide to do anything . . . decisions are signals telling your body, mind, and environment to move in a certain direction.”― Deepak Chopra, The Book of Secrets

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. If you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. And if someone forwarded this one to you, you can sign up here to receive the letters right in your Inbox. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

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Into Thin Air

On my recent trip to Rocky Mountain National Park I worried about the thin air at elevation. Would I be able to do what I wanted to do while there, or would I have to stay back at our beautiful rental house?

The RMNP website offers this explanation about breathing at elevation: “At higher elevations there is less air pressure which results in the oxygen molecules being more dispersed. Until your body adjusts, it will struggle to take in enough oxygen. This can result in shortness of breath, as well as headache, fatigue, loss of appetite, and even nausea. It is not uncommon to experience breathlessness with even a simple walk down the sidewalk or up a flight of stairs, even for those who are very fit.”

I did struggle, but not so much that I could not go and do. I quickly learned that I needed to pause to breathe, sometimes often, and I had to let the struggle be okay. Isn’t that the teaching in meditation, though? Pause, be present, and breathe. Focus on the breath.

I love that the altitude forces you to be mindful of your breath, of oxygen, and of the present moment. Right now, in this moment, breathe. Be mindful of this life force–air–oxygen–and take it in as well as your body and lungs allow. Go at your own pace. Breathe, as suits your body.

Breathing is not a thing to take for granted, especially there, but anywhere. But there, at those high elevations, you really have to pay attention to it. The altitude, the mountains, become a teacher, asking you to be mindful of the breath, of your body, of your very basic needs and abilities, of your surroundings. Be present. Breathe.

I found this all so interesting. The meditation teachers always have you “focus on the breath.” Susan Salzberg speaks of “just this one breath.” And the mountains do, too.

Teachers everywhere. Thank you.

“If you want to conquer the anxiety of life, live in the moment, live in the breath.”― Amit Ray, Om Chanting and Meditation

“Breath is the bridge which connects life to consciousness, which unites your body to your thoughts. Whenever your mind becomes scattered, use your breath as the means to take hold of your mind again.” ― Thich Nhat Hanh, The Miracle of Mindfulness

“The Tantric sages tell us that our in-breath and out-breath actually mirror the divine creative gesture. With the inhalation, we draw into our own center, our own being. With the exhalation, we expand outward into the world.” ― Sally Kempton, Awakening Shakti

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. If you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. And if someone forwarded this one to you, you can sign up here to receive the letters right in your Inbox. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

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Mountains! Mountains!

I just returned from a week at Rocky Mountain National Park with eight women friends. Again, I feel transformed.

I have always said I’m an ocean person. Well, I am. I love the ocean. Most of these gals would love to live in the mountains. That has never been me. Driving across Colorado to see family in California, I’ve of course admired the beauty of the Rockies. I’ve oohed and ahhed at the magnificence each time I drove through, and I certainly felt lucky to be where I was. But my spirit has never been particularly drawn to the mountains.

Well, I suppose things can change, even within a 72-year-old heart. I suppose one can have more than one love, more than one heart’s destination.

Now I so wish I’d spent more time at RMNP all these years that I’ve lived in Missouri. I am only a long day’s drive from there. I wish I’d taken my sons there when they were young, maybe even every summer. Why not? We could so easily have done that. We went to the Grand Canyon, Zion, Yosemite, Bandolier, all camping or backpacking trips–but never to RMNP, which is so much closer. Why? I can’t know. I cannot fathom a reason–but that is one of those things you just have to let go.

Everyone knows the Rockies are absolutely breathtaking! I’ve always loved the constant motion of the ocean, but in the mountains you have the constantly moving clouds, settling comfortably in a valley, sitting high enough above to cast their unique shadows across the earth, or completely obscuring the whole mountain range in a second or two–and then sailing away, rising, or disappearing. Poof! There’s that view again. I could sit and watch that dance, one that is not unlike that of the sea and the shore, for hours.

Look where I was!

I was able to hike, and even to hike for six hours one day, despite my worries about the altitude and breathing. We were able to hike up, on foot, to the beautiful mountain lakes and to marvel at the amazing vistas spread before us. I am so grateful for that, for my friends, for my body, for the mountains which do so change one’s perspective. And I myself am changed. I am so very grateful for all of this! And I will go back. I hope to go back again and again.

So we walked and hiked a lot in the thin air, and we breathed, and we paused often, and there were magnificent views as well as pretty little wildflowers. And there was picture taking and eating and stargazing and searching for bull moose and bear and bighorn sheep, and listening for the bull elks’ mating call.

So I’ve come away from a trip yet again with many thoughts, reflections, and realizations. Though it breaks my heart a little every time I say goodbye to my dogs, travel is good for the heart, mind, and soul. And I am immensely grateful for all that I have.

“Thousands of tired, nerve-shaken, over-civilized people are beginning to find out that going to the mountains is going home.”― John Muir

“I like the mountains because they make me feel small,’ Jeff says. ‘They help me sort out what’s important in life.” ― Mark Obmascik, Halfway to Heaven

“She was nothing before that view, these mountains. As insignificant to any of it as one of the stones that still rattled in her boot. It was a blessed relief, to be nothing and no one.” ― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. If you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. And if someone forwarded this one to you, you can sign up here to receive the letters right in your Inbox. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

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Memory

I just read the beautifully written book, Someone, by Alice McDermott. As it turns out, I just read it for the second time, although I didn’t realize it until I’d gotten quite far into it.

I loved how it was described on the jacket. A girl growing up Catholic in Brooklyn in the ’40s. Right up my alley. I particularly like books that are set in a different time period from my own. And this one is set in Brooklyn. Perfect!

Pencil factory in Brooklyn

In the story, the neighborhood boys play stickball in the street, a blind veteran of WWI sitting in a chair in front of his stoop. For some reason, the boys turn to this man, Billy Corrigan, to call questionable hits out or in. His calls are gospel, unquestioned. This, of course, jogged my memory. You can read and read but you won’t find a blind stickball referee in more than one book.

As I read on, I felt again like I was in new territory. Perhaps I didn’t get much beyond the stickball scene? Perhaps a book I’d had on hold at the library came available and I’d abandoned Someone for it? Plausible enough. I read on. Seemingly it was all new to me–until oh, three fourths of the way into the book, there’s another strikingly familiar incident concerning the protagonist’s cataract surgery (no spoilers here, I hope). Okay, clearly, I’d read (and loved) the book before. Aiyiyi!

I’m pretty sure I’ve used this photo before, but here it is. Again!

I keep a list of Books Read these days, but I only started it a few years ago. This one isn’t on it. Well, at least I read it more than a few years ago. That helps. And I suppose one could be grateful for the chance to read, again, a lovely book, with fresh eyes, with a brain that is unsullied by this or that from a previous reading. This book was definitely worth a second reading. Or possibly even a third?

Ah well. Now I’m going to add a poem that I am very well aware I have added to a previous post. You needn’t point it out! It’s just too perfect for this one and half of you probably won’t remember having read it before, anyway. 😉

Forgetfulness – Billy Collins

The name of the author is the first to go
followed obediently by the title, the plot,
the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel
which suddenly becomes one you have never read, never even heard of,

as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor
decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain,
to a little fishing village where there are no phones.

Long ago you kissed the names of the nine muses goodbye
and watched the quadratic equation pack its bag,
and even now as you memorize the order of the planets,

something else is slipping away, a state flower perhaps,
the address of an uncle, the capital of Paraguay.

Whatever it is you are struggling to remember,
it is not poised on the tip of your tongue
or even lurking in some obscure corner of your spleen.

It has floated away down a dark mythological river
whose name begins with an L as far as you can recall

well on your own way to oblivion where you will join those
who have even forgotten how to swim and how to ride a bicycle.

No wonder you rise in the middle of the night
to look up the date of a famous battle in a book on war.
No wonder the moon in the window seems to have drifted
out of a love poem that you used to know by heart.

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. If you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. And if someone forwarded this one to you, you can sign up here to receive the letters right in your Inbox. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”