Category: MerryThoughts

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Intrepid

What the heck? I used to call myself “a plucky show artist.” For years I traveled, alone, to various cities, for a long time in an old worn out van, set up my difficult booth, knowing no one upon arrival but ultimately meeting lots of new people. I braved wind, rain and even tornadoes in a precarious booth weighed down with cement and straps. I loved it. Loved loved loved it.

And then I grew tired of it. The weather challenges grew very tiresome. At a show in Springfield MO, first weekend in May, one year it was in the 90s; the next year it snowed. No, thank you. So, tired and burned out is one thing. But fearful?

I’ve flown many, many times, within and outside of the country. Now? Flying had become a thing that unraveled me. Okay, Covid unraveled me. After canceling several flights last year, I have just braved air travel. But getting myself on that plane was a real challenge. I was fearful and worried. The mask mandate had just been dropped. This plucky show artist, this intrepid traveler nearly cried on that first flight, where only six of thirty passengers wore masks. I nearly got off the plane.

How is this anxious person me??

It was touch and go that morning, but finally, I decided it would feel like a defeat if I didn’t go. My mantra was, “I’m boosted. I won’t get Covid. I’ll have a wonderful time.”

I didn’t get Covid and I did have a wonderful time. I saw siblings, nieces and nephews I hadn’t seen for over two years. I saw one of my NYC sons! There was a family picnic (and family drama). There was a birthday. There was a cottage overlooking the sea, with the romance of a telescope in a many-windowed room. I ate barbecued oysters in Bodega Bay, had fabulous meals in restaurants and in the homes of my sisters, went into shops and galleries, got my feet in the sand and the ocean, sank into a foot and a half of snow, and saw breathtaking, gorgeous landscapes and rainbows.

I breathed in air that carried a different loveliness than I’m used to, renewed my love affair with the ocean. In Oregon for my first time ever, I walked in snow wearing jeans and a t-shirt. I saw grand rivers, rivers of cold turquoise water, with roaring waterfalls, and wet, moss-covered rocks and boulders, surrounded by huge tall trees I cannot name.

Magical nature abounding.

I came home with a full heart and so many memories. I am so happy that, after over two years, I broke the seal on flying. What’s next? Greece. Cinque Terre. Cycling the perimeter of Taiwan? Maine, again. The Riviera Maya, again. Machu Picchu? New York, again and again. The national parks. I am, after all, a plucky 70-year-old woman. I shall go and do while I can.

“The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page.”― St. Augustine

“I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel’s sake. The great affair is to move.” ― Robert Louis Stevenson

“I read; I travel; I become.” ― Derek Walcott

“. . . to travel is worth any cost or sacrifice.” ― Elizabeth Gilbert

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. And 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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Bless His Heart

I had a friend, since passed away, who would nearly always follow his criticism or complaint of someone with, “Bless his heart.” It might seem disingenuous but I always liked it. I thought he was basically saying, “I don’t like what he does, but he’s a good, imperfect person.” Aren’t we all?

And those words, “Bless her heart,” are lovely, when you really think about them. So much better than “Bless you” after a sneeze. Bless your heart. Bless the most vulnerable part of you. And that, to me, is even better. He would also say it directly to me, as a form of empathy. I’d have a cold or maybe I’d be dealing with something difficult, and he would say, “Ohh, bless your heart.” It’s somehow more than empathy. He wasn’t just feeling my pain, but offering something more.

Words do have power. Those kinds of words were not a part of my childhood, though, and aren’t now, either, though I’d like to try and say them. We said, “Bless you!” if someone sneezed, but we did not ever speak in terms of blessings, prayer, or God at home. We were Catholics! We said formal prayers in church, things we memorized in Catholic school. That kind of talk did not enter into our daily life. I get a little itchy when people do speak of God or Jesus as if they’re talking about an uncle or someone who lives down the block. And I feel like they can see all the way through my silence.

Another friend, also now gone, used to ask me to pray for him in his fight with pancreatic cancer. Finally I came clean and said, “You know, I’m not much of one for prayer, but I am holding you in my thoughts.” He just smiled and said, “He knows what you’re thinking.” No judgment, just easy, gentle acceptance.

I do love the idea of a blessing as a piece of grace, a delight bestowed, a kindness, some solace offered by me or by the universe to someone who needs it. I love the word, though I am not religious. I love it for all these other meanings. I love it as a loveliness we can bestow on each other, rather than the Catholic way of receiving it from someone who is supposedly better or higher (more male) than me.

So I am blessing your heart, from this distance. I am blessing not just your heart but all the parts of you! I bless you all over! I hope you can feel that.

“You have to participate relentlessly in the manifestation of your own blessings.”― Elizabeth Gilbert

“Money can’t buy no blessin’s.” ― Ron Hall, Same Kind of Different as Me

“In the end, life is about collecting experiences and looking for the lesson and blessing in each one. Yet we are never to carry these experiences on our backs, only in our hearts. One will hold us back, while the other will keep us moving forward.” ― Suzy Kassem, Rise Up and Salute the Sun

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. And 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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Mindset

This is that breakthrough painting.

Last week Minnow Pond Tarot was recommended to me. It’s a combination of Tarot and astrology, with readings each week for each of the astrological signs. Well, I like Tarot, I have a set of cards, and I like to lay out a reading for myself on New Year’s Day and occasionally other days, so I tuned in to his YouTube channel. Wow. The reading for Virgo, April 18-24, was AMAZING. Lots of great cards–the Star, the Lovers, the Chariot, lots of Cups (love) cards. Finding your perfect match.

A great week for love but also for realizing a long held dream come true, a wish realized. His advice was to stay open, avoid distractions, stay focused, and do all things with intention.

This is my collage from 2017 with the beautiful word YES as its focal point.

Well, that reading lit a fire under me. There were a few possibilities for the dream or wish come true, “a thing that you’ve wanted for four or five years finally coming into reality.” Love? The perfect match? Hmm. I don’t know about all that. There’s where your Limiting Beliefs card comes in. But painting. I had said for years that I wanted to paint. I thought this could be the thing.

My painting that week took an amazing turn and I was loving what I was painting, using colors that fire up my heart and soul, knowing just what I wanted to do day after day in my studio. It felt qualitatively different. I had a level of confidence that I’ve not had with painting. I loved what I created. I had also just rid myself of a very big distraction in my life and had a great sense of freedom.

One of a series, inspired by my “breakthrough” painting

I listened to that two-part reading three times, while painting. So maybe those cards were telling me I’d have success, love, a dream come true and now I’ve looked for those things to happen. Maybe I’m imagining the synchronicity. Or not.

OR maybe his words and those cards simply inspired positivity and confidence in me, gave me the ability and the mindset I needed to turn a corner with my painting. Who knows? And what if they did? How great is that?

Either way, if it’s magical thinking or not, it added a layer of extra greatness to my outlook, my confidence, and my painting. It made me think, here I am! This is me, painting like a painter! Here this is! Any and all help, boosts, and nudges accepted. Resources are out there for the taking. Why not say yes?

“I never made one of my discoveries through the process of rational thinking”

― Albert Einstein

“The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.” ― Sylvia Plath

“The chief enemy of creativity is good sense.” ― Pablo Picasso

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. And 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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Leaving

Sweet Rufus’ latest malady is terrible allergies.

I am traveling this week, which means not only that I’m having to steel myself for actually flying in an airplane once again but I’m leaving my dogs at home. This is very hard for me, always, even for one overnight. While Rufus spends most of his time in Oliver’s company and seems happiest there, and he won’t look devastated when I leave, he does have all kinds of health problems and issues, so that it’s hard for me to leave him.

And then there’s Miles. Well, Miles is really my dog. He is lying on the rug right here by me, at the moment, as he often does. He is a one-woman dog. I am his person. He gets a stomach ache whenever I leave. He sees all the telltale signs of any upcoming travel, and then he worries and frets and gives me that look. When will you come home? Will you ever come home? Maybe not. This might be the last time I’ll ever see you again. And then what?

Darling Miles

And I fret, as well. Does Oliver tell Miles he loves him, every single day? Probably not. Who am I kidding? No. Never. Will he kiss him on the nose? No. Will he let Miles give him a French kiss? No. Oh dear.

And Miles has gotten visibly older and has some difficulties, as well. He has a bad neck and sometimes, especially lately, a limp. I can hardly bear to see this.

Lately, though, Miles has spent a little more time in Oliver’s room, and that gives me some reassurance. Still, the looks he gives me on the leaving day, oh, they’re hard to bear. Almost always I want to take my bags back upstairs and settle down on the couch with him. Once or twice, I have.

If I were better organized I would put here a poem that this drawing goes with, a poem called “Do You?” It is about being away from home and seeing other dogs that make me think about my own two messy dogs, waiting for me back at home. But I am not organized and I wrote those Daily Poems for over a year a long time ago and marked them only with the date, which makes them very difficult to locate specifically. So I give up. I am, after all, getting ready to travel! I’m stressed! I cannot do everything! What do you want from me??

If you are particularly interested in finding it, you could search through the Daily Poems in my blog. Please do let me know if you find it and where. I would appreciate it.

“Outside of a dog, a book is man’s best friend. Inside of a dog it’s too dark to read.”

― Groucho Marx

“If there are no dogs in Heaven, then when I die I want to go where they went.”

― Will Rogers

“Heaven goes by favor. If it went by merit, you would stay out and your dog would go in.” ― Mark Twain

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. And 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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My Mother the Painter

My mother’s seaside painting

My mother was possibly 80 when she took up painting. She was living in a pleasant mobile home park for people 55 and older, in Sonoma CA. She had a very nice life there. She walked two or three miles a day, did line dancing, played cards in the clubhouse, and lounged by the pool, complete with palm trees. And she took a painting class.

Her painting a la Kandinsky

I have no idea how the class was taught. I only know that she apparently judged most, if not all, of her paintings good enough to frame and hang on her walls. They were all over her place! You have to admire that. Most beginning painters, myself included, judge our paintings and ourselves as not good enough. Not my mother! She wasn’t boastful about her painting at all and she was pretty quiet about it, but she clearly felt proud of what she made. Good for her! So good.

I wonder what made it so easy for her. It was likely just a pastime for her, not a passion, and she held no expectations for her painting or for herself as an artist. She just enjoyed doing it. So there we have it, again. Those pesky expectations. They change everything.

One of my tiny abstracts

My painting teacher pronounces expectation as the killer of joy. When you’re thinking about the outcome, you’re not in the moment. When you’re not in the moment, you’re not enjoying what you’re doing. I certainly have found this to be true. When I do a thing and just enjoy the doing of it, I’m able to flat out love it. I know this. There is great freedom in that.

But so often, we give away that freedom and that joy in pursuit of an outcome. How often we get in our own way! It is just so hard to turn off the judging brain. My mother did it. I can do it sometimes and when I do, oh boy, it’s fun.

“My expectations were reduced to zero when I was 21. Everything since then has been a bonus.” ― Stephen W. Hawking

“It is not your paintings I like, it is your painting.” ― Albert Camus

“The painter will produce pictures of little merit if he takes the works of others as his standard.” ― Leonardo da Vinci

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. And 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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Wise Words

“We all come as we are.” I heard this statement from a good friend this morning. Here is what transpired between us. A) When I ran into her, she seemed genuinely delighted to see me, even though, as I pointed out, I had been in a grumpy mood the last time we walked together. B) She even said she was just wondering to herself when we’d get to walk again! C) When I expressed regret about my grumpy mood of last week, she said easily, “We all come as we are.” Unbelievably, she did not hold it against me!

Well! I guess we do come as we are, don’t we? I found her simple statement to be kind, lovely, and profound. And it turned my mood around today. It’s pretty easy for me to feel like “as I am” is not quite good enough. And believe it or not, I have even been known to feel like “as you are” is not good enough!

This friend and I have known each other since we had babies and toddlers. If you’re ever going to feel not good enough, that’s a prime time. Everything you do as a young mother (or an old one) seems to be dubious. At least, it did to us. I had a therapist back then who finally asked me, “But are you good enough?” Well, yes, I had to admit that I was. What a revelation! I tried to be patient, consistent (hah!), loving, fun, empathic. I played and goofed around with my boys, read stories and books to them for hours. We had candy cigarettes on road trips and Kool-Aid Happy Hours. I took care of their physical needs and tried very hard to care for their emotional needs. So yes, I was a Good Enough Mother. So much relief.

That was a genius question on that therapist’s part. And it applies to everything we do. “Are you good enough?” I don’t think of it as often as I should.

Am I a good enough person? Yes. A good enough friend? Yes. A good enough writer? Yes. A good enough artist? Yes. Of course I still try to get better at what I do, work at being a better friend (one who doesn’t judge others for coming as they are), and aspire to be a better version of myself. Duh. We all want to be our best selves. But we all come as we are and even with our foibles and idiosyncrasies, nearly every one of us is good enough. I say “nearly” because, come on. I’m human. We all know only too well that there are a few truly evil people in the world.

In what ways are you good enough? Here’s a hint: every and all. In what ways could you improve? Again, every and all.

“Wanting to be someone else is a waste of the person you are.”― Marilyn Monroe

“The worst loneliness is to not be comfortable with yourself.”― Mark Twain

“I don’t want everyone to like me; I should think less of myself if some people did.” ― Henry James

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. And 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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Collecting Dust

My well-worn copy of The Artist’s Way

I believe I’ve mentioned before that I write each morning. Ever since 1998, when I read The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron, I’ve been writing what she calls Morning Pages. It’s just a way of clearing your mind for the day, writing whatever comes up without trying to write well or be pithy or profound. I write on looseleaf paper and I guard this routine selfishly. The odd day when I miss might be because I have to leave the house super early to catch a plane (obviously not often)–but that’s about it. People tend to think this shows great discipline, but I do it because I love it. It’s a routine that I adore–in my bed in pajamas, sun rising out my window, cup of tea on one side of me, dogs on the other.

Some of my Morning Pages. Some!

So I’ve been doing this for 24 years. You can imagine the amount of paper. I usually write at least 3 pages, often more than a ream of paper each year. After my aunt died and we read every scrap of her handwritten notes, I was in a panic to clear mine out. Not just minutiae, there’s also a lot of petty grievances and complaints in those pages. What if I got hit by a bus and my family read all of that?

But the pages had piled up again. This winter, I suddenly developed an allergy to dust mites. Well, I had been saying that if I was allergic to dust, considering the state of my home, I’d already be dead. My bedroom and studio are filled with things. Far too many things. Books, papers, clothing, pillows, scarves, shoes, jewelry, art, art supplies, piano music, tchotchkes, heart-shaped rocks, etc. Thus, those two rooms, especially, are very difficult to dust. So I hardly ever do it.

The other day, sneezing like mad, too miserable for a planned road trip, I attacked my bedroom. There sat piles and piles of Morning Pages, some in binders, some just loose and stacked, going back to 2008, gathering loads of dust. Ugh.

But what to do with them? Paper. I had to recycle. But what if those workers who go through the recycling started reading? I could just imagine one saying to the other, “Listen to this!” Laughing, casting aspersions on my very personal ramblings. No, I could not bear it. So I sat for hours, mask on, tearing the pages in half before taking four garbage bags of torn pages to the recycling center.

I considered holding back 2020 and 2021, each of them much more than a ream of paper. But why? For historical reasons? Would I ever read them again? Would I want to read them? I often think I’ll go back and pull the best parts of them, the pages in which I really was writing something interesting, discovering something or other, recounting some important moments or days in my life. In the end, I tore up those, too, and off they went.

Marie Kondo would be proud, but only a little. I have miles to go before I stop sneezing.

“Edit your life frequently and ruthlessly. It’s your masterpiece after all.” Nathan W. Morris

“Tidying is the act of confronting yourself.” Marie Kondo

“Clutter is often the result of so many good intentions.” Becky Rogers

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. And 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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Paper Rock Scissors

My pretty little storefront

In April, 2006, I opened a shop called Paper Rock Scissors in the charming little town of Rocheport MO, not far at all from my home in Columbia. It was fun while it lasted, and it was another great adventure in leading an artist’s life.

Just the other day I ran across a page of writing in which I was trying to come up with a name for the shop. That page is so full of what I will call youthful exuberance (I was “only” 55 then). Besides trying on names, I was just tossing around words and phrases that were relevant to my life, with a view to finding the perfect name. It’s a page of loose, freewheeling enjoyment of words and images, clearly showing how fun it was for me to go off in this new direction.

“Dog & Bone, carousel, poems, canoe, clouds, Moon & Stars, wishbone, French, umbrellas, heart rocks, woods, twilight, treehouse, birdhouse, dilettante, ooh la la, April, fall down laughing, pen & ink, wonderment, jazz, cat’s pajamas, great panjandrum . . . ” and lots more. I settled on Paper Rock Scissors, which appears second on the list.

Opening the shop was a very fun detour in my art world life, especially getting the shop ready and finding all the things I needed to make it into a proper shop. Here’s the thing, though. The beautiful space in an old red brick building had no bathroom, no heat, and no air conditioning! Somehow, those gorgeous tall windows and high ceilings convinced me that I could make that work! The owner agreed to put a work sink in the basement, since I wanted to move my studio space next to the showroom, but that was all. So I had to go elsewhere for the bathroom when needed, and I thought, well, okay. But no heat? And no air conditioning, with those gorgeous tall south-facing windows?? A bit crazy.

With the help of friends, I really did make that space lovely, though. And I threw a big grand opening party, during which we popped many bottles of champagne. Now and again I get the urge to open up a retail space somewhere. It could be fun!
But I did not like being tied down to open hours and a place day after day. And I did not particularly like having my studio 15 miles from my house. And then there were just so few people. I realized that I had seen fewer people in the year than I had been seeing in a weekend at a halfway decent show. If the studio hadn’t been right there, I would have been bored out of my mind.

No heat and no cooling. Difficult. I got tired of traipsing around town to use someone else’s bathroom. Dumb old reality. I closed up the shop in February of 2007, which turned out to be a lucky move, as I broke my neck that month in a car accident and was laid up for three months. Another story for another day.

So I tried something new, something I’d thought about off and on for years. It was rejuvenating and fun, and I learned a few things about myself along the way. No regrets at all. I am so in favor of taking new directions, following your heart, staying open to wherever it takes you, and changing course if need be.

What might you like to try?

“We all want to break our orbits, float like a satellite gone wild in space, run the risk of disintegration. We all want to take our lives in our own hands and hurl them out among the stars.” ― David Bottoms

“Realize that if a door closed, it’s because what was behind it wasn’t meant for you.” ― Mandy Hale

“From the end spring new beginnings.” ― Pliny the Elder

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. And 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 on my blog.

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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Vernal Equinox

I love that word, “vernal,” which literally means “of or relating to spring.” And equinox, too–equal night–when the sun sits directly above the equator, causing exactly equal hours of day and night in that part of the globe. We in the Northern hemisphere don’t exactly have that but we call March 20 the Vernal Equinox, anyway.

Anticipation of Spring is a wonderful thing as we plod along through the vagaries of winter weather. It is lovely to daydream about what might be stirring underground and within the branches of trees and shrubs. Tiny little bits of life busily organizing themselves to push forth into the warm sunshine. What might it be like deep inside those dark places?

Now it is all beginning. Ahh. The treasure hunt for wildflowers, buds, blooms, color, baby and migrating birds, and delicate greens is on. The courtship of blue and green has begun in nature’s ballroom of sunshine and raindrops. All manner of creatures are stirring, too, in the mud, dreaming of their lives above ground beginning once more. And already I’ve heard the peepers!

I always feel that living where there are four seasons offers the gift of anticipation. We know Spring will come. It’s a given. We don’t ruin it with expectation, as we do often ruin things in life. You can put as much pressure, hope and desire on Spring as you want and it won’t be chased away or ruined. It won’t fail us. It is infallibly itself and will definitely arrive, no matter what we ask of it. And we can rest in the knowing that it will be beautiful.

My paintings, my pickleball skill, my meditation practice might very well be adversely affected by my expectations, taking me out of the moment and stealing my joy in the doing. But Spring exacts no such price. I can daydream, hope, imagine and picture it with great anticipation, and what does it do? It comes and does what it does and it loves everything to pieces, no matter what. And for that I am very grateful.

“It is spring again. The earth is like a child that knows poems by heart.” ― Rainer Maria Rilke

“(such a sky and such a sun
i never knew and neither did you
and everybody never breathed
quite so many kinds of yes)”
— e.e. cummings, Collected Poems

“always
it’s
Spring)and everyone’s
in love and flowers pick themselves”
― e.e. cummings, Collected Poems

“Spring work is going on with joyful enthusiasm.” ― John Muir, The Wilderness World of John Muir

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. And 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 on my blog.

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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What To Do?

This morning I got up feeling grumpy about Daylight Savings Time. I don’t like it. I think it’s dumb. Etc. And then right on the heels of those thoughts and feelings comes, I am not in Ukraine or Yemen or Syria. My country is not torn apart by war. This is how my thinking runs, lately.

I wondered and wrote in my Morning Pages about what to put in this letter. I have made lists of topics, including fun, lighthearted, or funny stories from my life; uplifting stories or ideas; meandering thoughts about all sorts of things, e.g. my interests, loves and passions, phrases from meditation or elsewhere that inspire me; as well as possibly humorous complaints and rants about things like Daylight Savings Time.

But I have a dilemma about writing about any of those things at the moment.

Maybe everyone desperately needs lightness from somewhere, a cheerful letter, a post that is upbeat and forward-looking, in the midst of the terrible news of the world. Or is that disrespectful? On “Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me” last Saturday one of the cast members was joking about how handsome and cool Volodymyr Zelenskyy is, talking to the press in a t-shirt. The audience was laughing and Peter Sagal said maybe she needed to go take a cold shower. Really? Is this funny? Or appropriate? Do people really need to laugh that badly?

But then, what should we do? We do need to laugh, feel joy, get inspired, take care of ourselves and each other. We do need, like good paintings, lightness to contrast with the dark. Mightn’t it be a worthwhile endeavor for me to add to the ever-diminishing pile of laughter, light, and joy? What else can I really do, other than put a frame around my profile photo on Facebook, sign petitions, send money to help the refugees?

Are you, my reader, disappointed that I did not offer you something today to lift you up? Then I’m sorry. Maybe I should have. I do try to add to the goodness in the world, not take away from it. But I thought it worthwhile today to offer up my dilemma. I hope it’s worth something to you, as well.

I will go back next week to lighter fare, I promise. Spring is coming for us. We are lucky as hell.

“Perseverance is everything. We all stumbled when we took our first steps yet we were running sooner than we realized, and then we couldn’t stay still. Why stay still now?” – Rob Liano

“It’s morning, and again I am that lucky person who is in it.” – Mary Oliver

“We are all leaves of one tree. We are all waves of one sea.” – Thich Nhat Hanh

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. And 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 right here in my blog.

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.”