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Saving Up

Something about a palm tree says luxury to me.

I had a little getaway last weekend, with a friend, to South Padre Island. Palm trees, sand, ocean, and sun in the middle of winter. To me that is something quite luxurious, even though it was really a modest trip. But how did I manage to do it? I have never been great at saving money, budgeting (ugh), or planning in advance. I don’t even like thinking about money, banking, bookkeeping, any of that stuff.

Several years ago, I found in a magazine the idea of saving your $5 bills throughout the year towards a flight to someplace warm in winter. Well, of course I began right away. It’s fun! It is a painless way of saving a little money. I count up those fives every now and then, marveling. And it beats throwing away $5 on Powerball, in the hope of becoming a millionaire overnight and then being miserable for the rest of my life. I do not need millions of dollars clogging up my brain and I do not crave a $2000/night resort stay or a $100,000 trip on that gigantic new cruise ship. How could one ever feel that these things were actually worth it?

So I had saved $600 in a little handmade box an artist friend gave me many years ago. This money paid for my hotel, meals, etc., since the flight was already covered by my credit card points. La!

Sunrise on our last morning

So that painless saving netted me an Artist Retreat with a friend, in a warm place, on an island, with palm trees, sand, ocean, gorgeous sunsets and sunrises, and truly fabulous seafood that didn’t cost an arm OR a leg. A modest little getaway, but just right.

Now I’m saving up those moments on the sand, watching the sea roll in and out, those beautiful sunrises and sunsets, and all the rest of it in my brain for a cold, dreary day like today, when I can look at my photos or into my memory and have it all again. The platter of raw oysters, the modest little table at the edge of a patio with the sun going down over the ocean, the warm sun on my shoulders–all of these things can be called up again and again whenever I need them.

Saving up a little bit of money and loads of memories.

“Kate never had any money, but she loved to save it. When she was ninety-three her youngest daughter took her to a dollar store where she found an elevated tray filled with tiny aluminum percolators, one-cuppers. The frank and ethical enterprise attached a notice informing its customers that these percolators did not work. They were only 5 cents, so Kate bought two of them anyway.”― Donald Hall, A Carnival Of Losses

“Saving money is often associated with sacrifice. However, you can associate it with freedom rather than limitation if you realize one simple truth: living below your current means increases your future means.”― James Clear, Atomic Habits

“Wealth consists not in having great possessions but in having few wants.” – Epictetus

“He who buys what he does not need steals from himself.”- Swedish Proverb

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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Heat

I had considered writing about other things today, but there has just been no escaping the heat lately, and so here you are. Heat. It has been brutally hot here where I live almost every day in July and many days in June. The grass is drying up. Even the onions and things I never wanted in my flower bed are burning to a crisp. Hallelujah! Go, onions! Begone, ugly weeds! I suppose if you wait long enough the thing that’s bothering will eventually change or go away.

And I suppose we’d have to say that is true of excessive heat, too. Tomorrow we expect a high of 78. Woohoo!!

Still, I have been longing to be elsewhere. The Great Lakes, Maine, Cornwall, Aruba–all of these places call my name and yet I cannot manage to get to any of them. Evil people mercilessly post photos of their gorgeous beach vacations, day after day. Ugh. I have to practice lovingkindness very, very hard for them. “May you be happy.” At your magnificent beach.

I walk my dogs and play pickleball outdoors as early in the day as possible, then waste away, melted, until the next morning. Old Lady. I might as well stuff a hanky into the neckline of my flowered dress and carry a fan.

I belong to two online artist communities on Facebook, both based in the UK. Granted, they’ve just had their hottest day on record and it was a really hot one. But a couple of weeks earlier, when it was in the upper 90s here and 100% humidity, one of those lovely British artists was whingeing (see what I did there?) about the “searing” heat of 28 degrees Celsius. I looked it up. 82 Fahrenheit! 82!! I would have given my hanky and fan for that!

Just goes to show that all things are relative. And yes, I’m aware that all things do change, as well, and we’ll be griping about the ice, come February.

A way of dealing with this is to think about what we do have. I, for example, do have central air. Very lucky. I have indoor activities that I love, like painting, writing, reading, and eating out. Oh, wait. I don’t eat out because of Covid. Okay, I have many pairs of shorts and sleeveless tops, clean water to drink, and a bathtub. I have watermelon. I have television, for those wrung out, splayed across the couch evening hours. I really am lucky. I know this.

Even so, I really, really, really, really want to be gazing at, sitting at the edge of, or actually in a very large body of water. Right now. Poopoo.

“If there’s a single lesson that life teaches us, it’s that wishing doesn’t make it so.”― Lev Grossman, The Magicians

“Sometimes things become possible if we want them bad enough.” ― T.S. Eliot

“Because there’s nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline, no matter how many times it’s sent away.” ― Sarah Kay

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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Mexico, Revisited

Having just last week expounded upon the notion of uitwaiien, I’ve decided this week that I need to go to Mexico, at least in my mind. Last year at this time I was in Akumal, Mexico, with my childhood best friend, who lives in Texas and whom I only rarely get to see. She works in travel and arranged a complimentary stay for us in a luxurious resort there. That trip was such a beautiful time for me. A gorgeous beach with perfectly lovely turquoise Caribbean water that broke way out in the distance, resulting in a gently lapping sparkle of sea on pristine white sand. Completely comfortable temperatures day in. I have kept Akumal as a weather location on my phone just to imagine I might be going there soon. Day after day, the temperature is around 82 degrees. Ahh.

My friend had some business to do, but I mostly lounged on an umbrella-covered chaise or a fabulous covered “beach bed,” gazing at the sea and sky. Endlessly. I found I was unable to read or nap or shut my eyes at all. I was simply mesmerized by that beautiful water and its gracious conversation with the shore. It was a meditation. When Anne and I were together on the beach, we chose not to talk all that much. We were easy with each other, as always, after all the years since we were 13. And I was perfectly content.

I came home utterly, totally, thoroughly, wholeheartedly relaxed. I felt like my heart had sprung wide open. And as often happens when I travel, I found a tiny heart-shaped memento–this time, a piece of coral–in the water. I brought it home and placed it on a little table in my bedroom. I press my finger to it as I pass by. And my Romantic (with a capital R) heart took it as an omen. (Nothing to report as of yet.)

Living here in the Midwest, I long for the sea. I do. I long for it, even though I grew up here. I know many Midwesterners who feel pulled to the mountains. Okay. Gorgeous. Sure. Awe-inspiring. Yes. But not my heart’s resting place. Mountains, I feel, block the view. Nice place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there. 😉

I love a broad, expansive view, of fields, hills, woods, sky, water, any of those, with water right at the top of the list–my heart opener. If I was going to uproot myself, which would be hard, as I do love the Midwestern landscape, it would have to include proximity to a large body of water.

So here I am, in a particularly bitter cold February in Missouri. I accept it, as this is my home and this is what we have here: four seasons, each with its own unique beauty. But while meditating, I often envision that beach at Akumal with its glistening water. Quietly out and back, out and back, ever and always, teaching the art of doing nothing (another Dutch word, niksen). Intruding thoughts go poof! into that blue sky, to be carried off by a gull. Ahh.

So where do you go, in your mind, when you need to escape to someplace else? What is your heart’s resting place? I hope you have one. I imagine we all do, although some wander off to theirs more often than others. One day, I hope to get my actual physical body back to mine.

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. And if you like this letter, you’ll find past letters and poems here. And if you know someone who would enjoy these letters, send them 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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Commencement

Placing myself on a long quiet strip of land and sand

somewhere, Cape Cod, Maine, Newfoundland

some beach, some rocky shore removed, remote.

I remember two late summer days spent alone

on the farthest tip of Cape Cod, the quiet,

the breakwater of huge stones arcing out

into the sea leading to a spit of land that

when the tide came in would be covered over

the frisson of danger as I stepped across

the elegance of the flat square stones underfoot

the luxury of being alone in that place

taking my own time, needing neither

to come nor go nor eat nor drink by

another’s lights, clock, whim or desire

needing nothing at all but that exact place in

that perfect time with only the sea and the shore

for company a beginning I did not recognize then

for what it was–the graceful commencement of my present.