Things I forget or take for granted: the fact that I spend considerable time at home is no reason not to wear my favorite fragrance (but it's just me, in my t-shirt, doing things of no great consequence...hmmm, not a particularly convincing excuse). Very likely I push away thoughts about life being short, or certainly of unknowable duration, and whatever the line of demarcation, I have long since graduated to the region where time has speeded up and seems to evaporate rather than pass.
Yesterday was a day of joys and blessings that came so easily and seemed so simple that it made me wonder if each day contained similar gifts which, through stress or distraction or lack of focus, I'd managed to overlook on too many occasions. The pleasures included an early (West Coast time) call to a New York friend which bore fruit in the form of a wake-up call about not keeping ideas on ice while I wait for someone to give me some universal signal for GO; it also got us rhapsodizing about Robert Mitchum, a conversational thread that was picked up at the other end of the day with a friend in a completely differet time zone. There was a generous teleconference by Patti Digh and David Robinson (e-mail Patti@thecircleproject.com) which they referred to as Playing With Blocks about ways we keep ourselves from our intention and a preview of a course they will be offering which, based on the free call, will present fresh ways of looking at and not being (my word) paralyzed by things that block us.
Additional joys and blessings: I did wear Chinatown, the Bond #9 fragrance which celebrates that neighborhood of New York (story on my website: www.itsmysite.com/marylinnkelly Go to the Links category, click there, go to Street Team Crusade Entries...keep scrolling, the topic is fragrance and there are two parts, Chinatown being the second, if you're interested) and it made me happy and reminded me of all the things I love about it, including wearing it a few years ago during a friend's visit and the glad surprise of discovering the scent in my car when I drove it after she'd returned home. I told you these were simple pleasures. There was e-mail from my brother who is preparing his Australian primary school students for a concert of their recorder ensemble, with drums and voice and guitar, and his tales of the magic that has infused this project. There was the chance to explore, as I get to do most days, both with him and another friend or two, the challenges of holding true to a spiritual existence while in human form, sharing our interpretations of what passes for reality as opposed to what we experience as real and true.
Then my son discovered that his X-Box game console and our Netflix membership made possible the free and instant streaming of movies and tv series of every description to our tv set, which felt like finding that $50 you'd somehow left in the Christmas card, only to have it come to mind or to hand at just the right moment. All of this underscored by the recently unfamiliar presence of Chinatown's exotically spicy notes.
As I thought to offer this as the essay of the day (or week), the critical voice had about the same amount to say as my mother did the day I tried to leave the house with the short sleeves of my blouse rolled up even shorter, like a cast member from the darker side of GREASE. My 6th grade friend Linda had dressed like that or wore her cardigan sweater backwards, another style yearning I never got to realize. You are looking at the result of my rebellion. Sometimes the story of the day is one of seeming simplicity, the overlooked cloudbursts of abundance that grace our moments. An on-line newsletter which I receive reminded us subscribers that we are to say YES to opportunities and experiences. I have also been reminded in the last 24 hours that happiness is something we prepare for in advance. Shall we agree to wear our best perfume for no reason, to remember how madly favored we are to have ever been in love - whether it went, as one might say, anyplace, or it didn't - and to practice the probably long-forgotten habit of picking up pennies, real or metaphoric, and choosing to see them as signs of universal goodness and plenty, no matter what time remains.