September 26, 2014 In appreciation, art, books, inspiration, life and the universe, words and language By Patricia Saxton

Friday Night Book Club: Devouring Words

A more delicious work of writing in recent months, I have not read. Anthony Doerr’s latest novel is a shining star.

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from “All the Light We Cannot See”, a stunning novel about a blind French girl and a German boy whose paths collide in occupied France as both try to survive the devastation of World War II.

We’ve read quite a few books since I last wrote about our Friday Night Book Club ~ many of them noteworthy ~ but All The Light We Cannot See was, to me, the most notably delicious. It’s storytelling at its best, woven with a scrumptious use of language. Doerr marries prose with bold emotion and stark realism, the offspring being sentence after readable, captivating sentence.

And yes, the characters! Always the characters – you have to “care” about them, and we do.

This novel passes my “what makes a book really worthwhile” test with flying colors: It’s got to be purely great storytelling. That means brilliant writing. Personable, intriguing characters. Interesting plots, invisibly rich details. You’re immersed. You’re engaged. You care.

I’ll also add that I like to feel I’m learning something. And here, in All the Light We Cannot See, I learned about a different side of World War II (a subject I seem to be perennially fascinated by), primarily taking place in France and seen through the eyes of two intriguing children. But learning alone is not enough. I wanna be grabbed by the belt, taken on a voyage, filled with wonder. All The Light We Cannot See does all that. It’s one of those books that makes your life feel richer for having read it.

………….

For you book lovers out there, we gather on the first Friday of each month, if you want to read along virtually. Other Book Club Books read since my last Friday Night Book Club posting are The Signature of All Things by Elizabeth Gilbert (loved), The Language of Flowers by Vanessa Diffenbaugh (loved), The Invention of Wings by Sue Monk Kidd (really loved), and Raven Black by Ann Cleeves (liked).

I also have a really long list of books on my GoodReads author page if anyone wants to connect over there.

Peace, love, happy reading.

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September 21, 2014 In appreciation, art, creativity, inspiration, optimism, philosophy By Patricia Saxton

Outrageous Happiness #9: Behaving Badly

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I had a pretty happy childhood. Excluding my brothers’ taunts, of course, about my report cards and the shape of my feet. Although, these latter attacks were counteracted: “Indian feet” my Uncle Paul told me, with arches so high and feet slightly pigeon-toed, he said it made me walk soundlessly and properly, the way an Indian would. Being the eternal optimist I chose to believe my Uncle’s version.

(But I jest, brothers… for the record, you’ve been just right.)

In any event, back to the childhood. I have many fond memories, but one that randomly popped out today is laughing in church with my Aunt Gina. (no relation to Uncle Paul, in case you were wondering.) What made this such a wonderful experience is that a.) my Aunt was one of the sweetest people ever to walk this earth, with never an unkind word and always erring to the polite and “right” thing to do and b.) this was not the “right” thing to do.

I have no recollection as to what set us off, except that I’m positive it was a particularly somber, serious moment, which made it all so wrong when I felt my shoulders bob with stifled giggles, only to glance over at my Aunt who was clearly tight-lipped trying to contain her own, and then she looked at me looking at her and it took every, I mean, every, ounce of restraint from each of us not to snort and cackle for the whole crowd to hear. Which, naturally, made our giggles exponentially worse. (No doubt many of you have had a similar experience.) I was sure the bench was shaking. Oh the dread! An out and out laughing fit right then and there. In church. Completely inappropriate. Devilishly fun. I can still laugh thinking of it. Shared joy in our behaving badly.

What this is all leading me to, though, is not memory lane as much as the idea of breaking rules. The whole “life is short” scenario. Making sure to have some fun along the way, which sometimes involves rule-bending. (of course, never, ever, involving harm to others.)

Maybe it’s a food fight. Maybe it’s the hot fudge sundaes my daughter and I sometimes have for breakfast on Sunday (makes sense to me!). Maybe it’s taking a sick day to go fishing or rock climbing or to sit and read a book on the beach. It’s the spontaneous trip to Arizona that lasts two seasons. It’s jumping in the pool with your clothes on. Off the high dive. Taking a left turn instead of a right. Owning a convertible at least once in your life. Staying up late, getting up early, sleeping in the afternoon. Eating the damn cupcake just because you want to. Being the first one on the dance floor. Laughing in church with someone you love.

Be just a little outrageous. Break a rule or two while you’re here; for happiness’ sake.

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How’s your Outrageous Happiness going?

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September 16, 2014 In appreciation, leadership, life and the universe, optimism By Patricia Saxton

Trusting

I’ve found it hard to post my usual posts lately, the ones about creating happiness, about the joys of art, writing and such, knowing, as we all do, about the pain, anguish and atrocities going on out there in the world. So I just wanted to take a moment to acknowledge. These are severe times in many ways. Talking about painting seems somehow trite.

Yet we go back to our Facebook pages and homework and poetry writing and “what’s for dinner” because what’s out there is all too ugly to mentally sustain ~ and what the hell would we do anyway? Aren’t there Leaders to handle this kind of thing? Sadly, I see no leaders…. and then a troubling cycle of thought threatens to ensue, poised on all the madness.

The thing is, when it comes to the Really Big Stuff in the world, it’s as though I simply can’t process it fully. I can feel horrified. I can feel disgust. I can feel really, really disturbed. But I can’t fully engage. Maybe it’s a form of self-preservation – as if to think on it too hard and long, to dwell, is too intense an exercise. A debilitating merry-go-round of worry and fear. Contemplating ruined lives and sabotaged events is too heavy a weight.

Is it my artistic temperament? My sensitivity that can’t handle it? I’ll think, “but am I turning the other cheek?” Am I uncaring, or selfishly absorbed in “my own little world”? “Shouldn’t I be doing something?” Is it some kind of cosmic guilt, a tripped-up compassionate pulse that I should enjoy a good meal while thousands of people across the globe struggle in unthinkable situations? That I landed where I did in this life, and they did not?

But I always come back to 2 things: 1.)  an eternal optimism I seem to have been born with (or maybe it was nurtured in, or both) and 2.) maybe I can do something and maybe I am doing something, even if it’s not measurably touching the great mass of humanity… by taking care of my corner, and spread light there. Because that’s what I feel I can do.

I was raised to believe (and I do believe) that it really does matter what you do in your own little corner of the world. (And this belief, you may already know, was the basis of my 52 Weeks of Peace book / series. It’s about what we can do as individuals, right here and right now. And if we all did…)

Fretting and stewing about world events, the disgraces of humanity that exist, the evil-doers, the lies and deceit and manipulation, is unproductive for me personally; nor does it serve anyone. It’s way bigger than me, and to go there with too much prolonged fervor only makes me feel powerless to help, filling a space with negativity and projecting dread where there could be light ~ and I operate SO MUCH BETTER from a place of light.

And God knows we need more light in this world.

When it comes to fretting and stewing about my own place in the world, or how the bills get paid and other earthly challenges we all face at one time or another, the same thing applies – I operate SO MUCH BETTER from a place of light.

Oh believe me, (and I know I’ve said this before and probably will again) I can worry like the best of them, but at some point I return to some sort of peace ~ because I have to. As if I’m wired that way. To have faith. In life. In love. In light. It’s my call to arms.

After years of practice, it’s almost become a type of daily surrender. Trusting. And so far, unless I’m deluding myself, it feels like the right course of action. We’ll see how it goes…  Yes, I’ll continue to write and paint and share thoughts on happiness, because what is life without upliftment? ~ but in the meantime, for what it’s worth, my heart sends waves of hope to those in far greater need.

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September 11, 2014 In appreciation, art, design, leadership, life and the universe, philosophy By Patricia Saxton

September 11: Hope and Remembrance

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At 9:00 a.m. on 9/11/01, I’d just come back from dropping my daughter at kindergarten. The sky was robin-egg blue, the air a perfect September calm. A neighbor screamed to me from her car, and the rest of the day was sheer horror. I will never forget. Shock. Agony. Grief.

Forty minutes away. Too close. Much too close.

That night we all gathered on my front lawn, a circle of candles and hearts and prayers.

You just don’t forget.

If anything good came from that awful day, it was that for at least a brief time we were one United States of America. We were all Americans. We all felt a pain in the pits of our stomachs, the lurching of our hearts, the constriction in our throats and tears in our eyes. We loved our neighbor, near and far, from cities to remote little towns, black, brown, white, yellow, red, gay, straight, male, female. We were family, a wounded family, and we grieved as one. Red, white and blue became the new black. We were proud, we were strong, we were one, honoring the brave and the lost and the taken. They were us, we were them.

Our hearts may have softened towards each other, but I also think how sad that we couldn’t sustain that sense of pride and family. Things calmed down, we went about our routines. Fell back into old patterns. Terror still threatens this world of ours, and yet we fight our own small fights, our petty snits, our egos drowned in the latest trend, the latest news, the latest gossip, the latest celebrity sighting. As if we can’t sustain loving our neighbor without tragedy to bring it about. Oh, but that’s human nature. Weddings and funerals. Drama brings people together.

We argue on the right, on the left, and we suffer the idiocy of politicians. I hear a lot of talk that doesn’t walk. I hear each news cycle replacing the last. Like some strange reality show, yesterday’s unanswered wrong overrun by today’s, and today’s by tomorrow’s. We numb. We stay medicated on electronics. Opinions aren’t debated, they’re spewed. We don’t listen. We don’t really see. The world is in shambles.  We seem very divided. Something is wrong here.

But for one day, maybe just an hour, maybe only 10 minutes ~ we’ll remember 9/11 and that flood of love and hope and “don’t you dare” will fill us up. We’ll be a family for 10 minutes. We’ll remember why we love this place and the people in it. But maybe, just maybe, we can nurture that love and hope and integrity a little longer? Might the foundational idea that we are a free people nourish and inspire us, just a little longer? That it’s worth fighting for?

Can we recognize that there is light and that yes, there is also some very ugly, very dark scary shit in the world and it’s up to each one of us to know the difference and take up the torch right where we are with a battle cry to spread a little more light, a little more love, a little more courage?

There are some amazing people in this world, and I’m lucky to know several who take up that torch every day with all their hearts. We all know them. They are sincere. Let’s all be more sincere. Let’s honor the brave, the lost and taken with some blessings. Be the blessing in someone’s day. Be present. Be good.

And I had no idea this piece of writing was going to go the way it did, but I hope we can use this memory to remember that at the end of the day we’re all in this together. At the base of the fallen towers let’s plant hope, and water it well.

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September 7, 2014 In appreciation, art, creativity, inspiration, optimism, philosophy By Patricia Saxton

Outrageous Happiness #8: Angelic Intervention?

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Here’s a little tale. So. I was running late. It was my birthday weekend ~ I’d recently dropped my daughter at college, so it was the first in 18 years without her by my side ( 🙁 ) ~ and I wanted to take full advantage of plans to spend a relaxing weekend with two dear friends. But, there I was, crunched for time, exceedingly ornery and frustrated that I couldn’t seem to pull it together.

Then, of course, like penance for being late, as I finally get on the road I realize the car needs gas.

I pull up to the gas pump. A young station attendant comes to the window. “How are you today?” he asks. “Okay, I guess. But I’m late.” My tone is less charming. “Can you fill with regular, please?”

And then, without skipping a beat, he turns my day completely around.

“You’re not late”, he says (me looking at him incredulously, because I am, indeed, nearly two hours behind schedule). He’s got a big, genuine smile. The contagious kind. “Nope, you’re not late. You’re the life of the party! Nothing’s gonna happen til you get there. So you see you’re really not late, you’re right on time.”

Maybe it’s his tone. Maybe the gentle conviction. His reminder that there’s always peace in the middle of the storm. Whatever it is, he’s got me. The shift is immediate. I feel myself smiling. I think: what a fabulous attitude.

As he hands me my receipt I tell him: “You know, you really, truly made my day. I feel so much better – thank you!” “That’s my job”, he says. “To leave you with a full tank of gas, clean windows and a smile on your face.” (wow! how often do you hear that?)

Mission accomplished, young man. Well done!

So outrageously well done, in fact, with such dramatic effect, that halfway down the road with my new-found smile, full tank and clean windows, I wonder if, just maybe, he’d been an angel in disguise. For reasons I may never know ~ he really did work a little magic.

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How’s your Outrageous Happiness going?

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