Blomkvist, Lisbeth and other Fictional Distractions

I did it in all the wrong order, but was riveted just the same.

First I broke form and saw the movie before reading the book. (The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo) “Wow”, I thought. Disturbing but mesmerizing and intelligent. Then while on vacation, the place I stayed had a copy of book 3. (The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest). Couldn’t put it down (and got to picture Daniel Craig throughout the book, which wasn’t a bad thing). I was so enthralled that I bought book 2 (The Girl Who Played With Fire) at the airport bookstore on the way home.

In order or not, these books are distractingly good, and I have Stieg Larsson to thank for my to-do’s taking a back seat to my most recent obsessive reading spree. What a marvelous storyteller. I don’t know that there’s ever been a main character quite as fascinating as Lisbeth Salander. Sadly, Larsson passed away before they were published, which means there’ll be no book four or five or six.

I applaud you many times over Mr. Larsson, and I hope you see how far and wide your work has been appreciated from where you sit in heaven.

This has happened a few times in recent years ~ finding a series I can’t get enough of. Ariana Franklin’s Mistress of the Art of Death series was another (she also passed away, leaving a void). And there’s Mary Doria Russell, whose The Sparrow and Children of God are spectacular. Each writer’s style is different – I would call Larsson’s contemporary spy/intrigue, Franklin’s are historical murder mysteries, and Russell’s a rich brand of science fiction I never knew existed, whose characters come to life within moments of being introduced, as if they’ve long been good friends.

There are far, far too many outstanding books (and their authors) to mention right here and now; these are three (with series’) that happened to come to mind. All I can say is, thank goodness for them. Not only inspiring writers, their fictional works have made “real life” that much more delicious.

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A Plethora of P’s / #62: Paradise

proactively punctuating life with the plausible, powerful possibilities of positive thought presented through a plethora of “P’s”.

– ♥ –

Need I say  more? Of course, there are lots of versions of paradise. Pick one and keep in your mind’s eye, place it in your heart and pull up the feeling as needed.

(see our growing, ongoing Plethora of P’s here)

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Swimming with Mermaids

My daughter saw a mermaid once. Although that’s not the sort of thing one goes around telling just anybody, I truly believe her. I haven’t seen one myself, but I happen to know a lot about them. :  ) I think, in fact, that I may have been one in another life, which may explain why swimming came so easily to me ~ who knows.

Who knows anything, really. It’s a big universe out there, full of surprises and wisdoms and puzzling arrangements of scientific particles, and things we don’t even know that we don’t know anything about, not even a tiny morsel.

In some ways, many ways actually, life’s a mystery ~ and we get to play in it, muck around in it and mess it up and try to make it right. And try to enjoy it. Make it less an exercise in futility, and more an experience of joy, a journey of discovery and meaning, a lovely ride.

So I’m taking some much (much) needed time (did I say how much?) to un-plug and practice just being for a little while. I wish it were longer ~ in my opinion, time off should be a minimum of 2 weeks, preferably 4 ~ but one does the best they can. Rejuvenate, as they say. It’s a time to do as the spirit moves, and only that. Which includes, of course, some swimming with mermaids.

See you next week sometime. Have some good journeying while I’m gone.

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A Plethora of P’s / #61: Posies

proactively punctuating life with the plausible, powerful possibilities of positive thought presented through a plethora of “P’s”.

– ♥ –

“And I will make thee beds of roses / And a thousand fragrant posies.”

From Christopher Marlowe’s “The Passionate Shepherd To His Love”. The full poem, below, was published posthumously in 1599 – Marlowe died in 1593.

Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That valleys, groves, hills, and fields,
Woods or steepy mountain yields.

And we will sit upon the rocks,
Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.

And I will make thee beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant posies,
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle;

A gown made of the finest wool
Which from our pretty lambs we pull;
Fair lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold;

A belt of straw and ivy buds,
With coral clasps and amber studs:
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me and be my love.

The shepherds’ swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my love.

…………..

If not inspired to write of love, one should at least enjoy the beauty of flowers as often as possible. Maybe pick some wildflowers to brighten up your dinner table, or hand some to a friend (or a stranger) ~ just because.  And if nothing else, do stop to “smell the roses” now and again.  Spirits are lifted, senses are massaged, hearts are happier. What a gift posies are!

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52 Weeks of Peace [squared]: Week #73 / Music on the Beach

When I was a kid, the crowded beaches seemed to have as many transistor radios as people. From almost every towel and beach chair, New York’s WABC blasted all the top hits…. over and over. Sometimes the biggest hits even got “instant replay” status.

The energy of all this was fun ~ the first 2 or 3 times. It didn’t take long to discover I much preferred almost any beach to these, which were (are still are) popular by virtue of proximity to civilization and a ride-and-game-filled boardwalk.

So I had a mini-meltdown the other day when visiting one of our favorite beaches, with its sprawling stretches of white sand, no commercial riff-raff and one couple who apparently felt that everyone else would appreciate their blaring radio.

I’ll even admit that the song playing at the time of my breakdown was one I kind of liked. But I didn’t want to hear it then, nor the constant noise that would inevitably flow from the little box under their umbrella for the next who-knows-how-many hours.

No. Not acceptable.

I go to the beach for the sand, sun and surf. I like to hear the seagulls squawking, the waves tumbling, the caps of suntan lotion being flicked up and down. I like to see the shells that wash ashore, let my feet get buried by the tide going in and out. I like to dive under the waves, and float on their tops. I like the expansive sky, ships on the horizon, fishermen fishing, even children squealing with delight or building a castle moat.

The pleasures of being at the shore do not include hearing the top 40, or any other choice played at everyone else’s mercy. If you can’t enjoy the beach without it, then at the very least have the courtesy of turning down the volume. (Way down, please.) Or, gosh, how about an iPod? Hello?

So I packed us up and moved as far down the beach as possible, where the intrusive radio could not be heard. And there, I found ~ and made ~ peace. Blessed peace. All was not lost.

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Maasai Gold

Just when I think my enthusiasm for the Olympics might be waning, something happens that fires me up.

Of course, just witnessing what the human body is capable of is pretty incredible. It runs faster, jumps higher year after year. Being a swimmer myself, I’m always especially riveted by the swimming ~ and the superhuman Michael Phelps just plants a big smile on my face. The very watchable, adorable gymnast Gabby Douglas was amazing, and the volleyball looks like tons of fun. The background stories of so many of these champions ~ and they are all champions ~ are fascinating. Even the commercials are good. (The Superbowl should take note.) Then came track and Usain Bolt, who continued to wow us. The women runners were equally fabulous, and then I thought I’d seen, well …enough.

But I happened to turn on the tube when the men’s 800 meter race was about to start, tuning in just as they were telling the story of Kenyan runner David Rudisha, and my heart smiled again.

I have a thing for Kenya, you see. I must have had some wonderful experience there in another life, because in this one, even as a child, it was one of the places I truly, truly wanted to see. The first line of “Out of Africa” always felt strangely familiar; making the call grow stronger. In 1990, I made that dream come true.

Let me just say that seeing giraffes in the wild melted my heart. Sleeping to the sound of hippos and the distant growls of cats; elephants walking up to my camera lens, ballooning over the Maasai Mara……  I absolutely loved it. We also met some wonderful people, among them members of the Samburu tribe, cousins to the Maasai. Same great height, stature and grace. Warm spirits, beautiful smiles, colorfully attired ~ and holy moly can they jump high. Their athleticism is undeniable … and so, I adored hearing David Rudisha’s story. (How can you not be good when you build your own track in the hard African dirt?) Then I cheered him on, yelling at the tv, clapping, woo-hooing.

I want to go back to Kenya, very much. But for now, it was a little thrill to watch this Maasai make his mark in the history books, the first of his tribe to win gold in the Olympics ~ and doing it with the flourish of new world record time.

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A Plethora of P’s / #60: Practice

proactively punctuating life with the plausible, powerful possibilities of positive thought presented through a plethora of “P’s”.

– ♥ –

“Practice makes perfect”. Or at least it makes for better. And better. And better. If you want to be proficient, you’ve got to plod on, persist, persevere, pursue and practice, practice, practice ~ and in the process come to know satisfaction and personal pride, and in the end, who knows how prolific you might become… and when you do, how glad you’ll be for having practiced your little heart out.

(And oh-by-the-way, the target’s always moving, so you’re never done……. but the good news is that it simply becomes a natural part of creating a better you. It’s never too late. So practice on!)

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What Olympians Know

Olympians know this: “We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act but a habit.” ~ Aristotle

It’s the same for any of us who dare to “do better”, to be the best we can be, and then some. To rise above. To discover, to conquer, to surpass, to make dreams come true ~ or to simply grow as spiritual beings. It’s the same for any of us who dare to bloom.

This is a favorite drawing that my daughter likes to show to her friends and say, “can you believe that’s a pencil drawing?” And she’ll often say to me, “Mom, how did you do that?  Seriously, how does that even happen?” And I tell her it’s because I practiced a lot lot lot. Yes, it’s something I had a propensity for early on, but I worked it. Like Malcolm Gladwell’s study in his book Outliers, I’d put in my hours. And if I hadn’t, this eagle would not be hanging on the wall as an unintended, but still valuable lesson right here at home.

Olympians, of course, really know how to work it. The hours they put in are nearly incomprehensible to the majority of us mere mortals, but the results of their habits are profound. I don’t know how anyone could escape feeling inspired to push a little harder, be a little better, aim a little higher. At the very least, we can admire the amazing human spirit, just by watching what Olympians know and exemplify.

And yet… without ever having stood on an Olympic podium with a shiny gold, silver or bronze medallion, there’s probably not one of us who couldn’t find a positive example of our very own that proves Aristotle right. Excellence is a habit, not an act. So go for gold.

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A Plethora of P’s / #59: Pencil

proactively punctuating life with the plausible, powerful possibilities of positive thought presented through a plethora of “P’s”.

– ♥ –

The #2 pencil: A simple, humble, eloquent, favorite tool. A fierce confidante with a rich history and a great future ahead!

…………..

The following is, for lack of a better word, a tribute I scribbled out a few years ago. (Unedited as of yet ~ but that will happen, surely before I get around to producing the book it’s meant to go with.)  Hope you enjoy it …

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Colorado, We Love You

I poked my head out from some intense work focus to learn that, yet again, the beautiful state of Colorado is under siege.

Not wild fires this time, but a wild human bent on some seriously deranged devastation and destruction. I’m not going to link to the news, you can search it on your own if you haven’t already.  Just that it saddens me, and all I can think to do is send this message to all the truly, wonderfully good people out there.

 

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