As in, double-dog dare. Only, the adult version of it.
When I was twenty and first read T.S. Eliot’s poem, “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock,” I was struck by the speaker’s question, “Do I dare disturb the universe?”
Do I dare? Do I dare to disturb the comfort of my own little universe, the universe I have carefully measured out, not in coffee spoons, but in falsely created parameters and limits that I don’t cross…because, like Prufrock, I am afraid?
Afraid of going back to school.
Afraid of writing something too honest.
Afraid, maybe, of success.
I keep coming across a quotation from another favorite writer, Mark Twain.
“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.”
Maybe… but it’s my C, so I’m going with the frothy drink of Aztec kings and Spanish noblemen instead of my usual cup of coffee on this cold morning. (betcha thought I’d go with Coffee today, right?)
I’m siding with the Hershey company and the most brilliant product ever created: The Hershey Kiss.
I’m remembering the red and green blotches in my sweaty palms when I was a kid, belying company claims that M & M’s melt in your mouth, not in your hands.
Chanuka gelt shaken in its little mesh bag, chocolate bunnies delightfully decapitated, the Nestlé Quik bunny lamenting that he can’t drink it slow.
Really, what’s not to love?
Less is more with a little drizzle of chocolate over homemade New York-style cheesecake.
More is more when nothing else will do but a raspberry-filled Ghirardelli dark chocolate bar.
Eat your hearts* out caviar lovers, coffee connoisseurs, Marie Antoinettes of the world and your cakes.
I have chocolate. And today, in honor of the A to Z Challenge, I’m sharing.
* just an interesting little fact that the Aztecs did in fact rip out hearts.
________
details from a lithograph I owned many years ago, The Alphabet Suite, by Erté.
At this point in my life I realize that I have more years under my belt than what I have left to live. Let’s hope there’s a little wisdom behind some of the things I’ve seen and done, right? If nothing else, I won’t be repeating some of my more boneheaded mistakes…though there is the danger that I will find some new ways to be a goober.
Sobering? Depressing?
No. It’s actually kind of inspiring.
It’s one of those things that comes to me in moments of clarity — I’m not yet the person I can be — not because I feel like some grand failure, but because I am full of potential.
I ask myself daily, what are you going to be when you grow up?
I have the experience to see how all of the events in my life have built upon each other. It makes me hopeful for a future that will bring these experiences together for something amazing and unexpected. Even if I’m the only one to see it.
But I doubt that — that I’m the only one to see it. I feel God’s hand in my life, so the unknown is an adventure, not a source of fear.
I just need to remember to breathe.
________
details from a lithograph I owned many years ago, The Alphabet Suite, by Erté.
I’ve hit upon a new plan for writing, a jumpstart for my creativity that I stumbled across last year, much too late to participate. And then, here we are, next year. It’s called the A to Z Challenge, a brilliant idea from Arlee Bird at Tossing It Out. Thanks, Arlee, for being a bright note of inspiration!
So this first word, aspire, was both an easy choice, and a difficult one. Easy for me to go with the first definition, to aspire to something, to seek, to attain, perhaps to accomplish.
I want that. I want to accomplish great things. I have a few books roiling around in my head that I need to get down on paper. I’d like to travel, not with an overnight bag to an endless string of cities as I’ve been doing lately, but to one place where I can stay long enough to discover where the locals drink coffee. And I want a miracle or two, though that’s probably more of a hope than an aspiration.
Which leads to the next interpretation, which properly comes from the word origins rather than a definition. To aspire is to breathe. Oh, how I need to breathe. I find myself holding my breath all the time. Like I’m suspending time by not breathing, but that’s not fooling anybody, least of all time. I need to breathe in — and out — and back in again. I need to pay closer attention around me. I need to be present in the present.
I suppose it all begins with a great big cleansing breath. Join me, won’t you, for the next several weeks, as I weave and wend my way through the alphabet, aspiring to be a little creative and, perhaps, a little more alive as I discover what’s on my mind, one letter at a time.
________
I’ll be illustrating these posts with details from a lithograph I owned many years ago, The Alphabet Suite, by Erté.
This is something I really want to do someday. I’m not entirely sure I’d be up for the whole route, though. If I had “world enough and time” I’d amble my way through it, but the reality is I’d probably have to pick the shortest route and do it that way. Still, it’s something that has fascinated me for years and would be a pretty cool accomplishment. I wonder if I have the nerve to do it alone, or if it’s something that I’d like to share with someone. Hmmm.
I had to be at work so early that I left in the dark. It doesn’t bother me; it used to be quite normal. I had forgotten how lovely it is to catch the sunrise. This time it took me by surprise, which is the best kind of way to experience it, I think. I live in a kind of hilly area, and I turned after a long curve and there it was! The effect was stunning. We’re having a cold front moving in, and the clouds in the distance looked like a mountain range. Awesome. I love God’s artwork so early in the morning.
***
Speaking of God, I was thinking about the Pope, because, hey, who isn’t? He seems like a pretty nice guy…as far as one can tell by his antics like stopping the Popemobile. Ha. I’ve also really loved the things he’s said…and naturally, the flurry to backpeddle and read all about him is the current insanity. All that aside (I’m not brushing it off — I am obviously interested in what the Holy Father has to say), I was actually just praying for the man. I can’t imagine how his world got turned upside down and what an adjustment it must be. I mean, it’s not like he can go back to his apartment and pick up his things, say ‘bye to his friends, have a little going away party, you know, cuz HE’S SUDDENLY THE POPE!
***
I started this new blog documenting what I do as an instructor in the technical college system. It’s just a marketing tool, but if you’re curious, here it is: more than an essay.
***
So how’s your Lent coming along? I think it’s a funny question. I’ll tell you that mine has been a surprise, and I’m pleased with some insights I’ve had. That’s a grace, for sure.
***
Also, I’m really craving pancakes. Instead, I’m having a boiled egg.
It’s been a crazy week, hasn’t it? By Wednesday evening it seemed like three weeks had passed, not three days! The big news is, of course, our new Holy Father, Pope Francis. Kinda neat to say that, isn’t it? I’m not going into any newsy stuff or deep thoughts because frankly (you like that pun?) so many others are doing a far better job of it, but I will share some related happenings. Mostly because I think they are all related, in the kind of way we can make anything related with enough imagination.
You see, that little petunia that sits above my sink flowered on Wednesday. I know, so what? Well, not so what. I’ve been hoping it would flower this year — and if you know anything about me, I have a real gift for killing plants. Anyway, I’ve been very distracted for some time. I was hoping that I’d find some new routines this Lent, something that would slow me down and help me smell the flowers, so to speak. I’ve adopted a couple of little disciplines for myself to help me with that refocusing — away from the worldly distractions and closer to God. Some days it goes really well — other days it’s a giant fail. So back to the petunia. I hadn’t noticed it flowered until Wednesday. Maybe it had opened its little bud on Monday or Tuesday and I didn’t see it. I wasn’t looking focused on the moment. But when I did it brought such singular joy in the moment!
Funny how something so simple and yet so precious can elicit such a beautiful response. Religious, really.
And by the way, did you know petunias are from Argentina? No. Kidding.
Then, last night I attended a chamber choir concert. My son knows I love this music, so he reminded me that they were performing the Chichester Psalms:
Of course, I went. And of course it was beautiful, but they caught me by surprise with a selection that charmed me: The Canticle of the Sun by St. Francis of Assisi. Here’s just a little bit of it…
Most high, all powerful, all good Lord!
All praise is yours, all glory, all honor, and all blessing.
To you, alone, Most High, do they belong.
No mortal lips are worthy to pronounce your name.
Be praised, my Lord, through all your creatures,
especially through my lord Brother Sun,
who brings the day; and you give light through him.
And he is beautiful and radiant in all his splendor!
Of you, Most High, he bears the likeness.
Be praised, my Lord, through Sister Moon and the stars;
in the heavens you have made them bright, precious and beautiful.
…
Praise and bless my Lord, and give thanks,
and serve him with great humility.
Dare.
another cup of coffee 