Mad Happiness

I began to notice of look of horror come over Meredith's face as we were finishing up lunch in a cafe downtown.  I turned around to see through the window oceans of water being released from the heavens.  We had no choice but to run through them, since there was a meeting she had to return to at work.  Completely unprepared, except for a take-out container that Meredith decided to use as a hat, we opened the door to the street and began sprinting through the sheets of rain.  We were SUCH renegades.

There's a quote that I've always loved from Nine Hills to Nambonkaha that says, "Rain is living breathing happiness.  Mad happiness."   It does feel like crazy joy when you embrace the rain, screaming and zigzagging through the streets - even barefoot (just one of us).  You are reminded that you're living, you're breathing and that it's nice to feel a little crazy sometimes.

Moonlight

The moon makes the night look good. 

Amateur Hour

The Golden Hour

"But originally, “amateur,” from the Latin verb amare, “to love,” referred to a person who loved what he was doing.  Similarly, a “dilettante,” from the Latin delectare, “to find delight in,” was someone who enjoyed a given activity. The earliest meanings of these words therefore drew attention to experiences rather than accomplishments; they described the subjective rewards individuals gained from doing things, instead of focusing on how well they were achieving.  

Nothing illustrates as clearly our changing attitudes toward the value of experience as the fate of these two words.  There was a time when it was admirable to be an amateur poet or a dilettante scientist, because it meant that the quality of life could be improved by engaging in such activities.  But increasingly the emphasis has been to value behavior over subjective states; what is admired is success, achievement, the quality of performance rather than the quality of experience.  Consequently it has become embarrassing to be called a dilettante, even though to be a dilettante is to achieve was counts most – the enjoyment one’s actions provide." 

Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi Flow: The Psychology of Optimal Experience

Breath of Salty Air

(Rockport, MA.  Memory card was left at home, but this is an exact replica)

"And then, some morning, the mind wakes, comes to life again.  Not in a city sense - no - but beach-wise.  It begins to drift, to play, to turn over in gentle careless rolls like those lazy waves on the beach.  One never knows what chance treasures these easy unconscious rollers may toss up, on the smooth white sand of the conscious mind; what perfectly rounded stone, what rare shell from the ocean floor.  Perhaps a channelled whelk, a moon shell or even an argonaut.

But it must not be sought for or - heaven forbid! - dug for.  No, no dredging of the sea bottom here.  That would defeat one's purpose.  The sea does not reward those who are too anxious, too greedy, or too impatient.  To dig for treasures shows not only impatience and greed, but lack of faith.  Patience, patience, patience, is what the sea teaches.  Patience and faith.  One should lie empty, open, choiceless as a beach - waiting for a gift from the sea."

- Anne Morrow Lindbergh Gift from the Sea

Lawn Chair

Someone get this guy a drink, he's been sitting out in the sun all day.  Or bring him an ocean, a friend, and some music.  At least he can munch on some blueberries while waiting for someone to want to sit outside again.

Drawing the Line

So often, my grandfather, pops into my mind as a model to live by.  Though he may be painfully shy, largely anti-social, and relatively unadventurous at this point in his life, his character and principles that he lives by are what stand out to me as being important.   As I watch him do crosswords, or pull out the plugs from electric devices, I am fully engaged.  Without knowledge of much of our daily technological lives, he is content – and more admirably, content with not having – which is what inspires me most. 

He told us that the fridge was too full of food, after my grandmother said the towels that my mother bought were too big.  We just nod our heads agreeably and later search for those big fluffy towels that she has put away underneath all of the ancient shabby ones so that we can indulge ourselves in the luxurious terrycloth.

There is a right way to do everything.  There is also a wrong way – a stupid thought, careless technique and clumsy attempt.  Integrity comes from doing what you know is right, whether someone is watching you or not.  It comes from deciding the best way to react, do and be in a given situation, without hesitation, and standing up for what is good.  Knowing what is good is the challenge while not lowering standards or giving into careless acceptance.

When in doubt, I hope to remember my grandparents – content to do without, to say “no” and to not compromise.  This is a part of what living well means.  

Conditions

The heat has been brutal lately.  I've been exposed to the elements for the past three days now, being out on ropes courses.  All I can think is, "Survive, survive, survive."  It's worth it, in the end.  I like to think I'm embracing nature despite its attempts to destroy me.  However, I would like to drag an air conditioner along with me, as if that would help cool down such a gigantic section of air.  But then, there'd be no struggle for survival and I would forget that I'm human.