http://www.aestheticsofjoy.com
The Aesthetics of Joy is a blog created by the author of Joyful, the book--full of joy-bringers!
Wednesday, October 31, 2018
Monday, October 29, 2018
A glancing collision with a ghost
Pre-dawn Saturday, driving to get my morning coke, I felt a thud against the back of my car that sounded exactly like a glancing collision with another car. I looked in every direction and saw nothing, no car, no animal, no metal anything. When I arrived in the parking lot, I got out and took a look and saw no dents where I'd felt the impact.
Later that morning, as I was leaving to meet Jocelyn for a crafts and antiques fair, a light came on telling me that one of my lights wasn't working. I checked, and they all seemed to be working fine.
Yesterday, Carlene and I were leaving to meet Bob and Jocelyn for a three-person birthday celebration--Bob, Jocelyn and I are all October babies--and Carlene noticed black marks on my fender. No dent, just streaks of black paint.
Collisions, even ones as minor as this mysterious one, leave marks. I still have no memory of another car being on the road, but the black marks tell the truth.
Like a car appearing out of nowhere to graze the metal of another, it occurs to me that the same things happen in broad daylight with acquaintance, even with people who love each other. Even glancing blows, intended or not, leave tracks. Maybe you can't see them when they happen, but every evasion or lie or meanness leaves a streak on the soul of the hitter and the person receiving the hit.
On a larger scale, in a time of violence ramping up, anti-Semitism and racism and antagonism of all kinds fomented by a president who insults people and lies with ease, we can only wonder what kinds of marks are being etched on us as a people.
Later that morning, as I was leaving to meet Jocelyn for a crafts and antiques fair, a light came on telling me that one of my lights wasn't working. I checked, and they all seemed to be working fine.
Yesterday, Carlene and I were leaving to meet Bob and Jocelyn for a three-person birthday celebration--Bob, Jocelyn and I are all October babies--and Carlene noticed black marks on my fender. No dent, just streaks of black paint.
Collisions, even ones as minor as this mysterious one, leave marks. I still have no memory of another car being on the road, but the black marks tell the truth.
Like a car appearing out of nowhere to graze the metal of another, it occurs to me that the same things happen in broad daylight with acquaintance, even with people who love each other. Even glancing blows, intended or not, leave tracks. Maybe you can't see them when they happen, but every evasion or lie or meanness leaves a streak on the soul of the hitter and the person receiving the hit.
On a larger scale, in a time of violence ramping up, anti-Semitism and racism and antagonism of all kinds fomented by a president who insults people and lies with ease, we can only wonder what kinds of marks are being etched on us as a people.
Sunday, October 28, 2018
Monday Wash Day
A week ago, Betty and I were driving through Amish farmland around Chambersburg, Pennsylvania--beautiful fields of corn and cotton, pristine farm houses, and clothes hanging on clotheslines....
Friday, October 26, 2018
Friday, October 26
Well, I did it--I turned 70!
Betty and I spent my actual birthday in Chadwick and Brewster on Cape Cod, eating New England seafood and key lime pie, visiting with the Kots and meeting their adorable grand baby, Sage.
We traveled over 4000 miles, from Georgia to as far north as Maine--and here we are( above) walking a path in Little Washington, Virginia, where we looked at llamas and goats and chickens and an outdoor tree made of circles of mirrors. We traveled on curvy mountain roads, looked at yard art scarecrows and pumpkins, photographed loaded Monday clotheslines in Amish country, and got lost only a couple of times--which we blamed on Our Lady of GPS.
One of the most delightful discoveries of the trip for me was due to a minor SNAFU on Google Maps that led us wrongly--and oh so rightly--into the Berkshires of Western Massachusetts. We'd been a little late for peak foliage in Vermont, New Hampshire and Maine--but we got some brief and breathtaking amazements on Highway 23.
This journey has been a wonderful way to celebrate the ending of one decade and the beginning of another. I'm here at Carlene's for almost a week before we head back to Texas.
Driving never bores me, but that many miles does require a bit of a rest before cranking up again--and that's exactly what we plan to do with this cool and rainy Friday in Georgia.
Here, some of my favorite lines from Mary Oliver:
Sunday, October 21, 2018
Wednesday, October 17, 2018
Wednesday morning
https://www.improvisedlife.com/2018/10/16/practical-real-wisdom-wise-ann-lamott/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+improvisedlife+%28Improvised+Life%29
In the past three days, I have crossed over the line, turned 70, driven along the Maine coast, and gotten a cold.
Betty and I visited both Portsmouth, New Hampshire, and Portland, Maine, yesterday, but we have decided that cities are not what we're after any more. So we're back on the happy and full-of-surprises back roads.
Route 1 along the Maine coast is so beautiful off-season, many businesses closed, little traffic, and good prices on motels.
We spent the night in Wells, Maine, and the weather turned sunnier, windier, and colder yesterday. After our forays into cities, we headed north toward the Shaker Village north of Portland, but arrived there too late for the tour. So we found a charming 6-room motel--The Sleepytime--literally in the middle of nowhere, and there are two cars here tonight.
Lynn, the owner, sent us to Mac's Steakhouse for dinner and the food was excellent. When we got back to Room 3, she had left a heating pad for me--to help me feel better with this cold! Tiny motels in the middle of nowhere--if this one is any indication--offer hospitality you can't find in large chain lodgings.
Often on a trip, you set out to find a particular thing and find all kinds of things you hadn't expected. We set out to find the Shaker village (and we will return there later this morning, then head to the White Mountains), but we stumbled on places and colors we wouldn't have encountered had the Shaker Village not called our names.
The foliage is getting golder and the barns redder the further north we drive.
In the past three days, I have crossed over the line, turned 70, driven along the Maine coast, and gotten a cold.
Betty and I visited both Portsmouth, New Hampshire, and Portland, Maine, yesterday, but we have decided that cities are not what we're after any more. So we're back on the happy and full-of-surprises back roads.
Route 1 along the Maine coast is so beautiful off-season, many businesses closed, little traffic, and good prices on motels.
We spent the night in Wells, Maine, and the weather turned sunnier, windier, and colder yesterday. After our forays into cities, we headed north toward the Shaker Village north of Portland, but arrived there too late for the tour. So we found a charming 6-room motel--The Sleepytime--literally in the middle of nowhere, and there are two cars here tonight.
Lynn, the owner, sent us to Mac's Steakhouse for dinner and the food was excellent. When we got back to Room 3, she had left a heating pad for me--to help me feel better with this cold! Tiny motels in the middle of nowhere--if this one is any indication--offer hospitality you can't find in large chain lodgings.
Often on a trip, you set out to find a particular thing and find all kinds of things you hadn't expected. We set out to find the Shaker village (and we will return there later this morning, then head to the White Mountains), but we stumbled on places and colors we wouldn't have encountered had the Shaker Village not called our names.
The foliage is getting golder and the barns redder the further north we drive.
Monday, October 15, 2018
The Woman Upstairs
I wake up in the middle of the night of my birthday morning, a woman upstairs in a borrowed house, and reach for the book I happen to be reading: The Woman Upstairs by Claire Messud, recommended by Karen in writing group.
Here's one of the epigraphs, a quotation by Proust:
"Very few people understand the purely subjective nature of the phenomenon that we call love, or how it creates, so to speak, a fresh, a third, a supplementary person, distinct from the person whom the world knows by the same name, a person most of whose constituent elements are derived from oneself, the lover."
Later from the narrator, Nora:
"....The person I am in my head is so far from the person I am in the world. Nobody would know me from my own description of myself; which is why, when called upon (rarely I grant) to provide an account, I tailor it, I adapt, I try to provide an outline that can, in some way, correlate to the outline that people understand me to have--that, I suppose, I actually have, at this point. But who I am in my head, very few people really get to see that. Almost none. It's the most precious gift I can give, to bring her out of hiding. Maybe I've learned it's a mistake to reveal her at all."
Here's one of the epigraphs, a quotation by Proust:
"Very few people understand the purely subjective nature of the phenomenon that we call love, or how it creates, so to speak, a fresh, a third, a supplementary person, distinct from the person whom the world knows by the same name, a person most of whose constituent elements are derived from oneself, the lover."
Later from the narrator, Nora:
"....The person I am in my head is so far from the person I am in the world. Nobody would know me from my own description of myself; which is why, when called upon (rarely I grant) to provide an account, I tailor it, I adapt, I try to provide an outline that can, in some way, correlate to the outline that people understand me to have--that, I suppose, I actually have, at this point. But who I am in my head, very few people really get to see that. Almost none. It's the most precious gift I can give, to bring her out of hiding. Maybe I've learned it's a mistake to reveal her at all."
Saturday, October 13, 2018
Yesterday I broke down and had a panini--it was delicious!
But I paid for it today with a day of inflammation. Betty and I started out driving toward Vermont, but what with the rain and clouds, we turned around after 86 miles and decided to wait and see Vermont when we leave Cape Cod instead of leaving and coming back all this distance to our cute October Cape house.
Today is the 17th birthday of my oldest grandson, Jackson! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Jackson!
To celebrate 17, he wanted to invite his friends over for dinner after paint-balling, and his mama decorated the room with beautiful blue and white Chinese lanterns.
This Jackson is a remarkable boy, very smart and curious. All his life, he's enjoyed eavesdropping adult conversations and studying cars. His favorite class in high school is auto mechanics and he plays lacrosse. I'm remembering the day he was born today, standing outside the room and hearing his first cry. It was just a month after 9/11.
Ten months later, my parents flew to Virginia to meet little Jackson--the only one of my grandchildren my daddy got to meet. He'd be so proud of this 6'4" tall boy!
But I paid for it today with a day of inflammation. Betty and I started out driving toward Vermont, but what with the rain and clouds, we turned around after 86 miles and decided to wait and see Vermont when we leave Cape Cod instead of leaving and coming back all this distance to our cute October Cape house.
Today is the 17th birthday of my oldest grandson, Jackson! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Jackson!
To celebrate 17, he wanted to invite his friends over for dinner after paint-balling, and his mama decorated the room with beautiful blue and white Chinese lanterns.
This Jackson is a remarkable boy, very smart and curious. All his life, he's enjoyed eavesdropping adult conversations and studying cars. His favorite class in high school is auto mechanics and he plays lacrosse. I'm remembering the day he was born today, standing outside the room and hearing his first cry. It was just a month after 9/11.
Ten months later, my parents flew to Virginia to meet little Jackson--the only one of my grandchildren my daddy got to meet. He'd be so proud of this 6'4" tall boy!
Friday, October 12, 2018
Good Cape Friday
Betty and I have had two nights of up and down, up and down. She sleeps downstairs, I upstairs. But for some reason, neither of us has slept much the last couple of nights and it's not even a full moon.
When I wake up in the middle of the night, I go downstairs and sit on the porch where I hear crickets chirping and the distant howl of a coyote.
Friday morning, we drove to Brewster in the rain to see Linda and Steve--who celebrated our 70th birthdays together with presents and decorations. After lunch, we saw Colette and then tonight saw a Cape Cod production of the musical, Fun House.
By the time we left Brewster for the hour-long drive back to Falmouth, the rain had stopped. We're all set to head toward Vermont this morning, but Betty says the chances of my getting her up and out early is between zero and minus-ten!
More Visual Bursts of Joy
 |
| There's just something about bicycles that makes me happy! |
 |
| And colorful flowers in window boxes |
 |
| Seeing what crafts people come up with-- like this chair seat made of old belts |
 |
| Reflections in windows |
 |
| A proud grandmother gazing at her sleeping granddaughter |
 |
| The first bright red leaf in Mystic floating in a bowl of water left out for the dogs |
 |
| The Patchwork quilt quality of a mailboxes all grouped together. |
 |
| Random colorful items in windows |
 |
| The pairing of two round-is things side by side |
 |
| The view on the other side of a Virginia tunnel |
 |
| Silhouettes in early morning light |
 |
| Three turkeys crossing the road and cars Kindly stopping to let them pass. |
Speaking of Harmony
They are enchanting and seeing them again every trip to the Cape brings me a whoosh of joy!
Going back to see them every trip to Cape Cod, I always get a snapshot or two, but these pictures don't convey the harmony of a whole row of them against the sea and sky as the professionals do:
Joy in the Imperfections
Still reading on Joyful: The Surprising Power of Ordinary Things to Create Extraordinary Happiness by Ingrid Fetell Lee. I'm only about halfway through, but every night it gives me a little hit of joy to read about what experts in various fields have done to find joy--along with studies that support what we may already know intuitively about the big subject of joy.
In chapter 4, on Harmony, she introduced me to the quilters mentioned in the last post--all members of a long standing all-Black community of quilters whose quilts were originally sort of thrown together to keep their families warm, but it's the very randomness of the patterns that makes them surprisingly harmonious.
After visiting the community near Selma, Alabama, and after studying their intricate quilts, Lee writes:
"If I'm honest, I'll admit that I hoped to find sone secret underlying pattern in these quilts, a bit like the fractals embedded in Pollock's paint splotches. Perhaps an intrepid mathematician with a penchant for folk art will find one. But what I left Gee's Bend with is a reminder that harmony lies not just in the perfect, but also in the perfectly imperfect."
"One quilter...described her quilts as 'get togethers,' because they were made from whatever pieces she cold get together. The women worked with what they had and sought to pull beauty out of it."
Carlene and I plan to stop by Gee's Bend on our way back to Texas and see some of these beautiful quilts together and meet the quilters.
In chapter 4, on Harmony, she introduced me to the quilters mentioned in the last post--all members of a long standing all-Black community of quilters whose quilts were originally sort of thrown together to keep their families warm, but it's the very randomness of the patterns that makes them surprisingly harmonious.
After visiting the community near Selma, Alabama, and after studying their intricate quilts, Lee writes:
"If I'm honest, I'll admit that I hoped to find sone secret underlying pattern in these quilts, a bit like the fractals embedded in Pollock's paint splotches. Perhaps an intrepid mathematician with a penchant for folk art will find one. But what I left Gee's Bend with is a reminder that harmony lies not just in the perfect, but also in the perfectly imperfect."
"One quilter...described her quilts as 'get togethers,' because they were made from whatever pieces she cold get together. The women worked with what they had and sought to pull beauty out of it."
Carlene and I plan to stop by Gee's Bend on our way back to Texas and see some of these beautiful quilts together and meet the quilters.
Thursday, October 11, 2018
Gee's Bend Quilts Alabama
 |
| Writing On The Wall By John D. Murry Sandersville, Georgia |
Days 8 and 9
I was first introduced to Cape Cod thirty years ago--by Linda and Steve Kot. Once you get the "sand in your shoes," Linda told me at the start, you always want to return to this beautiful place, these curvy roads, beaches and small towns.
The last time I was here was two years ago with Mike, and we stayed at Linda and Steve's house in Brewster and enjoyed their Cape Cod hospitality as I have so many times.
This trip, Betty got us a perfect-for-us house in Falmouth, weathered gray and white with a porch and Adirondack chairs. I have the upstairs, Betty the downstairs.
We haven't seen the Kots yet--as they had plans each day this week, but we will. We'd planned to leave yesterday for a few days in Vermont, then come back to our Falmouth house, but decided to postpone leaving until we see what the weather is going to do. Rain is predicted today.
On Tuesday, we meandered around the Falmouth area and Betty got her first lobster. (I had scallops as I've always found eating lobster more an inscrutable task than a meal, the kind of dining experience that must be what prompted waiters to start asking, "Are you still working on that?")
Yesterday, we drove to Provincetown at the opposite end of the Cape--about two hours away--stopping along the way to visit the National Seashore and lighthouses.
When people see my Beto bumper sticker, or if we see travelers wearing Beto buttons or T-Shirts way up here in Massachusetts, it's an instant conversation starter. Politically speaking, we're definitely not in Kansas anymore, Toto!
There's not a lot of natural color on the roadsides on the Cape, but houses and businesses in P-Town sport pumpkins and flower boxes and rainbow flags. While the outdoor restaurant we found for lunch served unremarkable food, we enjoyed sitting outside, people-watching and eavesdropping on the lively talk of the table of young Jamaican men next to ours.
The last time I was here was two years ago with Mike, and we stayed at Linda and Steve's house in Brewster and enjoyed their Cape Cod hospitality as I have so many times.
This trip, Betty got us a perfect-for-us house in Falmouth, weathered gray and white with a porch and Adirondack chairs. I have the upstairs, Betty the downstairs.
We haven't seen the Kots yet--as they had plans each day this week, but we will. We'd planned to leave yesterday for a few days in Vermont, then come back to our Falmouth house, but decided to postpone leaving until we see what the weather is going to do. Rain is predicted today.
On Tuesday, we meandered around the Falmouth area and Betty got her first lobster. (I had scallops as I've always found eating lobster more an inscrutable task than a meal, the kind of dining experience that must be what prompted waiters to start asking, "Are you still working on that?")
Yesterday, we drove to Provincetown at the opposite end of the Cape--about two hours away--stopping along the way to visit the National Seashore and lighthouses.
When people see my Beto bumper sticker, or if we see travelers wearing Beto buttons or T-Shirts way up here in Massachusetts, it's an instant conversation starter. Politically speaking, we're definitely not in Kansas anymore, Toto!
There's not a lot of natural color on the roadsides on the Cape, but houses and businesses in P-Town sport pumpkins and flower boxes and rainbow flags. While the outdoor restaurant we found for lunch served unremarkable food, we enjoyed sitting outside, people-watching and eavesdropping on the lively talk of the table of young Jamaican men next to ours.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)