Just gonna leave this here –

Nothing Beyond Need

I love this self portrait from artist Hazel Dooney. I love how everything in the photo matters – everything is there for a reason, for utility, to contribute. Juxtaposed against the ridiculous societal race to have more – big cars and bigger houses (subject to pinterest-shaming if the decor is not coordinated and curated) – this image is a respite. A reality check. It flies in the face of all that greed and perceived need and feels so much richer for it. Because none of that “stuff” matters when you have work to do. And by work, I mean manifesting your passion, whatever that is.

At the same time, juxtaposed against the poverty of billions, this image demonstrates such luxury to me. A safe place to be and to sleep. A mattress and clean sheets, excellent shelving and a trash can. A space to work. How extraordinarily valuable: the opportunity to manifest your passion, whatever that is.

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I’ve been feeling a little stuck, blog-wise. I’ve been second-guessing myself into nothingness. So, I’m going to post every weekday for the next month – that means unpolished snippets, random thoughts. More discipline, less self-editing. See you tomorrow!

Chloe Makes Me Smile

Unrelated: This Quinoa Chickpea Curry is my latest favorite. So easy and SO GOOD.

Sometimes, the timing means everything.

Ten days ago, I was in California with my grandmother. If you’ve read this blog long enough, you know Svensto. And if you know Svensto, you love her. She left earth this weekend. She was 95. She said Sam, my grandfather, had been waiting long enough and she was ready. It’s still hard.

One little glimmer: she died in the early morning of August 22nd. My grandfather died in the early morning of August 22, seventeen years ago.

Her life was full of adventure and weirdness and art. She traveled through the Panama Canal three times. She boiled fish eyes for me to play with when I was little (they turn opaque, and bounce). She once knit everyone in the family (nearly 20 individuals) slippers that looked like converse high tops.

I’m reposting one of my favorite stories from her blog here. It takes place in NYC 1943 or 1944. My grandfather had just gone off to war.

He said: Send cigarettes.
Next morning I went to the drugstore I used when I lived in NYC before. I asked the druggist for a carton of Chesterfields. He said “where have you been? Don’t you know there is a shortage of cigarettes?” In Texas I guess we never worried about the shortage for S could get all he wanted at the Post PX. He said “I can’t sell you even a package of Chesterfields. But I have some…” and he mentioned a brand I had never heard of. I said thank you, but no thank you.

And so I laid plans on how to get them. There was a radio program called Thanks to the Yanks. I had heard it in Texas. The emcee asked “Do you want an easy, medium or difficult question?” And if you wanted a difficult one you could win 3000 Camels. So I went to the National Broadcasting Studios where some of my old chums worked and asked if they could get me a ticket for that American Broadcasting program and they said, Sure, no problem. Come back Monday afternoon and we will have it for you. I was there, got my ticket, walked over to Madison Ave and took the seat that was available. It was fairly far back in the audience. And I was not selected to try my hand at competing. But I learned something. All the people who were selected from the audience had something outstanding about their person, either the lady with the red hair, or the gentleman with the mustache. So I knew what to do.

I had a navy blue hat as big as an average garbage can lid. And I knew I had to sit in either the second or third row. I went back to NBC and they said Yes they would get a ticket again. I said I would like to pick it up on Sunday so I could get a front row seat. Monday came around again and I was early and I sat in the third row. I was the first person selected. When I got backstage I had a minor problem. “Was my husband in the Army, Navy or the Marines?” I told them Army. “You know you can’t send anything to an army person unless it is requested?” Yes, I knew that. So I will send the cigarettes to W who was still in Texas. And then I will ask him to keep half of them and mail the other half to me and then I will fake a request.

And so the program started. “Do you want an easy, a medium or a difficult question?” I said “Difficult.” Now everyone, remember I looked like a dumb blonde. People applauded when I dared say that. So the question was “There are three plays on Broadway. One is A Touch of Venus, which comes from Greek Mythology, the second is ??????? which comes from Shakespeare and the third is The Voice of the Turtle. Were does that phrase come from?” My answer: The Bible. Thunderous applause. The Emcee was obviously surprised. “How did you know that?”
“My husband read the Gideon Bible to me on our Honeymoon.”
The applause and laughter increased beyond thunderous.

. . .

Click here to visit SVENSTO. I’m so glad so many of her stories, in her own words, are here forever. {I highly suggest reading her blog in chronological order, from first post forward, which you can do via the archive section in her sidebar. Click “2008”, then each month: July, August, etc. and continue moving forward in that manner.}

The Museum Of Four In The Morning

I’m lying in bed, bookended by cats, finding magic on the internet to widen my mind…..
The arc of this TED talk is so awesome and surprising… it’s pretty much the meaning of life:

I also stumbled upon the amazing Cuchira ~ her mini-vids are mesmerizing.
Here’s a direct link since I can’t figure out how to get the embed to work….

Thank you so much for the notes and comments and emails and loooove!