in-spire-d

Long ago & far away, I blogged in academic tones about inspiration and respiration.  These concepts are still very much part of my daily life, but I was cogitating on them today as I left rehearsal at the retirement center.  Without sounding condescending, I find these singers to be inspiring--both in the spirit in which some of them are trying singing for the first time in their lives and in their more serene style of living.

As I chat with individuals each week and learn more of their story, I am moved by the grace in which they are walking through either their own ailment or worse, watching a spouse struggle with:  amputation, Alzheimer's, dementia, cancer and just general fading of a body 80+ years old. 

feathered thing

The important thing is not that we can live on hope alone, 

but that life is not worth living without it.

Harvey Milk

wandertag

 

Happy toes, ready to meander through this gorgeous autumn.

A closer view of Lake Washington (as opposed to the usual shots from my balcony).

"We live to discover beauty

All else is a form of waiting."

K. Gibran

dancing with Delight

"Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness!

To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells

Where are the songs of Spring?

Ay, where are they?

Think not of them,

thou hast thy music too..."  

(John Keats, Ode to Autumn, 1819)

(flowers at the Seattle Asian Art Museum)

Today was just a Keatsian sort of day.  Finally, there was a hint of crispness in the air and a few leaves have begun to drift across the sidewalks.  Is there a more delightful sound and scent than of crinkling through leaves?

And as it's the beginning of the month, time to meander past the neighborhood poet post box and see what was written for this month.  Wandered home to find a penny in the post.

Still allowing the tomatoes to attempt the ripening process, but beginning the transition into a fall sort of look on the balcony.

And I love that my pet is happiest and purringest when snuggled up amidst piles of books.

stickered wisdom

from a bumper sticker seen on my rambles:

"She who laughs, lasts."

producing joy

Because one is never too old to play with one's food

Kale produces gorgeous diamonds of water during the rinsing process.  

Found an entire dollar on the ground on my walk back from Pike's.  As I ebulliently made my up the hills, I reflected on how much delight I find in food and the fact that we have to interact with it daily.  Also am v. glad to be living in a city that celebrates good food--both the growing of and the cooking with.   Even a solid year of going to Pike's still thrills me. Arriving home, I found this gem from a friend:  "Food offers one of life's few predictable pleasures".

And having nothing to do with food, I think these new hand dryers are GENIUS.  After years of having water drip down our arms, someone invents one that works with gravity.

autumn! october! poetry!

Regardless that it's still in the 70s, I am thrilled to be turning the calendar page today and welcoming my most favored season.  My scarves are all out, washed and ironed and I am ready for some cool & crisp days!

Happy October everyone.

Fall

by Edward Hirsch

Fall, falling, fallen. That's the way the season
Changes its tense in the long-haired maples
That dot the road; the veiny hand-shaped leaves
Redden on their branches (in a fiery competition
With the final remaining cardinals) and then
Begin to sidle and float through the air, at last
Settling into colorful layers carpeting the ground.
At twilight the light, too, is layered in the trees
In a season of odd, dusky congruences—a scarlet tanager
And the odor of burning leaves, a golden retriever
Loping down the center of a wide street and the sun
Setting behind smoke-filled trees in the distance,
A gap opening up in the treetops and a bruised cloud
Blamelessly filling the space with purples. Everything
Changes and moves in the split second between summer's
Sprawling past and winter's hard revision, one moment
Pulling out of the station according to schedule,
Another moment arriving on the next platform. It
Happens almost like clockwork: the leaves drift away
From their branches and gather slowly at our feet,
Sliding over our ankles, and the season begins moving
Around us even as its colorful weather moves us,
Even as it pulls us into its dusty, twilit pockets.
And every year there is a brief, startling moment
When we pause in the middle of a long walk home and
Suddenly feel something invisible and weightless
Touching our shoulders, sweeping down from the air:
It is the autumn wind pressing against our bodies;
It is the changing light of fall falling on us.