Time Capsule Thursday #8: Walden Pond, Johnny Depp & Badass edition.

A weekly Time Capsule, of sorts, in which I pause and notice. And write down what I love. And notice all the reasons I don’t want to die before my time. And get curious. And am inspired by Mary Oliver’s poem “Gratitude” (in What Do We Know). And do my own little tradition (with a hat tip to Havi).

Italicized* questions are from Mary Oliver’s poem

What made you happy?

Walden Pond: Cool water and me in sun and in shade with trees and bees and dragonflies. Here’s one. Do you see it?

Dragonfly at Walden Pond

Dragonfly at Walden Pond

What did you notice?*

Johnny. Johnny Depp! That’s right: be-still-my-heart-pirate-scissorhand-Johnny made an appearance— not once but twice!—in my dreams last night. He recognized me in a crowd and I turned around to see if he was talking to someone else, but it was me. And he told me I’m going to do well because I already know a lot about him.

Come again, Johnny? I know a lot about you? All I know is that you’re a fantastically creative badass hottie who takes roles that inspire you without giving a shit what people say or think of you. Or if you do care, we’d never know. You do it anyway.

What did you admire?*

Not to be redundant: Badassery. Of every ilk. My radar has become finely tuned to it. If you are a badass, I’m probably crushing on you right now. And taking notes. I know, I know, that is so not badass. What can I say. I don’t care ;) (What’s that? Badasses don’t wink? Hrmph! I don’t give a rats ass).

Moving on.

What did you appreciate?

Light and night. Sun and shadow. In-between spaces. In-between places. The in-between time. Or to borrow one of Neruda’s favorite words: crepúsculo.

What did you [over]hear?*

“Dad! I need my shadow!” (Young boy when the dad’s shadow fell across his own as they walked)

Here’s a picture of my shadow at Danehy Park, one of my favorite city places. It’s built on an old dump! This is the marsh, where you’ll find all manner of birds. City parks, ahhhhh.

What stole your breath?

The light. Especially at crepúsculo, at dusk. The other evening I went nuts with my camera. Here’s one of my favorites, though I sure did have a hard time choosing!

What would you like to see again?*

The dragonflies hovering over the water while I swim at Walden.

What else did you notice?

When I take new ways I see new things. Like this, on a street I’d never walked down! Someone’s youth, RIP. (I’m quite sure there’s not an actual body under there.)

What surprised you?

An aardvark. Also in my dream! Aardvarks, which are more closely related to elephants than hogs or anteaters (the latter more typically assumed) have a fantastic sense of smell and a super tough skin. So tough, in fact, that termites and ants can bite their tongue when they go burrowing for food into their nests and the aardvark is like, la-de-da-ho-hum… whatevs…

I’d love to be more “whatever” about what people are saying or thinking about me. Yeah, I need me some of that.

What inspired you?

“We claim to be missing resources. But the defining factor is never resources, it’s resourcefulness.” -Anthony Robbins

What did the quote mean for you?
Go for it, Heidi. Operation Aardvark. Smell it, girl. Toughen up. Keep at it. Figure it out. You’re doing better than you imagine. You know more than you think. Don’t stop now.

That’s this week’s slice of life, my friends. Feel free to join in with noticings—big or small, happy or sad, old or new—of your own. I’d love it if you did! And, until next time, keep noticing…

Time Capsule Thursday #7: summer sounds and moon-love.

A weekly Time Capsule, of sorts, in which I pause and notice. And write down what I love. And notice all the reasons I don’t want to die before my time. And get curious. And am inspired by Mary Oliver’s poem “Gratitude” (in What Do We Know). And do my own little tradition (with a hat tip to Havi).

Italicized* questions are from Mary Oliver’s poem

What did you notice?*
The sincerity of a sigh.

What did you hear?*
Little sounds my clients make as they begin to relax

What did you appreciate?
My faithful window fan whirring and whispering of summer and life

What did you admire?*
The patience of corn stalks growing in the fields

What astonished you?*
The unpretentious beauty of our moon.
(What is it about August moons!)

What would you like to see again?*
My love not holding back.

What was most tender?*
One young client’s aching back.

What did you hear it say?
“No need to try so hard, sweetheart. You’re doing just fine.”

What surprised you?
Writing in the midst of desolation, and having Kindness write back.

What broke your heart?
Noticing that my clinging was killing what I most love.

What made you cry?
Telling my friend to not wait for me.

What did you think was happening?*
The hell if I know! I give up. “Uncle!”

What made you happy?
An unexpected exchange on facebook prompted by, what else: the moon.

What inspired you?
Oh yeah. You know it. Our moon.

What else did you luvluvluv?
Mint, fresh mint. I made fresh cool mint tea with it.

OK. One more. What else did you love?
My clients: so different one from the other. So brave, all. So human and beautiful.

Um, I need one more. Just one, I promise!
Nick Drake’s Pink Moon (used in this VW Cabriolet ad that I also love).
Remembering how fragile and strong our lives are and that sometimes our scars are our strongest most beautiful parts.

That’s this week’s slice of life, my friends. Feel free to join in with noticings—big or small, happy or sad, old or new—of your own. Until next time, noticing…

Time Capsule Thursday #6: dimples, joy, disabilities and possibilities.

A weekly Time Capsule, of sorts, in which I pause and notice. And write down what I love. And notice all the reasons I don’t want to die before my time. And get curious. And am inspired by Mary Oliver’s poem “Gratitude” (in What Do We Know). And do my own little tradition (with a hat tip to Havi).

Italicized* questions are from Mary Oliver’s poem

What moved you?
A team of players of all ages, shapes, colors and sizes at Danehy Park. I didn’t notice they were challenged in any way till I noticed the white-haired man’s prosthetic leg. Right next to him was a boy of about 6. And a girl of about 10. And a boy of 16. And and… They were playing baseball with a tennis ball and racket with such joy and passion it choked me up.

What was most tender?*
The dimples and the smile of my friend P. I love him more than ever AND I’m willing to see him love and be loved by another. I look forward to it, in fact. May he find an awesome, loving, adorable, kind-hearted, smart, affectionate, geeky, creative and rockin’ babe! (she says, sometimes crying and sometimes smiling).

What was most wonderful?*
Realizing how happy I am that the overdose 15 years ago didn’t work. Each passing day brings more joy.

What did you think was happening?*
I was clearing out more wreckage from the past.

What inspired you?
This TEDtalk on music and passion by Boston philharmonic conductor Ben Zander (via @debOwen on her blog 8 Hours and a Lunch)

What scared you?
The thought of ending up alone. Forever. (I know, silly. But hey.) The thought of him ending up all alone. Not sure which is scarier: me alone or him alone. Wah!

What woke you up in the middle of the night?
My dream of policepeople chasing a bear up and down a street to tire him out.

What did you think was happening?*
I’m trying to set boundaries. Sometimes it feels like one hand is gripping while the other is opening. And sometimes they’re both open. And sometimes I’m not even thinking about it ;)

What would you like to do again?
Run under the cloud sprinkler at the park.

That’s this week’s slice of life, my friends. Feel free to join in with noticings—big or small, happy or sad, old or new—of your own. I would luvluvluv that!

Time Capsule Thursday #5: herbs, Vermont, sun & a reading sabbatical. (Mostly).

Time Capsule Thursdays, in which I pause and notice. And write down what I love. And notice all the reasons I don’t want to die before my time. And get curious. And am inspired by Mary Oliver’s poem “Gratitude” (in What Do We Know). And do my own little tradition (with a hat tip to Havi).

Italicized* questions are from Mary Oliver’s poem

What made you happy?
Ooooh oooh ooooh, road trip! My favorite! My dear bear-friend loaned me his car and I got to hit the road and listen to CD’s, including…

What inspired you?
… an old scratchy recording of T.S. Eliot reading “The Four Quartets.” Oh my. The man did not win a Nobel Prize in Literature for nothing. Wow. Blew me away once again. And will, every time I read or hear it. So yeah, I love T.S. Eliot, although I don’t crush on him like Leonard Cohen. Or Johnny Depp. But seriously, the man is genius. And, yes, I’d offer him my bed and relegate my ass to the living room floor for the night if he ever needed a place to stay. No questions asked.

Um, Heidi?

Yeah?

Isn’t he, like, passed on? As in dead?

Oh, picky, picky! It’s the sentiment, people, the sentiment. OK, where was I?

What astonished you?*
Last Friday the people of New England woke up and were all: What IS that bright orb in our sky?

So yes, after weeks and weeks of rain I am happy to say that New England had 3 days of sun. Verily! Last weekend was simply glorious and the sky was blue.

What else did you luvluvluv?
Vermont. My friends. Their baby. And oh my goodness, their herb garden. (A bunny in her natural habitat: An herb garden.)

Joy equals cilantro, dill and scallions. Parsley, sage and thyme. Garlic-scapes, oregano and chives. All mine, to play in and with for a weekend. In the sun. I know, I just had to say the sun part again. Sun sun sun—

I made saucy pesto-y concoctions in one of my favorite toys in all the world: the mortar and pestle. Left: dill + parsley + garlic scapes. Right: Cilantro, garlic scapes, scallions and toasted pine nuts. Bottom: Oregano, sage and garlic scapes. All had olive oil, lemon juice, salt and LOVE. Oh the love. (Sun. I seem to be developing a kind of Sun-Tourettes)

What did you notice?*
How addicted I am to reading! And what a time-suck much of it can be. (Sun) Often utterly compulsive.

I’m taking a 12-week class with Creativity (among other things) Coach Deb Owen and our challenge this week—which came as a complete, and, I must say, inconceivably difficult surprise which made me consider crucifying myself—was to not read. That’s right, my friend: A reading sabbatical.

When I heard Deb say those words my heart stopped and I was like you must be freaking kidding me, right? But she wasn’t. I had to practically mouth-to-mouth myself—which is a wee bit complicated to do—to keep the air flowing again… And then I grumbled and pouted and eventually sucked it up and I’ve been off twitter and facebook and pretty much off-line for two days now.

(OK, except for a few cheats including this hilarious piece I stumbled upon while looking up submission info. for “The Sun.” I admit I was halfway through reading it, before I remembered my no-reading-for-a-week challenge but I was laughing so hard not even the thought of public shame in class next week could stop me.)

But seriously, I’m realizing how much time I spend goofing off on twitter and reading endless things. Even if they are awesome. Not reading has resulted in an uncluttered desk, two bags of clothes hauled off to Goodwill, fresh mint cold tea to sip as we speak, and last but so-should-be-first: two prose poem/essays sent off to The Sun today with a kiss and a wish times 10. So yeah, thank you, @DebOwen. But then, you aren’t reading this anyway. Or are you!

What required the most self-control?
Not gobbling up my little friend Isabelli’s fingers and toes. Here’s a sampling. Eat your heart out!

What did you hear?*
The sounds of crickets and bullfrogs in the night. No cars. Not a one, for two nights. Ahhhhhhh.

What choked you up?
I was inching along Rt. 91 on my way to VT, one of a thousand or so cars stuck in traffic, and just when I came upon the cause of the bottle neck (a merge into one lane due to construction), there, on the side of the road, a man sat on the hood of his car with his guitar, singing his heart out to the cars passing by. I don’t know his story, but I like my version: he wanted nothing more than to sing. (And, yes, sit in the SUN).

_That’s this week’s slice of life, my friends. Feel free to join in with noticings—big or small, happy or sad, old or new—of your own. (One request: kindly withhold from offering advice, unless it involves how to make the sun come back more often. Thank you.) Oh and, one last thing: I’d adore you to post a link to this entry on twitter for me (@curiousHeidiHi). * blows kisses*)_

Time Capsule Thursday #4: where there’s a way there’s a way. Oh and a bunny.

Time Capsule Thursdays, in which I pause and notice. And write down what I love. And choose life. And get curious. And am inspired by Mary Oliver’s poem “Gratitude” (in What Do We Know). And do my own little tradition (with a hat tip to Havi).

Italicized* questions are from Mary Oliver’s poem

What did you notice?*
This tree. How it keeps growing through the pavement. First I thought, where there’s a will there’s a way.

But maybe it’s more like where there’s a way there’s a way. That seems a whole lot kinder. And much less likely to cause a hernia on account of overexertion. Because, willing growth? Pushing and pulling for something to change? Exhausting. But allowing it to follow its way, maybe even through and around seemingly impenetrable concrete? Joy!

What made you happy?
Today! Four clients! Two new, two old. And how much I love what I do. I love touching people, listening to people, noticing people. I love meeting them and their bodies exactly as they are. And inviting space for what wants to come, what wants to change. It’s fantastically wonderful for me.

Whom did you appreciate?
My friends at Havi’s Kitchen Table. I was remembering how they helped me quit a massage gig that was making me cry every week last winter. And look at me now: 4 clients on my own in a day. Thanks my KT peeps!

What astonished you?*
This bunny at Danehy Park. I was coming ‘round a bend and there he was! (Or maybe she!) We had a stare down for several minutes, until someone else came ‘round the bend and sent the bunny scampering off into the tall grass.

What amazed you?
That there is still rain to be had. Seriously, we must be coming on 40 days and 40 nights.

And also? Squirrels. Especially the highwire chases they do on the telephone lines outside my window.

What did you hear?*
Thunder. Oh my gosh, I do love storms. Big-ass storms make me feel nothing short of glee. Is that weird? Good.

What surprised you?
I looked up and caught a reflection of myself musing by the window at the bookstore and it made me smile. At me. And I had to take a picture. For you. (I love all the layers reflected in the glass. Oh and that’s Porter Square Books, my awesome little indie bookstore in, yes, Porter Square, Cambridge, MA)

What was most tender?*
My dearest heart.

That’s this week’s slice of life, my friends. Feel free to join in with noticings—big or small, happy or sad, old or new—of your own. (One request: kindly withhold from offering advice. Thank you.)

Time Capsule #3: gray days, yellow birds.

Time Capsule Thursdays, in which I pause and notice. And write down what might otherwise go forgotten. And am inspired by Mary Oliver’s poem “Gratitude” (in What Do We Know). And do my own little tradition inspired by Havi Brooks’ Friday Chicken.

What was most tender?

What did you notice?
Manna: I have just enough. No more, no less.

What astonished you?
Three yellow birds at Danehy Park. (Anyone know their name?) They had a bit of black in them too. It’s been so humid, gray and rainy going on two weeks, those 3 birds were a flash of joy.

What made you happy?
This email:

Dear Heidi, Billy Collins is happy to give you permission for limited use of “Marginalia” as you request it below. Many thanks, Sara

—>First podcast, ever, here I come!

What made you come alive?
The poem that pounded down my door. I gave it a pen and let it have its life.

What frightened you?
I was invited to imagine my future: where will I be, who will be around me, what will I be doing 10, 20, 30 years from now and at the time of my death. All I could see was blank. And I didn’t like how my mind interpreted that.

What did you think was happening?
The neural pathways I’ve been traipsing are being torn up. I feel lost.

That’s this week’s slice of life, my friends. Feel free to join in with noticings—big or small, happy or sad, old or new—of your own. (One request: kindly withhold from offering advice. Thank you.)

Time Capsule #2: Tears, bells, and pieces.

Time Capsule Thursdays, in which I pause and notice. And write down what might otherwise go forgotten. And am inspired by Mary Oliver’s poem “Gratitude” (in What Do We Know). And honor age-old wisdom (bloggingly exemplified over at The Fluent Self): “Because traditions are important.”

Italicized* questions are from Mary Oliver’s poem

What did you notice?*
No matter how much the colors and the shapes look like a match,
if the pieces don’t fit they don’t fit.

What did you hear?*
Church bells as chronometer for tears.

What was most tender?*
The human heart.
The inside of a man’s hand (the hand he can’t open on his own after a stroke).

What astonished you?*
The softness of eyes.

What would you like to see again?*
The bright red cardinal and his gray, pale-red mate along the river.

What took you back?
The Riverbend Office building in Watertown Square.

Where did it take you?
9 holiday parties in my 20’s.

What made you cry?
Noticing I’d stopped trying to make the pieces fit.
Noticing that the piece of me, and the piece of he,
are in the same puzzle, just not side-by-side.

What did you think was happening?*
I stopped arguing.

That’s this week’s slice of life, my friends. Feel free to join in with noticings—big or small, happy or sad, old or new—of your own. (One request: kindly withhold from offering advice. Thank you.)

Thursday Time Capsule #1: First ever edition! (REO Speedwagon, birds and raindrops)

Time Capsule Thursdays, in which I pause and notice. And write down what might otherwise go forgotten. And am inspired by Mary Oliver’s poem “Gratitude” (in What Do We Know). And honor age-old wisdom (bloggingly exemplified over at The Fluent Self):

“Because traditions are important.”

If a heart can feel destitute in the company of a thought? That’s how it was for mine one day last winter. The thought?

“It’d be OK if that truck hit you. It really wouldn’t matter, just as long as it all happened quickly.”

Who wouldn’t feel lonely believing that thought!

(This gets better. Much! I promise. It’s not really about that, although noticing that thought is what pointed to something truer and much more exciting because that was also the day when the idea of a kind of Time Capsule began gestating.)

“Thoughts are like raindrops,” says Byron Katie. And yes, arguing with a raindrop? Useless. Silly, really, because thoughts appear. And appear. That’s what they do. Hello!

The truck passed, I crossed the street, I wiped some tears and noticed I’d just had a thought. I knew it wasn’t true. But I also knew that something in me was wanting attention. Serious attention. My attention. Like a child tugging on the hem of its mom’s skirt: Ma! I’m here! Pay me attention! The thought was the child. I was the mom. Would I scold it or hold it?

The truck-thought needed me to know how bad something inside me was feeling. It wasn’t a new thought. I’d had it before. Many times. But years ago I hadn’t known how to meet it with kindness and understanding. Rather, I had believed it. And where my actions had taken me wasn’t a pretty place. Necessary, because that is what happened, but not pretty.

But this was now, and because I hadn’t banished the truck-thought like some evil intruder but rather noticed it kindly, there was room for my mind—agile and winged bird that it is—to hold the truck-thought’s hand even while it started bringing me presents, showing me thing upon thing that I love. And the urge to write those things down has been threatening to explode my chest.

Which brings me to this Time Capsule tradition thingie

On that day last winter my mind’s eye showed me the picture of a girl that doesn’t really want to die. Oh no. Rather, she adores life. (It just feels like a lot sometimes). And in the space of awareness and kindness toward everything inside me, I saw a girl needing to express all that she keeps pent up: all that she loves: all manner of things like slices of memories, things observed, comments overheard, rolling laughter, innocent gestures, loves made, loves lost, fears… In short, all. Yes, all the stuff of being a human on this dear Earth of ours.

(Please know that I was not on that day last winter, nor am I now, suicidal. Indeed, if everyone were held to task for the thoughts that cross their minds in a dark moment, we’d all be in prison. Or hospitalized. Often!)

And now, without further ado, Welcome to Heidi’s first ever Time Capsule Thursday. Pop the corks. Throw confetti. Pass around the chocolate cigars. Heidi is starting a little tradition of her own: a weekly slice to honor life.

Italicized* questions are from Mary Oliver’s poem

What did you notice?*
Raindrops in a row like upside-down birds on the telephone wire

What did you hear?*
The rushing wind making love in the branches of the maples.

What astonished you?*
The sheen of city lights on wet pavement at dusk

What would you like to see again?*
The children running through the fountain
wearing nothing but undies and grins.
The red-winged blackbirds flying
from stalk to tree top to stalk in the marsh.

What was most tender?*
The old man in his suit on his bike

What took you back?
REO Speedwagon from the radio in the kitchen at Renee’s Diner

Where did it take you?
Quito, Ecuador. Junior Year. Boarding school.
“I don’t want to sleep. I just want to keep on loving you”

What made you cry?
A big brown beautiful bear in my boarding school dream.
Wild and closed in. He won’t leave until I let him.

What did you think was happening?*
I was changing in spite of myself.

That’s this week’s slice, my friends! Feel free to join in with noticings—big or small, happy or sad, old or new—of your own. No pressure, but, I would LOVE that. Just one request: kindly withhold from offering advice. Thank you!