Deeper Conversations
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Posted:Apr 10, 2024 9:44 am
Last Updated:Apr 15, 2024 2:22 am 422 Views
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”Lovely days don’t come to you; you should walk to them. You’ll find them waiting in the simple joys of a morning cup of coffee, in the laughter of a friend, or in the beauty of a sunset. It’s about noticing the small moments that make life wonderful and actively seeking out the things that bring you joy. So, put on your walking shoes and step out into the world, ready to embrace each day with open arms. Because in the end, it’s often the journey to find the lovely days that makes them all the more precious.”
Rumi
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Revisiting - A Door Into Summer
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Posted:Mar 8, 2024 1:02 pm
Last Updated:Apr 26, 2024 1:57 pm 921 Views
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”But I am not mad at anybody and I like now. Except that Pete is getting older, a little fatter, and not as inclined to choose a younger opponent; all too soon he must take the very Long Sleep. I hope with all my heart that his gallant little soul may find its Door Into Summer, where catnip fields abound and tabbies are complacent, and robot opponents are programmed to fight fiercely - but always lose - and people have friendly laps and legs to strop against, but never a foot that kicks.”
Robert A. Heinlein
The Door Into Summer
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Sore Eyes
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Posted:Feb 23, 2024 4:26 pm
Last Updated:Mar 8, 2024 1:11 pm 1397 Views
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”If you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day, so I never have to live without you.”
I felt like a pool drained on the last day of summer
So lonely to sing leads when your band needs a drummer
Had a bloodshot look, had a lovesick head
Didn’t know I missed you until we met
What a sweet relief in an often bitter life
You’re such a sight for sore eyes
Like waiting up all night for sunrise
I might be blinded if I stare
But baby I don’t think that I care
You’re just my type
You’re such a sight for sore eyes
Woke up in the fast lane and the gas tank was empty
I would drive all night, I would drive all day
If it means I might get to see your face
It’s an ugly place but you make it feel alright
You’re such a sight for sore eyes
Like waiting up all night for the sunrise
I might be blinded if I stare
But baby I don’t think that I care
You’re just my type
You’re such a sight for
Yeah, I was so bored
Yeah, I wanted more
My eyes were so sore before you
A sleep with no dream
A ship with no shore
My eyes were so sore before you
I felt like a pool drained on the last day of summer
You’re such a sight for sore eyes
Like waiting up all night for sunrise
I might be blinded if I stare
But baby I don’t think that I care
You’re just my type
You’re such a sight for sore eyes
Sore Eyes
Babygirl
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Mix Tape
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Posted:Feb 23, 2024 4:00 pm
Last Updated:Apr 26, 2024 1:57 pm 1222 Views
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Our story tonight is called Mix Tape. And it’s a story about a box of memories tangled up with songs. It’s also about the messages we send with the tracks we pick out, new batteries in an old Walkman and finding the music that helps you find yourself.
There was an art to it. The first song had to be really, really good. It needed to pull you in and lay the framework for the mood you were attempting to build. But the second song had to be even better. It had to surprise the listener who had assumed that all the magic had been spent on the first track. Then it would pull back a bit, a song with less punch but more poetry. Maybe something a little odd, but catchy. And then a song you hadn’t heard in ages but loved and remembered every word of. With room for one more song on the first side of the tape it was time for another heavy hitter, something that would be rewound and played again before the cassette was flipped. Then the second side called for some nostalgia. Slower songs. Harmonies that you felt inside your chest when you sang along. The whole thing was of course a message of some sort. Shared favourites for growing a friendship. Showing off your taste or prowess as a curator, but very often it was a kind of covert love letter. And the second side was the best place to slip in a song or two that showed your heart. It was all deniable if need be. They were just songs. But they weren’t. And finding the one (or two) that might make the listener, with their headphones pressed against their ears, their Walkman clutched in one hand as they crossed campus, stop and wonder … or smile. Well, that was the point of it all.
If you were really going to go all out, you named the mix and scrawled it out on the label stuck to the tape, something enigmatic and impressive sounding, or a scrap of an inside joke that reminded them of how you’d laughed together. You might even design a cover, some hand drawn art or a photo that had gone through the copier and come out a bit streaky. But that only added to the effect. Then folding it just so, so it would mimic the J-card that usually sat in the hinged plastic case. Did you write anything inside the cover? How brave were you? Did you just write out the play list? Or maybe you wanted them to discover it one song at a time. That’s how I liked to do it. It kept the mystery and hopefully weaved a sort of spell as it went from one track to another.
I’d forgotten just how much thought went into those mixes. Almost forgotten about the idea of cassette tapes at all, until I found a shoe box full on a shelf in the basement. It was inside a bigger box full of things I’d cleaned out of my car. That car that had just barely gotten me through the last two years of high school and the first two of college. I couldn’t remember what kind it had been except that it was red and while it didn’t start reliably and the heat was hit or miss in the winter, it had a moon roof which I thought was the fanciest thing I’d ever seen. That box of cassettes, when I’d pulled off the top and looked down into the mess of them, had brought back a flood of memories. Some were tapes I’d bought at the music store and I remembered standing in front of the rack of new music figuring out if I could afford more than one … and if it was going to be just one, which one? I thought about how we’d listened to the same tapes over and over, how you could come to know the songs in order and when the flip to Side B would be.
In the box were a few very beat up cases that had been carried in back pockets and book bags, passed back and forth at lunch and traded for weeks at a time. I swung open a few cases and took out the liner notes to read what the artists had written. Some were just lyrics and others had pictures of the band, drawings and quotes. These had felt so meaningful, so special when I’d opened them for the first time. There is something about finding the music that feels like it was written for you when you’re growing up. You’re trying on different ideas and styles and when something fits you down to your bones, it might be the first time you feel like you belong. That changes a lot. It’s no wonder we made these mixes with such care. They were a way of asking if we belonged with each other.
In the bottom of the box, past the tapes I’d bought from the music store were the mix tapes. Most of them were loose, without cases, just a few words scratched out on the label, and suddenly I had to hear them again. I went through the boxes in the shelves around me. There must be a tape player somewhere here. I’d had a stereo that had a record player built into its top, an AM/FM dial in the middle and two tape decks on the bottom that let you record from one tape right onto the other, the height of technology at the time. But that had been sold in a garage sale when I was still in high school. I found a flat, black tape deck with a microphone attached and a bright red RECORD button and remembered that for a while folks would make all sorts of recordings with devices like these. We’d just talk into them as if they were our diaries. We’d record family histories or tape birthday parties to play back later. Though I can’t imagine that was ever actually done much. Beside it, in the same box was exactly what I needed. My Walkman. Bright yellow and with the headphones still plugged in.
I rushed to the kitchen drawer for a couple of batteries and settled on the sofa with the Walkman and the box of tapes. I played a few I’d made myself. Songs for driving with the windows rolled down, Songs for amping myself up before a test or audition. Songs for a broken heart. I found some in the handwriting of my best friend. Funny how you don’t forget how someone writes their “e’s” or “m’s”. These songs made me smile and tap my toes on the living room rug, remembering how we’d listened, stretched out on one of our beds on Friday night, talking for hours and eating bowls of popcorn, ‘til one of our parents got fed up with the music and told us to pack it in for the night.
Finally (and maybe I’d been saving it since I’d first spotted it in the bottom of the box), I played a tape whose case was still carefully preserved. The tape had my name written in red ink on the label. “FOR YOU FROM ME” it said. I turned the cassette over in my hands a time or two. I’d played it so many times that it was probably near worn out but I hoped it would play at least once more. I flipped it to Side A and slid it carefully into my Walkman and pressed play.
Kathryn Nicolai
Nothing Much Happens
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Time Passages
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Posted:Jan 29, 2024 3:05 pm
Last Updated:Feb 25, 2024 8:51 am 2659 Views
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”At my age, you recognize the poignancy of time passing. Seventy resonates, letting you know for sure that there are not as many years remaining as you’ve already consumed. I take great satisfaction in accepting that regardless of how many more suns are left - the rising each time has been worth it.”
Oprah Winfrey - reflecting on her 70th birthday
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13
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Water
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Posted:Jan 21, 2024 1:09 pm
Last Updated:Jan 22, 2024 6:32 pm 4205 Views
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”In those days, I didn’t understand anything. I should have judged her according to her actions, not her words. She perfumed my planet and lit up my life. I should never have run away! I ought to have realized the tenderness underlying her silly pretensions. Flowers are so contradictory! But I was too young to know how to love her.”
Make me sweat, make me hotter
Make me lose my breath, make me water
Make me sweat, make me hotter
Make me lose my breath, make me water
Normally
I can keep my cool, but tonight I’m wildin’
Imma be, yeah
In a dangerous mood, can you match my timing?
Mm-mm, telling me
That you really ‘bout it, why try hide it? Oh
Talk is cheap, so show me
That you understand how I like it
Can you blow my mind?
Set off my whole body
If I give you my time
Can you snatch my soul from me?
I don’t wanna wait, come take it
Take me where I ain’t been before
Can you blow my mind?
Set off my whole body
Whole body
Make me sweat, make me hotter
Make me lose my breath, make me water
Make me sweat, make me hotter
Make me lose my breath, make me water
Hopefully
You can last all night, don’t get too excited (ooh)
Oh, privacy
You ain’t gotta go nowhere, you can stay inside it
Can you blow my mind? Oh
Set off my whole body
If I give you my time (if I give you my time)
Can you snatch my soul from me?
I don’t wanna wait, come take it
Take me where I ain’t been before (before)
Can you blow my mind? (Blow my mind)
Set off my whole body
Whole body
Make me sweat (make), make me hotter
Make me lose my breath, make me water
Make me sweat (make me), make me hotter
Make me lose my breath, make me water (make me sweat)
Make me sweat, make me hotter
Make me lose my breath, make me water
Make me sweat (make me sweat), make me hotter
Make me lose my breath, make me water
Make me sweat (make), make me hotter
Make me lose my breath, make me water
Make me sweat, make me hotter
Make me lose my breath, make me water
Water
Tyla
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Houdini
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Posted:Jan 21, 2024 12:30 pm
Last Updated:Jan 22, 2024 6:33 pm 2418 Views
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”Houdini” is the first single from Dua Lipa’s third studio album. The track kickstarted Dua’s new era and was first alluded to on October 27 2023 - after deleting all of her Instagram posts, Dua posted a cryptic teaser on social media of her mouth holding a small golden key between her teeth, paired with the caption “catch me or I go…”
The post was deleted two days later and the singer shared a new video instead of it. It portrayed Dua with the key now inside of her mouth with the caption “I’m not here for long.” It provided the first glimpse at the song’s sound, with a snippet of the song playing in the background. On October 31, the teaser was also deleted and yet another teaser video with a snippet was posted. The last frames of the video showed the numbers “4 8 9 9 14 15 21.” Soon enough fans figured out the numbers converted to the alphabet letters “D H I I N O U,” which when rearranged spelled out the song’s title.
The song’s release date marks the anniversary of Harry Houdini’s death, the famous illusionist noted for his escape acts. Another allusion to Houdini’s escape acts is the key seen in Dua’s mouth in all of the teasers, as the magician’s wife would frequently give him the key to his handcuffs through a kiss.
Having said all that (and all that aside) .. I just think it’s a kick as* song that’s perfect for a Sunday afternoon workout.
I come and I go
Tell me all the ways you need me
I’m not here for long
Catch me or I go Houdini
I come and I go
Prove you got the right to please me
Everybody knows
Catch me or I go Houdini
Time is passin’ like a solar eclipse
See you watchin’ and you blow me a kiss
It’s your moment baby, don’t let it slip
Come in closer, are you readin’ my lips?
They say I come and I go
Tell me all the ways you need me
I’m not here for long
Catch me or I go Houdini
I come and I go
Prove you got the right to please me
Everybody knows
Catch me or I go Houdini
If you’re good enough, you’ll find the way
Maybe you could cause a girl to change (her ways)
Do you think about it night and day?
Maybe you could be the one to make me stay
Everything you say is soundin’ so sweet
But do you practice everything that you preach?
Tell me something that I’ll really believe
If you got it baby give it to me
They say I come and I go
Tell me all the ways you need me
I’m not here for long
Catch me or I go Houdini
I come and I go
Prove you got the right to please me
Everybody knows
Catch me or I go Houdini
If you’re good enough you’ll find the way
Maybe you could cause a girl to change (her ways)
Do you think about it night and day?
Maybe you could be the one to make me stay
I come and I go
Tell me all the ways you need me
I’m not here for long
Catch me or I go Houdini
I come and I go
Prove you got the right to please me
Everybody knows
Catch me or I go Houdini
Houdini
Catch me or I go Houdini
Houdini
Dua Lipa
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Stranger in a Strange Land
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Posted:Jan 10, 2024 6:02 pm
Last Updated:Mar 8, 2024 1:13 pm 5715 Views
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Anybody can look at a pretty girl and see a pretty girl. An artist can look at a pretty girl and see the old woman she will become. A better artist can look at an old woman and see the pretty girl that she used to be. But a great artist .. a master .. and that is what Auguste Rodin was .. can look at an old woman, portray her exactly as she is - and force the viewer to see the pretty girl she used to be .. and more than that, he can make anyone with the sensitivity of an armadillo (or even you), see that this lovely young girl is still alive, not old and ugly at all, but simply imprisoned inside her ruined body. He can make you feel the quiet, endless tragedy that there was never a girl born who ever grew older than eighteen in her heart .. no matter what the merciless hours have done to her.
Robert A. Heinlein
Stranger in a Strange Land
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7
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Forever Young
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Posted:Dec 31, 2023 11:33 am
Last Updated:Jan 2, 2024 7:24 am 14255 Views
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TO BE A
It is to have a SPIRIT SHINING through everyday
It is to BELIEVE in LOVE
To BELIEVE in BELIEF
To WALK BAREFOOT in the PARK
To CATCH A BUTTERFLY - then SET IT FREE
It is to be so LITTLE, that ELVES can WHISPER in your ear
It is to turn PUMPKINS into COACHES
MICE into HORSES
LOWNESS into LOFTINESS
And NOTHING into EVERYTHING
It is to PICK the first DANDELION
That GLOWS IN THE SUN
To SWING to the TOP OF THE TREES just for FUN
To TASTE the FIRST SNOWFLAKE
To PLAY with the HOSE
To JUMP in the PUDDLES
And WIGGLE your TOES
So go RUN IN THE SUNSHINE
And WALK IN THE RAIN
And RE-LIVE YOUR CHILDHOOD
ALL OVER AGAIN!
HAPPY NEW YEAR - MAY 2024 BLESS YOU ALL WITH ABUNDANCE, GOOD HEALTH AND ABIDING LOVE
Catherine Simpson
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11
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Fresh Snow
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Posted:Dec 17, 2023 8:03 pm
Last Updated:Dec 21, 2023 2:52 am 19423 Views
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Our story tonight is called Fresh Snow and it’s a story about time spent outside as the flakes fall. It’s also about a late night bath, a peppermint stick in a cup of hot chocolate and the easy comfort of long held friends.
Fresh snow had fallen overnight. Another 3 or 4 inches of the light, fluffy kind. And while it couldn’t be packed into a snowball or rolled to stack one on top another with a carrot nose and twig arms, it was really lovely to kick through with winter boots or stride across with snowshoes or slide over with a pair of freshly waxed skis. In fact, I’d spent the day before trekking in my snowshoes with friends on a long trail that wound through the woods and beside a frozen lake. We’d stopped every now and then to catch our breath and take in the shades of white and blue and icy dark grey that lay in layers on the landscape. At the edge of the lake whose surface was streaked and marbled with brighter, thicker layers of ice like a shining clear granite, I’d noticed the upturned stems of Queen Anne’s Lace. The petals had fallen away months ago but the stems and woody veins remained and now held tiny pockets of fresh snow like wine in a glass.
Though the day was cold, the steady push of my legs and pull on my poles had kept me plenty warm and I’d loved the feeling of cool air on my cheeks as we made our slow progress through foothills and bare brush back toward the ski lodge. We’d followed the long walk with an equally long lingering rest around the fire place in the lodge. It was a cozy space, lined with brick and stone, tall windows that looked out at the slopes and old worn wood floors. The ceilings were high with knotty beams running the length of the room and the fire was sunken in a pit with soft benches all around. We’d unbundled from our coats and hats and gloves and met up there for hot drinks. I’d propped my feet in their insulated socks up on the brick surrounding the fire, and let out a deep, contented sigh.
My friends chatted about the things we’d seen on our walk. The long, low profile of a fox, its ruddy brown fur standing out against the white as he glided through the trees, the bubbles caught in the surface of the lake and tiny dots high up on the slopes cutting a smooth zig zag down the mountain. A tray of drinks arrived. Coffees and cocoas and toddy’s with sweet, strong smelling steam rising off of them. I’d ordered a hot chocolate and it came with a peppermint stick which slowly melted into the chocolate as I stirred. It had been a pleasure just to sit and listen to my friends as they talked. It was something I valued more as I got older. Friends I could just quietly be with. I didn’t need to talk or push the moment forward. We were all just happy to be around each other. We’d happily read books shoulder to shoulder on the sofa for an hour or watch an old movie ‘till someone fell asleep and someone else covered them up with a blanket. It was a good place to be in your life. When you realized you didn’t need to prove anything to the people you were sharing your time with. You didn’t need to be clever or have a joke to tell. Just showing up as yourself was enough.
That night after the fire had died down, after we trooped off to dinner and sleepily to our rooms, I’d run a hot bath for myself. My muscles were well worked from our snowshoeing and a good long soak sounded just right. As the water filled the tub, I’d trailed in a good amount of Epsom salts. I smiled to myself in the dark room. It seemed a sign I was definitely getting older when packing for a weekend away I’d been sure to bring Epsom salts and peppermint oil for sore muscles. Well that was fine by me. Getting older seemed to me just another way to say .. making friends with yourself.
I turned off the water and set a towel by the tub. I left the room dark. There was a window which seemed oddly placed up high on the opposite wall, but once I’d slid down into the water I saw that it was perfectly aligned for gazing out at the mountain from the tub. That’s when it had started to snow. I had been watching the moment the first flakes formed and fell. The whole world seemed quiet as it came down. The wind kicked up a bit and I watched as small cyclones of whirling snow spun, until they spun themselves out. At last with my fingertips turning pruney in the water, I drained the tub and wrapped myself in a thick robe. When I climbed into bed and pulled the blanket over my shoulder, I imagined my friends were all well into their dreams by now.
The snow kept falling through the night and when I woke up today I’d seen those fresh 3 or 4 inches. We met back up around the breakfast table and agreed today would be for skiing. The lodge made their own homemade granola, toasted oats, cinnamon and walnuts and I filled my bowl with it adding a sliced banana and coconut milk. We ate hearty to carry us through the morning on the slopes and soon we were zipping back into our gear and clicking our skis into place. I had come late to skiing and my first season I’d taken lessons, cautiously juttering down tiny hills as 6 year olds blazed past me, shouting encouragement. Since then I’d figured out that the more I relaxed, the less rigidly I held myself on the skis, the smoother the ride would be. It still took me a few runs to settle into a rhythm. Soon I was gliding from one run to another, feeling the fresh air rush past me and pulling it deep into my lungs. My friends and I would sometimes catch up with each other and race to the bottom or ride the chair lift up. I loved watching the chair lift climb, the swinging legs of excited little ones against the blue sky as we headed up to do it all over again. I knew we would make our way up and down until we had thoroughly worn ourselves out. And followed up just as we had yesterday with feet up in front of the fire and hot chocolate and a good dinner. And then I could have another bath and another long look out of that window and another nights deep sleep.
Kathryn Nicolai
Nothing Much Happens
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9
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