So bizarre…yet I couldn’t stop watching and laughing. (Family said I was all alone in liking this one.) And, have no idea what the ending signifies. Exhaustion?
Steve Layman posted this cartoon last week. It activated an immediate reaction. I laughed. Then said: “TRUE.” Then said “THAT’S ME.” Then psychoanalysis rolled in like a thick soupy fog in the Bay Area. And hangs low and hovers on the “why.” And went on lingering on the 11-hour ride to pick-up Eric from college. Didn’t we just take this emotional empty nester ride a few months back? Time. Whoosh.
“If you’re not in the arena also getting your ass kicked, I am not interested in your feedback. ”
~ Brené Brown
“Brené Brown is a research professor at the University of Houston Graduate College of Social Work. She has spent the past ten years studying vulnerability, courage, authenticity, and shame. She spent the first five years of her decade-long study focusing on shame and empathy, and is now using that work to explore a concept that she calls Wholeheartedness. She poses the questions: How do we learn to embrace our vulnerabilities and imperfections so that we can engage in our lives from a place of authenticity and worthiness? How do we cultivate the courage, compassion, and connection that we need to recognize that we are enough – that we are worthy of love, belonging, and joy?”
ZIMMERN: …The other day I saw on Eater that someone was saying that they thought you were the next Julia Child.
BOURDAIN: It’s flattering but wrong‑headed. I mean, Julia Child changed the f***ing world. I am not a particle of dust compared to her. I am flattered to even be mentioned in postironic jest in the same paragraph. But to be actually compared? No. Absolutely not. She was such an important figure, a pioneer out there …
BOURDAIN: And I don’t care if my mom approves. … Look, if I’ve learned anything—I wrote Kitchen Confidential because I didn’t think anyone would read it. That was a liberating moment. You know, writing every morning before I went to work with absolute certainty that no one other than a few cooks would read it was a truly liberating place to write a book. That was a lesson I learned in the bone, meaning the instinct to think about what do they want—What do they expect? What do my biggest fans want me to do next? How will they receive it? Who’s watching? Who’s reading?—this is a lethal, lethal instinct. I have to not think that. We all want to be loved, but I’m not going to even ask what people want, because that will … [Read more...]
Source: Themetapicture.com. Thank you Susan for sharing.
Once again, in the face of unthinkable tragedy - this time much closer to home than any of us here in Boston would like - Mark Morford says the thing I need to hear, and that I wanted to say myself.
Wednesday mornings are customarily reserved for my selections of fellow bloggers’ inspiring posts of the week. We’re departing from our normal fare. My Rachel shared this 6-minute clip last night. I was captivated. No more words. WATCH.
Note to Rachel. Your short email to me said: “good video about how we (women specifically) perceive ourselves.” Your subject heading was “awesome video.”
I do believe you missed a few sentences in your email. Here’s what I read between the lines:
“Dad, you were relentless and I didn’t like you for it. How many times did you tell me I didn’t need eye make-up? Hundreds, I think. How many times did you tell me that I didn’t need hair color. That nail polish didn’t matter much. That I didn’t need any make-up at all. That I was beautiful just the way I was. I’m beginning to get it now Dad. You were right. (Again) Thank you Dad.”
You are welcome Honey. You are more beautiful than you think. Yes you are.
Source: Thank you OCD: Obsessive Corgi Disorder
GOOGLY EYES MAKE EVERYTHING ALL BETTER!
“I owe much to my excursions to Nature. They have helped to clothe me with health, if not with humility; they have helped sharpen and attune all my senses; they have kept my eyes in such good trim that they have not failed me for one moment during all the seventy-five years I have had them; they have made my sense of smell so keen that I have much pleasure in the wild, open-air perfumes, especially in the spring—the delicate breath of the blooming elms and maples and willows, the breath of the woods, of the pastures, of the shore. This keen, healthy sense of smell has made me abhor tobacco and flee from close rooms, and put the stench of cities behind me. I fancy that this whole world of wild, natural perfumes is lost to the tobacco-user and to the city- dweller. Senses trained in the open air are in tune with open-air objects; they are quick, delicate, and discriminating. When I go to town, my ear suffers as well as my nose: the impact of the city upon my senses is hard and dissonant; the ear is stunned, the nose is outraged, and the eye is confused. When I come back, I go to Nature to be soothed and healed, and to have my senses put in tune once more.”
- John Burroughs
John Burroughs (1837 – 1921) was an American naturalist and essayist important in the evolution of the U.S. conservation movement. John Burroughs was the most important practitioner after Henry David Thoreau of that especially American literary genre, the nature essay. By the turn of the 20th century he had become a virtual cultural institution in his own right: the Grand Old Man of Nature at a time when the American romance with the idea of nature, and the American conservation movement, had come fully into their own. His extraordinary popularity and popular visibility were sustained by a prolific stream of essay collections, beginning with Wake-Robin in 1871.
Burroughs was the seventh child of ten children. He was born on the family farm in the Catskill Mountains, near Roxbury, New York. As a child he spent many hours on the slopes of Old Clump Mountain, looking off to the east and the higher peaks of the Catskills. As he labored on the family farm he was captivated by the return of the birds each spring and other wildlife around the family farm including frogs and bumblebees. In his later years he credited his life as a farm boy for his subsequent love of nature and feeling of kinship with all rural things. During his teen years Burroughs showed a keen interest in learning. He read whatever books he could get his hands on and was fascinated by new words or known words applied in new ways. Burroughs’ father believed the basic education provided by the local school was enough and refused to support the young Burroughs when he asked for money to pay for the books or the higher education he wanted. At the age of 17 Burroughs left home to earn the money he needed for college by teaching at a school in Olive, New York. Burroughs went on to take various teaching positions.
if you have time to chatter
if you have time to read
walk into mountain, desert and ocean
if you have time to walk
sing songs and dance
if you have time to dance
sit quietly, you happy lucky idiot
This is one of the most wonderful videos I've seen in a long, long time. Thanks to my friend, Sam, in Juneau Alaska, for sending it to me. It made my heart sing. I hope you all enjoy it just as much. Namaste'
I’m red faced. This post, and several other Pay it Forwards, are coming in the next week or so. Thank you Ellie @ The Muse Is Working, Barbara @ 365Guitars and Sheri @ Theothersideofugly for your Sunshine Award nominations. I’m paying it forward by nominating the following bloggers who bring a ray of light in my daily reading (with a slant towards photos and photo shares):
- Carol @ Flowers, Trees, & Other Such Gifts of Nature (Simple. Spectacular. Spellbinding. Shots of flowers. Mixed with inspirational quotes.)
- Anake @ THE WAY I SEE IT (Gets me thinking. Eclectic shares. Look forward to it each morning.)
- Seth @ SETHSNAP (Prolific photography of shots in and around Cincinatti and elsewhere. Amazing.)
- Tom & Kat @ hovercraftdoggy (Mix of photography shares. Can’t miss posts. Creative. Wondrous. Thought-provoking.)
- Cristi @ Simple. Interesting. (Wave upon wave of incredible city and scenic shares.)
- Maralee @ Through My Lens (Landscape and Nature shots in and around Oregon. Love her work.)
- Linda @ A Nature Mom (Nature. Family. Captured in awesome way.)
- Nitzus (Family. Landscape. Dream-like shots of Australia, New Zealand. Two places on the top of my bucket list to visit.)
- Sylvia @ Another Day in Paradise (Amazing blend of family and nature. Warmth.)
- Val @ Seattle Inspired (See site. Think imagination and creativity. Never disappoints.)
- David @ David R. Wetzel Photography (Potpourri of ordinary and extraordinary shots of life)
- Scott @ Scott Marshall Photography. (Scotland. Bucket List. Incredible shots. What talent Scott has.)
- Patrick @ Canadian Hiking Photography. (Simply Wow shots of home.)
- Inga @ Inga’s Angle (Spellbinding shots of NYC…)
To accept the award, the rules are: [Read more...]
My Grandfather. Deda. Walter Cecil Kanigan.
He was born on March 22nd. Yesterday. In 1909. 103 years ago.
I couldn’t tell you with certainty where he was born. Believe it was in the Ukraine. In a hospital? Home delivery?
I couldn’t tell you what he did as a child. Who were his friends? Did he have toys? A bike? A cat?
I couldn’t tell you of his journey to Canada. Where did he land? Did he ride the rails to get cross country? Was it Spring time?
I couldn’t tell you if he attended high school. Did he learn “his figures?” Did he know how to write?
I couldn’t tell you how he met Grandma. Baba. Did he ask her Father for permission to marry? Was she his first choice?
I couldn’t tell you his dreams. He mentioned that he wished he could fly. Just once. I couldn’t tell you if he ever flew in a commercial airliner.
I can’t tell you much about Deda.
But, I have moments.
He mixed different cereals for breakfast.
He slurped vegetable soup off his spoon.
Spring officially begins tomorrow at 11:02 am. In his novel Great Expectations, Charles Dickens said:
“It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade.”
Charles, you are a wee bit off this morning.
I stepped out the door. The Earth is covered with a six inch blanket of wet snow. The Wind is gusting up to 20 mph. It is 28F. I shiver. And think…
- Where’s my Sun with a spring kiss of warmth?
- Where are my cherry blossoms?
- Where are my bubbling brooks?
- Where are my budding trees?
So many words stung, more words healed. Today, I celebrate where I have been - though I could never have articulated it as magnificently as Shane Koyczan. TGIF all..
“I remember reading a review that Pauline Kael wrote about some director’s big epic, and she said: Now, look, it might seem unfair to judge a talented man more harshly when he tries to do something big than a less talented person who’s doing something easier. But when you try big things, you take big risks, and if you’re trying to do something that is maybe above you and you can’t quite pull off, then whereas before we only saw your gifts, now we see your failings.
I’ve always been pushing that envelope. I want to risk hitting my head on the ceiling of my talent. I want to really test it out and say: O.K., you’re not that good. You just reached the level here. I don’t ever want to fail, but I want to risk failure every time out of the gate.”
~ Quentin Tarantino
“Quentin Tarantino was born in Knoxville, Tennessee in 1963. In junior high he attended drama classes and he actually dropped out of High School at age 15 to attend acting classes full-time at the James Best theater company. After he left the acting school he became an employee at the Video Archives, a now-defunct movie rental store in Manhattan. It was there that he began to truly think about and discuss cinema as he worked with customers to find the best movie for them. He actually credits that store as providing the inspiration for him to become a director by saying that ‘When people ask me if I went to film school, I tell them, ‘no, I went to films.’ Tarantino is the famed director of classics ‘Pulp Fiction’, ‘Kill Bill’ and ‘Inglorious Basterds.’” (Source: ID Poster)
'Scattered Crowd' art installation by William Forsythes. "Thousand of white balloons, suspended in a billowing wash of sound; an air-borne landscape of relationship, of distance, of humans and emptiness, of coalescence and decision. In the gorgeous, breathless space that is choreographer William Forsythes «Scattered Crowd», the viewer inhabits and alters, through their stillness or speed, their sense of proportion and time, the configurations that make up this constantly shifting, ecstatic world."
Some clips need no introduction…
(Note to Self: Hmmmmmmm.)
Here are some excerpts from a Dailymail.co.uk article titled: When the weekend ends: 4:13pm on Sunday is when we get the blues ahead of the working week.
- Anxiety about the working week ahead officially starts at 4.13pm on a Sunday, according to a poll.
- Four out of ten adults admit that their Sunday is spent feeling anxious and full of dread.
- The mild sense of depression begins half way through the afternoon and continues into the evening.
- Some 44 per cent of us are jealous of our colleagues’ weekend escapades – not helped by the fact that 75 per cent of us don’t bother to leave the house on Sundays.
- Sundays should be a day to relax and enjoy the last of the weekend break but the results show that people are instead spending their Sundays thinking about work for the week ahead, so they are the most dreaded day of the week. [Read more...]
One word. Beautiful.
If I could stay just for a minute more
Then I could say all the things I’ve been saving up for
Never enough time in the day & moments like this
come a moment too late
And, there’s so many things that I don’t understand
And I’m standing in line with my open hand
Waiting for some explanation
Something to hold onto
And the minutes of the day turn to hours of the week
And time’s slippin’ away & we don’t hardly speak
And I’m feeling so lost deep in my soul…
…after I stepped on the scale and saw the damage.
“What we don’t know chains us, leaves us sitting in the valley with a stupid smile. We discover our ignorance as we go. After a lifetime, if we’ve been attentive, we should fall to our knees before the vastness, the ungraspable minutiae of our world. We should suspect that it constitutes our God. And we so-called experts of this or that, could we have done more than play our one chord? Wisdom is to know, at best, that we make only a little good noise, a few small dents. It’s why the wise laugh a lot, why the laughter of metaphysicians echoes in the spaces they probe. We walk out of our houses into the enormity of our task. What kind of ant is that? Who named the phlox? Is that a path or a rut?”
~ Stephen Dunn, Ignorance - Riffs & Reciprocities
Stephen Dunn (born 1939) is an American poet. He won the Pulitzer Prize for his 2001 collection, Different Hours. He was born in Forest Hills, Queens in New York. Dunn completed his B.A. in English at Hofstra University and his M.A. in creative writing at Syracuse. He has taught at Wichita State, University of Washington, Columbia University, University of Michigan and Princeton University. Dunn lives in Ocean City New Jersey.
“All great masters are chiefly distinguished by the power of adding a second, a third, and perhaps a fourth step in a continuous line. Many a man has taken the first step. With every additional step you enhance immensely the value of your first.”
Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882)
Here’s my Wolf Pack. Our Zeke on the left. Anya, the neighbor’s dog on the right. Zeke, a pure bred Hungarian bird hunting Vizsla. Anya, a rescue mix with herding in her DNA.
Zeke was acquired five years ago for hundreds (many) of dollars. (The King’s list of demands in dog selection included a sporting/running breed. It didn’t include acquiring someone else’s problems.) Anya was acquired from a shelter with no cash outlay. (*Hold this thought on dog profile differences.)
Trail running (and all running outside) has largely been suspended this winter season. Weekend exercise has taken the form of intermittent stabs on the elliptical machine in the attic…remote control in the right cup holder and water bottle in the left. Air temperature constant at 67F. No snow. No slush. No uneven surfaces. (And No Running Posts. Zero inspiration running on an elliptical.)
Weather warming this weekend. It was time to GET OUTSIDE. So, I prep. Ugg’s on. Strap Garmin on wrist. Grab iPhone. Earphones. Doggie treats. Two Dog leashes. Dog tags. Poop bags. Car keys. And stuff it all into a fanny pack. (Black manly style fanny pack.) Put on down coat. Pull on hat. (38F. Hat not needed but run will be arduous. No need to display thinning/receding and matted hair.) Jam running gloves in pocket. Grab Driver’s license and wallet and head out the door. (With the exception of dry food, ropes, crampons and ice axes, I’d be ready for climb up McKinley. Heavy load for a trail run in snow. Pulse quickens and I haven’t even left the car.) [Read more...]
Young baby elephant goes for a swim. I haven’t seen anything like it. One happy creature…
Good Sunday Morning.
Source: Thank you Eric.
The Harlem Shake is a dance that originally began in Harlem, New York in 1981. Since its beginnings it has spread to other urban areas and became popular in music videos…the modern day Harlem Shake was started by a man by the name of “Al B” (nickname Sisqo or Cisco). Al B was an alcoholic who would perform the dance upon request…Al B is quoted saying that the dance is “a drunken shake anyway, it’s an alcoholic shake, but it’s fantastic, everybody appreciates it.” He said it comes from the Ancient Egyptians and describes it as what the mummies used to do. Because they were all wrapped up they couldn’t really move, all they could do was shake. Harlem Shake is based on an Ethiopian dance called the Eskista.
This clip was something special.
+ Chamonix, France.
+ Fresh and deep powder. “Peaceful easy feeling” here.
+ Unbelievable camera work. Spectacular mountainscape and sun shots.
+ Hypnotic music and vocals. Tune titled “Lofticries” by Montreal band Purity Ring.
Stick with this to the end. Wonderful clip for our Saturday morning work-out inspiration.
10000birds.com: “Every child who has ever seen a cartoon featuring Wile E Coyote and Road Runner has to have wondered if poor Wile E Coyote ever had a fair shot at catching the Road Runner. According to Mark Lockwood’s Basic Texas Birds: A Field Guide, with or without Wile E. Coyote chasing it, a Greater Roadrunner can reach speeds of 20 MPH (32 KPH) while a Coyote can reach speeds of up to 43 MPH (69 KPH).”
Image Source: themetapicture.com