Friday, November 25, 2016

Sensational Gifts for the Fidgety & Fickle

When you find great products, don't you want to pass along your discoveries? I sure do. 

As the mom of a kid with sensory processing issues, which definitely play a role in his ADHD symptoms, when we find something that is not only tolerated, but works - I want to shout it from the rooftops. 

So, I decided to throw together a quick Gift Guide to highlight some of the products my Boy has fallen in love with over the last year. 


Friday, November 18, 2016

How Has Travel Affected Me? Easy - Serendipitously.

I know just enough
of the great wide world to see
I've seen quite little. 

I have met so many 
people of different types
but still, small a sample. 

I've lived broadly enough
to understand how narrow 
my experience. 

Traveling expands
the eyes, the mind, and the heart - 
Infinitely open. 


This is #Day18 of the NaBloPoMo, a writing challenge I have joined along with loads of others. You can find them all by checking out the blogrolls at the NanoPoblano and BlogHer buttons below. 

Wednesday, November 16, 2016

Pick an Answer: The Struggle, Parenthood, or Love.

What is REAL?     

 “Real isn't how you are made,' said the Skin Horse. 'It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.' 
     'Does it hurt?' asked the Rabbit.  
     'Sometimes,' said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. 'When you are Real you don't mind being hurt.'  
     'Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,' he asked, 'or bit by bit?'  
     'It doesn't happen all at once,' said the Skin Horse. 'You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand.”  
― Margery WilliamsThe Velveteen Rabbit

I have always loved The Velveteen Rabbit, to the point where I decorated my baby's nursery with illustrations from a paperback version I bought expressly for tearing it apart. 

Since I was in high school I've been particularly drawn to this passage. The idea that you must be "broken-in" before you could be accepted, or even truly seen, it appealed to my brand of teenage angst. 

Since becoming a mom, however, I have found find new meaning in it. 

Yes, I'd say our children make us Real in very much the same way they do their toys. By the time they really see us as real people, our stuffing is lumpy and the joints are loose. We are not the young, beautiful, new parents who had unreal expectations of our tiny babies. 

And that's ok. That is how it should be. We grow into parenthood, we grow by being loved by the special little humans we guide through the world. We become... more. 

This is important, I believe, for all parents to fully embrace. 

Because every person who has ever raised a child knows that parenthood is often a struggle. A struggle that is hard, and totally worth it. 

Because as parents we should understand at least this one truth about each another, and see the beauty in the way we are all the same, and celebrate how we are Real in our own unique ways. 

What is Real? 
Love. Love is Real. 
Parenthood is Real. 




Tuesday, November 15, 2016

Seeking: Balance on the Thin Edge of a Coin

Balance. The word tumbles through her mind, like shoes in a dryer, as she washes down her morning meds with cold coffee. 

What am I doing? Nothing. No, I'm sitting here watching the rain, trying to sort out what to do, and wishing I could do nothing. Read all day. Stay in bed and recoup. Not that I'm sick, I'm just weary. 

It had been a long week; or a really long month. Maybe longer. 

Cooking to do, laundry to fold, and piles of clutter in every room. The disorder of her home a reflection of the chaos in her head.

I used to be just fine taking a day to do nothing. Now "nothing" feels like a symptom of something. I'm afraid of being lazy for the sake of it. 

Apathy. Becoming apathetic was her greatest fear. Being swallowed by the deep, wide, Nothing. 

At the same time she equally was afraid of becoming hyper-focused. Fixated. Compulsive.

Her chest tightened. They seem like two sides of the same coin. Two choices, all in or all out.

Where am I supposed to find the balance? 



Monday, November 14, 2016

If the Super Moon Wakes You up for Silly Games

This morning we played Peek-a-Boo
with our friend the Moon.
My son and I, giggling softly,
wide-eyed in the quiet room.

Mister Moon slid swiftly
across the Western sky
Ducking behind tall buildings -
I've never seen him be so spry!

"Hey, Moonie, I still see you!"
My Boy called out in glee.
For while he tried to hid his face,
it shone so bright, impossible not to see.

We whispered to each other,
"Do you think he's gone?"
"Perhaps the Moon is tucked in bed?"
"Should we sing a nite-nite song?"


Then just as my Boy finished
singing a lunar lullaby,
Man in Moon, that lunatic,
leaped back out into the sky!

We laughed and cheered, "You got us!"
Genuinely, it was quite a trick.
For one who was larger than life
to be so ninja-like and quick!

Delighted, we snuggled up
my little guy and I,
and bid our friend Mister Moon
a super-sized goodbye.

Turning over on our pillows
we sought return to sleep.
Instead, we spied the Sun's first light
just rising in the East.

They say "it's always darkest..."
But that's not always true.
For this morning, at the break of Dawn,
Mister Moon played Peek-A-Boo



Day 14 of NaBloPoMo! Please join me and all my fellows participating in this month-long writing challenge, by following the links to BlogHer and NanoPoblano below.


Sunday, November 13, 2016

Inspiring Serendipity: a How To List

I've mentioned this a time or two before, but music has always been my first love

Not that I'm musically inclined, mind you. My memories have nevertheless always seemed inseparable from the soundtrack.

At this point, I could ramble on in 20 directions - each path a song, each inspiring another story, or chapter, or cinematic photo montage. 

Instead, when asked what music inspires me, I've done what I so often do with difficult questions - I made a playlist. 

In point of fact, I attempted to compel a Top 10 list of songs that define and inspire me. I was going to make this a #10Thankful-type post. I failed. 

After several days of editing my various go-to song lists, I finally whittled it down to 20 videos on a YouTube playlist

Unlike days of old, when I used to make mix tapes/cds for my beloveds, I'm not breaking down all the deep musings that went into these choices in a lengthy set of liner notes. 

At least I'm not today. 

For now, I'll let this collected hour and twenty minutes of music speak for me. And I'd love to hear your thoughts on these songs, or even which songs you turn to for inspiration. 





I've given this playlist the  title of "BeFierce BeKind BePositive." You can see more of my favorite songs, as well as my own videos on my YouTube Channel. 

Friday, November 11, 2016

I have but one regret: I used to be called Sissy

My mama called me
Sissy in a Southern way
to this day, I miss. 

I protested once: 
Mommy, please don't call me that - 
I spat - I hate it!

In her eyes I saw
She took my words literally 
to heart - like a knife. 

No salve could I find. 
The wound - too deep - persisted
Still pained when she tried. 

My mama called me 
Sissy in a lovely way
I'll forever miss. 


I honestly don't believe in regret, and as I've written, it is my practice not to collect them. 

But if there were one moment in my life I could change, it would be this one. The careless, harsh words of my angsty teenage self could be apologized for. They could be forgiven, but they could never be forgotten.

Perhaps, given another 15 years to work on her, Mom might have been able to call me "Sissy" again without it catching in her throat, half-spoken.

Instead, over a decade after her death, I console myself with my own voice as I call my own daughter "Sissy" nearly every day. 



This is Day 11 of the
National Blog Posting Month challenge.  


Thursday, November 10, 2016

Practical Magic: Conjuring More Beautiful Bedtimes with my Daughter

Saying goodnight to my daughter is always, um, an adventure.

Some nights she is sugar and spice, sweetness and light; while fairy dust floats in the air, her pudgy little hands pull me down for more kisses!
Smooch, smooch, kiss, kiss, peck, peck...
"100 kisses, Mommy!"
Rapid fire kisses, machine style.
"That's 99 kisses, Mama..."
"So one more, huh?"
"Yep. 99 is next to 100. So one more kisses."
One more kiss to end her day with smiles and love.

Feeling that warm glow? I try and hold onto those gauzy golden memories...

Because the reality is most nights end with so much screaming and so many tears you'd think this child was being beaten instead of being put into a nightgown.

One night, a bad mix of overtired and distraught, my girl was in full-on tantrum mode, screaming, crying, flailing.

Finally, when nothing else was working, I blew in her face. Not sharply, mind you, more like a gentle breeze.

And she stopped crying just long enough to crack a smile.

Suddenly we were back to our very early days. My girl, who never wanted to sleep in her crib alone, and me, who just needed her to sleep so I could sleep too.

"You know," I told her, "you used to cry when you were a baby. Nothing I did would help. One night I was so tired - I cried too! Then, with noting left to do, I blew softly on your face and you smiled. 
Just like this... 
And even if you start up again - in that moment your smile gives us both hope.
Your brief smile reminds you that you CAN smile again.
But it reminds me that I can find a way to help you smile.
As long as we know that we can be sure we can get through the tough times...

That is what hope is."


Wednesday, November 9, 2016

Now What? Be Fierce, Be Kind, Be Positive

Last night, frightened and anxiously seeking security, I wrapped myself in my fuzzy blanket, snuggled up to my husband,  and struggled through a night of fitful sleep. 

This morning, I woke in the quiet of a new day, perhaps a new moment in history. As I so often do, I snapped a photo of the sunrise. The buildings, the sky, the air, it all looked blue as dawn broke somewhere in the distant grey horizon. 

But there was a little light, just some streaks of pink and peach, peeking from the underside of the clouds. 

Not exactly a silver lining, but I'll take it. 

As much as I'd like to stay wrapped in my blanket weeping for an uncertain tomorrow,  I have dried my tears. I will not concede to the dark madness. This is a new day; there is too much work to be done. 

Rather than curl up and hide, I'm reaching out. 

I'm taking hold of that glimpse of light, and pulling it in to warm my heart, casting out the shadows of fear. Like an ember in a cooling fire, I will nurture it, breathe new life into it, fuel the growing flame. 

While I feel sad today, I am renewing my promise to Be Fierce. I intend to be audacious, to be bold, to raise my voice. I understand now I cannot be too timid to join the chorus of others - our voices are louder and stronger together. 

While I feel the heavy, ugly pull of hatred and judgement in the world, I will not get mired in that swamp. I will never cease to Be Kind. I know in my heart the path forward must be paved with understanding, empathy, and compassion - most especially for those with whom we disagree. 

So while I may be afraid or angry, I am not going to turn to the Dark Side; I am going to continue to Be Positive. There is so much love in the world, and where there is love there is hope. Love and hope will trump hate. 

Yes, I have turned my focus to that glimmer of light I caught this morning. More - I'm going to grab hold of it, and weave those peaches and pinks into my wardrobe, and I'm going to shine.  

If you find yourself in the dark today, feeling cold and alone, I encourage you to seek out the light. Be warmed. Be renewed. 

Then take your light to the world. Shine as brightly as you can. Share your love, feed your hope, join the chorus. 

Be Fierce. Be Kind. Be Positive. 


"Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light." 
- Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban -

Monday, November 7, 2016

Rejoice! For on the Seventh Day, She Rested

Monday, it's another Monday. And Mondays are hard, aren't they?

But this is not just any ol' Monday. There's a whole host of things that are different about this day, including, but not limited too:
  • This is the Monday following the time shift here in the United States (well, most of them). Always a wonky day. 
  • This is the Monday before US Election Day - which is a whole ball of angst-producing wax alone. 
  • As it happens, my little Rebels have school today, and are off tomorrow, back for 2 days and off for Veterans Day on Friday. Add this to the time shift, and I'm in for a long week in the parenthood department. 
  • This is the Monday after the NYC Marathon, which I am proud to say my husband not only ran, but crushed. First marathon for a 47 year old dude, and he did it with an average mile of just under 10 minutes. 
  • My husband and I happen to have a date tonight, to go see Lee Child be interviewed by someone from Vogue at Random House. There'll be yummies to nosh and wine, and all very lovely. I'm excited, I am... but... 
  • I have an emotional hangover. Why? Well, partially because of all the stuff I just listed. Mostly because as long as my husband's day was yesterday, by the time he came home I felt like I'd run a marathon. 
So what is an "emotional hangover?" I don't even know if it's a thing other people say, but for me, it's the feeling of having been through the wringer, and just feeling worn out from all the feelings. Does that even make sense? I don't know. 

See, yesterday I had a plan, an expectation of how I could let kids do their thing in the morning while I did some work. Then we would go have frozen yogurt for lunch, watch their dad pass by and cheer for him in the marathon, and then we'd scoot back home, and frolic or something. Ok, I didn't plan what we'd do, but I really did plan this fun "outing." It would only take us around the block, but it was so much winning for all of us. 

Needless to say, things didn't go as planned. Lots of reasons, mostly irrelevant. 

The relevant bit is that I found myself standing on the sideline, 3 people back from the fence, knowing my husband would never see my 5'2" shortness where I was. My kids were trying to stay excited, but they couldn't see any of the runners. My son started asking to go get fro-yo every 90 seconds. My daughter decided she didn't want to sit in the stroller she insisted she needed, but she did want to stand ON it. I was getting the side-eye from some of the other spectators, and one woman decided to be outright confrontational. 

I just wanted to see my husband. I wanted to hug him over the sideline fence, kiss him, maybe take a silly selfie, and send him on his way. 

As my daughter teetered on the stroller that I held balanced with one hand, while trying to track his position on the race app, and my son whining and complaining and knocking the phone to the ground... My anxiety went through the roof. 

I was shaking. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. I wanted to grab the kids and leave, but I didn't want to miss seeing my husband. I wanted my kids to see their daddy doing this amazing thing. I didn't want anyone to be disappointed. Which included me. 

So I hung on. I got angry. Because not having control and having to fake it pisses me off. Because the only way I can get back in control is to fight through the fight or flight response. 

Once you've climbed on that roller coaster, it's hard to make it stop. 

I'm fighting for my life, I'm fighting to find my calm, I'm fighting mad, I'm fighting sleep, I'm fighting the need to crawl back into a hole. I'm fighting to find normal again. 

For me, that's the worst part of my anxiety. It makes me... mean. Which makes it worse, because I despise who I am when I'm freaking out. Even if I look perfectly normal. 

It so fucking exhausting. 

So today, I'm spent. Today, I cannot think clearly. I cannot focus. I cannot... I just can't. 

And you know what? I'm not gonna. 

Today I will rejoice in feeding myself. I will revel in a quick shower. I will take care of the physical, and let the brain (try to) rest. 



Sunday, November 6, 2016

A Fan of Geeking Out: 10 Labels I Love

Labels are tricky, aren't they? 

http://officialshoebox.tumblr.com/post/120445102666/geek-vs-nerd-know-the-difference
geek-vs-nerd-know-the-difference via officialshoebox.tumblr.com
While none of us want to be reduced to some cookie-cutter category, we do want to be defined by our passions. We call ourselves "fans," and revel in our collective geekiness. Because for better or worse, these labels are what help us form bonds with others and build communities. 
For my part, I'm thankful to have a quilt of fandoms to wrap around me. This patchwork of my passions, all my geek flags stitched together, are more than a security blanket or a way to be recognized by the likeminded. When viewed together, they could begin tell my story. 

While I might not qualify as a super-fan, or rise to the level of total geek status of any one of these, here's a list of Fandoms I'm thankful to be part of: 
  • Star Wars: May the Force Be With You, Always est. 1977
  • Yankees: Since the 1977 World Series. Admittedly I first rooted for them because my brother was a Dodgers fan, and it was the most annoying thing I could do as a little sister. 
  • Cats: Unashamedly a Cat-person. Dogs are fine, I had a pet goat, I still want a pig, and I love owls, but I'm pretty sure in all my past lives I was a cat. 
  • Sherlock Holmes (any and all versions): My daddy introduced me to Mr. Holmes at a very young age, and I fell in love. "Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbably, must be the truth." Elementary, really. 
  • Coffee - Sweet Nectar of the Gods which I serendipitously discovered in various forms sometime in the late 80s. 
  • Douglas Adams - "I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be." I will forever be in debt to my brother for the introduction to one of the most brilliant authors I've ever encountered.
  •  Doctor Who - particularly being a fan of Adams,  I'm ashamed to admit how late in life I became a Whovian. I can recall conversations when I was younger about the series, but I never sought it out. Once I stumbled upon it, however, I was instantly hooked. For those who will wonder, Ten is MY Doctor, and Donna is my favorite. Others mourn Rose, I long for more of the DoctorDonna.
  • Apple - From the first, I found Apple and all the subsequent iProducts to be intuitive, and lovely. iHeartApple. Not only that, I geeked out reading Douglas Adams was also a devout user, as well. If you took away my Apple products, I would be lost. Probably literally, depending on where you stripped me of my phone. 
  • Disney and Pixar Animation: What can I say, my inner child is 4 and I like to make her happy.
  • Clue: The board game, yes, but the movie is quite possibly my all-time favorite. To the point where I have a digital copy on my iPhone, because... I'm a geek. 





Saturday, November 5, 2016

In a Whiz - Chimichurri into Aioli - It's All Good

Confession time: Sometimes I get a little overzealous buying greens. 

Maybe it's because I have access to about 15 different produce and farmers markets in my little corner of NYC. Maybe it's because my intensions are often better than my eating habits. Regardless, I end up with a, sad, wilted, and unappetizing. 

Rather than waste these abandoned lettuces littering my crisper drawer, I went in search of a recipe that I could hide them in — and I found one! The Chimichurri recipe found in Gwyneth Paltrow and Julia Turshen's book, It's All Good, which calls for Italian parsley and cilantro. 

I know, I know, not all greens are alike. But I am one of those lucky humans who tastes soap when I eat cilantro, so I've been substituting it with arugula for years. Why not just replace the parsley with the sad looking red chard or kale or spinach that I have around to keep the arugula company? 


And while I was at it, I upped the amount of garlic, and threw in red pepper flake instead of fresh jalepeno. It's easier to control the heat level my way - Ok, fine, it's just easier. 

But the real magic happened the first time I took this from my mini chopper into my Ninja blender. With just a few pulses, the greens, garlic, EVOO, and vinegar flew past something that resembles a pesto, into something that I can only describe as an aioli. 

This is the most amazing condiment I have ever used. It has just enough fat to be used like a mayonnaise or mustard on a sandwich (I'm partial to a heavy shmear on a grilled chicken sandwich). I've used it on my salmon cakes, in place of ketchup, and found a whole new level of amazing to one of my favorite foods. 

And the best part? In each bite there is a hearty punch of healthy greens. So unlike when I want to slather a my grilled chicken sandwich in mayo, a heavy shmear of my Chimi-Aioli is a guilt-free power punch of flavor. 

I love a win-win, and trust me, this spread is a winner!! 

In case you can't read my handwriting in that photo...

Ingredients: 

  • 2 packed cups arugula (or whatever salad greens you have on hand)
  • 3 gloves of garlic
  • 1 tsp - 1 Tbs red pepper flakes (start on the low end, kick up your spice as needed)
  • 1/2 cup EVOO (extra virgin olive oil)
  • 3 Tbs vinegar (your choice - I've used red wine, apple cider, white wine — all good)
  • 1/2 tsp ground cumin
  • 2 tsp coarse sea salt OR 1 tsp kosher salt 
Method: Throw it all in a blender, Ninja, bullet, food chopper of choice and whiz it until CREAMY. 

Store in a sealed container in the fridge for... I don't know its shelf life, I've not had any around long enough to go bad. 




Day 5 of NaBloPoMo... I barely made it! 

Friday, November 4, 2016

Clearly, I have but One Way to Answer

When in NYC - thou shalt not #fangirl.


Living in the Big Apple, I'm no stranger to celebrity sightings, not that I have pictures and autographs to prove it. Part of becoming a New Yorker is adhering to the unspoken rule against acknowledging any celebrity who is just trying to get on with daily life. 

I've bumped into Phil Donahue in the Post Office, exchanged holiday greetings with Alan Alda, and Kate McKinnon veered off the sidewalk last week to avoid crashing into my crazy Boy. 

All that said, the prompt for today's #NaBloPoMo piece is "who is your ideal celebrity neighbor," and in my neck of the internet, #OnFridaysWeHaiku. So, without further ado... 
Julia Roberts? 
Emma Stone? Totes adorbs! So cool
if they lived next door.

Still, the right answer
(regardless of the question):
*RDJ. Always. 

My ideal celeb, 
BFF in my head - YOU
Be my neighbor please? 

*RDJ = Robert Downey Jr., obvi

Join me every day in November for a new post. And be sure to visit my internet neighbors at NanoPoblano and BlogHer (click the pics below for instant access!) 




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Thursday, November 3, 2016

Plus 2 Surprise Babies Makes Us A Lucky Seven

Families are complex. At least mine always has been. 

Do you remember the Newhart tv series in the 80s with a character called Larry and his brothers, Daryl and Daryl? Well, thanks to my blended family, I actually have three brothers, and two are named James. Although neither went by "James," as a kid I loved introducing us in just the way Larry did on the show. 

Maybe that's why I always imagined I'd grow up to have a classic sit-com nuclear family: Me and my spouse, our 3 children, 2 cats and 1 dog. 

Reality? We had two babies 18 months apart, then moved into a small 2 bedroom apartment in Manhattan. Not only did that nix the fur babies, but pretty much my dreams of a third child. 

Which is why I was wistfully bemused a few weeks ago, as we neared the end of an excruciatingly long day in the car, when my two delightful little rebels started talking about how they wanted more siblings.
That's gonna be a no.
4 kids & only 1 me? Oh hell, no. 

I thought they were kidding. 

Nope. According to them I need to deliver a baby post-haste.  

Naturally, my Girl wants a sister, my Boy wants a brother. So I'll need to produce fraternal twins. 

Check out the kid-logic sales pitch: 

  • BOTH insist a new baby can sleep in their beds with them. 
  • They will share ALL their toys. 
  • There will be no crying, no fighting, and rainbows will fill the baby's diapers, which my 4 and 6 year olds will obviously change themselves. 
When I reminded them of their unwillingness to even share my fecking lap when I try to read to them, they suggested the solution was I needed a second husband.  

Seriously?!

Oh yeah, they did. For the rest of the drive they spun an elaborate tale of our 2 dads, 4 kids, 1 mom life in a 2 bedroom apartment in New York City. 

Slumping in the passenger seat, I couldn't help but feel exhausted by the mere conjecture. 


NanoPoblano2016

Wednesday, November 2, 2016

What do you fear you could endure?

What is your biggest fear? There's an interesting question for someone who struggles with anxiety. My mind immediately jumps to Franklin D. Roosevelt's first inaugural address: 
"...let me assert my firm belief that the only thing we have to fear is fear itself -- nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes needed efforts..." 
It turns out, however, there is one thing I fear more than my own fear. A few summers ago I came face-to-face with my fear. I'd love to say I overcame it, but... 

This was nothing like meeting a tarantula, although my whole life I have been petrified by spiders. Literally, if confronted by one, even the itsy-bitsiest of arachnids can send me into heart-pounding, frozen in place, panic. Unlike my friend Lola, I'm not concerned about them laying eggs in my mouth, or accidentally eating them, or even being bitten. The entirety of them being just freaks me the hell out. 

Logically, I know they serve a greater good, so I do my best to live and let live. If a spider is in my space, I can break through my panic to capture it and set it "free." Sure, there'll be a tremendous amount of squealing and running in circles shouting "ewwwww," but I'm a mom. Mom's get shite done. 

Now, if you ask others what their biggest fears are, I'd wager many will admit they fear death on some level. Particularly as we embrace the realities of parenthood, the idea of a premature death can be terrifying. 

While I get that, personally I've reached an age where my own bodily harm and questions about my mortality are frightening only because I am afraid what my loss would mean to my children and my husband. 

My husband, on the other hand, now we've come round to where my deepest fear comes from: his death. Even writing about this creeps me out, in a superstitious way. 

Because, the thing is, I saw it happen. One day, 16 months ago, I watched in horror as my tall, strong, stoic husband slowly collapsed to the floor of a toy store. For reasons that are still a medical mystery, he had a full body grand mal seizure. 

During those long minutes I held on to his hand as he convulsed, soothing him and begging him to stay with me. His eyes rolled back, blood eventually ran out of his mouth, and as his body relaxed in it's unconsciousness, I had a just enough time to imagine what life would be like for me, for my children, if we lost this man. 

I have never been so terrified in all my days. 

Would we endure? Of course, I know we would. As I know my loved ones would go on should a dire fate befall me. 

But if you're asking what I fear more than anything? 
To endure a life without my husband. 


Join me all November long for new posts as part of National Blog Posting Month. 



Tuesday, November 1, 2016

I Found Something Precious in a Crystal Ball

my precious
When we are small children objects appear without explanation.  Registered as little more than shapes colors on walls and high shelves; set pieces picked out according to someone else's esthetic. 

Some tchotchkes, however, call to the mind of a child.  

To this day, I cannot tell you where the crystal ball came from, nor how it came to sit upon my dresser. 

Yet, it was always there. I cannot remember one day of my life without it, truly. It was, and remains, one of the most fascinating things I have ever encountered. 

As a small girl I marveled at how someone was able to fold aluminum foil inside the sphere. It was clearly impossible, but in my limited experience no other substance had ever caught the light in the same way.

Hours and endless games could be spent playing with my beautiful crystal ball.  

Yes, in my head it remains a crystal ball, though it's not even glass. It's something more akin to a Lucite-acrylic. Did this tarnish its value? No, not in any way. In fact, as I grew older, more observant, this inspired deeper contemplation. For there were clearly bubbles inside. The mushrooms (they have always been mushrooms to my imagination) were not foil after all!?! Rather, and perhaps more extraordinarily they seemed to be pockets of air. 

I don't mind telling you, my mind still has a hard time working out how these shapes were blown inside a molten plastic. If I ask you to imagine someone blowing glass in reverse, perhaps you'll understand the conundrum as I see it. 
It's a crystal - Nothing more. But if you turn it this way and look into it, it will show you your dreams.  
~Jareth - The Goblin King from the movie Labyrinth~

I had been mulling over the magic of my crystal ball for twelve years by the time David Bowie spoke his lines as The Goblin King

A lifetime of turning the orb in my hands. Musing about the fairies who lived inside those mushrooms. Pondering the strange world of the gnomes who'd bestowed this gift to my bedside upon my birth. Rolling it in such a way I could see myself wandering a hillside in a lush green land across the sea. 

Precious time spent with my imagination trying to unravel mysteries of science, time, and a lifetime of questions and discoveries I could not even give words to. 

Although often clouded by dust and neglect, this silly trinket, my oldest muse, still sits on the window ledge by my bedside. A touchstone for me, yet merely visual background noise to the other players on this stage — in my life.





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