Dancing barefoot in the kitchen

I think I mentioned in a previous blog that I have been trying to integrate more moments of play into my life. One way I have been doing this is through dance. Yes, dance. I used to dance a lot, alone and with friends. Dancing makes me feel at home in my body. It makes my heart feel happy, and my body feel energized. And, let's be honest: there is very little that is as silly and fun as rocking out barefoot in the kitchen first thing in the morning while you wait for the kettle to boil. It is an instant giggle generator. A definite smile from ear-to-ear creator. When was the last time that you turned on an awesome tune and danced as if nobody was watching? (and I am talking to you men, as well as the women who are reading this!)

In the interests of generating an active (as in you actually giving this a try in the next day or two) response, I am including a couple of links here to inspire you, make you laugh, and get you moving!

The first link is of Sean Stephenson. Sean makes me smile, and every time I watch this video, it makes me want to dance. 

This second one brings together dancing fun from so many movies that I stopped trying to keep track about half way through. It is hard to keep your feet still (and why try?)

Judson Laipply is famous for inspiring people with his dance moves. I found his Evolution of Dance video, his Evolution of Dance 2, and Evolution of Dance 3. Is there a part 4?

And I absolutely love this animated version of James Brown's I've got you. but the original is the best of course.

Are you dancing yet? :-)

Detours on the quest for the perfect book

So the search is on! I mentioned in my blog entry Ode to playfulness, that I had invited 12 women to create an inspiring, year-long journal together. All 12 of them are on board now, and after 2 weeks of searching all the shops nearby, I am having a very tough time finding a journal with enough pages in it to give each of the 12 women enough space to do their thing over the next year. Today someone recommended I check out http://www.etsy.com/ which I had never heart of before (and now that I have, I realize WHY the universe kept this a secret from me for so long, because it is an amazing resource if you are looking for hand made things from around the world, and I would be even more broke than I already am if I had discovered it earlier!!) I have still not found a journal with at least 120 pages, but what I did find are a couple of very, very cool companies that make journals, so I wanted to share them with you here, in case, like me, the idea of an entire book of blank, beautifully textured paper wrapped in a one-of-a-kind cover, makes you want to leap for joy.

The first company that I came across that impressed me immensely, but that I will have to save up to purchase anything from, is Bibliographica. Rarely do I see such beautiful journals.

Photograph from Bibliographica's Etsy page.

I love that you can actually write in this miniature journal! Photograph is from Bibliographica's Etsy page.

The idea of actually being able to write in one of these creations is a dream. The creator of these tiny works of art, Louise, is also a photographer. She is from New Zealand, and has a blog that you can check out as well. I don't know what it is about New Zealand...I keep coming across amazing artists that hail from the island. Must be all those spectacular landscapes and fresh air! 

Another work of art that I am excited about is this journal, from Purple Paint. It looks like this on the outside:

Photograph from Purple Paint's Etsy site.

and like this on the inside:

Photograph from Purple Paint's Etsy site

Is that not beautiful? I have to tell you, I wish I were looking for a shorter journal, because if I was, i would have snatched this baby up immediately! Purple Paint also has a blog, if you want to read more. And if you think you want to purchase this beautiful creation, I would get snapping. My understanding is that it is one of a kind!

I had better get back to my search. If you come across any journals that have at least 120 blank pages in them with good firm front and back covers on them that look like they would survive a journey around the world, please tell me where to find them. I have the month of January, and it is quickly slipping away, so I want to find something this week so that I can get to work adding my contribution before I mail the journal off to my dear friend Rachel who is doing February!

Hope this has gotten your creative juices flowing! I am casting longing glances at my own journal's white, white pages, lying on the table beside me, and wishing that it were as colourful as the book above. Maybe it is time to crack out the paints and pastels!!

Love: field notes from outside the box

Della and Elliott, a couple I know who are blazing their own unique path in love! Photo by Andrew Kelly, 2010.

“When…the people of Bahá undertake to marry, the union must be a true relationship, a spiritual coming together as well as a physical one, so that throughout every phase of life, and in all the worlds of God, their union will endure; for this real oneness is a gleaming out of the love of God.” ~‘Abdu’l-Bahá

“The friends of God must so live and conduct themselves, and evince such excellence of character and conduct, as to make others astonished. The love between husband and wife should not be purely physical, nay rather it must be spiritual and heavenly. These two souls should be considered one soul. How difficult it would be to divide a single soul! Nay, great would be the difficulty!" ~‘Abdu’l-Bahá

 

Eight years ago I fell in love. I do not fall in love often. To be honest, it has only happened once so far. Eight years ago I met a man that who made me stop throwing phrases like “a woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle” around quite so flippantly. I did not need him, but I very much wanted his company by my side. He did not fall into the traditional definition of what my friends would call cute, but I did not have eyes for anyone else. He was not wealthy or super fit, and he insisted on clogging his arteries up with cigarette smoke on a regular basis. He had fears and idiosyncrasies and hang-ups. But he was my man. He had a great laugh that made his eyes sparkle. He always noticed the positive in me, and would point it out. I don’t remember him criticizing anything about my words or actions the whole time we were together, which was a first. He was studious and smart. He had a great sense of humour. He was good with computers and all things electronic, which, being such a dinosaur myself, I always appreciated. He loved his parents and siblings. He believed in God. And he loved life. So he was sometimes rigid. And being Catholic, I think he would have preferred it if I had belonged to a church, but he respected my faith. He had not yet begun his career, but I had a deep-rooted certainty that whatever he did, he would succeed at.

I am rarely certain about anything in my life. I cannot figure out what side of the world to live on. Or what I should do with my life. Sometimes I want to be a farmer, and other times I am convinced that I should be a novelist. So when I watched the man I was certain I would spend the rest of my life with close the door of my apartment firmly behind himself for the last time, shattered would be more than a major understatement about how I felt.

In the months after he shut that door, I pulled myself together, applied to graduate school, and moved to Canada. I did my Master’s degree, served my community and found my calling in agriculture. I went out on a few dates and attended friends’ weddings. Although I never admitted it to anyone, part of me thought that if I waited long enough, he might realize that he had made a terrible mistake, and come find me. 

It is going on eight years since that door shut. I have finally realized that he is never going to come find me. I have also realized that loss and letting go are great teachers, that the journeys I have had since then would never have happened if we had remained together, and that I would not give up the many experiences of the last eight years for any thing or one. I have changed a lot, and to be honest, I am really enjoying the woman that I am becoming! Although I could not see it at the time, in hindsight, having that door close when it did was a blessing, because it sent me on a wild journey that I would not have chosen to take of my own accord. 

I was reading a blog not too long ago that led me to a site called Green Wedding Shoes. I was intrigued by the playful image that the web site’s name conjured up in my head -- a bride in a white dress and bright green shoes, so I clicked on it out of curiosity. I was taken to a description of one couple’s very creative wedding celebration, and, at the very bottom of the page, to the most creative, fun-loving and heartfelt wedding video that I have ever seen. Although I have never met the couple in the video, I have come across the groom’s (Devon Gundry) music before, and really love the melody he wrote to ‘Armed with the power of Thy Name,’ and I have since found out through the grapevine that the bride (Golriz Lucina), is co-director of content for Soulpancake, an incredible source of creative projects that you will want to check out, if you haven’t already! What makes Golriz and Devon’s wedding video so inspiring to me is how it seems that their marriage celebrates their individual authenticity so completely. They are both completely present at every level, and they convey, with every means available to them: their facial expressions, music, creative endeavours, words, and even the people that they surround themselves with, a depth of acceptance of who each other is that is breathtakingly beautiful. Interested in what Golriz had to say about love, I went to her blog, and found this:

“recently someone asked me if i believe in soulmates..i don’t believe that there is only ONE ‘the one’ out there for each of us. but i do believe that if you know what you’re looking for, and you’ve started the process of knowing yourself and are striving to be the best version of you possible, then you can find / attract your soul mate. someone who effortlessly adds more brilliance to your world. someone you can traverse this life with trusting that at the core of their being their priority is taking care of your heart. that person will be enamored with what makes you the only you on this planet. they will recognize your nobility and will not need to be convinced of your worth.

and when that happens it does feel like you have met your soulmate.

at least, that’s how i feel.”

I also found a quote that I love, by dr. Seuss: “you know you’re in love when you can’t fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams” – dr. seuss

I decided a while back that I am not really interested in relationships that take away from, or undermine who I am and what I want to do with my life. I am full of energy and creativity and dreams and journeys and laughter. If I share this life with someone, I want that union to be a celebration of the fullest expression of who each of us is. I also want it to be about honouring each other’s authenticity. Walking together, side by side instead of one in front of the other.

I really enjoy coming across fun stories about relationships that capture the beauty in being your own person and creating your own definition of what it means to love. For some reason, I notice people share stories/thoughts/dreams and reflections about happy relationships less and less often these days, and when they do, I often notice eyes rolling, people fidgeting, shuffling their feet and looking away. I often feel this unspoken “oh please” in the room, as if we believe that no relationship could possibly be that much fun to be in. And if it really does seem like two people are truly happy together, there is always this underlying question of “I wonder how long that will last?” I don’t really know why happy stories or dreams of one day being in a fun loving relationship are so hard for us to digest. Are we afraid to hear about what we could be sharing with the person we already are, or may some day be sharing our lives with because it means we might have to contemplate that we are responsible, and very capable of shaping our experience of love? Because it means that we might have to make some rather radical changes in how we are thinking and/or relating to those around us? Because we might have to reconsider our cynical approach to love? I wonder. Because the reality is that whether we believe it or not, there are many couples out there that I run into, just like Golriz and Devon, who are truly, amazingly, undeniably happy in their relationships. Who, like Elliott and Della (see photograph at the top of this page), dear friends of mine who just married this past summer, are blazing new trails their own unique ways, and adding beauty, diversity and love to the world as they do.

For my part I am going to keep surrounding myself with such people and stories. Dreaming. Learning more about who I am, so that I know how to share that with the right person when he does cross my path.

What are some of the ways that you celebrate what is authentically different and beautiful about yourself and your partner within your relationship? How do you redefine love and make it your own story? 

A little winter beauty

We host a women's devotional gathering at our home twice a month. The devotionals have a theme, and guests are asked to bring something with them inspired by the theme. This month our theme is beauty. I shared two things that are beautiful to me. One was an abstract landscape painting called Mandarin Light, by Louise Mould. I will post a photograph of it here if I get her permission to do so (watch this space!). In the meantime, you can see a great deal of the beauty that she adds to the world here. I also shared a poem that I wrote a number of years ago, that is about PEI. It is called One Thing We Must Do.
 

One Thing We Must Do

Red sandstone cliffs tumble soft down to ocean

grasses lean, whisper against my legs. 

A heron pauses perfectly still on one leg, head poised.

It is June, and I have been here long enough to watch winter defeat rusty, golden fall, 

learn to move through snow, slide over ice smooth and bubbled beneath me. 

I have been here long enough to feel the cold slap of wind, see ice thicken over water,

trees become dark naked dancers twisting mournfully against a silvery white landscape. 

I have been here long enough to smell violent perfume of freshly harvested shellfish

that makes me gag and ache simultaneously; 

long enough to admire the awkward grace of the crow,

concede the defeat of the umbrella, feel frozen rain against my face.

I have been here long enough realize that calling this home means learning to co-exist with, open oneself to the elements, recognizing human fragility in the face of nature. 

Here I learn to appreciate simple things:

bright yellow finches outside my window,

aroma of earth from weeks of summer rain,

sensation of sun warming skin after surviving months on memory alone. 

I have been here long enough to appreciate the physical strength of people who at 80

still shovel snow, hands strong, breaths puffing in hushed January air;

to walk home through fields late at night, pale moon lighting the way fearless,

be able to trust darkness as I have not since childhood. 

This island awakens awe, each season has its own distinct boundaries

within which nature flourishes colourful and alive. 

Identity rests in endless miles of gently sloping potato fields,

fishermen who still know stories of discovery, shipwrecks, hidden treasures. 

Who sit and recount of ghost ships that went down, sipping tea,

enveloped in clouds of smoke. 

I have been here long enough to learn to navigate the tightly knit web

of community and judgement – cage and safety net for those not from away.

On this island ecological networks are mirrored in social structure,

everyone knows everyone else, everyone has a specific niche in the system,

individual movement and change resisted by the whole,

unspoken rules are respected. 

Size and isolation nurture a sense of belonging.

Those that stay become vital members of the community–

emigration slackens the taut network of interdependence, is felt by everyone. 

People and place mingle and blur,

inseparable hues of deep cold blue, red clay, sharp green. 

Icicles freeze over crimson berries in winter,

ice breaks too early, rains fall and fall, saturating spring air. 

When fish wash up dead on a beach

it is our food, our fishermen, our farmers, our waters that are sick. 

There can be no detachment, no putting things off ‘til later. 

This land is all there is. 

It is what we depend on for survival, is limited, must be protected.   

Cycles spin. 

Now sun, now snow that blinds, constellations of ice that climb my windows at night, now brilliant golds, mustards, firey blazes of autumn,

now cool pastel blues on ponds we skate on at night. 

It is time to recognize this is finite, delicate, unique. 

I may always be an outsider,

but I have been here long enough to know we must keep this alive. 

Keep the connection with land, with sea, with isolation, story. 

It is not too late if we start now.       

Signs and pieces

Me in a field of Lupins in French River, PEI, Canada

A couple of days ago when I opened my bedroom door in the morning, I found a packet of seeds lying on the floor. I bent over, and picked them up to see what they were. It was a package of Lupin seeds. I don't know if you know what Lupins are, but they grow wild all over Prince Edward Island (PEI) in the early summer, and are spectacularly beautiful. My question was "what are they doing outside my bedroom door?" and "Is this a sign?"

I have been searching for signs this week because I have been thinking about moving back to PEI. I have been having intuitive "feelings" about it all week. I mention it to my mother and she just looks back at me, her silence saying "why are you even contemplating moving back to a place that you could not wait to leave a year ago?" or as my dear friend Deepali, who is from India, and cannot fathom the idea of actually choosing to live somewhere that gets as cold as PEI does in winter so frankly put it, "why the hell would you ever want to move back to that godforsaken place?" (like I said, her aversion is entirely due to the cold weather, which horrifies her).

I can see where they, and many other friends back on PEI, are coming from. When I told a friend back on PEI that I thought I was ready to come home, he wrote back and said: "that sounds like a great idea...but where is that, exactly?" I have been talking about leaving PEI ever since I moved there to do my Master's degree, naively thinking that I would only stay two years to do my degree, and then be moving on. I talked about moving back to the Mediterranean to apply what I had learned in the part of the world that inspired me to undertake a Master's degree in Island Studies in the first place.

I have spent much of my life living like a nomad. My family left the east coast of the US to drive to the west coast in one of those orange, hippie VW vans, when I was less than a year old. I had my first birthday on a road trip in the Midwest somewhere. When we settled in California, I somehow managed to attend six pre-schools before the age of six. When I was six, my family sold everything we owned and moved to the Mediterranean island of Cyprus, where, over a period of eleven years, I lived in four different houses and attended four separate schools (one of which was a Greek school) in three different cities between the age of six and seventeen. Things did not slow down after I graduated from high school. I somehow managed to attend four separate universities located in three different countries before I finally found a school that worked for me, and from which I graduated with my B.A. Between 1998 and 2004, I lived in Italy three times, in two separate cities and four separate apartments. In between, I lived in Mexico, Arizona, Cyprus and California, with short trips to the UK, France, Switzerland, Costa Rica, Sicily, Lebanon, Germany, Greece, and Spain. So when friends and family roll their eyes at the idea of my wanting to return to "home", I can't say I blame them. I have been looking for a place to call home for a very long time, and to be honest, I am not really sure I know what the word "home" means, which may be why I am having such a hard time finding it.

PEI is the longest I have lived anywhere since middle school, so technically it is as close to home as I have gotten since childhood. It is the first time in my life, that I can remember, where I actually became an integral, contributing member of a community, and I started realizing that I valued who I was as a part of community more than the excitement of moving to another new country and starting all over again. It may not sound as exotic, but it was wholesome and grounding. In the past I would pack up and jet from one place to the next and back again with very little thought as to why I was doing it -- it felt right at the moment, so I did it. I gave little thought to my long-term goals. So the fact that despite feeling the desire to move back, I am holding back, reflecting on what I am thinking and why, and looking for signs before I make a spontaneous move, feels to me like I am making progress. I have an intuitive feeling that my instinct is coming from a new place -- from my desire to be a part of community again...to be of service in a community that I value deeply instead of just passing through briefly. But I want to know that I am moving from the right place -- that making this choice is moving forward and not backward. Hence the search for a sign!

 My mother gets signs all the time. She prays for an answer as to what to do about a job that is not going well, and within a day or two the phone rings, and someone offers her a new job. She is uncertain where to get something that she needs....absolutely anything...and someone will knock on the door with precisely the thing that she needs. When I was on my pilgrimage in Israel last spring, I met someone who told me a story about someone who was praying for guidance on which university offer to accept from two possibilities. In the middle of the person's pilgrimage, this person wandered out into the gardens on the side of Mount Carmel in Haifa and looked down the mountain and out across the water right as a huge freight ship slid by across the bay in front of them with the initials of one of the universities that had accepted them printed on its side. I tried hard not to bang my head repeatedly against the nearest hard surface -- I mean, come ON! Needless to say, I said lots of prayers on my pilgrimage (which was absolutely amazing, don't get me wrong), but the only sign I received while in Haifa was that when I turned up at my appointment with the office of personnel, to find out about serving there, I had to ring the buzzer to be let into the building in which my interview was to take place five times, because the door would not open the first four times that they attempted to buzz me in. Apparently the lock release mechanism had broken just in time for my interview, but they did not know that. After my interviewer had recovered from his bout of laughter at my "door troubles," I had a five minute interview, in which I was told not to apply for a position (because they had nothing in my field of expertise). A day later, one of the other women in my pilgrim group was reluctantly convinced by a number of people to visit the same office for an interview. Her interview lasted an hour, and she was invited to come serve in Haifa immediately (and yes, the door was working again). When I saw her afterward in the tea room, she said she wasn't sure if serving in Haifa was really what she was meant to do with her life right then. "Are you kidding me?" I asked her. "Could the invitation to serve have been any smoother?"  

So here I am reaching for a sign in the package of Lupin seeds (which my mother found while cleaning out her dresser drawers, and thought I might like to plant in the front garden). Yesterday a very wise individual illuminated me on how he believes the pieces in life come together. He said that I have to choose one thing at a time. Identify what is most important to me: owning my own business, living in a rural environment, service and community, etc. He suggested that I choose ONE thing, and give everything I've got to getting that one thing established. Once I have that one thing running well, then I would start working on priority number two, etc. This may sound obvious to you. It sounds obvious to me too after he said it, but at the time, it was an epiphany! 

Last night I was studying a letter from the Baha'i Universal House of Justice, which is the international administrative body of the world wide Baha'i community. The Universal House of Justice sends the Baha'i community letters throughout the year outlining where we, as a community, are headed, and what we should be focusing our energies on in terms of individual and collective service to humanity. One of the things it says in this letter is that while sometimes all of the activities in a community are generated simultaneously, often one activity is established (like a children's class), and this then generates another activity, which in turn generates another activity. In other words, the pieces often come together organically, one at a time. Signs can help along the way, but often a decision has to be made before signs appear.

As we move into the new year, I wonder what approaches those around me are taking to realizing their dreams and goals. How do you bring an idea to fruition? What are your tactics? Do you look for signs? Do you do many things all at once, or one thing at a time? What have you found to be the most effective way of realizing your ideas? I am finding that talking to others, and listening to a diversity of approaches, illuminates my own process, and the chance that I will achieve my goals over the next year.

Ode to playfulness

The master of the art of living makes little distinction between his work and his play, his labor and his leisure, his mind and his body, his education and his recreation, his love and his religion. He hardly knows which is which; he simply pursues his vision of excellence in whatever he does, leaving others to decide whether he is working or playing. To him he is always doing both.
Buddha  

One of the virtues I am celebrating this new year is playfulness. I have mentioned, in previous blog entries, that I am taking part in an online women's group, called Loving Inquiry: Finding our way to work, which is being facilitated by Dr. Ahava Shira. Every few weeks, Ahava invites us to walk through another "gate" with her by paying attention to, and nurturing a specific virtue or practice in our every day lives. To live more poetically. Right now we are walking through the gate of play, so I have been reflecting over the past few days on how I play in my daily life.

I am a playful person, once you get to know me, however I am also someone who is very attentive, and sometimes come across as being rather serious. So consciously seeking out those parts of myself that are naturally playful and nurturing those babies is reminding me to stay lighthearted, and to make sure to incorporate moments of pure, untethered, silly and joyful play into every day.

This is a picture of one of my best girlfriends back in Cyprus and I. I love how well it captures the playful nature of our friendship!

Everyone has their own unique ways of expressing playfulness. My mother, for example, whistles. She is a spectacular whistler. She also sings, but her whistling seems to hold a certain joy that she has managed to carry with her since childhood that is sheer bliss. I have a good friend and former colleague for whom work and play were one and the same thing. He took his work seriously, but while he was out harvesting berries for the farmer's market, he would listen for birds nesting close by to determine what kind they were, and in the fall he would stop to count geese as they flew overhead. After work on clear nights he would sometimes grab his telescope and a bunch of us would go out in a field to watch the stars before heading home. And while we were harvesting wood in the forest, he would look for coyote dens. One of his all-time favourite forms of play was to give unsuspecting visitors to the farm a generous handful of freshly picked blackcurrants, telling them that they had to try them, because they were delicious. He would not tell them what it was that he was giving them to try, however, and blackcurrants look very similar to blueberries to the unsuspecting eye. The expression of pure, joyful amusement, that would spread across his face when the poor visitors tasted their first mouthful of exceptionally bitter blackcurrants was something that I never got tired of watching, no matter how many times he repeated the stunt.

When I was out on the farm, playfulness was an integral part of every day -- running down the clearing between rows of vegetables to grab tools before I left the fields; running over and down the hill of a hay field, building up speed so that it felt like I was flying, and trying to jump on top of the hay stacks at the end of the day; throwing rotten fruit or potatoes high up in the air every now and then in the direction of colleagues just to keep them on their toes, or just singing while I worked, were some of my forms of play! Now that my work is mainly writing, I find moments of play in dancing in the kitchen while I wait for the kettle to boil; making funny faces at myself in a mirror when nobody is watching; cooking colourful, flavourful meals with fresh, organic ingredients; doing a handstand in my yoga practice, or engaging in fun, creative dialogues or projects with friends.

Because we just started a new year, I have been reflecting over the last few days on some kind of playful, fun, and creative project that I could start working on that would be a collaborative effort with some of the amazing women that are constantly encouraging me in my own work and inspiring me with their creative endeavours. What I came up with is a year-long journal, divided into twelve months, and shared with eleven other women scattered across the world, each of whom fills a month's worth of pages with inspiring, colourful, fragrant poems, stories, free-writes, drawings, sketches, photographs, and anything else that we feel like including. The topic of the entries is: "what inspires you, gives you passion, energy, courage, grace, and any and all other positive vibes that fuel your creative process?" I sent out an invitation to some of my closest friends around the world to see if they would join me on this collective creation of beauty and inspiration. The resounding "YES" of their response has made me laugh out loud. Their creative juices are already churning, and I cannot wait to see what we create!

My initial idea was that once the book has traveled around the world gathering all of the amazing inspiration that these incredible women are certain to fill it with, we may digitize its contents and share it with other women around the world to inspire them on their journeys. Once we have done this, we will probably auction off our original book, to raise money for a organization that empowers young women. Sound like fun? I am telling you, I am excited. And so are my friends, it would seem. The playing began this afternoon, when, while listening to my friend Ahava's radio show (Mondays, 1-2pm, Pacific time), Love in the Afternoon, I had the pleasant surprise to hear her share the story of our year-long creative journal project with her listeners. Sometimes just sharing creative ideas generates dialogue that is playful! I promise to share more on the journey of our book in future entries!

My idea for the journal came as a result of a number of different inspiring ideas and projects that I have come across lately. One was The Diary of Frida Kahlo, which I actually read a couple of years ago. Another was a recent blog entry by Karen Walrond on journal writing, which reminded me how inspired I had been by The Diary of Frida Kahlo (thank you, Karen!!), and was just so colourful and upbeat, that it made me think about how important journal writing has been to my own process. Karen has also written a book, which I unfortunately do not yet have a copy of, but am hoping to get my hands on soon, that sounds exceptionally playful as well. It is called The Beauty of Different: Observations of a Confident Misfit.  Another project that inspired me is one that an incredible artist, and dear friend of mine, Louise Mould, shared with me (because she is one of the artists taking part in it), and which I wrote about in my blog entry Sparks of inspiration at 2a.m., called the Sketchbook Project. I have also been greatly inspired over the years by an amazing woman living in northern Italy who has this truly unique passion: she lends books out to people all over the world for free (for 6 weeks at a time), with the only condition being that the reader returns the book they are reading to her with something added to it that tells her a little bit about the experience that the reader had while they were reading the book (a dried flower pressed between the pages, notes in the margin, a poem in the margin, etc). So in other words, the book becomes two stories -- the one on the pages, and the story of the many people who have read the story in the book. If you are thinking this sounds incredible (and I assure you, it is), and feel like contributing, she offers this amazing service for free, and is always looking for sponsors. Her website (in Italian), is Libri in Prestito. One of the interesting things about being playful is that you never know how your playfulness will inspire others!

I went to a poetry reading tonight with my mother. One of the poets read a poem about a woman who "everyone said" was not quite right in the head because she went outside to check the furnace, noticed the moon playing on the frozen surface of the lake, and was so transfixed that she stayed out too long, caught pneumonia, and ended up dying. In the poem, which of course was far better than my description of it, the woman's family tell her that she allowed the moon's playfulness to take away her life. The woman's response, on the contrary, was that she could think of no better way to die than feeling as completely alive as she felt witnessing the reflection of playfulness in the moon's face against the pearly ice.

There are so many creative ways to play in our daily lives. What are some of the ways that you plan to play in your life in 2011? 

New year, new possibilities, new challenges

Happy new year! 

It is a rainy new years day here in northern California. I spent the first half of my day enjoying a breakfast banquet at the home of some very close friends. Great food. Excellent company. Persian tea.  The kind of meal that I grew up with in the Mediterranean, where people stay at the table for a few hours at a time, just enjoying the great company!

It is great to start the year surrounded by good friends. Good vibes. Laughter. Positive energy. And to think that I get to keep hanging out with these inspiring people for the whole year ahead! Yes, I like 2011 already!!

There is a lot to look forward to in the year ahead. New business ventures, new friendships with people I have yet to meet, new places to explore. One thing I am learning a lot about lately is tea. Yes, you read that right. You might notice how many times I mention the word in my blog entries. I am a big lover of tea. I love to drink it, to brew it, to inhale its smell...I even went to the library the other day and checked out The Tea Enthusiast's Handbook, by Mary Lou Heiss and Robert J. Heiss. Have only just started reading it, but I will let you know what I think once I am done.

An interesting issue, that brings together my passion for tea and global warming, is how climate change is affecting the flavour of Assam tea, grown in India's northeastern Assam state. Apparently, a steady increase in the region's temperature, has increased rainfall in the region, which results in damp growing conditions. Dampness is not good for productivity, and it creates ideal conditions for insects to attack the tea crop. As a result, the region's tea output is slowly dropping, which leads to higher prices for consumers, and the flavour of the tea that is coming out of Assam, which has traditionally been known to be strong, and full-bodied, is getting weaker. If you are interested, you can read the full Associated Press article that I read this morning, by Wasbir Hussain, here.

Wasbir Hussain also mentions that French vintners have been noticing the flavour and alcohol content of their wines changing as the temperature changes. It makes me wonder how climate change will alter the farming landscape around the world, and how changes in the agricultural landscape will, in turn, affect the our diet, and the types of wildlife living in our rural agricultural landscapes. 

Global climate change is already changing the lives of many of the world's population dramatically. A friend told me today that she was reading an article about an island in the Bay of Bengal that is claimed by both India and Bangladesh. The island, known as New Moore Island to the Indians, and South Talpatti to the Bangladeshis, has been disputed for decades. As a result of climate change and rising water levels, the island is now under water at high tide. As the author of the article points out, it is one of the few stories where climate change may actually be contributing to the easing of conflict! The full article, by Ben Arnoldy, can be read here. Unfortunately, most places being affected by climate change do not have positive stories. The Solomon Islands, The Maldives, Tuvalu, and the Marshall Islands are a few of the many places facing the very real reality of having to physically relocate their population in order to find solid ground.

As we enter a new year, there are a lot of exciting things to experience and learn more about. There are also many challenges that this world we live on is facing that need our immediate attention. The effect of global climate change is one of these. If we intend to continue inhabiting this planet responsibly, we need to find ways to change how we are living our lives and influencing the world around us. I have always thought that a precautionary approach to how we treat our world sounds like a smart way to go. There may be other habitable planets out there, but the one we are on is amazingly beautiful, and I would be sorry to have to abandon it because of my own lack of willingness to change. Having to find another planet to inhabit may sound far-fetched to some of us who live on enormous continents, but many of the world's island populations are already there.