a simple moment

 

Thank you as always, Gayle Oshrin, for the beautiful photograph. 

I have always been affected by light. Shadows, brightness, depth, angles, how it hits a face or the clouds. I can be genuinely moved by it. It has been awhile since I have experienced a simple moment. 

This morning I did. 

What is a simple moment, you ask?  

A simple moment is a brief moment in time where you are completely present. Your mind isn't focused on anything but what is happening around you. You are not the past. You are not the future. You are not in your head and you aren't in your heart either. You are just present. You are centered at your spine and are able to breathe in clarity. This moment can last 5 seconds or 5 minutes. Honestly I think it also includes gratitude. I haven't thought about that until now but in all of the simple moments I can recall, there is a feeling of gratitude. An awareness and appreciation of what I am experiencing. 

I am driving to work. 

I can see almost the entire horizon and there are puffs of clouds above me. Little cotton balls all over the sky, layered. The bottom layer has streaks of gold. I don't even know if I am able to fully describe the texture of what I saw. Its beauty. The streaks are above me but in front of me is the lightest shade of blue, the day starting. In the distance I see varying shades of pink and orange. The sun is not visible to me but of course is visible to others somewhere other than this place I am. Behind me the sky is still darker, the audience of the show in the sky, quietly waiting its turn to go on stage. The whole sky is textured, complex, varying shades of color, light, shadows, depth. It provides perspective. The music I am listening to just adds background to the moment. Harmony to the sky's melody. Sounds cheesy but true nonetheless. 

I am still marveling at my experience when I enter the elevator. I am almost floating into work. I look at the person next to me and I say, "did you happen to see the sky today??" He looked at me, a little confused. Then he said no. No. "I guess I didn't look up this morning." 

No? I silently screamed. Internally. But it was right there! It was so beautiful. The whole sky! 

Needless to say, I was a little deflated but then, then I smiled inside my belly. It didn't matter if anyone witnessed it because I did. It was my moment. My simple moment. 

Put on You're the One I Want by Chris and Thomas and let's get cooking. 

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This was a staple in our house for years. Easy, yummy, perfect for fall and it's dinner tonight. Enjoy!

Weeknight Bolognese - Barefoot Contessa, How Easy Is That
2T good olive oil, plus extra to cook the pasta
1 lb lean ground sirloin
4 tsp minced garlic (4 cloves)
1T dried oregano
1/4 tsp crushed red pepper flakes
1 1/4 dry red wine, divided
1 28-oz can crushed tomatoes, preferably San Marzano
2T tomato paste
Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper
3/4 lb dried pasta, such as orecchiette or small shells
1/4 tsp ground nutmeg
1/4 cup fresh basil leaves, lightly packed
1/4 cup heavy cream
1/2 freshly grated Parmesan cheese, plus extra for serving

Heat 2 tablespoons of olive oil in a large (12-inch) skillet over medium-high heat. Add the ground sirloin and cook, crumbling the meat with a wooden spoon, for 5-7 minutes, until the meat has lost its pink color and has started to brown.  Stir in the garlic, oregano, and red pepper flakes and cook for 1 more minute.  Pour 1 cup of the wine into the skillet and stir to scrape up any browned bits.  Add the tomatoes, tomato paste, 1 tablespoon salt (I omit), and 1 1/2 teaspoons pepper, stirring until combined. Bring to a boil, lower the heat, and simmer for 10 minutes.

Meanwhile, bring a large pot of water to a boil, add a tablespoon of salt, a splash of oil, and the pasta, and cook according to the direction on the box. While the pasta cooks, finish the sauce.  Add the nutmeg, basil, cream, and the remaining 1/4 cup wine to the sauce and simmer for 8 to 10 minutes, stirring occasionally until thickened. When the pasta is cooked, drain and pour into a large serving bowl. Add the sauce and 1/2 cup Parmesan and toss well.  Serve hot with Parmesan on the side.

Choose kindness. Every gesture counts. Peace and love always. 

-Amy

existentialism at its best

 

There are days when I wake up and feel things a bit more. I am more aware. I am carrying a bit extra on my shoulders. I can almost hear the quickened beats of my heart as many competing thoughts swirl around in my head. Emotions run a little closer to the surface. I feel tears at the ready, fighting to break through to the surface. Tears waiting to fall and be free, held back in a tug of war. 

I feel my mortality more on these days. I am more sensitive. Vulnerable. Harder on myself. Torn. Angst ridden. It isn't weakness I feel. Sometimes I almost feel stronger. It is hard to really put into words everything that is going during these complicated thought webs.  

Does this happen to you too?

I stare at the picture above. I have shared her before.  She is me. I am her. I met her and experienced a visceral reaction. I tried to hide it as best as I could but I was so moved. I couldn't stop looking at her because I see a version of myself in her. Is she falling into something? Is she falling away from something? Is she flying? Is she transforming? Is she becoming free? With all art, perception is in the eyes of the beholder, the observer. To me, she is strong and giving into the present, intentionally so.  Almost dancing. I feel particularly like her today. I am within. 

I take a step back and realize that my dad would have been 84 on October 13th and the first anniversary of his death is October 19th, the same day my beautiful youngest daughter leaves her teens behind and turns 20. As I type, my heart beats faster. Of course this plays a role in how I face the day. There is a lot that I am carrying with me this week. How fast time goes by. It has been a year without my dad. I no longer have a teenager in the house. The world. It just keeps beating. 

I go back to her. Sometimes I feel like time is passing by so quickly and I am not able to stop, take stock in the moment and appreciate it. It isn't that I don't see the beauty of the passage of time but I do wish we could pause it at times. I feel like it all goes by so quickly and I still feel like I am 30. There is so much left to do, see, experience, be. Dreams that I haven't chased. I don't even have a bucket list. Sometimes I watch a movie by myself and rewind parts to watch them again and again, to make sure I see every nuance, facial expression, hear every word of the dialogue, see the setting, experience the action or the stillness of the moment. Sometimes I wish I could still myself enough to do this in my every day. Take each beautiful moment as its own scene in a movie. 

Then I watched an amazing interview (really it was a conversation) and it took me out of my skin, out of my head. I became the observer. The learner. It provided the space I needed. I was so inspired by Martin Scorsese's words and his observations on life and art. I learned so much in 30 minutes.  Sometimes art and the entertainment business can feel so curated, planned and planted. Timed too perfectly. Watching something refreshing like that was truly what I needed in the moment. Truly authentic. Real. Learning about someone else's experiences. I took a deep breath and soaked it all in. 

In the accompanying magazine interview as well as in this conversation a Bob Dylan quote was mentioned. It affected me so deeply that I have been reading it over and over all day long. 

"You need your ability to imagine, your ability to observe and your ability to experience, and if any of those is compromised, your ability to create is compromised in some way". 

This. I feel this about everyday life and how important it is to be. Just be. 

Put on Easier Said Than Done by Thee Sacred Souls and take a deep breath. Breathe in space to all the nooks and crannies that tighten, constrict and compromise your ability to just be.

Choose kindness. Every gesture counts. Peace and love always. 

a walk to remember

 

I haven't felt interested in writing lately and honestly that has scared me out of my mind. The feeling I get when I am inspired almost feels like a high. When I don't have that, I feel empty. When I do feel it, I get filled up to a point that if I don't express what is inside, I might burst. It is truly an amazing feeling and one I feel on my own. It is independent even if I am surrounded by others. The fact that this awareness hasn't hit me for awhile affects me. What does it mean? 

This week was my birthday and hearing/being with people I love near and far, whether I speak to them once in never or every day, it is always meaningful. I used to love my birthday. Scream it to every person that passed me by. Days in advance even. In the last several years, that has changed. Now, I am more about crawling back inside a bit. Introspective. I get really close to the ground like I am a caterpillar walking as close to the earth as possible, seeing only the specks of dirt ahead of me. I don't look up. 

I look in. 

Today, I decided to walk in a place that I truly love. It is one of my favorites. It is a swamp. It brings me to the present. It is not the ocean. It is not the city. It reminds me of where I have been, where I am and where I am going. Trust me. The idea of sitting at home on the couch or outside is honestly where I am in terms of comfort zone. Today I decide to fight that safe place. 

I have written about this place before.  Today though, it hits different. I feel different. I start my walk. It is a beautiful fall morning. The air. The light. The season. The moon. In times past a Sunday morning meant a family walk. A time to be in nature together as a family. Our time. Forced family time maybe to them but the world to me. My church.

Today though it is just me, and my partner in crime. My pup. Chappy. 

It is a beautiful day. Not a cloud in the sky even though clouds provide depth and shadows. Things I search for in my life. I am comfortable in the familiarity of the morning and the location but recognize the growth around me. It only stimulates growth within. Seeing change instills change.

Today is my friend, Doris', birthday. October 1, 2023. She is my mentor and a soul I cherish deeply. We were meant to meet well over a decade ago. Doris said today that she hasn't come across people like me often and that when that happens it stays with you. I feel ridiculous writing what she said because I am not sure it is deserved but also because when I hear something like that about me it makes me look down, not up. Also because I feel the same way about her but 100% more fold. She is older and could be my mom but genuinely she is not a mother figure. She is someone who has impacted my life in ways I can't fully put into words. I remember my first conversation with her. I am standing outside my friend's house in Menlo Park and it is a screening phone interview. There is a spark there. She and I hit it off. It is a moment I remember, years later. We speak about it often. 

Doris has had some serious health issues of late. Today is her 78th birthday (??). I am on this walk and I feel the urge to call her. I am not sure she will answer but I feel the urge nonetheless. She gets on the phone after her husband answers. We speak. Her voice is like a beacon. I am walking through the woods. Through the clearing. On the bridge. 

I see an alligator two feet away. I see a snake up close but I believe it is safe so I take a step closer. I have never seen an alligator this close. I have not seen a snake this close in a long time. It is as if I am purposely being distracted. Something is throwing fears onto my path to distract me. Making me stop. Making me run. No. I won't do that. 

It is perspective. Instant clarity. This time I have the strength and courage to walk by these scary things. They aren't so scary in the end because the focus is on love. On connection. I have the ability to look beyond because the focus is on my friend. We are talking about life, how there are no pockets in a shroud, how every day above ground is a good day, about what to do when bad things happen to good people and about how to reconcile that. About taking life day by day, bird by bird. Nothing is guaranteed in life. Who knows if we will be here tomorrow so it is important to be grateful for what we have today. I am moved by this conversation. Moved to tears, in fact. 

I share with Doris the impact she has had on my life. On the lessons I have learned. How important she is to me and how grateful I am to know her. I think about the impact she has had on this earth too. Maybe I think about my own mortality and the impact that I have or maybe more likely haven't had.  

We hang up and I look down. I see a heart rock. It is a sign. I fully believe this. I pick it up and I hold it tight. I need it near me at all times. 

I go to Bodega. My rock in my pocket. I see my friends and sit with them for a time. I witness the love they have for each other as family. I am grateful to know them. 

Then I am on my own. 

I sit amongst many parties of people with my Chappy on one of those days in the fall where the light hits perfectly. I am keenly aware of my surroundings but able to vibe to the music in my ears. I write with the heart on my book. Someone next to me asks what I am writing as I get up to leave. I explain and we share a breath about living in the present amongst us. 

I go home. I pour myself a tequila in a glass I stole from the Eurostar train when we traveled from London to Paris. I put on music and I write some more. The heart rock still next to me. I am tearful but I am not sad. I am feeling. There is a difference. It isn't what I am feeling. It is the moment. It is everything and I feel it all. The happiness. The gratefulness. The sadness. The loneliness. The full heart and the part of the heart that lays more alone than anyone can see. The part we all have but pretend not to. The part that is hidden by happy social media posts and curated lives. That part though. It fuels us. It makes us human. It makes us alive. It is the part that connects and binds us all. It is what draws us to others and it is what inspires. 

It is. 

It is the flower in the grass. It shines towards the light and it may seem like it is alone but when you look closer you see it isn't alone. Far from it. There are other objects just as beautiful surrounding it, overshadowing if you look even more closely. There are pieces of grass and stones and dirt and insects. There is an entire ecosystem that relies on the one flower that blooms towards the sun. And that one flower relies on itself and everything around it to shine. 

So here I am back in my spot. Writing. Taking it in. Listening. Sensing around me. Knowing that people may not get why I write. Why I put myself out there. Why I am different. I stop. I am different. We all are different. That should be celebrated. We are also alike. All of us. Under the same sun. Under the same moon. Under the same stars. Time. It marches on. Love.

Put on a song. Any song that moves you. And just be. Just be.

-Amy 

Choose kindness. Every gesture counts. Peace and love always.