Wednesday Wish (28)

As I sit here in the dark of night with the humming insects and the cooing birds and the distant crashing of the sea, I watch as a moment transforms from a mere moment into eternity. Like a spec of dust seen through a water droplet, that moment expands, its pulse begging to be seen. All these years later a moment in time stands still, its essence still living and growing inside of me…as fresh…as eternity.

photo via Flickr by mrkgrd

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Not far from Venice, Italy is a little town that once welcomed me. Its sits like a quiet grandfather, drink in hand, permanent half smile, eyes lost out at sea. His warm and well-worn hand is open and inviting, tender and kind. So I slip my hand in his once again and remind myself a second time, to never, ever let go.

The scent of the sea, the leather in the shops, the belts and the jackets swaying in the breeze, the cigars from the men who play chess and bocce ball in the sand under the grand and beautiful old trees….the scents and feels of this kind and gentle town begin to come back to me.

I walk along the old road that lines the sea, the one with the grand and beautiful old trees. My sandals clap the stones, my dress it sways in the breeze, and my dreams…they grow. I am young and alive and my world is stretched out before me. What do I wish for? What will I be? Where will I go and whom will I see? I breathe in the scent of possibilities and feel them expand my heart. I breathe out my fears and watch them scramble out to sea.

And when I walk beyond the shops, beyond the men mumbling, beyond the women garbling, beyond the lonely dog and the suspicious cat, and beyond each and every normal expectation, I find myself alone. Just me and my sea and the gentle billowing of the grand and beautiful trees. I stop. I close my eyes. And I raise my face up to the sky.

And suddenly, I feel something tickle my face. A tuft of cloud? A curious bee? A fairy on its way to the sea? I giggle as I open my eyes and find more than I ever expect to see…

White puffs of flowers falling like snow, dancing and twirling beneath the grand and beautiful trees. They swoop up and loop over and down. Like unattached clouds. Like tutu-ed fairies. Like butterflies flit floating to the ground. And maybe just maybe, like unclaimed dreams left behind by those who had come before me, still as beautiful as the very day they were born. No…still more. Yes, still more.

I turn to look from whence I came and all along the entire road there is more of the same. The air is filled with magic puffs of white.

            “Its beautiful,” I say to the old man.

            “It happens just once a year,” he says to me, “and its not just beautiful, dear youngin', its magic.”

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My Wednesday Wish for You?

To let a special, magical moment in your life, live on for eternity. To hold up the droplet of water when you need it the most, to let it magnify, to let that forgotten moment feed your heart as it once did, again. They say we are better off if we don’t live in the past. But what if we just bring our favorite magic moments with us to the present? What then? I don’t think that’s unhealthy. I think it is honoring the magic in our lives, not letting it get away, inviting it to live on like our dreams...as fresh...as eternity.

Wednesday Wish (27+)

She drove as fast as she could without speeding. Well, maybe she was speeding. But didn’t everyone? And anyway, she had good reason to. She was late. Friends were coming over for dinner and she still hadn’t bought all the food. She pulled her black Range Rover into the closest spot she could find. Any further away was just calling for trouble. First, she could never walk very far in her favorite heels and second, parking further away only tempted jealousy’s fate. No one liked to see a perfect rich girl getting out of a Range Rover during an economic downturn. She wasn’t stupid. Beautiful yes, but stupid, no way. Alysin put the Rover into park and flipped open the visor mirror to check her face. Perfect. Just as she expected. She raised her chin and gave herself a haughty smile. God, I love my life.

Fiona looked up at the tree that was shadowing her path. She loved to see bare branches in the winter time, their silhouettes against the icy sky always inspired her, reminded her of the gifts of cold even when she had holes in her coat and not enough money for a new scarf. She was on her lunch break. On her way to the grocery store. Not to buy anything, mind you, but to visit the flowers. The flowers always made her smile and especially on the coldest of winter days. It was as if they were made of hope, pure hope, something she thought everyone could use a dose of now and again.

Alysin hobbled into the grocery store, sprayed the cart with disinfectant before she put her gloved hands anywhere near it, then found her path blocked by some airhead with holes in her coat who was, what was she doing…smelling flowers?

“Excuse me,” she said with her trademark annoyance. My lord, what is the woman doing now? Is she diving into the poor flower? Alysin had never seen anyone smell a flower with such..such…she didn’t know how to put it but it wasn’t normal, she knew that much. Must be some nut-so affected by the economic downturn. There were a lot more of those lately, that was for sure. “Ex—cuse me…,” she said again, this time a lot louder.

Fiona jumped. “So sorry. I was just….Alysin?”

            “Yes? Do I know you?” Alysin did know her, but at that moment she couldn’t think. Not a bit. Her eyes were too lost on the beauty of this woman’s face. She glowed. And not with a typical beauty, something more. It was as if her beauty glowed from within. What was it about her that made Alysin feel like crying. And so suddenly…where was this coming from?

            “Alysin, its me, Fiona. From high school. Are you alright?” Fiona touched her shoulder with gentle care. “Here, maybe you are like me, maybe you need a little hope. Try this…” And she leaned over to hand Alysin the flower she had just been smelling herself.

            Alysin sniffed it, her shoulders high, her smile tight.

            “Oh no, no. Hasn’t anyone ever taught you how to really smell a flower? Here, like this….” 

And as Fiona buried her face in that lovely gift of flower, inviting her old friend to do the same, Alysin’s tears finally did come. They came and they didn’t stop, not for a very, very long time. Or at least that’s what I think I saw from the parking lot, my bare branches silhouetted against the icy blue winter sky….

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My Wednesday Wish for You?

To bury your face in a flower this week. To throw snobbery to the wind, to rip off any chains, to let your naked heart experience the gift of flower in front of as much of the world as possible, preferably in a grocery store where so few people do any ‘seeing’ other than their own agenda, day in, day out.

You see, smelling a flower isn’t just a nasal experience. It’s a full facial experience. Flowers aren’t made of soft petals for no reason. They are that way because they are also meant to be felt. And when they are, when you actually connect with a flower, they plant their seeds within you. Seeds of hope, of belief in the magic of life, of beauty and of love.

People may stray, but sometimes, like Alysin, sometimes they are just a mere flower’s scent away from getting back in touch with their hearts. And maybe, just maybe, your daring to really smell a flower in public might affect another needy heart enough to do the same.

Wednesday Wish (27)

When your heart is still

And your mind runs rabid

When the cold reaches in

And the warmth leaches out

Will you shut down?

Close the shades and lock the doors?

Or will you open the windows

To let the breeze

Ruffle your drapes

And flutter your skirts

As you forgot it could.

Will you ignore the urge to kiss

Or welcome the pain

That may follow

To let the cold win

Or to have hope that

The scent of a flower

Will outwarm

Your ice.

Hope

Has a secret

Its petals

Are soft

Its gifts are real

And butterscotch.

Wednesday Wish (26)

The office was warm but not hot. The color of the carpet didn’t matter nor did the color of the walls. But the lighting, from a small lamp beside the couch, did. It was golden and kind, like the softness of an afternoon sun after a lazy summer day.

One of the walls was covered in books. They were neatly packed like smiling soldiers, each one begging to be chosen over the rest. A candy store for the escape-inclined. A memory bank for the memory-declined. The other wall, ohh, how have I forgotten to tell you about the other wall? For that is my favorite part of the whole room. The other wall was an entire wall of windows. Floor to ceiling. And beyond that thin glass was one of the most beautiful gardens I have ever seen. No matter the season, no matter the time, the flowers spoke, the leaves trilled, the trees, they whispered and hovered and helped me see. Helped all of us to see…

*           *           *

The young woman with the red hair sat in the chair with the high sides. The comfy one with her back to the wall of books, her eyes drawn to the lush gardens outside. She barely looked at the therapist who sat across from her, a woman who seemed to linger deeply on the red haired angel with eyes lit from within. They had been talking for weeks and this day, this is what they said…

            “You see the potential in others, my dear, but I’m afraid their reality, it often times eludes you.”

            “Potential?”

            “You see with a deeper eye, the eye of your soul. You see what others are at their best, but not who they always choose to be.”

            “I am flawed.” She hung her head down with a sigh. “I make people feel bad about themselves.”

            “Is it flawed or gifted to see someone at their best?”

            The red haired angel raised her head, her eyes wide, vulnerable, brave. She swallowed a lump and began,  “Yes, it is flawed but my flaws enable me to live a more beautiful life. A mystic life. Painful, for I continually watch people choose to live as something less than what they really are, but beautiful because I am able to see with my soul. I taste essence every day and essence… is always love.”

The therapist turned her head to look outside into the garden. “The oak tree lives in the acorn but it is rarely seen. For most of us, the acorn is just a pretty seed. We forget to look within, to truly see. You teach us to see.”

And the red haired angel grew a happy tear and said, “It was never just an acorn. Never to me.”

uacescomm photostream, via flickr

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My Wednesday Wish For You?

To see others with the eyes of your soul this week, to see their essence, the oak tree that lives within the acorn. But how? First, take a deep breath and remember. Remember because you know. You know how to see. Open your heart. Listen. And see. Second, if that memory is buried so deeply you don’t even know where to look, then try these exercises to remind you that you do, to remind you of something I promise you, you already know how to do.

1. When you see someone after not seeing them for a while, see them with fresh eyes. Forget the past. All of it. Wipe the slate clean. Let them reinvent themselves, every time. Yes, difficult. No, not impossible. You are up for the challenge. Remember, baggage clouds sight.

2. Look into eyes. Don’t analyze, let yourself swim naturally. What do you feel when you gaze into her eyes? Do you dive in, feel welcome and free? Or do you find the water cool, too cool for swimming? Is she afraid? Was she hurt earlier today? Is she hiding herSelf? Move with her, let your feelings be your guide.

3. Don’t focus on words, listen for feelings. Hers and your own. What is she really saying? Does she resonate with a harmonious chord? Or do you feel jagged edges, sharp pricks, b-flat? Sink into what you are given, never pry, and open your own heart as a welcoming gift for her own.

4. Love. Simple but profound, yes love. Find that place within yourself where you are most at peace, most centered, most who you are. Dwell there. Get your rhythm before you leave. Then take that essence, your own, and come out into the breezeway. Breathe in your strength. Stand tall. And walk, one step at a time. Be in your love and you will see love in others, too. Be in your essence and you will see the essence of others, too.

Wednesday Wish (25)

Here, take my hand, it is warm and friendly and holds yours with a kindness you had forgotten. Here, take my hand, I have something I want to show you….

In the elbow of your afternoon, when your day has slowed enough for you to sit down and take a breath, you remember. An invitation. Not spoken. Or written. But something like a memory, a secret summon, just for you. You didn’t question, you just nodded. And closed your smiling eyes…

Your feet walk barefoot on a cobbled street. They don’t hurt. They are warm and happy to be on their way. Your head is toasty too, heated by the sun, your face awake, your eyes alive, open to this new and unfamiliar, familiar world, inviting it all in…

Beside the banana trees, nestled like a portal to another world, you see the rough-hewn wooden door. You remember it from a far away place and turn to knock, but not before you run your fingers along its carefully carved ridges, along its smooth-bumpy skin. And as you do, the latch opens with a gentle clack and the door creaks open…

You step up and onto the flagstone path. Freshly watered, the heat beneath you is humid, enveloping, like a green house for your toes. You smile at your senses. They haven’t been this alive in a very long time. Your eyes search for someone, anyone who can tell you that you are in the right place. But then you realize you don’t need someone to tell you that. You know you are. Maybe you just wanted a face to echo your joy, to welcome you home to your sensory garden…

You meander along a narrow passageway, beside a vine-covered wall, the bricks barely peeking out, but more than any worry you have. Those are all deeply tucked away. Back in your other world, the world that mattered more, or so you used to think. Your nose rises up, the scents trickle down—first the sea, then the rest. Your shoulders inflate, your smile broadens, your energy lightens even more, oh how is this even possible, you say to your grateful heart. The roses, the gardenias, the herbs and tropical spices, you inhale the life, the pulsing energy of your sensory garden, the evening of your dreams…

Your eyes dance but with a calm and contented kind of sway, seeing things for the first time but you know not the last---the dark and glossy leaves dripping with water, humming with heavy, humid air, the speckled insects and cooing birds, the little gecko peeking from beneath his umbrella leaf, each one as much a part of this world than the next, all an integral part of the whole. You hear the fountain, follow the path deeper, deeper into this lush and enveloping world…

And then, you realize you need to sit. Just for a second. So you do. Beneath the palapa fronds and beside the cloth-laden table as if the chair was there waiting for you. And when you do, just then, you hear a faint tingling of bells. Bells? You cock your head with curiosity. A new scent. The scent of a woman. Someone you know but had almost forgotten. She comes bearing gifts, foods you didn’t know you ached for, treats she knew your senses craved…

Welcome, my friend, welcome to our garden. It was just mine, but now it’s yours, too.  I’m so glad you heard my call. I’m so happy you decided to come. I’ve been wanting you to visit for some time. Here, take my hand once more, and this time, tell me your heart, the heart I have so longed to hear...

Wednesday Wish (24)

Photo by dream_maze via flickr

Late at night, after everyone has gone to sleep, when the worries from my head seep out and run far, far away, when the ocean crashes in the distance and the bugs hum a sleepy tune, late at night when mySelf is a blank and malleable place, when the air is heavy with intrigue, when my senses pulse with inner magnets, yes then, that is when the magic magic happens. Tonight, I breathed in a scent. His scent. A scent I hadn’t thought of in many, many moons. He came to me on a wisp of an ocean breeze, carried with intention. His or mine, I do not know. But intention, nonetheless. So I got up. Out of my cozy incubating nest to send him an email. His scent told me he needed love. He was struggling and needed love.

Everyone has a scent. Not the scent of soap or deodorant or perfume or cologne. Not even laundry detergent or the metallic spices that emerge after exercise. Those are notes, maybe, but not the entire chord. The scent I’m talking about is one’s essence, something you can sense most clearly when you are a short distance away, close enough to see with your eyes and far enough to breathe in with first, just your imagination.

Many times when I breathe in a person, my nose senses desserts—maybe a butter cream icing with a funny flavoring, or a dark chocolate mousse saturated in some sort of liquor. Other times, it finds pictures of herbs or flowers, or places...a library, a brand new Best Buy, an ancient fern-laden forest. And still, I breathe in scents that I cannot yet decipher. Not until I am once again home in my cozy nest of a bed, when that person comes to me on the back of a humid nighttime breeze do I realize what their scent really is, its essence as obvious as my own daughter’s who sleeps right beside me.

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My Wednesday Wish for You?

To return to scented imagination. You know, the nose is one of imagination’s best friends. Not the imagination that raises eyebrows and create smirks. But the imagination that creates dreams and resurrects forgotten ideas into pulsing realities, a gift we all have and at some point learned to relegate to the farthest corners of our ‘pointless’ closets. So here’s your summon. Dust it off, your forgotten imagination. Give it back some of its paint peeling medals. Those you were born with, the ones you earned on the playground in kindergarten when you made the prettiest apple pie out of sand. And when you are ready, give that imagination baton to your trusty nose, that friend that just wants to be believed in to show you things that most people never ever dream of their entire lives, a world within a world that’s only a smidgen step away.  And why?  To see, to care, to share another’s journey as you secretly wished someone else might one day share your own. The scent of Clarice tells you that she is living under an oppressive shadow in her life. Not a person, but a perspective. Steve’s citrus tang tells you first, that his view his life has begun to sour and later, that he longs for a sweeter way to be. Listen to the scents. Read them like a wizard deciphers dreams. Interpret and watch as the barriers between you and others thin to the finest of ancient parchment. See. Care. Live a life of scented imagination. For imagination doesn't just embrace the entire world, it creates it. 

Wednesday Wish (23)

I grew up with a barn. A big old-fashioned barn. And in that barn out behind my childhood home was a hayloft. The kind you see in the movies. With a rope swing and even a resident owl. Breathe in with me? A deep swig with your eyes closed. Yep…there it is. The sweet and musty scent of hay. In my childhood barn.

My neighbor Sandy had her own barn, too. She lived across the field. Her’s was red and white. Mine was a soft, peeling-paint yellow. Her’s was filled with hay, just like mine. But Sandy’s barn was different. You see, Sandy’s dad was a real farmer. And real farmers, in addition to using their heads, use their sixth sense. They intuit. They feel. They are connected to nature. Sandy’s dad knew that the hay wasn’t just for feeding the animals. He knew it was an opportunity for fun, too. So every year when he filled their hayloft in their red and white barn, he didn’t stack the bales in tight little rows like legos with thoughts of practicality. Nope. Sandy’s dad took the extra time to throw reason to the wind and to elevate fun to its rightful place not just for us kids, but for himself, too. Sandy’s dad made Sandy’s hay loft into an entire magical world.

Up levels, down levels, dead ends and sharp turns, tunnels to make even a bore squeal with happy. Cozy little cubbies just right for two girls to tell their secrets, big open spaces near the tip-top windows to see the rolling fields high up from above—Sandy’s dad thought of everything to make my heart sing. And every year when the new bales came in, I could hardly wait to see what new magic, what new fun, what new delight awaited me in Sandy’s hay loft across the field.

*          *          *

My Wednesday Wish for You?

You probably work. You probably need to use your head to do your job properly. And that’s all good, of course. You have to eat, after all. But sometimes,  that head needs to be thrown out and into the wind. Sometimes we need to get back to our roots, to the real farmers that live within each of our souls. We need to remember our connection to nature, our natural need for fun, and how we all, at some point in our lives and more often than not, over rate practicality and the importance of head. We forget to cultivate the lightness of fun…the magic of being.

This week, I challenge you to loosen the reins, to stop your head from driving your life’s car. Maybe not all day, or even for very long, but for as long as you can. And longer every time, until you see what a difference less head can make in the fun of your day. Be silly without thinking of the repercussions. Aren’t repercussions really just other people’s issues anyway? Eat some decadent food without a thought of what it will do to the scale. Make a desired phone call without wondering how someone else might interpret it. Take a sick day to lounge in your bathrobe with bubbles and chocolate and not a sniffle in sight. Put your head on the shelf and feel like a real old fashioned farmer with a barn full of hay and a banjo on your knee. Feel. Be. Trust. And believe. Believe what? That everything is better, more magical, when we honor what makes our souls sing.

Wednesday Wish (22)

I was sitting at the kitchen counter in my childhood home. It was early morning, before school. My brothers were on either side of me, each of us eating cereal. Cheerios. It was silent but for our silverware hitting the porcelain, our little mouths occasionally slurping up the happy milk-soaked rings.

“What did you say?”

I looked over at my elder brother. Was he talking to me? Yep, he was looking at me with the half irritated, half curious brow only a brother can give.

“Nothing,” I said.

“Yes you did. I heard you.”

“It wasn’t me.”

“Oh, really? Then who was it?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“I don’t?”

I shook my head, “Nope.”

He pushed in a big pile and chewed violently, his cheeks bulging. I could almost hear their terrified screams. That was it. I had to tell him.

“The cheerios. My cheerios were laughing.”

He chocked on his own laughter, spraying the counter with white and brown splatter. “You’re weird,” he said.

“I told you you didn’t want to know. I knew you wouldn’t understand. But just so you know the whole story, I eat them gently, so they can ride down unhurt. It’s like a water slide. They laugh when they go down. It’s super fun. For them and for me. You should try it sometime.” I took another bite, my face pure smile. Pure smile.

*          *          *

My Wednesday Wish for You?

Christmas dinner is almost here and I am willing to bet that a few of you get to eat with at least one person you don’t really enjoy. In fact, I am willing to bet that some of you are right now, all these hours ahead of time, dreading such things as conversation topics, uncomfortable questions, all the patience you are going to need, even the way you feel in your belly when you’d rather be doing something entirely different than listening to this person who you really don’t connect with on your left. I mean, lets face it, sometimes we have to do things we don’t always enjoy. And especially when it’s the nice thing to do. But…we do have a little wiggle room. And that’s what I’m here to help with. The wiggle room, the place where fun lives even when boring or painful or ugly surrounds you. And you know what? Even when it doesn't. You see, wiggle rooms are just as fun to be in when life is pure joy.

My Wednesday Wish for you, whether you are dreading Christmas dinner or more excited about it than anything else all month is…are you ready for this…to give consciousness to your food. That’s right. Let your food come alive. Imagine what the mashed potatoes are saying as you slop them onto your plate. “Hey, easy. Its Christmas for me, too, you know.” And what about the dessert? “Ooh, I love this part, when I touch your tongue. I love to make you feel happy, you know. I can hardly wait to play in your belly, too. I will keep making you happy all night, if you let me!” Whatever you eat, invite it to speak to you, to give you smiles, to make your Christmas even more magical than perhaps it has ever been. Give yourself a little childhood fun, if not for me, then for the boring old lady on your left who has never had a better Christmas conversation with anyone but you in her entire life.  


And p.s. don't forget to watch this video. It might give you a happy head start. For truth is, you don't have to stop with your food. Maybe a lot more in your life craves consciousness, too:)

Address Is Approximate from The Theory on Vimeo.

Wednesday Wish (21)

A Friday morning with Fernando, my Spanish language partner, in the library of San Miguel de Allende, a colonial mountain town in the heart of Mexico:
     "Lo siento, Brynne but I cannot meet you on Sunday morning. Sunday I go to church. How about Sunday afternoon?"
     "Si, si," I said, "no problem. But wait...church? Fernando, I thought you said you weren't sure if you believed in God. Then why do you go to church? To be convinced?"
     He giggled. "No, no." He sighed, his eyes looking down, then suddenly straight up, into mine. "You want the truth?"
     I nodded with an eager smile. It was hard not to smile when Fernando was around. He was such a kind human being. And besides, his English accent was adorable.
     "I go to church because the church is filled with old people. I do not like church, and true, I am not even sure if I believe in God. But, maybe I do not like church just because I am young and not yet wise. Old people are old, and many are also wise. If old people think church is worth going to, then I must trust them. They have little time and yet still, they go. I have lots of time so its even more important that I go. You see, Fernando wants to be the best man he can be so he listens to the old people."

*          *          *

We are all getting older every day. The question is, do you experience aging as a degradation? Or do you experience it as a process of sage-ing, growing into the wisdom that you always were? In the United States, most people usually associate aging with a sense of degradation. But in many places in Mexico for example, the elderly are revered, honored, held in the highest esteem. And why? For the simple reason that they have walked where we have yet to tread. They have seen and felt and experienced life with a depth (not always, but many times) that only comes with age. Degradation may be the physical face of aging but the soul's face of aging is very different. Its softer, gentler, and yes, wiser.

*          *          *

My Wednesday Wish For You?

My Wednesday Wish for you? To transform your idea of aging (and maybe someone else's) by listening to an old person this week, a sage. Maybe someone you know, maybe someone you do not. But someone that you feel needs to be heard. Ask them their advice about that question on your mind. Invite them to share what they wish they would have known when they were younger. Tell them what you fear and let them tell you if your fears are worthy to be honored for many minutes or very few. And if you can't get out to find this older soul who has so many messages for you, then stay right here, with me. For there is a lovely sage filled with wisdom waiting for you at the end of this movie with beautiful words and pictures, and just...for you. Hope you enjoy. with love, Brynne

Wednesday Wish (20)

The cold has come earlier this year to my sweet little Mexican town. And after our seemingly thousand degree summer, the low sixties does nothing less than chill me to the bone. My thin nightgown, the same one that seemed like wool in the summertime is suddenly as useless as a single layer of Kleenex. My toes are little ice cubes. And forget my nighttime shower ritual. I need all the heat I can get. Maybe that’s why I got out the comforter tonight. OoOo…can’t wait. Silly girl, you say. But its not just because I like to be warm. Oh, no. It’s much, much more than that. (Here, come closer, let me whisper the truth into your ear.) You see, with comforters come cold faces and toasty warm bodies, one of the juiciest ways to dream. And with December so near, I’m afraid it’s inevitable. For me, anyway. Dreaming in December always seems to take me to the same magical, dreamy-eyed place. A place I look forward to each and every year. Can you guess? Yep, it's Christmas. Christmas, Christmas, Christmas. Like I said, OoOo….can’t wait.

*          *          *

“Have you ever seen Santa Claus,” I asked my mom in the parking lot as we walked into Safeway, hand in hand. “I mean, the real one?” It was dark. I could already see the moon. But in Washington State that just meant after five o’clock.

            “I don’t think so. Maybe once when I was a very little girl, but I was never very sure. There wasn’t anyone around to confirm it.” She shrugged, playing along like she always did, careful to side step my delicately tended imagination, the garden of my youth. And especially near Christmas time.

            Just then I looked up into the sky and right there in front of the twinkling stars, I saw something moving. “Mom! Look! It’s Santa! There's Santa!” A family friend who was walking with us dared to roll his eyes, to chuckle to my mother as if I wouldn’t notice. My mother squeezed my hand. I had noticed and she knew it.

            “Where, honey? Show me!” Her eyes eager, caring, trying as best she could to water my imagination.

            But it was too late. Santa was gone. Or rather, the wonder-filled bubble I was blowing was popped. Popped by a man who didn’t know the gift my mother was giving me. Popped by a man who didn’t remember the magic of a child’s imagination. Popped by a man who’s life never knew enchantment as an adult and sadly, never would.

*          *          *

My Wednesday Wish for You?

To check in with yourSelf this first week of December and, if need be, readjust your attitude toward Christmas. It may be one of the coldest times of the year but perhaps like me, your dreams will start to come alive. It may be a time when you feel overwhelmed or even depressed by all the shopping and buying and superficial yearnings that empty your pockets dry, among other things, no doubt. But perhaps, like the disenchanted man of my childhood, maybe you too, have forgotten what Christmas is really all about. Maybe you accidentally forgot the most important stuff. But don't worry. We all have at some point in our lives. You’re human, after all. And anyway, they’re never far away. None of the best things are. They always live inside of us, waiting for their turn to be reached for and cherished again. So how? How do you get back to not just seeing but feeling the magic of the season with childlike wonder again? It's simple. You give. You give of yourSelf, your talents, your love, your heart. That, is my wish for you as we begin to move closer to the holidays...to remember the magic of Christmas.

(bonus video below)

Wednesday Wish (19)

Its Thanksgiving in the United States, a time for Americans, world over, to reflect on their lives and what they are thankful for. Me, my list is long, much too long to share in a blog post. But there is one. One on my list that I must share. One that means an awful lot to me. And it is...you. I am thankful for you. You read my heart, you give me a chance to speak to your own, and sometimes you even touch my soul. So today, for Thanksgiving, I thank you. I thank you from my heart for walking this part of my journey with me. Its been an honor and a pleasure and a heck of a lot of fun:)

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My Wednesday Wish for You?

First, to listen to this song and to let it affect you, to let it speak to you in the way you need to be spoken to. And to remember that even though Heather Headley is singing, it is my wish for you...

And second, to let yourself be more affected this week. To open yourself up for more to enter in. Maybe you will cry when you need to and not pretend it doesn't hurt. Maybe you will hug someone when the urge strikes instead of letting it go for another time. Maybe you will laugh, laugh, laugh and much louder than anyone else. Yes, the emotion. Let it all in. And let it all out. Be affected this week in ways you haven't allowed yourself before. Feel for the homeless man who holds a sign for food. Shiver for the school children as they wait for the morning bus. Find tender thoughts for the lost dog wandering along the road. Or the forest tree loaded with ice and snow, caving under the weight of it all. And then, with open eyes, watch how a simple act of being more affected by your surroundings can change not just how you see, but what you see.

You know, a long time ago I allowed myself to be affected by you and because of that simple choice, I see and feel more magic now than I ever have before. And that is good, very very good. Thank you, from my heart.

Wednesday Wish (18) BONUS WEEK!

 

Have you ever seen one of these? This one is in the parking lot at the Puerto Vallarta Costco. But it’s not just at the PV Costco, symbols like the one above are painted in parking lots across the country. And not just in Mexico, either. All over the United States, too. Home Depot, Office Max, Target, all the big stores seem to have at least one somewhere in their parking lot. So why? What does it mean or what purpose does it serve?

Over the years I have asked everyone I could think of: employees, managers, other shoppers, even my father who knows the answers to questions I haven’t even asked yet. And not a one had any idea what it was. Most people had never even noticed it until I pointed it out to them. So one day, a few years ago, I made a decision. Once and for all I would decide what it was. Yep, me. All by myself.

It is, for all intents and purposes (are you ready for this?) an alien pick up point. That’s right. You don’t have to believe in aliens or even want to imagine them but it remains a new and little known fact. It is an alien pick up point. That means that unless you want to be beamed up to some unknown space ship and whisked away for some unknown amount of time, do not, under any circumstance, risk walking and/or driving over any pick up point. Ever. The consequences could prove fatal. And not just for you, but for those you love, as well.

A word of warning: some may not take the gravity of the pick up point seriously enough and may try to tease you about it. I made the mistake of telling my beloved about my concerns, and this week, when he went to town on his own, he took matters into his own hands. Unbeknownst to me, he made a special trip to Costco and amid stares from various shoppers was still able to find the nerve to stand right you know where. In the CENTER of the alien pick up point! Even worse, along with my favorite goat cheese, he brought me two horrible presents. This: 

And this:

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My Wednesday Wish for You?

Put a little silly into your week—in a parking lot, in a restaurant, hmmm-- even in your dishwasher or with a rubber band or two. Make yourself laugh. Make someone else laugh. Find a way to make your every day, a silly day. For sillies make smiles. And smiles open hearts. And open hearts make life a heck of a lot more fun!

Wednesday Wish (17)

“I don’t understand, Brynne. How do you know that about me?”

            She wasn’t upset or disturbed, but intrigued. And smiling.

            “Wait. My accent?”

            “Partly.”

            “Partly? What else?”

            I looked into her eyes, her transparent eyes. I listened to her heart, maybe even her soul, her very essence aching to be seen, or so it felt.

“Your heart. It is open,” I said.

            Her face broke out into an enormous smile, the kind that comes from your belly and rises up like an unstoppable wave. “What a beautiful compliment. Yes, it is. You’re right.”

            I smiled and waved as I walked away. No more words could make the situation any more magical for either of us. I could see. She was seen. We had connected.

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Most of us see with our eyes, listen with our ears and taste with our tongues. When someone is talking it is considered customary to listen to their words and to respond to what they say with our own. It’s the polite thing to do. In fact, anything different is usually thought of as either rude or weird. But what if we bucked the system? What if we dared to listen with our hearts instead of just our ears? What if dared to respond with our souls? What if we tasted the emotion of a moment instead of just the same old same old flavor of our daily meals? How then might our world be?

http://gramtastic.blogspot.com

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My Wednesday Wish for You?

This week I wish that each of you might challenge yourself to listen with your heart to the voices of the hearts that surround you. Word, shmurds—listen for what the speaker’s heart is really saying. Do they need to be seen for who they really are? Do they want to feel less alone? Might they benefit from a little silly in their day or a touch to their skin? Open your own heart and it will hear. Let your soul, the deepest part of yourSelf, show you the way. You might even intuit things you didn’t expect, things you couldn’t possibly know with your mind alone. Offer what you see but know that sometimes, your observations might not be appreciated. Sometimes, you might be thought of as rude or weird. But know this: An accusatory “How did you know that?” comes from a closed heart. And there is nothing that liberates a closed heart more than another open one who ‘sees’. So go for it! See with your heart, care with your soul, and let what you see open up an entire new world…not just for you, but for everyone around you.

Healing Vibes to Wholeness

As I sit here still recovering from the flu, I wonder if some of you, too, are struggling with wholeness in your life. Maybe this video will speak to you as it has to me.

Wednesday Wish (16)....in partial:(

A Note To Brynne's Faithful Readers:

Miss Brynne has a particularly ugly flu bug this week, and as much as she is trying to get herself to write your Wednesday Wish tonight, I, Miss Bubble Gum, am here to inform you that I do not, in fact, expect my sick friend to succeed.

I, Miss Bubble Gum, offered to give you a partial on the Wish for this week, and thankfully, Brynne agreed. You see, she has the whole wish all mapped out in her heart, just hasn't been able to sit at the computer long enough to write it all down in little black and white letters. It makes her head hurt too much and since the whole family is sick too, there isn't anyone else but me to assist.

So...your Wednesday Wish (due to be filled out in its entirety later this week), is to go to the store and buy some old fashioned Bubble Gum. Not Trident or Juicy Fruit or any of those skinny, measly little things but the sugar laced, fat chunks of pink that kids love the absolute most. And for a good reason, I might add...we taste good and make giggle monsters out of even the angriest of faces. So, get your Bubble Gum, put in at least one whole pack (no mistake...the entire pack) and let your teeth go! Then, when it's good and sloppy and you feel the sugar starting to work its magic, blow Bubbles like you used to when you were a sugar-happy kid! Blow them BIIIIG and make a mess on your face. Blow them HUUUUGE and make your neighbor wonder about your sanity. Blow them over and over again, and watch your day be touched by a simple pack of yes, Bubble Gum.

One last note: There is a story behind this. Please come back soon to read it. Brynne would be sad if I took all her weekly fun away. She does so love to share her Wish with you every week and can't wait to tell you the rest of her Bubble Gum story.

Happy Bubbling!

Sincerely,
Miss Bubble Gum

Wednesday Wish (15)

“Why do you always walk that way when this way is faster?”

My neighbor and friend looked at me through her glasses, blinking, utterly confused. We were on our way to class at the University of Washington and as usual, it was raining and cold.

I shrugged. “I like this way better. It makes me smile.”

Her eyes spun a ‘woa, she’s weirder than I thought’ before she turned to follow me. A few minutes later, “Has anything made you smile? Just want to be sure I’m not missing something.”

“Almost there," I said.

 I was sure I heard her moan but I chose to ignore it. It wouldn’t be long. She would understand soon. Very soon. Or so I hoped.

The window to the barbershop was large. Maybe as large as entire car. I had walked this way for weeks now and every chance I got, I passed by their window. At first, I just turned and gave the two men inside a shy smile but after about a week, when they began to return my joy, it grew into a full-fledged smile, the kind that warms you from the inside out. They looked like they had found the same joy themselves. I saw it day after day in their sparkling eyes and of course, their smiles. So on this particular day, I was passing by with a friend. It was something I hadn’t done before. I could hardly wait.

I stopped and tapped on the glass with my knuckles. My friend stood beside me, not saying a word. First one barber, then the other, turned toward the window to see who was there and not a second later both of their faces erupted into sparkles. I waved my mittened hands, my heart warmed by our connection. I didn’t even know their names, but I knew their hearts and they were filled with kindness.

            “Are they friend’s of your dad?”

            “No.”

            “Your grandpa’s?”

            “No”

            “Then how’d you meet them?

“I didn’t.”

            “You mean, you don’t know them? I don’t get it. You just waved and they waved back like you were old friends.”

            “I’ve never spoken with them. I just see them everyday on my way to class, and we share smiles.”

            “You smile at strangers?”

            “They aren’t strangers anymore. Not after the first smile. And that was weeks ago.”

            I think that’s when I felt the second, ‘woa, she really is weirder than I thought.’ But I didn’t mind. My heart was on fire and that was all that really mattered to me.

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 My Wednesday Wish for You?

To connect with a stranger this week. And not on the internet or on the phone (although such connections are fun, too!) but the old-fashioned way—in person. Smile with your genuine eyes, let someone you don’t know feel the kindness in your heart. And don’t worry if they don’t take it the right way. We can’t control what others think. Just worry about getting yourself right. Center yourself in your heart, in that place that cares about others and wants the world to be a better, more friendly place. Feel that. Be there. And then, with that intent, give it away. As a smile. To a stranger. And watch your world grow smaller, kinder, and more caring…with every smile you share.

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p.s. the barbershop guys of my college years became my dear friends. We shared family joys and sorrows, celebrated birthdays, exchanged Christmas presents, and many years later, I even invited them to my wedding. The way I see it, if we dare to open our hearts, we give strangers the chance to affect our worlds for the better. Guy and Rick did mine—two beautiful people I will have with me in my heart for the rest of my life. If you are out there Guy and Rick, I'm still waving!:)

Happy Halloween!

If you ache 

to fly 

but don't

have 

wings,

then 
make them!