Gratitude + Joy

I don’t often post pictures of Angel Boy 2.0 because we are all protective of his image but every single time I look at this photo, it sets my world right again, so I thought I’d share it with my friends.

With hurricanes and floods and fires and murders and other toxic disasters that seem to engulf our consciousness lately, there’s the opposite and equally powerful tug of LOVE at our hearts and minds and souls and spirits.

He’s the reason why my sun rises every single day.

Pure in his magnificence, my heart softens and melts. And heals.

Just a boy and his Peppa the Pig plate full of a lentil burger, broccoli, hummus, and tomatoes.

Pure love. We all need a big dose it right about now.

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Just Sunday, that’s all…

I spent the entire day with one of my oldest friends. We had lost touch for many years but picked up the thread as if it were only hours between chats, and not the chasm of time that separated us.

It was my fault. I wasn’t there for her when she needed me. I apologized and she forgave me.

So simple. True. Honest. Authentic.

Here are three of my favorite things to celebrate and be grateful for on this kind of overcast and cloudy Sunday.

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Best Friends

“Marry your best friend. Marry someone who you wouldn’t mind waking up to every day for the rest of your life. The one who makes you glad to be alive. Marry someone who drives you crazy. The one who frustrates you. The one who calms you. Marry the one you don’t mind fighting with because they will be fair about it. Don’t marry someone who gives their ego more importance than they give you. Marry someone who makes you the best version of yourself. The one who believes in you even when you don’t. The one who stands by you through thick and thin. The one you can weather life’s storms with. Marry someone you can’t imagine your life without. Marry the one who knows what you want to say even when you’re too tired to say it with words. The one you can spend comfortable silences with from time to time. The one who loves a seashell as much as a Chanel. Marry your best friend.” (From Think Positive Words)

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Wild Times: Sex, Drugs, and Mammoth Mountain

I have a friend who wrote a book, which in and of itself is an amazing accomplishment since my own book is stuck in limbo somewhere between my head and a few notes in this computer, but this isn’t even his first foray into publishing-he authored Zen and the Art of Surfing, too.

Greg Gutierrez is an amazing human for many reasons. He’s an artist, an educator, a vocal supporter of the environment, and a powerful local community activist.

Also a surfer. Also a skier.

When I first started to read Mammoth Mountain, I was immediately transported back to my own college years when I split my time between San Diego State University and Mammoth, where I lived part of the year on Lupin St. For me, those were spectacular days with tons of snow, skiing from first light to dark. If I didn’t have a ride up to the mountain, I’d start walking and someone would always pick me up. It was a great little community before the whole mountain exploded in condos and timeshares and tourism.

I never met Greg back then–our paths never crossed–two ships in the night and all that, and my own experiences in Mammoth were TAME compared to his, that’s for sure!

The subtitle of Mammoth Mountain is “Follow the 1980’s life of Drew, a pot smoking, thieving, womanizer…”

Now I don’t have PROOF that Drew is Greg…but I’m kinda sorta connecting the dots, if you know what I mean.

I don’t want to give away the storyline or the ending, but this is way more than a journal that chronicles one debauchery after another…there’s serious substance here, a coming of age, a rite of passage, painful growth, self examination, and enlightenment.

He lost his way, his life went off course, but what did he find?

He found himself.

There’s love, there’s a lot of love here, and at the end of the day, that’s all we have. That’s all that really matters. To love and be loved.

And if we don’t love ourselves, we can never truly know love.

P.S. Who should read this book? EVERYONE. 

One Year Older…

Happy Birthday to all May babies (and ME ME ME ME)

I’m reminded of my Hello Kitty birthday three years ago that was AMAZING and so much fun.

Hello Kitty is My Soul Sister…
https://enchantedseashells.com/2013/05/28/hello-kitty-is-my-soul-sister-princess-rosebuds-hello-kitty-birthday-party/

No Hello Kitty this year, no special plans — my life has undergone a planetary shift of gigantic proportions, but I’ll try to find a level of JOY, because why NOT?

Reasons to be happy:
1. I’m alive
2. I’m breathing
3  My new grandson is healthy and amazing
4. Birds are singing
5. The garden is thriving

Sometimes it’s the little things that mean everything.

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The Falling Leaves

In SoCal, we don’t really many trees that change color and lose their leaves, so that’s about one of the only things I miss about the east coast.

But we have year-round beach weather, so it’s not a huge disappointment!

Plus, I can look at this and not have to rake up the leaves, right?

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The Falling Leaves

Today, as I rode by,
I saw the brown leaves dropping from their tree
In a still afternoon,
When no wind whirled them whistling to the sky,
But thickly, silently,
They fell, like snowflakes wiping out the noon;
And wandered slowly thence
For thinking of a gallant multitude
Which now all withering lay,
Slain by no wind of age or pestilence,
But in their beauty strewed
Like snowflakes falling on the Flemish clay.
Margaret Postgate-Cole (1893–1980)

Nasturtiums in Orange #WordlessWednesday

So much is upsetting at WordPress…the change in the Reader and the format of the write/edit/publish page–whoever thought one could HATE to see “beepbeepboop” as much as I do — so in order to recapture my ZEN, here’s one of my favorite pictures of nasturtiums from the garden.

Because ORANGE.

It looks like a painting.

Enjoy this mostly #wordlesswednesday

Nastursiums orange

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A Butterfly Grows in My Garden

…floating effortlessly on the soft breezes, possibly to lift our spirits lowered by the demise of the baby hummingbirds, is a butterfly sprite of cerulean polka dots and bands of gold called Mourning Cloak (Nymphalis antiopa).

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With a nod to Lizzi @ Considerings who asked the question on her Facebook page and got me thinking about one of my favorite books, Betty Smith’s 1943 novel, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn; here in my garden, although water use is now restricted because of the drought and we can no longer grow brightly colored but thirsty blossoms, there’s still beauty if you look for it.

Mother Nature is amazing.

Catching some rays on the rock garden.
butterflyrock1So pretty…
butterflyrock2 Can I come a little closer?butterflyrock5What grows in YOUR garden?

Happy Earth Day 2015

Happy Earth Day

The proper use of science in not to conquer nature but to live in it.
Barry Commoner

Only when the last tree has died and the last river has been poisoned and the last fish been caught will we realize we cannot eat money
Cree Indian Proverb

When one tugs at a single thing in nature, he finds it attached to the rest of the world. John Muir