Solstice

As I sit in my "writing room" tonight, I hear the distant echo of fireworks, early Independence Day celebrations from a neighboring community. I love fireworks - the surprising explosions of color that fill the night sky, the anticipatory thunder announcing their appearance. In my mind's eye I see marvelous eruptions of color - reds, greens, purples, blues- in spectacular and surprising patterns, emerging like kaleidoscopes in front of my eyes. I'm still easing into this summer routine, these days that suddenly have so many more hours than I've been used to, hours when the sun keeps shining long after I expect it to have sunken to sleep in its bed on the western horizon. All this extra time reminds me of these fireworks that I love so much - hours that explode in front of me like brilliant gifts, evoking ooohs and aahs from the depths of my spirit. What should I do with this unexpected gift of time~should I write? play the piano? walk the dogs? ride my bike? read? weed my flower beds? call a friend?

"I'm restless," I said to my husband, "yet I don't feel like doing anything."

"Then don't," he replied, an easy answer from someone who never seems disturbed by that persistent itching of obligation and imagination, the combination of which drives me to incessant and often unnecessary activity.

So I took to my chair and sat, listening to children playing merrily in a yard whose location I couldn't quite identify, but reveling in their summer joy wherever it might be. Slouched in my plastic Adirondack chair, my feet propped on a square table, I sipped cold white wine and turned my face toward the blood red sun, still fixed proudly in the evening sky.

We have just passed the summer solstice, (from the Latin sol for sun and sistere for standing still) the time when the earth "stands still" in a moment that has come to mark the separation of seasons. Time seems to stand still for me in during the summer, unmarked by the many obligations that fill my fall-winter-spring days. During those seasons, I feel myself on a perpetual merry-go-round of frenetic activity, and life becomes a whirling dervish that makes me dizzy and seasick. When I turn my calendar to June, it's as if I've jumped off the ride and landed smack on my knees in the sand. Suddenly, the world stops spinning at its mad and hectic pace, and I sit for a while, dazed and confused, trying to get my bearings in this new and quieter place.

I have made no plans for this summer, no lists of things to do, no resolutions about what I hope to accomplish in this all too brief respite from the hustle -bustle of life during the academic year. My only plan is to focus on the solstice - on standing still and experiencing the marvelous and unexpected explosions of color, the fireworks of summer.

Sunday Scribblings-I Have A Secret...

The secret to success. The secret to long life. The secret to a successful relationship. The secret to losing weight. The secret to youthful looking skin. The secret to parenting. The secret to happiness. Secrets, secrets, secrets...

The media teases us everyday with promises of solutions to life's problems, inferring that this information is closely guarded and kept by a priveleged few magazine editors and infomerical directors. Is there really a "secret" to attaining these elusive states?

I rather doubt it. I just finished reading Mary Morris' new memoir, River Queen, in which she writes about her father who recently passed away after living to the ripe old age of 102. When asked the secret to his longevity, he always replied, "Nothing in excess."

I suspect that advice could be the secret key to unlocking the Pandora's box of eternal questions life presents us. If we work, play, eat, and drink in moderation, life becomes healthier and a lot more bearable. Whenever we get greedy~for food, satisfaction, excitement, or money~we often find ourselves with more trouble than we bargained for.

There's no secret to understanding this advice - it's really just common sense.

Is This Really Necessary?

Ahh, summertime, and the livin' is easy. This past week has been soooo quiet and slow, I find myself wandering around the house almost...dare I say it?....bored. Ironically enough, it seems my office job always slows down in summer, and, coupled with summer recess for all my school and church music activities, I suddenly find myself with lots of free time. So, what have I been doing to pass the time? Starting a vigorous new exercise program? Working like a demon on revising my novel? Doing all kinds of good deeds for my many friends and neighbors?

No.

Mostly this week, I've been loafing. I figure I've earned a few days of goofing off. For instance, this morning, after the ritual walking of the dogs, I hopped into the car and headed off to do some errands. I made an amazingly fast run through the drive-through at the bank, then an even quicker trip to Home Depot to pick up a couple more hanging baskets of petunias. Before heading on to the grocery store, I decided to stop at the Panera Bread next door to Home Depot, and indulge myself in a mid-morning coffee break.

At 10:45, the place was quite deserted, so I had my choice of tables, inside or out. With a cloudless blue sky, gentle breeze, and temperatures about 72 degrees, the choice was easy. I settled into one of several empty tables, sipped my coffee, while desultorily looking through a copy of the morning paper someone had left behind. Ahh, peace~what a treat!

Suddenly, a young woman burst through the door, followed by her male companion. I barely glanced up, because I was busy watching a mother duck leading her five babies across the grass toward a small decorative pond. The couple settled into the table behind me - they were both in their early 30's, dressed in business casual, and carrying some paperwork with them.

"I didn't mean to be so late," the young woman started explaining, in quite a loud alto voice. "My damn clock somehow got screwed up and I didn't wake up until about 20 minutes ago."

"No problem," her companion said. "Let just look at the schedule for next week, and we can...."

Loud electronic music begins to play. "Shit!" the young woman says. "Hang on. I've got to get that."

At this point, I decided to try and tune all this out, finish up my coffee and move on. After all, I'd been enjoying myself out there alone for all of 20 minutes - what more could I ask?

"Well, that is just all f...ed up!" came the young woman's vehement cry. "You just tell her there's no way in hell that I'll put up with that! That just really makes me so f....ing mad!"

A moment of silence.

"No way! You can just tell her to go f... herself! Yeah! Allright. Okay, Mom. See you later."

Now, I'm really not a prude, and I readily admit to using, well, colorful language on occasion. However... is this kind of verbiage necessary? And, in a conversation with your mother, while sitting in a public place with a co-worker?

There appears to be a trend toward using four letter words as normal adjectives in daily and very public conversation. It seeems to me a mark not only of disrespect, but of total igonorance. Had I been sitting at that table with a young child, would she have bothered to moderate her language? I rather doubt it. Because this young woman seemed totally oblivious to the fact that her words and tone could be offensive. She also seemed totally oblivious that anyone else was in the area, as is she and her concerns were the most important things going on in the universe. Once again, I found myself shocked and dismayed at the amazing self-centeredness that people can display.

Shaking my head, I tossed my empty cup into the trash, and headed toward my car, determined not to let this display of bad behavior spoil my day. That would just be too f(oul)ed up for words.

Write on Wednesday - Right On!

In my blog surfing today, I came across this video, the kind of rags to riches story that makes me so excited I could jump up and down. It's the story of Paul Potts, a shy, unassuming young man, a salesman in a place called Cell Phone Warehouse, who auditioned for Britain's Got Talent, (the UK version of American Idol) and took the entire nation by storm with his ability to sing opera. On Monday night, he won the competition, and with it a record contract and an opportunity to sing for Her Majesty the Queen.

Simon Cowell judges both Britain's Got Talent, and American Idol. In one of his comments to Paul Potts, he commented that he was exactly what the creators of the show had in mind - an opportunity to put the spotlight on an ordinary man with an extrordinary talent. Until 2 years ago, I had never watched American Idol. I was completely turned off by the snippets I saw in previews or on the news, and thought all the contestants were unbearably "screechy," a phrase Simon himself uses on numerous occasions. For some reason, I started watching in 2006, and was just hooked. Mostly by the fact that ordinary people were suddenly given this opportunity to shine, to have their dreams come true in this magical, fairy tale sort of way. Like Chris Daughtry, who entered the show in 2006 as a 29 year old automobile service manager with a garage band, and now has CD that's gone platinum several times over. And this year's Melinda Doolittle, a professional back up singer who "never saw herself" as being outfront- it was amazing to see her come out of her shell and claim her rightful place at center stage.

So, what does all this have to do with writing? It's really about daring to dream, and having dreams come true. Whether you're a singer, an athlete, a scientist, or a writer, it's about having hope in the possibility of making your dreams come true. As one British journalist said about Potts' victory, "It's really a win for all us, the little people who have a dream they hope will come true."

And it's about knowing what you're meant to do. In this video, Paul Potts admits that he's never had a lot of confidence in himself, and sometimes had a hard time in school. But when he sings, he says, he always feels like he's where he should be and the world seems to come right. Finding that place where the world comes right is crucial, not only to success, but to happiness.

Writing is one of the places the world comes right for me. Music is another. With Paul Potts for inspiration, maybe I'll dust off a few of the dreams I've been harboring and see if they might come true.

So, how about you? What makes the world come right for you?