Wednesday, June 16, 2004
"There he is." Following Jessica's finger, I saw the bear walk out of the woods. He crossed the lawn and sauntered up the road. The berry bushes being more interesting than the grass. We were all silent, engrossed in being so close, only a large window pane separated us from the bear. He seemed not to take notice.We each registered his presence differently. Brad thankful to be out of town where nature is quite literally at your doorstep. Jessica excited at the pleasure of watching a bear again. She has not seen one since Alaska. I realizing Rigel's future five foot fence just became six. Austin did not speak for three hours. When he finally spoke, it was to state he is definitely moving back to town when he turns 18. Actually, he plans to bypass towns and head for the city. He loves the smell of asphalt, exhaust, and expresso.The rest of us were in awe of the bear. His muscles large, his bulk imposing - even for a three year old black bear. A bear, Mt. Index, and a cabin. Peace will follow.
Posted by: CJ / 9:29 PM
Monday, June 07, 2004
The road cuts gray through the green. Green up to the tips of the hills lining the Skykomish Valley. If I stop the car and step into it, I fear I would not want to return to the road.When my brother and I were children, our parents would gently scoop us up in blankets early in the morning. They would carry us out to the back of the station wagon and lay us down. The air was cold, the sky dark. I huddled to the safety of my father's arms.My grandparents lived in Cashmere, just over the pass. A world away to a child. The rhythm of the road rocked me gently as I gazed up at the stars. They were huge compared to the little stars that lived above Renton. The hills were dark; giant sentinels to the sky. Some of my happiest memories are of the Skykomish Valley. My brother's soft breathing beside me, warm blankets caressing me, mystery abounding. Beauty unparrelled.I drove home today and my eyes stopped me. I saw the scene I saw as a child. The hills beckon me to call them home.
Posted by: CJ / 10:40 PM
Wednesday, June 30, 2004
Monday, May 31, 2004
5/01/2004 - 5/31/2004
Thursday, May 20, 2004
The sun felt warm on my fingers as I worked the thread through the cloth. Sitting outside with birds serenading, traffic in the distance, town noise in the air; methodically moving the needle up and down. Totally absorbed.Something dark catches my eye. A spider has chanced to crawl up my left leg and onto my needlework. I hold perfectly still, knowing any rush of air will cause it to scurry. The spider is worth enjoying. At 1.5" long and 1" wide, I can see the coloring. At first glance he is black. The sun provides a second glance. A brown color swirls and dances in the sunlight. A perfect blend.All too soon, he walks over my cloth and down my right leg. I resume my stitching.
Posted by: CJ / 11:13 PM
Thursday, May 13, 2004
Sleep. Restful, rejuvenate, peaceful, blissfully, intoxicating. . .Sleep. I miss that which I take for granted. I miss how sleep allows muscles to relax, the mind to ponder, the soul to be ready. All the wondrous gifts allude me. My work schedule does not allow for sleep. I started work today two and a half hours before I usually wake up. That translates into four hours sleep. I spent this evening in a groggy fog. I will still feel tired tomorrow.I will do it again on Monday.My life has become full in the past two years. In fact, I have trouble fitting it all in. Hence, my resentment over the lack of sleep. I may work only forty hours a week, but my job eliminates two days a week of my life. I realized this point at the wrong moment. At work. I can usually hide my irritation at all the little "going on's," as my mother would say. I can usually keep from grabbing insults and slights out of the air. Not this morning. I had a fishing net laid out around me. I fish well.A resolution awaits my discovery. Tension motivates action. Action causes change. Change results in growth. My job situation is an opportunity for growth. I will do well to lean into it.
Posted by: CJ / 10:02 PM
Sunday, May 02, 2004
New life has entered this world. Azahlen Pearl arrived last week. Her little round face under a tuft of dark hair beams with anticipation. Her life will not be boring. I know her mother.I first met Kitty when she was in the fourth grade and became Austin's friend. She is intelligent, fiercely independent, with a personality one can't ignore. She put in her time as a hellion, a rebel. I can still see her standing with her chin thrust out when anyone gathered up the nerve to say no. The only word in the English language guaranteed to cause an immediate reaction in Kitty is no. Now she is a mother. I know she will be a loving, protective one. But little Azzie is in for the ride of her life. The first time she says no I expect to see fireworks over the eastern sky.My prayers go out to Kitty and Azzie. May their road together bring them closeness and love.
Posted by: CJ / 10:27 AM
The sun felt warm on my fingers as I worked the thread through the cloth. Sitting outside with birds serenading, traffic in the distance, town noise in the air; methodically moving the needle up and down. Totally absorbed.Something dark catches my eye. A spider has chanced to crawl up my left leg and onto my needlework. I hold perfectly still, knowing any rush of air will cause it to scurry. The spider is worth enjoying. At 1.5" long and 1" wide, I can see the coloring. At first glance he is black. The sun provides a second glance. A brown color swirls and dances in the sunlight. A perfect blend.All too soon, he walks over my cloth and down my right leg. I resume my stitching.
Posted by: CJ / 11:13 PM
Thursday, May 13, 2004
Sleep. Restful, rejuvenate, peaceful, blissfully, intoxicating. . .Sleep. I miss that which I take for granted. I miss how sleep allows muscles to relax, the mind to ponder, the soul to be ready. All the wondrous gifts allude me. My work schedule does not allow for sleep. I started work today two and a half hours before I usually wake up. That translates into four hours sleep. I spent this evening in a groggy fog. I will still feel tired tomorrow.I will do it again on Monday.My life has become full in the past two years. In fact, I have trouble fitting it all in. Hence, my resentment over the lack of sleep. I may work only forty hours a week, but my job eliminates two days a week of my life. I realized this point at the wrong moment. At work. I can usually hide my irritation at all the little "going on's," as my mother would say. I can usually keep from grabbing insults and slights out of the air. Not this morning. I had a fishing net laid out around me. I fish well.A resolution awaits my discovery. Tension motivates action. Action causes change. Change results in growth. My job situation is an opportunity for growth. I will do well to lean into it.
Posted by: CJ / 10:02 PM
Sunday, May 02, 2004
New life has entered this world. Azahlen Pearl arrived last week. Her little round face under a tuft of dark hair beams with anticipation. Her life will not be boring. I know her mother.I first met Kitty when she was in the fourth grade and became Austin's friend. She is intelligent, fiercely independent, with a personality one can't ignore. She put in her time as a hellion, a rebel. I can still see her standing with her chin thrust out when anyone gathered up the nerve to say no. The only word in the English language guaranteed to cause an immediate reaction in Kitty is no. Now she is a mother. I know she will be a loving, protective one. But little Azzie is in for the ride of her life. The first time she says no I expect to see fireworks over the eastern sky.My prayers go out to Kitty and Azzie. May their road together bring them closeness and love.
Posted by: CJ / 10:27 AM
Friday, April 30, 2004
4/01/2004 - 4/30/2004
Thursday, April 29, 2004
I have been changing, stretching actually, this past month. I read a reference to Buddhist philosophy that stopped me for awhile. It stated that true Buddhists are willing to look inside themselves at the places they do not want to look. This coincided with an incident at work that indicated I am not always seen by others as I see myself. coincidence? No. A lesson was waiting for me. I have spent this month leaning into it. I have been looking into the dark corners of my personality. The little girl resisted.Every day, I work at letting other's comments pass through me, not defending myself. Not concerned with whether or not I am liked. The little girl inside is slowly opening her hands, insecurities pouring out like sand. The wind whisking them away. I want to be transparent. I work at letting my ego fade into nothingness, leaving only God in it's wake.
Posted by: CJ / 11:41 PM
I have been changing, stretching actually, this past month. I read a reference to Buddhist philosophy that stopped me for awhile. It stated that true Buddhists are willing to look inside themselves at the places they do not want to look. This coincided with an incident at work that indicated I am not always seen by others as I see myself. coincidence? No. A lesson was waiting for me. I have spent this month leaning into it. I have been looking into the dark corners of my personality. The little girl resisted.Every day, I work at letting other's comments pass through me, not defending myself. Not concerned with whether or not I am liked. The little girl inside is slowly opening her hands, insecurities pouring out like sand. The wind whisking them away. I want to be transparent. I work at letting my ego fade into nothingness, leaving only God in it's wake.
Posted by: CJ / 11:41 PM
Wednesday, March 31, 2004
3/01/2004 - 3/31/2004
Tuesday, March 09, 2004
Today I held a piece a paper with a list on it. The list contained five items. One of those items was a three in one - laundry, groceries, cleaning. At 10 am, I had returned from my 7:30 am meeting at work and now at 1:30 pm Brad had just left for work. Oh, and today is my day off.Jessica and Ashley were leaving for Everett. List in one hand. The effervescence of youth tugging on the other. My left hand hurt from shutting the car door on it last Thursday night. Hmmm, it held the list. Definitely drop the list. The hand needed the rest; into the car I went. Car ride in the sunshine. I know why dogs smile in the backseat. A day spent listening to good tuneage, giggling, Frapps, and not looking at my watch. I want every day to feel this free and every day to hold me with joy.
Posted by: CJ / 12:05 AM
Thursday, March 04, 2004
John English had a dream. Rest would not find him. With a shaman's eye, John knew he had to write it down, to share his dream. The Shift: An Awakening is his dream http://www.dtpublications.com/. I met him at an author's event. I enjoyed my conversation with him and noted the energy surrounding him. I am familiar with this quiet peace, quiet strength, from Jesuit priests and Buddhist monks I have known. John quietly possess it also.I read his book out of curiosity. Many truths appear in dreams. I would be arrogant to think I could not learn from his. John is not an author by trade, nor inclination. Yet, he does well for a first novel. The message comes across. We all need reminders, markers, on our pathways. John's book was a babbling brook beside my path. I drew renewed commitment and inspiration from it. I have changed from it, which is the true mark of growth and learning.The images left behind from meeting him have had more impact than my talk with him. Spiritual people have that habit. Nothing remarkable happens while talking, but the aftermath will not leave you alone. I liken the experience to a new song you hear but do not pay attention to. Later, the melody plays in your head bringing you energy and joy.If you get a chance to read his book, read without judgment. Let the words, thoughts, and images swirl and ferment before commenting. John has committed to starting a blog to share his experiences as a shaman. I am a loner by nature and do not wish much contact with people, but I cherish sharing the journey, the struggles, the epiphanies of people's lives. Blogs allow me to be touched, to be taught, while preserving my private life, my aloneness. I patiently wait.
Posted by: CJ / 4:10 PM
Wednesday, March 03, 2004
A baby chick pecks at the cardboard beneath her feet. The sound is distinctive. The pitch, the tone; the memory indelible. One Easter, in childhood, my mother brought baby chicks home and made their nest out of a cardboard box. Strips of flannel hanging down to comfort them, a lamp from above to warm them. They lived in our home until they outgrew their cardboard boxes. The ones that survived neighborhood dogs and passing cars were taken to my grandparents ranch. I remember their constant pecking, and peeping. I hear the sound every time I draw. The sound of graphite pencil touching the page. The same pitch, the same tone; only longer in length. All other sounds disappear, fade into distant, only the scratching of graphite against paper remains. Rough paper allows the pencil to follow an uneven path. The effect is brought into the final drawing. I like the feel of the uneven grain upon my fingers. I hold the pencil loosely, it rolls in uneven rhythm across the page. Shadows and unexpected edges appear adding depth.The scent of old hay permeates the air as the paper is touched. I am careful to rest my hand against the dowel as only the pencil may touch the drawing.I slowly put graphite to paper in a cross hatch pattern. The rhythm slows my heartbeat, my breathing. The world fades from consciousness. This drawing is slow in birthing. A gargoyle resting on a post. Many strokes have created a personality. He seems more real than the sculpture I held in my hand. The gray paper adds to the appearance of stone. The color supporting the darker tones of the graphite. He waits patiently for me to complete his being.Drawing: an hour is gone. Drawing: the wrist aches from holding the pencil. Drawing: I feel so alive even though the world has disappeared from my senses.
Posted by: CJ / 10:42 PM
Today I held a piece a paper with a list on it. The list contained five items. One of those items was a three in one - laundry, groceries, cleaning. At 10 am, I had returned from my 7:30 am meeting at work and now at 1:30 pm Brad had just left for work. Oh, and today is my day off.Jessica and Ashley were leaving for Everett. List in one hand. The effervescence of youth tugging on the other. My left hand hurt from shutting the car door on it last Thursday night. Hmmm, it held the list. Definitely drop the list. The hand needed the rest; into the car I went. Car ride in the sunshine. I know why dogs smile in the backseat. A day spent listening to good tuneage, giggling, Frapps, and not looking at my watch. I want every day to feel this free and every day to hold me with joy.
Posted by: CJ / 12:05 AM
Thursday, March 04, 2004
John English had a dream. Rest would not find him. With a shaman's eye, John knew he had to write it down, to share his dream. The Shift: An Awakening is his dream http://www.dtpublications.com/. I met him at an author's event. I enjoyed my conversation with him and noted the energy surrounding him. I am familiar with this quiet peace, quiet strength, from Jesuit priests and Buddhist monks I have known. John quietly possess it also.I read his book out of curiosity. Many truths appear in dreams. I would be arrogant to think I could not learn from his. John is not an author by trade, nor inclination. Yet, he does well for a first novel. The message comes across. We all need reminders, markers, on our pathways. John's book was a babbling brook beside my path. I drew renewed commitment and inspiration from it. I have changed from it, which is the true mark of growth and learning.The images left behind from meeting him have had more impact than my talk with him. Spiritual people have that habit. Nothing remarkable happens while talking, but the aftermath will not leave you alone. I liken the experience to a new song you hear but do not pay attention to. Later, the melody plays in your head bringing you energy and joy.If you get a chance to read his book, read without judgment. Let the words, thoughts, and images swirl and ferment before commenting. John has committed to starting a blog to share his experiences as a shaman. I am a loner by nature and do not wish much contact with people, but I cherish sharing the journey, the struggles, the epiphanies of people's lives. Blogs allow me to be touched, to be taught, while preserving my private life, my aloneness. I patiently wait.
Posted by: CJ / 4:10 PM
Wednesday, March 03, 2004
A baby chick pecks at the cardboard beneath her feet. The sound is distinctive. The pitch, the tone; the memory indelible. One Easter, in childhood, my mother brought baby chicks home and made their nest out of a cardboard box. Strips of flannel hanging down to comfort them, a lamp from above to warm them. They lived in our home until they outgrew their cardboard boxes. The ones that survived neighborhood dogs and passing cars were taken to my grandparents ranch. I remember their constant pecking, and peeping. I hear the sound every time I draw. The sound of graphite pencil touching the page. The same pitch, the same tone; only longer in length. All other sounds disappear, fade into distant, only the scratching of graphite against paper remains. Rough paper allows the pencil to follow an uneven path. The effect is brought into the final drawing. I like the feel of the uneven grain upon my fingers. I hold the pencil loosely, it rolls in uneven rhythm across the page. Shadows and unexpected edges appear adding depth.The scent of old hay permeates the air as the paper is touched. I am careful to rest my hand against the dowel as only the pencil may touch the drawing.I slowly put graphite to paper in a cross hatch pattern. The rhythm slows my heartbeat, my breathing. The world fades from consciousness. This drawing is slow in birthing. A gargoyle resting on a post. Many strokes have created a personality. He seems more real than the sculpture I held in my hand. The gray paper adds to the appearance of stone. The color supporting the darker tones of the graphite. He waits patiently for me to complete his being.Drawing: an hour is gone. Drawing: the wrist aches from holding the pencil. Drawing: I feel so alive even though the world has disappeared from my senses.
Posted by: CJ / 10:42 PM
Sunday, February 29, 2004
2/01/2004 - 2/29/2004
Monday, February 23, 2004
Another day, another author's talk to facilitate. David Hawkins, a Christian psychologist, wrote "Men just don't get it." During the question and answer period he asked me a question about my future plans. I answered Brad and I are hoping to forsake normalcy to pursue our values. To live simply. He was intrigued. He wanted details. I had trouble getting him to refocus on his audience. Dr. Hawkins thought our ideas bold. I think our ideas have waited in silence too long. To live simply, to minimize over consumption (books are exempt), to live off grid, to find joy in the everyday. To take time to listen. Brad and I agreed to wait until our children left home before we pursued our goals. Two years and counting.John English, "The Shift An Awakening," had a dream that demanded to be written. He was a normal engineer. The dream would not let go until he wrote it down. These ideas seem normal to me. The life I have led seems the one out of calibration. The little girl awakens from a lifetime slumber, dreams waiting to unfold.
Posted by: CJ / 10:23 PM
Sunday, February 15, 2004
A little girl looks up into an azure sky. Stars large enough to hold, if small arms could reach up past her mother's shoulder. Stars hold us quietly instead. Gaze, still the body, the breathing. Stars become larger than earth. The calling has begun. My dreams, my passions, formed under the sky's watchful eye. I was reminded this week of those dreams that were put aside in exchange for a normal life. It didn't quench the small voice waiting to be heard.I met an author this week that reminded me that only in listening to the inner call and forsaking normal life will the little girl's dreams be as bright as the glistening stars.
Posted by: CJ / 12:02 PM
Another day, another author's talk to facilitate. David Hawkins, a Christian psychologist, wrote "Men just don't get it." During the question and answer period he asked me a question about my future plans. I answered Brad and I are hoping to forsake normalcy to pursue our values. To live simply. He was intrigued. He wanted details. I had trouble getting him to refocus on his audience. Dr. Hawkins thought our ideas bold. I think our ideas have waited in silence too long. To live simply, to minimize over consumption (books are exempt), to live off grid, to find joy in the everyday. To take time to listen. Brad and I agreed to wait until our children left home before we pursued our goals. Two years and counting.John English, "The Shift An Awakening," had a dream that demanded to be written. He was a normal engineer. The dream would not let go until he wrote it down. These ideas seem normal to me. The life I have led seems the one out of calibration. The little girl awakens from a lifetime slumber, dreams waiting to unfold.
Posted by: CJ / 10:23 PM
Sunday, February 15, 2004
A little girl looks up into an azure sky. Stars large enough to hold, if small arms could reach up past her mother's shoulder. Stars hold us quietly instead. Gaze, still the body, the breathing. Stars become larger than earth. The calling has begun. My dreams, my passions, formed under the sky's watchful eye. I was reminded this week of those dreams that were put aside in exchange for a normal life. It didn't quench the small voice waiting to be heard.I met an author this week that reminded me that only in listening to the inner call and forsaking normal life will the little girl's dreams be as bright as the glistening stars.
Posted by: CJ / 12:02 PM
Friday, January 30, 2004
1/01/2004 -1/30/2004
Tuesday, January 20, 2004
I drove the long route today. The one that goes past Cherry Valley to Duvall. Then across Snoqualmie Valley, up the hill to Woodinville. I pass dairies, rock quarries, and nurseries. The rockery with rocks stacked on top of each other in Dr. Suess towers is my favorite. Whimsy always feeds the soul.The cows don't stir. The birds don't sing. A faint promise of dawn turns the eastern sky from black to deep purple. On the other side of Cherry Mountain the sky must already be a deep shade of blue. The only signs of life are the overgrown fireflies flying down an asphalt path.As the car climbs the winding path, twisting among the trees . . . my heartbeat slows . . . my thoughts gather to disappear. The trees are old, gnarled, enveloped in moss. Sunlight rarely penetrates. This is my hidden pleasure.This tangled, untouched patch of forgotten vale speaks of age, speaks of nature molding beauty by its own eye, not man's. The trees call out to the elfin ones who live here. No mortal man could easily walk these roots entwined on a bed of deep compost. Only the elfin can maneuver. I choose the long way on Monday mornings. The trees give me strength. The elves give me silent passage. Perspective is regained. My life is lived for the spiritual calmness, the creative vibrancy. The forest unexplored.
Posted by: CJ / 12:13 AM
Friday, January 16, 2004
Call me Barista Queen! I float upon the zen of a java sea. Yesterday one of our baristas called out sick. Besides finding elusive St. Valentine's Day merchandise, I now had the privilege of covering Chris' lunch and breaks.I arrive before Chris' lunch begins and we agree I need a crash course before he leaves, as I have only made coffee during training - months ago. He said not to worry as I would be just backing up Jana. I said no, Jana wasn't here. He said then I would be backing up Ben. I said, nooo, Ben wasn't here either. I was it. I was the only other person in the store who knew how to pull a shot. His face blanched. I received one serious, fast-paced course. I thought he was preparing me for the Java Olympics. His training paid off. At one point in the evening I had five drinks lined up and I didn't panic. I stayed steady at the helm. What a rush.I actually made stuff that people consumed. This from someone who considers a kitchen a torture chamber. I didn't leave cafe until 8:30 PM as we kept getting slammed. One wave after another.Northwest coffee drinkers are a unique breed. They are veerry specific about their coffee, and they want it faster than a meal at McDonald's. One could mistake java for caviar in the Northwest.I went home satisfied that I can still pull a learning curve out of my hat.And I am still trying to get coffee grinds out from under my fingernails.
Posted by: CJ / 12:02 AM
Saturday, January 10, 2004
The bookstore has returned to its normal pace. The shelvers are busy restocking bare shelves, customers are buying books for themselves, and booksellers have time to laugh with each other.Each of us is responsible for different "zones" in the store. Before, I had zone 5 which included crafts, house and home, art, architecture, gardening, photography, and travel. I loved spending quiet time in the winter getting to know my charges. I likened zone 5 to an orphanage. I took care of the books until they could be adopted and enjoyed by someone. My job was to match books to the right owners. I spent time with customers, listening to their needs, making recommendations. Now I have bargain and gift. Bargain is to zone 5 as a New York subway station is to a rural bus station. Customers breeze through looking for bargains, not a perfect fit. They push, jostle, and have no need for your opinion.Today I finished resetting bargain after the Christmas rush. I spent ten hours reaching around legs, errant children, and patiently answering the question, "Does 50% off mean off the sticker price?"My muscles ache. I did not work out. I took a nap when I arrived home. The only interaction I want is with a book.Hark. I hear one calling me now.
Posted by: CJ / 10:08 PM
Tuesday, January 06, 2004
Christmas is tucked away in boxes. To sit another year. Every year I pledge to have everything done by Thanksgiving. I failed. Quite well, I might add. This year almost did me in. A new position at work, Brad working overtime. Austin starting college. Jessica's errant work schedule. Christmas occurred in one day. We made it a good day. Jessica did not get home until after 4 pm. Austin, Brad, and I spent the day sipping coffee, listening to Christmas music, and watching the lights on the tree. I even snuck in some reading as Brad cooked.Each year I vow to get the decorations out of storage, and each year I don't find all of them. Our tree usually has lights with Star Trek ornaments on it. This year, okay, every year for the past three, I can't find the lights. Every year I end up buying lights at the last minute. Last minute means buying whatever is left on the shelf at Fred Meyer's. This year that meant blue and purple outside lights. Only the purple lights look pink when on. No one got around to putting the Star Trek battle up.I asked everyone who had time, whether they enjoyed Christmas or not. Everyone who had a family said no. The majority of people said stress took the fun away. Customers expressed more anger than good cheer.This coming year will be different. I am reclaiming Christmas. I want more time to talk to loved ones. I want to see the boat parade. I want to attend midnight mass. I want being instead of buying. I want to light a candle for loved ones who warm my soul.
Posted by: CJ / 10:47 PM
Wind whirls the snow around me. Difficulty keeping my eyes open. No horizon, only white. Seattle is in the midst of a snowstorm. Gold Bar may have snow falling or the wind is only redistributing what the sky already gave, I can't tell. I sweep the front steps. A dragon could be flying towards me right now and I wouldn't know. With the wind stretching powerfully, I imagine they are sleeping on Mt. Index, one eye open to the beauty below. Watching the top of a snow globe just turned.
Posted by: CJ / 3:08 PM
Sunday, January 04, 2004
I stand outside as snow falls quietly around. All noise is muzzled to silence. I can hear my heart. Each beat reminds me of the ones I love, the ones who will always have a place. Thank you.
Posted by: CJ / 12:26 AM
Friday, January 02, 2004
You notice his eyes. Blue, green, yellow, and brown all mixed together. I am reminded of a brook where the water eddies slowly. Moss covered rocks cover the bottom with sunshine piercing from above. Blue water swirling around. His eyes are unusual as a light appears to shine from behind. The lines around his eyes accentuate them like a frame, drawing your vision to them. They remind me of my father's eyes. His always appeared to have a light shining out also. Next, I notice his smile. From ear to ear. The easy smile of someone who lives life without grudges, without judgment. His hair is cut close and what shows is speckled with white. His face shows someone who has been outdoors much of the time.Before me is a man who is middle-aged and has lived a hard life, but all I see is a small boy who loves life and considers everyone he meets a friend.We embrace. After all these years I still find it odd that he is taller than me. Most of the time that I spent with him, he was quite smaller than me.This man is my littler brother. Out of nowhere he appeared at the store last Tuesday night, 9:40 pm. He has stopped in before, but never when I was there.We sit and talk. I can't stop looking at his eyes. The light from his eyes is radiant. I let him know I have to start closing the store in a few minutes, but we can chat for ten minutes. We hastily compare schedules and tentatively make plans to have dinner on a Monday evening, just Keith and I.We catch up on the usual. Then I mention his daughter wrote about the Christmas trees from her childhood. They were unusual as my brother hung them from the ceiling and walls to keep small children safe. He immediately started explaining how he cut a hole in the ceiling, hung the tree, and watered it from above. I am totally uninterested in the how, only the effect of my statement.At the mere mention of his daughter's name, his face lights up, no - glows. Every muscle in his body stands taller, the weariness gone. He does not have to tell me he loves his daughter, his body confesses all. His love reminds me he has always loved freely. Truly, unconditionally. If my brother loves you, he does not need reminders, letters, contact. He loves you. Period. Many years ago, I requested a meeting with Keith with the expressed desire to meet more often, for our young families to spend more time together. He told me he didn't want to. That we met as often as he felt he needed. I went home to Brad, crestfallen, but not wanting to push myself on anyone, I let it be. Shortly afterward, we moved to Tucson and then to Anchorage. In essence, we have not had regular contact for over ten years.In the interim, I have learned to live in the moment, without everything planned out in advance. I am content to have my brother, who owns no phone, suddenly appear and just as quickly, disappear.I can accept his sudden appearance without judgment, without feeling slighted at his absence. His appearance brings joy, delight, a reminder to enjoy the ones you love, without conditions, without strings attached. A young boy and girl enter a room filled with adults. The boy runs up to everyone talking. They laugh and remark how delightful he is. The girl holds back, shy, watching the boy light up the room. She is not jealous, just wishing she were not so shy, wishing she had the easy way of delighting adults as her little brother does.I am filled with warmth and love when Keith comes running into my life. He still retains the heart of his childhood. For that he is blessed.
Posted by: CJ / 5:17 PM
I drove the long route today. The one that goes past Cherry Valley to Duvall. Then across Snoqualmie Valley, up the hill to Woodinville. I pass dairies, rock quarries, and nurseries. The rockery with rocks stacked on top of each other in Dr. Suess towers is my favorite. Whimsy always feeds the soul.The cows don't stir. The birds don't sing. A faint promise of dawn turns the eastern sky from black to deep purple. On the other side of Cherry Mountain the sky must already be a deep shade of blue. The only signs of life are the overgrown fireflies flying down an asphalt path.As the car climbs the winding path, twisting among the trees . . . my heartbeat slows . . . my thoughts gather to disappear. The trees are old, gnarled, enveloped in moss. Sunlight rarely penetrates. This is my hidden pleasure.This tangled, untouched patch of forgotten vale speaks of age, speaks of nature molding beauty by its own eye, not man's. The trees call out to the elfin ones who live here. No mortal man could easily walk these roots entwined on a bed of deep compost. Only the elfin can maneuver. I choose the long way on Monday mornings. The trees give me strength. The elves give me silent passage. Perspective is regained. My life is lived for the spiritual calmness, the creative vibrancy. The forest unexplored.
Posted by: CJ / 12:13 AM
Friday, January 16, 2004
Call me Barista Queen! I float upon the zen of a java sea. Yesterday one of our baristas called out sick. Besides finding elusive St. Valentine's Day merchandise, I now had the privilege of covering Chris' lunch and breaks.I arrive before Chris' lunch begins and we agree I need a crash course before he leaves, as I have only made coffee during training - months ago. He said not to worry as I would be just backing up Jana. I said no, Jana wasn't here. He said then I would be backing up Ben. I said, nooo, Ben wasn't here either. I was it. I was the only other person in the store who knew how to pull a shot. His face blanched. I received one serious, fast-paced course. I thought he was preparing me for the Java Olympics. His training paid off. At one point in the evening I had five drinks lined up and I didn't panic. I stayed steady at the helm. What a rush.I actually made stuff that people consumed. This from someone who considers a kitchen a torture chamber. I didn't leave cafe until 8:30 PM as we kept getting slammed. One wave after another.Northwest coffee drinkers are a unique breed. They are veerry specific about their coffee, and they want it faster than a meal at McDonald's. One could mistake java for caviar in the Northwest.I went home satisfied that I can still pull a learning curve out of my hat.And I am still trying to get coffee grinds out from under my fingernails.
Posted by: CJ / 12:02 AM
Saturday, January 10, 2004
The bookstore has returned to its normal pace. The shelvers are busy restocking bare shelves, customers are buying books for themselves, and booksellers have time to laugh with each other.Each of us is responsible for different "zones" in the store. Before, I had zone 5 which included crafts, house and home, art, architecture, gardening, photography, and travel. I loved spending quiet time in the winter getting to know my charges. I likened zone 5 to an orphanage. I took care of the books until they could be adopted and enjoyed by someone. My job was to match books to the right owners. I spent time with customers, listening to their needs, making recommendations. Now I have bargain and gift. Bargain is to zone 5 as a New York subway station is to a rural bus station. Customers breeze through looking for bargains, not a perfect fit. They push, jostle, and have no need for your opinion.Today I finished resetting bargain after the Christmas rush. I spent ten hours reaching around legs, errant children, and patiently answering the question, "Does 50% off mean off the sticker price?"My muscles ache. I did not work out. I took a nap when I arrived home. The only interaction I want is with a book.Hark. I hear one calling me now.
Posted by: CJ / 10:08 PM
Tuesday, January 06, 2004
Christmas is tucked away in boxes. To sit another year. Every year I pledge to have everything done by Thanksgiving. I failed. Quite well, I might add. This year almost did me in. A new position at work, Brad working overtime. Austin starting college. Jessica's errant work schedule. Christmas occurred in one day. We made it a good day. Jessica did not get home until after 4 pm. Austin, Brad, and I spent the day sipping coffee, listening to Christmas music, and watching the lights on the tree. I even snuck in some reading as Brad cooked.Each year I vow to get the decorations out of storage, and each year I don't find all of them. Our tree usually has lights with Star Trek ornaments on it. This year, okay, every year for the past three, I can't find the lights. Every year I end up buying lights at the last minute. Last minute means buying whatever is left on the shelf at Fred Meyer's. This year that meant blue and purple outside lights. Only the purple lights look pink when on. No one got around to putting the Star Trek battle up.I asked everyone who had time, whether they enjoyed Christmas or not. Everyone who had a family said no. The majority of people said stress took the fun away. Customers expressed more anger than good cheer.This coming year will be different. I am reclaiming Christmas. I want more time to talk to loved ones. I want to see the boat parade. I want to attend midnight mass. I want being instead of buying. I want to light a candle for loved ones who warm my soul.
Posted by: CJ / 10:47 PM
Wind whirls the snow around me. Difficulty keeping my eyes open. No horizon, only white. Seattle is in the midst of a snowstorm. Gold Bar may have snow falling or the wind is only redistributing what the sky already gave, I can't tell. I sweep the front steps. A dragon could be flying towards me right now and I wouldn't know. With the wind stretching powerfully, I imagine they are sleeping on Mt. Index, one eye open to the beauty below. Watching the top of a snow globe just turned.
Posted by: CJ / 3:08 PM
Sunday, January 04, 2004
I stand outside as snow falls quietly around. All noise is muzzled to silence. I can hear my heart. Each beat reminds me of the ones I love, the ones who will always have a place. Thank you.
Posted by: CJ / 12:26 AM
Friday, January 02, 2004
You notice his eyes. Blue, green, yellow, and brown all mixed together. I am reminded of a brook where the water eddies slowly. Moss covered rocks cover the bottom with sunshine piercing from above. Blue water swirling around. His eyes are unusual as a light appears to shine from behind. The lines around his eyes accentuate them like a frame, drawing your vision to them. They remind me of my father's eyes. His always appeared to have a light shining out also. Next, I notice his smile. From ear to ear. The easy smile of someone who lives life without grudges, without judgment. His hair is cut close and what shows is speckled with white. His face shows someone who has been outdoors much of the time.Before me is a man who is middle-aged and has lived a hard life, but all I see is a small boy who loves life and considers everyone he meets a friend.We embrace. After all these years I still find it odd that he is taller than me. Most of the time that I spent with him, he was quite smaller than me.This man is my littler brother. Out of nowhere he appeared at the store last Tuesday night, 9:40 pm. He has stopped in before, but never when I was there.We sit and talk. I can't stop looking at his eyes. The light from his eyes is radiant. I let him know I have to start closing the store in a few minutes, but we can chat for ten minutes. We hastily compare schedules and tentatively make plans to have dinner on a Monday evening, just Keith and I.We catch up on the usual. Then I mention his daughter wrote about the Christmas trees from her childhood. They were unusual as my brother hung them from the ceiling and walls to keep small children safe. He immediately started explaining how he cut a hole in the ceiling, hung the tree, and watered it from above. I am totally uninterested in the how, only the effect of my statement.At the mere mention of his daughter's name, his face lights up, no - glows. Every muscle in his body stands taller, the weariness gone. He does not have to tell me he loves his daughter, his body confesses all. His love reminds me he has always loved freely. Truly, unconditionally. If my brother loves you, he does not need reminders, letters, contact. He loves you. Period. Many years ago, I requested a meeting with Keith with the expressed desire to meet more often, for our young families to spend more time together. He told me he didn't want to. That we met as often as he felt he needed. I went home to Brad, crestfallen, but not wanting to push myself on anyone, I let it be. Shortly afterward, we moved to Tucson and then to Anchorage. In essence, we have not had regular contact for over ten years.In the interim, I have learned to live in the moment, without everything planned out in advance. I am content to have my brother, who owns no phone, suddenly appear and just as quickly, disappear.I can accept his sudden appearance without judgment, without feeling slighted at his absence. His appearance brings joy, delight, a reminder to enjoy the ones you love, without conditions, without strings attached. A young boy and girl enter a room filled with adults. The boy runs up to everyone talking. They laugh and remark how delightful he is. The girl holds back, shy, watching the boy light up the room. She is not jealous, just wishing she were not so shy, wishing she had the easy way of delighting adults as her little brother does.I am filled with warmth and love when Keith comes running into my life. He still retains the heart of his childhood. For that he is blessed.
Posted by: CJ / 5:17 PM
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