A Sense of Place

Have you noticed that I love this coffee table?  Back when I used to write in my old blog, The Delicious Home, I talked about this beloved coffee table.  Check it out here: If Furniture Could Talk.

One of my favorite go-to books on living with mindful gratitude is called Spiritual Literacy: Reading the Sacred in Everyday Life by Frederic and Mary Ann Brussat.  I love how it contains Anne Sexton's reflective poem, Welcome Morning.

::

Welcome Morning by Anne Sexton

There is joy
in all:
in the hair I brush each morning,
in the Cannon towel, newly washed,
that I rub my body with each morning,
in the chapel of eggs I cook
each morning,
in the outcry from the kettle
that heats my coffee
each morning,
in the spoon and the chair
that cry "hello there, Anne"
each morning,
in the godhead of the table
that I set my silver, plate, cup upon
each morning.

All this is God,
right here in my pea-green house
each morning
and I mean,
though often forget,
to give thanks,
to faint down by the kitchen table
in a prayer of rejoicing
as the holy birds at the kitchen window
peck into their marriage of seeds.

So while I think of it,
let me paint a thank-you on my palm
for this God, this laughter of the morning,
lest it go unspoken.

The Joy that isn't shared I've heard,
dies young.
::

In the common and familiar, we do find our sense of place in the world.  We can be away from home--feeling out of place--but when we sense what we know to be true, there is comfort in that knowing and recognizing.  We just have to slow down and spot it.  There is Joy.


A few of my joys lately...

Sight: purple and blue hydrangeas on my kitchen table
Smell: chlorine from the swimming pool on hot afternoon
Sound: The Perfect Kiss by New Order playing at Chocolati Cafe on Greenwood Avenue, Seattle
Taste: my morning espresso; rich and potent, like a fresh waffle cone dipped in chocolate
Touch: cool sheets at the end of a full day

What are some of your joys?

Nocturnal Skygazing + A Little Dose of Nostalgia Friday

"See that big, puffy cloud up there?  Somewhere inside it, there's a yellow [golden] door.  That's the door to Heaven."  This is what my boys tell me right before bedtime; our faces squished up against the cool mesh of the window screen.

Sight: Glowing tungsten lights around the neighborhood while the sun melts westward.  Golden pink clouds with a wash of seaglass and sandy sky.  It's as if the ocean had been turned upside down.
Smell: Clean, warm air.  Not yet the looming smog of late summer.
Sound: A neighbor's car quietly retiring into the driveway.  Must have been a long day.
Taste: Minty goodnight kisses from the boys.
Touch: The wire graph of the window screen reminded me of when we used to press the net of a badminton racket upon our cheeks as kids.  Our fingertips would scan the puffy bulges on the other side of the racket.  It was such an odd sensation.  Of course, we had to try it on our kneecaps, our shoulders, our bellies.

Do you recall any textures that amused you as a child?  So much wonder and discovery at your fingertips...

Nostalgia Fridays - The Bus in Senses

This morning I heard the Metro bus make a stop in front of Luther's Table where I was having coffee and banana bread with my friends.  The bus took my memory back some years ago.  Almost every summer growing up, my siblings and I would hop onto the Metro into downtown Seattle for the afternoon.  Our destination was Mom's office, Dad's office, and then off to saving a spot on the 3rd Avenue sidewalk for the Seattle Torchlight parade later in the evening.


The Metro Bus in five senses...
1. Sight: the shadows moving down the rubber-ridged aisle every time the bus driver turned a corner
2. Smell: the warm breeze of exhaust mixed with stale body odor, perfume, and vinyl seating
3. Sound: the monstrous roar of the engine and the clink of the coins for bus fare
4. Taste: grape-flavored Bubble Yum bubblegum while having bubble blowing contests
5. Touch: sticking to the hot vinyl seats, then jumping off the bus with relief when we arrived at our city destination