Morning Song

Nature has a morning song
So beautiful when it plays
That no one must listen for very long
Before peace takes heart and mind as stowaways.

The birds raise from their slumber and greet the rising sun,
They flit and flutter from here to there and across fences and rooftops they run.

The morning dew, it drips and drops from every leaf and limb,
Shining bright on the blades of grass, bringing life to each of them.

The stillness is the chorus, the light the melody,
And the warmth, as it spreads, from this nook to that sends away the nights elegy.

And the gentle breeze begins to move where the cloak of night has hung
Luring from the shadows all kinds of different life, from old to young.

And if you sit and listen, as the sun takes its place,
You'll hear the flutter of little wings, as bees and bugs busy round in haste.

At this time, if you close your eyes and draw a big, deep breath,
You'll almost be able to taste the dew that burns as the sun moves West.

Every single day, at the exact same place and time,
She will sing out her melody and woo you with her rhyme.
So, if you wake and are seeking something to draw on for your day's purpose,
Step outside, take a seat and join in with Nature's chorus.

Beauty + Life

Encapsulated in my love of nature is a love and appreciation for all things that speak to human nature and connection.  I remember starting to realize the power of this connection when I learned of the symbolism of the cross in Christianity.  The two most powerful relationships is between a person and the Creator (whatever that looks like to you) and his or her family, friends and humanity.

I have had the great joy recently of watching one of my best friends go through the birth of her first child.  This experience has touched me at my very core.  In the quiet moments of the day, my mind continues to wander back to all of the displays of beauty in this moment for her and her husband.  I spent a lot of my 20s and up until recently, living a very focused and independent life.  So, as my niece and nephews were born, I was hugely appreciative of those events, but I think my 30s have brought a very different perspective and appreciation for the process.  My friend, Julie, has been one of those friends who feel near a carbon copy of oneself.  Adventurous, always up for fun and in touch with all the things I love--music, art, nature--Julie has transformed over the past year into an amazing mom.  And this transformation was seamless.  She just added it to the portfolio of being a great human being.  Even more, watching her husband and her grow as a unit with the arrival of their son, has brought such insight into the dynamic and beautiful spirit of the human soul.  They have demonstrated, I think, what it's supposed to do when you share the great life experience of having a child together.  I feel so privileged to be a witness to it all.

In the world's current state, it can be difficult to sift through all of the horrible stories circulated in the media and come out at the other end still believing in good.  There is so much pain and disappointment to be witnessed.  However, we can counter that in our relationships with one another.  We can choose to believe in the good and allow the violent, critical and painful displays of the world to fall away.  As Mahatma Gandhi said, "Be the change you wish to see in the world."  

The Day Everything Changed

A Tribute to Life did not exist on the fateful morning of September 11, 2001.  But, most of my memories are so clear, I can easily recall them and go back in time to recapture them here.

On the morning of September 11, 2001, I was a sophomore nursing student at Wheeling Jesuit University.  I was a few weeks into the fall semester, and it was a day I had calculus class during the morning time slot.  As I got ready that morning, I heard the first reports about planes crashing.  It wasn't long at all that the reports went from speculation that it was an aviation disaster/accident to speculation that terrorism was at work.

This day was like the day of the walking dead.  In every nook and cranny where normally life was buzzing about, instead, there were faces etched with concern and shallow gasps of air.  This vibe was in great contrast to the amazingly clear and beautiful day.  My mind had trouble shifting between the pristine and flawless blue sky and the images of death and destruction.  I have one visual memory that I cannot shake, and it came as a result of being stopped at a red light on my way back home from campus.  My position at the light was such that I looked up at the looming and protective hills, still very much green from summer's gifts, and the only other thing beyond was the amazing sky.  I remember sitting there in this moment and for the first time ever feeling overwhelmed with doubt and panic about the state of the world.  While irrational outside of the moment, that moment allowed me to deeply consider the question of, "Will more planes fall out of the air today?"  Every former comfort of being an American citizen had collapsed just as the honorable structures of the twin towers and portions of the Pentagon had.  Hours before, this question of planes falling out of the sky would have been absurd.  What a difference a few hours had made in history.  And then as the world gradually returned to normal--or perhaps the new normal--I hesitated because the moment felt too huge for the return, but then the option to stay behind was revoked.

The human resolve to survive has taken this unsettling anxiety and made it into an acceptable part of daily life.  While there are far worse circumstances withstood in all parts of the world on a daily basis, this moment--this day--taught me that there are no guarantees, except for one.  The world will continue on, and the world's people will almost mystically survive.  This amazing ability to do so will only be one of the many testaments of the strength and abilities attributed to the human race over time.  

As many have proclaimed, I will never forget this day.  I will not forget the evil that prevailed on those flights and the precious and autonomous lives lost or the lasting effects of that evil in the wars and ways of the world.  While the tragic day came and went, that towering hillside still haunts me each time I pass it.  It gently reminds me that nothing can be taken for granted and also of the fragility of even the most powerful structures--be them literal or abstract.  It reminds me that life can only be measured in moments and seconds and anything beyond that is simply not guaranteed.  

Habitat for Humanity, Garden-Style

Last week, I posted some thoughts on the general differences in ecosystems between my old and new neighborhoods.  Since then, it's like the ecosystem gods have taken up residence in my flower gardens and yard.

When I moved into my new neighborhood, Tucker and I came across what turned out to be a Japanese willow (aka Hakuro Nishiki or dappled willow).  Nevermind the lady's yard it was in is a garden oasis, but I could not help but fall in love with this tree with every single loop past it that we took.  By chance, I drove past a local nursery and saw that they had some in stock, and after lots of thought (probably too much), I finally caved and bought two for in front of my home.  I'm in love with my new baby trees just as much as I am the beautiful mature one a block over.  In addition to my willows, I also planted a pink flowering dogwood tree in my backyard, and there's a large assortment of flowers in front of my house that were planted not long after I moved in.  They include several hydrangeas, knockout roses, dahlias, phlox and a few other types of groundcover.  I've also cycled through some different annuals along the way as well, with the current being some pretty orange and red mums.

This collective group of flowers and trees has brought out some really cool (and sometimes creepy) creatures.  This weekend, after planting the willows, I was inspecting the leaves and branches on one of the two.  I had to look really close to spot a super cool caterpillar that had a bright green body and a robust blanket of white hair/pricklies (to use a very technical term).  The awesome part of this little creature was that it completely mimicked the leaves of the tree.  These are the small things that leave me super humbled by nature's greatness.  Unfortunately, I'm afraid the caterpillar's extensive camouflage failed it because I walked around the corner of the house a bit later to a bird in the tree--and the caterpillar could not be found.  Another fascinating tree creature was this little caterpillar that was the exact color of the brown shoots off of the branches.  I had to tap it to ensure it was not the actual branch, and sure enough it arched its little back and confirmed my suspicion.

In the flower gardens, the initial assortment of creatures was limited to toads, potato bugs and spiders.  Throughout summer, though, there have been several other visitors, including the praying mantis and many many grasshoppers and crickets.  More recently, when things cooled down, there were so many leaping visitors, I was dancing around the front yard with my hose in hand and surely bringing entertainment to the neighbors.  Tonight, as I watered, a large toad very slowly emerged from underneath one hydrangea--I took this to mean that word had spread among the garden creatures that they big woman with the hose gets dangerous and quick if they emerge too quickly.

Overall, nature has humbled me with its return offerings since my flowers and trees have been planted.  I really look forward to seeing what else will join us!

Oh Brother, Where Art Thou?

Ryan with his son, Hunter,  @ Ocean City, MD

I grew up with two siblings--both older, one sister--Erin--and one brother--Ryan.  My sister was the oldest, I was the youngest, and my brother got the lucky middle spot.  I was envious from the beginning because with bookends like my sister and I, he was able to pretty much breeze through adolescence and all of that ugly stuff that goes along with it.  We provided amazing camouflage (you're welcome, brother).  Despite a lot of haggling and tears, I always adored and looked up to him.  Even when we were going 90 mph on I-470 in the car, albeit a bit terrified for my life, I wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else.

One of my favorite parts of growing older has been watching Ryan build his family, becoming a husband and then father.  There's something particularly amazing in watching a boy become a man and most especially after being witness to the shenanigans of the teen years.  In fact, at Ryan's recent birthday, a few of his friends from high school showed up with their kids and without their wives.  That's right, these guys who used to pour out of Ryan's bedroom across the hall from mine, smelling like boys and acting like boys, showed up and were in charge of children.  The great part?  All of them, including my brother, have become super loving and attentive fathers.  Had you asked me to predict that a couple of decades ago, I probably would have had a good laugh.  Even more, Ryan and his wife have provided the brightest lights of my life--my niece, Sydni, and nephew, Hunter.  This family descends and suddenly life, and my heart, grow very full.

Reminiscing about the now "way back" years and remembering how terribly we fought, it's endearing to me that with age we've both naturally grown to deeply care about one another and one another's well being.  I would have never imagined I would be able to include my brother in the "who to call if something goes wrong" circle.  But, the truth is, he's the first I think of and becoming the one I call more and more often.  Now that I'm a homeowner, he also gets more project calls--like the most recent request to be my tree hole digging co-pilot (my "pilot" role consisted of standing close and tossing loose dirt back into said hole).

Life has an extremely funny way of reminding us what it's all about.  So, the next time you're bickering with a family member, thinking it's your way or the highway, just remember that they're meant to be part of your beauty.  That's their purpose, and they were gifted to you.  This is a powerful thought and a good one on which to hold tight.

Weekend Adventures: Master Naturalist

Last year, around this time, I was grappling with how best to squeeze my major passion of the outdoors into an all too busy life.  There were thoughts of figuring out a new career path, but completely by mistake, I seem to have stumbled upon the right one of those.  So, it didn't take me long to figure out I needed a plan B.  I needed to figure out how to do more of what I loved.  Nature, every part of it, speaks to me on levels nothing else can.  Whether it's the breathtaking ocean, towering mountains, gentle rolling hills or beautiful morning sky, I discover a level of being with each that nothing else can beckon.  

Thankfully, I stumbled upon the West Virginia Master Naturalist Program.  Still a fairly nascent program, the effort started around 2003 and was a cooperative effort among several state agencies and a couple of educational institutions.  It has definitely grown and expanded in that time, and I'm lucky enough to live near Oglebay Park, which holds many classes each season.  It's basically an accelerated and hands-on series of courses that prepares individuals for leadership in conservation and best practices with regard to nature.  Due to a lot of adjustments in my life over the past year, I had only had the chance to attend one class; but, I've enrolled in several for this fall, and I got to take the first of those today.  What's better than a Saturday morning spent, listening to a fascinating and interesting lecture on West Virginia's aquatic habitats?  There was talk of the ecosystems of several waterways, and then we got to go trekking around in the waters of a stream in the vicinity of Buffalo Creek and Castleman Run.

A couple of my favorite lessons from the day included a teaching on the American Bittern, which is an intriguing bird whose chest plumage imitates that of dense grasses/cattails in lake and pond areas.  The instructor had some amusing tales of approaching these birds, which apparently allow you to approach so long as you do not look at them (thus, employing a sidestep).  When they see you approach, they raise their head so as to better blend with the surrounding grasses and do so until you're uncomfortably close, at which time they and their 4.5 foot wingspan flush.  Also, there was the Lethocerus giant water bug, which has the ability to "deflate" a frog through its use of digestive enzymes and proboscis.  We also learned how to determine quality of water, using EPT Taxa, a method based on the presence of mayflies, stoneflies and caddisflies.  This last lesson was what led us to the stream to collect samples and interpret.  I managed to collect a mayfly that looked to have hatched this morning, so that its body was almost completely translucent with the exception of its beady black eyes.

Later this fall, I'm lined up for a mammals class as well as a class called "Growing up Wild," which equips adults to teach children about nature.  The Master Naturalist Program is just one more reason to love this beautiful state (and be grateful for Oglebay Park being just up the road)!    

Hot + Cold

This summer has been so kind to us--not too much of anything really.  We've had short stints of hot and humid, but nothing like some of the recent summers that heated up to 90 degrees in May and cooled down to the fall temps overnight in mid or late September.  Instead, we've had fluctuations of seasonal temps, rain, sun, etc.  And yet, I have caught myself in this latest stretch of humidity, wishing and pining for the cooler air.  I'm convinced some days that I was really made for Alaska...or Antarctica or something because it doesn't take much heat to completely spoil my fun.

I wake up early each morning to leave myself plenty of time to take a stroll with Tucker through the quiet streets of the neighborhood and also have the sacred cup of coffee to ease into the day.  Given how early I rise, I've been repeatedly shocked this week when I step outside and literally feel like I must swim through the air, or peel it back, in order to walk.  Morning is meant to be fresh and crisp and invigorating.  This week, there will be no such nonsense.  It's been disgustingly humid.

So, given my aversion to the heat and humidity, you would be led to believe air conditioning is a close friend of mine.  Not so.  While I don't mind the cold in general, the extreme humidity outside and heat make the cold air inside feel a hundred times more cold.  This aversion grew just a bit deeper this week when I read in the Wall Street Journal that going from the heat outside and into the air conditioning has been proven to be bad for our immunity.  So, all of that lore about how awful sicknesses reign in the winter?  Guess again.    

As I sat on the stairs at the back of my house, watching Tucker wander the yard at lunch, feeling like a raisin in the sun, it occurred to me just how miserable the hot weather really is for me.  Some people talk about how they slow down in the winter, due to the cold, but if you ever need me to slow down, just plop me down in the heat.  The misery increases when you add work clothes to the equation.  The natural solution would be to dress in summer/light attire, right?  Sounds reasonable.  However, I had spent my entire morning (and then my afternoon) freezing in the relentless air conditioning at the office.  The chuckle came when I pondered my personal space heater under my desk.  As I sat there, hating the heat, I realized that my entire perspective would be shifting drastically in about a half hour when I returned to the frigid reaches of my workspace.  As predicted, I huddled round the space heater all afternoon.

Tonight, as I walked through the thick, sticky air, I realized this fickleness is more common than not for us.  When you're young, you want to be older; then, you're older and wish you had enjoyed being young.  When you're busy, you want to have some downtime only to then get bored when the downtime comes.  When you wish you had taken the time to finish reading that book, you're of course the busiest you've been all year.  I could go on, but I'm sure the point is clear.  I've worked really hard all summer not to wish for winter or fall, but I guess today showed me that obsessing over the heat's misery is just about the same, without the words being spoken.

And so I say to you, Mother Nature, keep that humidity coming...I'm so grateful?  (I'm counting on you, reverse psychology.)

Life on the Creek

It's been amazing to me how different ecosystems can be between two neighborhoods, mere minutes from one another.  

I grew up in a part of town that had so many hills that there was truly no direction to go in and not encounter one.  With those hills came lots of trees.  Springdale's hills made me feel like I was up on a perch with a bird's eye view of the valley.  The view brought breathtaking mornings because it sat above the fog, so I could see fluffy stuff listlessly puddling all along the lower lying areas.  Similarly, at the end of the day, I always felt lucky to be able to watch as the sun slowly faded behind the hill-filled horizon.  

Springdale had an assortment of regular visitors from nature.  Always lots of birds--the typical robins, cardinals and blue jays.  (I can't forget the infamous crows and pigeons here but will subject them to a parenthetical; all too willing creatures of garbage night.)  There were also plenty of sightings of deer, raccoons, bunnies and the occasional groundhog.  My mom has always entertained a very large family of squirrels.  Their home, the aptly named "Nuthouse," in an old tree is always bustling when we gather as a family for cookouts.  In fact, the family has expanded so much, it's now like its own circus, with various generations entertaining us with their high wire acts along the power and phone lines. This ever-expanding family has brought a hawk or two to my parent's yard on occasion, but I was never present.

My new neighborhood is literally a 5 minute drive from Springdale, but it is nestled in one of the wandering crooks of Wheeling Creek (affectionately referred to as Big Wheeling Creek locally).  Wheeling Creek is part of the Ohio and Mississippi River watersheds and about 25 miles in length (or that's what Wikipedia tells me).  I have been amazed at the change in ecosystem for one large and many small reasons.  There is almost nowhere in Wheeling one can go at this point and not see deer wandering about.  Over the past 4 months, I've witnessed one lonely doe.  What I've seen here that I rarely or never saw before include toads, frogs, an increased number of groundhogs, ducks, geese and perhaps my favorite--the blue heron.  There are also many more earthworms here--to the point that when it had rained one night, I was out by my garden and could hear them tunneling through the dirt just like they were doing laps in a pool!  Also, in the old neighborhood, there would be the unfortunate occurrence of roadkill from time-to-time, and it would almost always be a poor defenseless squirrel.  Here?  Tucker and I walk the streets and find that many toads and frogs meet the same unfortunate end.  I would have never considered the playful, hopping creatures as roadkill until I saw it for myself.  As we walk, we also get to hear a lot of ducks and geese calling out as they fly overhead.  I love it.  

This experience is only eclipsed in the rankings of enjoyment by one other thing:  the blue heron sightings.  (I have myself convinced that it's the same blue heron every time I see it, but I have no way of knowing that.)  There is an access point to the creek one block over, and it's a place we pass daily on our morning walk.  So, when we wandered over and witnessed the heron there for the first time, it was in the process of catching a fish and flying off to who knows where.  This bird's wingspan was incredible and the colors that became visible with its outstretched wings were just as much so.  Now, each morning that we have the great pleasure of seeing it, I still gasp with excitement--and most times, it's simply standing there, just as it is in the picture above.  

So life on the creek has proven interesting, and taught me that no matter how far I go, there will always be some new living something to entertain.  Fun!

Books + Home: When Two Loves Collide

I have been much in love with books since I can remember.  I don't have the best long-term memory or many other crisp-clear memories of childhood, but I remember endless hours spent reading aloud to my mom.  I think my favorites were the Little House on the Prairie series, by Laura Ingalls Wilder, and the Berenstain Bears series, by Stan and Jan Berenstain.  These books were my springboard into all the possibilities the world and one's imagination could hold.  Life was good enough to allow me to work in a bookstore (RIP Borders Books & Music) during my year of graduate studies at Villanova, and my heart still races each time I get to walk into a building filled with the classics and more contemporary works.  The thought of all of those amazing minds and what they create is overwhelming to me.  Brilliance is hanging out around every last corner.

My other love (more during my adult years) is my hometown of Wheeling, WV.  I think I probably loved it as a kid, too, but I'm positive there was a span of time in my teens and early 20s when I could take it or leave it.  My mom, who always had amazing musical tastes and exposed me to some of the best artists of her time, like Carol King, James Taylor, Billy Joel, Elton John, Fleetwood Mac, etc., used to crank up tunes as she cleaned the house.  This must have pre-dated my school days because I was hanging out rather than off learning, but I remember her playing a Billy Joel song ("The Ballad of Billy the Kid") that started out with the lyrics, "In a town known as Wheeling, WV..."  Each time I heard it, I was so proud of where I was from!  Nowadays, it doesn't take a Billy Joel song to fill me with pride.  I love my hometown and state beyond compare.

So, I couldn't have imagined the sheer volume of love possible when my love of these two disparate things collided with the opening of the Barnes & Noble in conjunction with West Virginia Northern Community College.  I wanted to come out of the store and shout into the streets huge "thank you's" to everyone and anyone who made that place happen.  Granted, the store is not of cavernous proportions--half of it is dedicated to a Starbucks and customer seating and a fraction of it is dedicated to books and supplies not really of general public interest--however, the little bit of space they have, they have packed with great titles and some other fun items (like Moleskine notebooks, which are a huge weakness for me).  I do have to say here that endless options are not a good friend of mine, so this smaller selection is actually more fitting for my own personal taste and did not lack a bit in offering exploration into some unknowns.  The atmosphere during my visit was one of quiet comfort, something I've always loved about bookstores--makes them feel like a trendy library.  They have a parking lot, making trips in and out pretty simple, and the customer service was lovely. The absolutely best part?  It's a mere two blocks from my workplace.  "Best" and "dangerous" are probably interchangeable here.

My bottom line is that this is just one more reason to love life in "the Wheel" and be grateful to all of those who made it happen.  The culture of home just got a little better.    

The Earth Provides

This past year has been a big one.  One of my favorite adventures was putting in a real, honest-to-God garden in the backyard of my new (and first) home.  I had no idea what I was doing, and there's so much information out there, I decided I just had to wing it rather than sift through the endless commentary available.  

My favorite lesson from gardening was about the unexpected beauties it can offer.  The yard had never had any attempted garden--at least any living remnants of such.  So, the wheels started turning as to how, exactly, I would pull off tearing up the grass, its plentiful roots and enough dirt to actually plant anything with a chance at a root system.  My dad, who is Johnny on the Spot for all handyman jobs that pop up at my house, was rightfully enjoying retirement at the shore.  Those crazy kids (aka my parents) never make it home by any definitive date these days, so the growing season was liable to come and go before they rambled their way home.  In a random act of kindness, an old friend from school and his beautiful little family came to the rescue and prepared the ground with a tiller.  

Gardening also taught me how to appreciate the earth and what it will provide--given a commitment to assisting it.  And what fantastic gifts it will give if just a consistent and solid amount of work is done!  It really takes the weekly trip to the produce section at the grocery store and tosses it on its head.  The flavor, alone, makes growing as much food as possible at home well worth it; but, add to that, the sense of accomplishment and amazing feeling attached to growing, nurturing, harvesting and then eating your own food.  It's such a simple concept and yet so lost in the buzz of today's world.  

As I stood at my kitchen sink tonight, blanching and skinning a load of heirloom tomatoes, I was pleased to think that the cold months will be a little bit warmer and tasty this year as a result of what has turned out to be one of my favorite experiences in life.  Thank you, Earth and Mother Nature, for one heck of a run in 2013.  Looking forward to next year's growing season!  

The Hawk's Perspective

Now that settling into a new role at work and a new house at home have both started to plateau a bit, I've started to shockingly return to some balanced way of life.  Whether it's big stuff or little stuff, life's stuff definitely has a way of pulling the path right out from under you, placing it in the far reaches of your vision.  But, on a recent trip to Coopers Rock State Park, a brief run-in with a hawk helped me remember that relocating that path is sometimes just a matter of changing your perspective.

I've loved living in West Virginia for most of my adult life.  I am guessing I enjoyed it as a kid, but I definitely didn't take pride in it or liking it.  Looking back, it was only after I'd left it for some time that I really started to see and appreciate its beauty and unique offerings.  Wheeling, while endowed with its own collection of beauty and activities, really becomes quite boring and traditional when you head south (well, north, east and then south).  Driving down I-79, the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains (foothills are no more exciting than regular hills) begin to melt away, and the lumbering Appalachians begin to creep up on you.  Strikingly different from driving into the Rockies, driving into the Appalachians brings a spectrum of greens, and so for me, breathes life into your drive.  Rather than the hills and valleys I'm used to having around me, which sometimes say, "hey, I'm here, you should come and climb me sometime," the real Appalachians say, "hey, there's no denying I'm here, and I dare you to try to climb me."  Perhaps it's a bit imagined on my part, but when I travel deeper into West Virginia's landscape, I get an overwhelming sense that everything is so much bigger than I am.  The benefit of this?  Worries and trifles are shifted right into their place.

So, last weekend, I drove down to Coopers Rock and chose the Ravens Rock Trail for a mini-adventure.  This is a fun trail for hiking because it's not hugely challenging, so you can enjoy the scenery a bit but also feel confident on the trail.  There's a little bit of a climb at the end of the trail, but man is it worth it because you plateau, and then you hit it.  You hit the overlook into the Cheat River Canyon, and it's breathtaking.  Talk about remembering how small you really are--I'm convinced there's not a better (more beautiful) reminder out there.  And so, I made my way to the edge of the outcropping and sat down to take in the--well, everything.  When I looked up, there was a huge hawk, floating round and round in circles above.  And then there was a second.  And they just kept flying in these circles, higher and higher up into the air.  As I observed them, it hit me that sometimes when things grow to feel overwhelming, we will say we need to step back.  For me, this has always meant sort of checking out of whatever is causing the stress.  But, what I started to realize is that these hawks were on to something.  As they went higher and higher, their perspective would grow to be wider and wider--in my mind, giving everything a place, allowing it room and room to breathe.  So, these hawks taught me something in minutes that I hadn't thought of before.  Even more?  The smooth and controlled beauty of their flight was entrancing and also appeared effortless.

This entire moment sort of made me want to just pitch a tent and stay right there forever.  What a great place to take in and how fortunate I feel to have it right at my fingertips whenever I want it.  Thank you, West Virginia--my forever host.

Love + Compassion

As our world has continued to expand, and our societies and communities have followed the trend, it seems we've started to grow apart.  I know I often allude to the pace of the world and discriminate against it for personal reasons, but I have been reminded of why I hold contempt for that pace.

While it's not every day that I meditate on society and the world on an abstract level, when I do have flashes of those thoughts, I see flashes of desperation and a sense of panic that only deepens and becomes more rooted with time.  From more harmless moments like Black Friday shopping, where shoppers elbow one another, push one another and race towards their treasures, to moments of road rage or inconsiderate driving, when drivers cut one another off, carelessly risking the lives not only of those in their own vehicle but those in the others around them.  And then we can travel the spectrum to events like those that unfolded in Newtown, CT, on Friday.  Murderous contempt for our fellow human beings--in this case for the most innocent and promising of our population.

Ironically, what I've observed in the world around me is that as our economy blossoms into a more global one in nature and our individual cultures begin to meld into a more universal and multi-cultural society, we have become more and more isolated.  This self-concern and isolation has started to foster incredibly unhealthy and often tragic trends.  This self-concern and isolation has devalued love and compassion for others and internalized these things so that it's strongest only for ourselves.  This trend has made it so that we celebrate those who still embody love and compassion for others as heroes.  They, undoubtedly, are, but the sadness is found in the fact that that is what we were all built to be.  Without traveling too far down a Christian road, the symbolism in the cross, itself, reminds us of the importance of our relationships and love for one another.  The cross tells us that our relationship with one another is just as important as our relationship with our Maker.  And yet, we so easily and often forget this.  Just as so many faiths tell us that we should go to worship on a weekly basis, they should tell us to worship one another always.  My safety is as important as your safety and well being, so I should care for you--stranger, friend or family--as I care for me.

So many things in our country need to be fixed.  But, coming down from that level--the one where our government and other systems are responsible for change--we need to be fixed.  We need more parents, more people, who can help people like the shooter in Newtown.  We need more people to do this so that we no longer have to watch the faces of 6-year-olds and 7-year-olds flash across our screen because they have been brutally murdered with a semi-automatic rifle.  We need to be responsible for the well being of one another and the well being of our society.  We need to stop traveling down this dark road of isolation, helplessness and lack of concern on a daily basis.  Because all of those days that pass will always lead to a day like Friday and the subsequent days after of suffering and sadness.  We landed on the moon, we innovate new technologies, we find ways to make loads of money.  Now, we need to figure out how to help one another.  How to love and be compassionate again.  

Thoughts on Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving ranks as one of my favorite holidays.  Some of my favorite things are a part of the holiday--like delicious comfort foods and the favorite niece and nephews.  Unlike Christmas, there is so much less pressure.  No frantic gift buying and giving, so no resulting panic over gift buying debt or getting it just right.  No multiple day celebration, wearing everyone out and producing the holiday fatigue cloud.

One of my favorite ways to spend time is cooking and baking.  Without ever really noticing it until recently, I've also developed an affinity for doing so in the company of others.  If you've never tried cooking or baking with your friends or family, you really must.  The kitchen is the equivalent of my adult tree house.  I hide out there with my favorite people, feeling nothing but elation over the opportunity to huddle in the company of others in the warm, delicious-smelling homiest part of home.  Even more, I love creating good eats with others.  Whether we're all individually responsible or working with one another on goodies, it's always a team effort that, in the end, can be appreciated as such.

The smells of Thanksgiving immediately stir good memories and excitement for me.  I know many candle companies capture the individual smells of the holidays, but I really think someone needs to capture the symphony of smells that come together with the roasting turkey in the oven.  Whether it's the stuffing, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes or pumpkin pie, they all partner perfectly.  These smells together can take the likes of an empty bomb shelter and transform it into a cozy home, fire burning in the fireplace and the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade playing in the background.

There has been only one occasion when I have not made it home for the holiday.  I was a starving student in Philadelphia, and I honestly don't even recall what I ate that holiday with my out of town guest.  What I recall best is working the aisles of Borders Books & Music (yes, they still existed) on Black Friday, wondering why I had just missed out on my favorite holiday ever at home.

And so this year, as I gather at the table with my family, I will be very thankful for the great privilege of gathering with them in a warm, cozy setting, with all of the smells of Thanksgiving cradling us in our celebration.  And while I usually pause at some point in each day, amazed by my great fortune in this life, tomorrow, I will pause to be grateful for my Thanksgiving Day fortune of being right where I want to be.

Navigating Life's Rivers

We know ourselves best.  This is always a good motto to follow throughout your life.  But, there's also often a lot of noise around us, making it hard to hear ourselves think.  Times of crisis can be especially tough--whether health-related, emotional or otherwise.  I think of these times as having their own currents, like a river, and whether this river is only a river to you or not, it can still carry you away.  

So, I offer two tools below that have helped me recently and that I'm growing to value more with each day.  

• Health Tool.  This past year has offered me a lot of content in the health department.  Lots of downs, unfortunately.  The really great part of this has been my own exploration of how my body and mind are connected and how all of those small things that you write off as small can, in reality be big and, as a result, have big effects on your health.  So, my first bit of advice is to always, always be fully aware of what's been floating around in your mind as you seek medical advice.  The second part of this health tool is to always be your own advocate when you do seek medical attention.  Asking questions should not equate to doubting your doctor's intelligence and competence.  Unfortunately, I think that has become a trending assumption.  In my own case, I was convinced that I had to cave on taking a medication I'd been avoiding for years...literally years.  I caved and ignored my own concerns only to spin into many months of darkness.  And when I say darkness, I mean the type of darkness that makes functioning extremely challenging and a darkness that shrouds all feelings and emotions of the good sort in total darkness.  Along this road, I noticed a difference, so I thankfully kept aware and talked often about what was going on with my family.  Finally, when a health scare of a larger proportion snuck in, my family doctor finally put an end to a continuation of the medication that I'm convinced, at this point, took a downward spin and turned it into a nosedive.  Do not be fooled by the effects of medication.  While this medication was to help relieve symptoms I would really rather go without, which it did for the most part, it left me feeling in the deepest depths of post partum depression.  Not cool. So, ask questions, be curious and always communicate your gut feelings.
• Well Being Tool.  As a result of said medication above, I became desperate for some emotional relief.  Enter Jon Kabat-Zinn and mindfulness meditation.  Kabat-Zinn runs a sophisticated stress clinic in Massachusetts.  He is nothing short of a thought leader in the field, and his tools have helped many people.  So, I picked up one of his books, Full Catastrophe Living, and I started making myself listen to his Body Scan Meditation on a nightly basis.  Between the knowledge in the book, and the calm of the meditation practice, I have gained so much more appreciation for how responsible we all are for our well being.  The world, this day in age, tells us not to stop.  It tells us not to slow down for fear of being trampled.  But, learning mindfulness meditation has taught me not only what stopping and slowing down does for me, but through that, what it can also do for others.  This is not to say that it's easy because it is not.  With work schedules, family schedules, responsibilities, etc., it is so easy to bypass this daily exercise and gain a bit more television time, reading time or just plain down time.  But, I've personally come to adore my meditation hours.  The strength and calm that can be elusive in light of tough times begins to flourish and bring such joy.  On nights when I hesitate, I think of the darkness that that medication brought with it.  And then I ask myself if there was anything else at all that helped me combat that, and the answer is no.  And so, I embrace the lifesaver and, in the end, bring my mind and body relief from the day's challenges and stress.

       

Holidays

This year, as you get caught up in the hustle and bustle of the holidays--because you know you will...we all will--try to remember something important.

Every day...every single day...is just as important as the next.  Granted, important people have done very important things, changing humanity forever and banking some days memorializing their feats. But, we each change humanity--for better or for worse--every moment of every day.

So, perhaps this year is the year to live every day as you do a holiday.  Memorialize the day, a beautiful moment in the day.  These days, it's as good as a holiday if you take a moment in the day to stop.  Put down your smart phone, turn off the television and simply breathe in the day and all that it has so graciously given.  Because this, my friends, is the greatest gift of all.

Generation Z

This past weekend, I had a mildly rude awakening.  It started innocently enough--a simple trip to the movies with my niece, Sydni.  The last time we went to the movies to see the newest Ice Age movie, we had seen a preview for Frankenweenie, Tim Burton's newest creation.  Since then, I think I've driven her completely crazy trying to schedule a time for us to see Frankenweenie.  (This entailed saying that movie name out loud way too many times to count).  In any case, after a last-minute debate between Frankenweenie and Hotel Transylvania, we went with the Burton film.

After about a half hour or 45 minutes into the movie, Syd looked over at me in the dark to see if I had any gum.  Her eyes were welled up with tears, but she was acting totally normal.  I had to ask in a couple of different ways, but I finally got a confession that the movie was upsetting her.  I felt awful, of course, but we were able to leave and continue on with a really enjoyable day.  Why did we have to leave?  Let me explain.

Early in the movie, there is a depiction of a boy who is very close with his dog--does everything with him.  Next thing you know, the boy is pressured into playing on a baseball team, the dog chases one of his balls into the street, and the inevitable happens, killing the boy's beloved dog.  While I knew this was a natural condition for Frankenweenie to be Frankenweenie, I guess I was a bit surprised at how detailed the story was surrounding this portion of the movie's action.  The movie was rated "PG," so I didn't even think about it, and I thought about it even less since the preview had been shown in a movie that would have a pretty young audience (Ice Age).

Unfortunately, Sydni and I have both lost beloved pets in the past year, so perhaps this contributed to our strong response to the sadness.  But, this really made me start thinking because this is not the first time that I have submitted Sydni to a seemingly kid type of movie that made her cry.  Now, I want my niece to be realistic in how she digests the world and all it has to deal, but I also would love to take her to the movies without her crying.  And I have to say that most of the previews we saw before this movie started were more in the dark realm than I would expect for kids.  I compare them to ones I watched as a kid, and I can't really draw a comparison because movies, for me, were a total escape from the real world.  Fun, animated, sometimes with a tinge of real, but never too much.

I worry about a lot of things, but the more I see, the more I worry about "Generation Z" and beyond.  They're exposed to such adult concepts so young, from grown up concepts camouflaged in animated movies to constant networking with the world, and I wonder how that will ultimately play out for them.  I hope that I can resume taking my niece to see youthful and inspiring movies, shall any be made in the foreseeable future.  And I hope more than anything that kids will get to be kids for a good long time--before they get tossed into the real world and see that the dark and complicated are superfluous.  They should have some time of wonder, about how things work and things that they cannot simply have but have to wait for.  Simple is good and kids need a dash more simple and good.    

Furry Friday Edition: Pet Goods

Pet apparel has never been for me.  First, I've always had cats, and they're not so supportive of pet apparel experimentation.  Moreover, though, I've never been able to really appreciate it.  My thought has always been that there are many, many other things to spend money on.  However, this pet apparel pictured at right?  That is a dog shirt, purchased by me, for my 60 lb. goldendoodle puppy.  Obviously, something has changed.

This new affinity for dog apparel is rooted in the discovery of Fido's Fashion Collars.  I didn't even really count this as a venture into dog apparel because every dog should have a collar.  So, it was a little more along the lines of a need.  However, I started to buy Tucker these customized collars when he was just a pup, and being that he weighed in at 8 lb upon arriving at home, you can imagine the number of collars we have gone through.  Add to that the fact that I cannot bear to place an order with Fido's unless I order multiple collars.  Why?  My only answer is puppy apparel is like crack.  It's a terrible habit just lurking in the wings for you to bite.  There are rotations of holiday collections, seasonal collections, just because collections.  And once you've bought in once, it's all over.  

More recently, I've hit an issue that further compounded this situation.  Tucker is a big guy, and he doesn't hesitate to drag me through our walks.  I've found one harness that reels in his power a bit.  Funny enough, that harness is the sole harness on the market that has no padding in a crucial portion of the harness structure, which causes occasional scraping to a dogs skin behind their front legs.  I figured this was like the listing of side effects for any medicine.  There was a 1 in 1000 chance that Tucker's harness would actually rub him wrong.  But, alas, I was wrong.  I was really disturbed the first time I discovered it was rubbing him, so I quickly started to replace the harness...only to be dragged through our walks again.  Then, I had my light bulb moment.  If I place a t-shirt on him, then the harness won't rub!  There will be a protective layer!  You would think that the initial discovery that dog t-shirts run about $25 would have deterred me.  But, no.  BaxterBoo.com reeled me in just like Fido's Fashion Collars, and I have purchased my first two dog t-shirts.

So, remember.  Things change.  One day, you see yourself as a level-headed consumer, aware of the tricks of the dog apparel trade, and the next day you could be in the thick of a brand new bad habit.  All I can say is thank goodness Tucker cannot speak English.  I feel sure he would be pulling me aside for a word after parading around the neighborhood in his new dinosaur-themed t-shirt, complete in fall colors.

  

The Debate Debate

'Tis the high season of political debates.  As a disclaimer, this post will not be a medium to convince you of who should be president.  It's more a commentary about the antiquated debate system and how little help it really lends voters.  The official tradition dates back to 1960, but there are also other instances referenced before that time.  Overall, however, what's learned through these debates is what follows:

1. No matter who is placed as the moderator, participants ignore them.  So much discussion surrounds debate format, rules, etc.  However, this all falls apart once the debate starts.  Lesson learned?  These debates are simply a microcosm of the state of our political system.  Politicians do what they want, when they want, and no rules or morals or laws will stop them. 
2. Candidates spend more time talking about what the other is not doing or not planning to do than they spend time on their actual plans and an explanation of effects of those plans.  When they're not discussing what the other has not done, they discuss their version of what the other will be doing.  Lesson learned?  We could view the endless negative political commercials at our fingertips, learning the same set of information and have 90 minutes more of our life back.  Everyone wins!
3. The debate system is inherently flawed.  Perhaps there was a time, once upon a time in history, when you could take any candidate for his or her word.  Today, however, truth is an illusion.  We have learned this through the plethora of political scandals that have unfolded before our eyes.  So, the fact that some insist that these debates are key to political races is absurd.  I don't want to hear infinite iterations of what these folks plan to do, I want to actually see what they will do or can do.  Give me a list of what you see, as a candidate, as the top 5 issues in our country.  Then, tell me what you're going to do about it...and then?  Tell me what you have done previously that would support that you can actually make this happen.  Using debates to determine a candidate's qualifications, to me, would be like putting together a pro sports team by simply having players tell you what they can do.  Sports, like politics, are about doing.  If you can't do, then you are not qualified.  It seems in today's world, though, that more and more decisions are made by what people say they can do.  I wonder how this has worked out? 
4. Lastly, as long as our political world is dominated by partisan ideals, with no interest in unity, then debates will remain an extension of that philosophy.  We will learn nothing, they will repeat the same stuff we see and hear otherwise, and we will continue to get nowhere.  It's great to know what the Democratic and Republican candidate want to do and how much they detest one another's solutions and ideals.  But, how is that a barometer for how they'll do their job...with those hundreds of others who must help them get the job done?  I would rather see a format where they must sit down with those across the aisle and actually demonstrate how they would walk through solutions together.  Isn't that what they really must do to get the job done?  Where is our common ground?  How can we expand on that...and...in the end...actually benefit our constituents? 

I have always been underwhelmed by politics, and it's for these reasons.  For me, it's more an act of theater than what it should be, which is pretty serious stuff with pretty high stakes.      

The Tech Glitch

As a member of the generation that has essentially grown alongside technology, the internet--the digital age--I have come to accept the years of convincing that technology is good, that it simplifies, and that it's super duper smart.  However, just like us, technology can have its bad days, and now that I've cycled through enough of those days, I've decided to highlight my latest experience so as to eradicate the huge technological elephant in the room. 

I have to say that I don't see our government as a technology "power user."  However, this became even more clear several weeks ago when I attempted to buy a treasury bond for my niece.  This experience was already feeling a bit heavy because it was the first time this idea had come to mind for me, and it reminded me that this was my grandfather's favorite gift to give throughout much of my childhood.  This memory made me realize that only the aged think of this as a gift option, and this would make me aged.  But, then, to make it even worse, the timeless tradition of buying treasury bonds has been catapulted out of the Stone Age and into modernity.  My nostalgia for times past came to a screeching halt when the bank informed us that banks no longer sell treasury bonds.  Why don't our financial institutions sell these financial products?  Well, that is because the government decided to throw the entire process into the trusting hands of...the internet.  This seemed a good idea until I reached the "Treasury Direct" rabbit hole/web site.  In order to buy bonds, you must create an account.  In order to gift bonds, the recipient must have an account.  Regardless, you purchase your bond and then you can only electronically transfer it to the recipient 5 days later.  This is a very brief version of a very difficult process. 

I agree that technology can be super great.  I mean, what would we all be doing with our endless minutes of life if it weren't for the ability to bounce from app to app, site to site and e-mail to text?  And what would I do when I end up in Jebbia's, looking to buy a fresh herb and have no idea what I should be looking for?  Without Google images, these moments would force me to actually speak to a store clerk.  In any case, though, I do think there are some things best left untouched by the digital age.  The treasury bond purchase process would be first on that list...and the up-and-coming driverless car may very well be a second. 

Outdoor Reading, Part Two

Bill Bryson's A Walk in the Woods is a super delightful read.  He is one of the funniest writers I have read, who also manages to be very educational in his telling of a tale.  I've always known of the Appalachian Trail, of course, but it wasn't until last year that I happened across the National Geographic:  Appalachian Trail documentary on Netflix and became more intrigued.  There are people who can get lost in the woods for months at a time?  I needed to learn more about this.

While the National Geographic film was wonderful for sweeping views of the best parts of the trail, with a little splattering of personal experiences on the trail, Bryson's book is told from the perspective of a completely clueless hiker of the trail and his haphazard companion. His side commentary about just about every aspect of the trail and its quirks is laugh out loud funny.  For instance, as he researches black bears and what to expect of them as he treks up the East Coast, he tells of nighttime reading about black bear attacks, and it's recalled with as much removed fascination as it is immediate concern.  While a grown man is clearly writing of these preparations, it's sometimes a young boy, fascinated by the horrors of nature, that comes through.  And that crack in the narration ends up hilarious.

A Walk in the Woods brings a refreshing reminder of how fulfilling it can be to slow down life a little bit and take in the world around you by foot.  It illustrates that this point is agreed upon by all people of all shapes and sizes, professions and origins.  It also offers the nuggets of history that produced the Appalachian Trail and lots of other natural history that illustrates flattering and not so flattering aspects of government intervention in nature. However, all is told with a small spritz of sarcasm, which helps to make it digestible and entertaining.

If the winter gets you down, and you need to escape from a little bout of cabin fever, definitely keep A Walk in the Woods on your list of possible (and cheap!) excursions.