A dear friend shared your poem about the hay-field today. At the end you encouraged us to notice and embrace the special moments of our day. That encouraged me to take time to write up a special experience I had today when I popped into a Latino restaurant with 20 minutes left in the World Cup final of Argentina versus France; because they had the game playing over there speaker out front as I passed by. It was magical and I shared it with a group of avid fans who were strangers and yet not. It’s a memory I will treasure and you are the reason I set it down in words to keep and share. Thank you!💞
Oh, this is so lovely. I have collected rocks all my life. It started on the shores of Lake Michigan in northern Illinois with my mom.
Then I found that the ocean likes to share heart shaped rocks. I have even had to return some to where they came from when I realized how many I had. But, I am most fond of sandstone. It can break down a bit. But there’s something magical for me about it. Red rock somehow heals my soul.
I also love the idea about how things that are “common” can still hold a unique beauty. I try to look for that as I walk. And it happens so often that a new hue of green, a new flower, the leaves with all their different colors and patterns right now, and much more, can spark that bit of joy in me. I’m so grateful for that gift.
There are too many to name but what comes to mind are, every time I see the Casablanca La Marseillaise scene, or when I get a really heartfelt hug, connect with nature, witness loving change from simple acts of kindness, sense the presence of something more than this world, I am moved in the way you beautifully described. Recently it was a heart warming viral video of a chimpanzee reuniting with her baby, 2 days after giving cesarean birth. She was so emotional, urgently picking up then holding the baby close to her ..rocking her babe. The zoo keepers were crying in their voices, supporting her. I can't even talk about it without tears. From Coco's sign language, to primates in the wild, to that momma chimpanzee, I hope the video opens hardened hearts to these sentient beings and that they are treated more compassionately throughout the world. And how wonderful, your stone practice is, and the idea of carrying them with you. Thank you for sharing. I will share those ideas with the children in our family and others. Just thinking about holding and sharing a warmed stone in the palm of my hand gives comfort and connection to something more.
So lovely and perfectly articulated. We had gone to the beach to celebrate my Dad's 90th birthday. It was April and the moon was full. I woke around 2 a.m. and felt compelled to walk outside.
I strode on to the beach bathed in moon glow. Looking up the beach, a gentle breeze was dancing with the sand, sending little swirls as it moved down the shore. It was quiet except for the gentle thunder of surf and the murmuration of sand on sand. I don't know how long I stood transfixed in that cool light, my heart wide open with joy.
Oh Catherine, what a beautiful moment to hold in your heart. Thank you for sharing this powerful heart opening description. I can almost see the moon glow, the night air and sky, the murmur action of the water, and swirls of sand. Ah yes…these are moments that change us.
I love this post as a reminder to stay tuned in to the potential mystical/spiritual experiences all around us. I believe these experiences can take many forms in many degrees. I don't consider myself a mystic but I would like to be and I know that this can only happen if I'm open to it and not caught up in the narrative thought-stream. Music and philosophy have helped me to sense something more. Also love the idea of gathering and carrying stones as a concrete reminder of this. Thanks for the post!
Thanks mike. Yes, music and poetry and philosophy and art can have such transcendent powers. In the context of a fine song, we see one another and sense something if not greater at least wider than ourselves. Yes. I like holding a stone in my hand, and giving it a name or memory to carry. On hard days I have carried stones that represent parts of myself that might need my nurturing…maybe a tender part that needs a little extra care. It seems like such a small thing. But the presence of those stones a lovely reminder. Wounds are real, but the presence of stories of delight, love and courage and curiously are just as real.
Dear Ones: I too hold stones. I'm holding a heart-shaped one now... and feeling my mom -blessedly still with us! - and about hope... Here is the beginning of the children's story (which I "wrote" several years ago from her telling...)
Bronia and the Bowls of Soup
My name is Bronia and I'm 90 years old. I just had a very big birthday party and thirty of my friends came to celebrate with me. I was very happy!
My life is very beautiful! I have two wonderful sons, identical twins, and two grandchildren, a boy and a girl, and I love them with all my heart.
Today, I want to tell you a story about how my life was when I was a girl. I lived with my mother Miriam and my grandmother and grandfather in a small city in Poland. My family owned a clothing store and my grandfather was one of the first people in the whole country to sell jeans.
We also sold jewelry that my father brought from places very far away. Every time he came back from one of his long trips, he always treated me to ice cream or the special wafer cookies I loved so much!
I liked going to school because I enjoyed learning new things, and also because all of my closest friends, Jewish children like me, went there too. Sometimes, I made up stories for all of us to act out. Everyone had a part to play and it was really fun!
I believe I began to love stories when I was very small. My mother took me with her to the movies or the theatre, and my grandfather told me lots of stories from the Bible about women and men who were great heroes. In my imagination, I wondered what kind and brave things I might do.
Then, when I was only ten-years-old, everything changed. One day, just after coming home from summer camp, I ate a bunch of blueberry turnovers fresh out of my grandmother's oven. Suddenly, I felt terribly sick. I had such a horrible pain in my belly I had to be taken to the hospital. I needed an operation to make me better and I was really worried I'd miss the start of school.
But the next day, it turned out, that was the least of all our troubles. Without any warning, Poland's neighbor, Germany, attacked us with thousands and thousands of soldiers and tanks and airplanes too. I was still not well, but the doctors had to send me home anyway.
We waited to see who would win the war, but in one short month our army was forced to surrender. The German soldiers had won!
Right away, they marched into our town and started beating up lots of the men. They took some of them away in trucks. That's what happened to my cousin Benny, even though he was just a few years older than me.
Everyone was very scared. We knew that the soldiers had been told by their leader, a man named Hitler, that all Jewish people were bad and dangerous. He wanted them to hurt everyone, the babies and children too, and to get rid of us once and for all if they could. This man Hitler only knew how to hate!
The soldiers closed down all the stores, including ours, and they stole as much money as they could find. Before long no one had enough food to eat.
My friend Sala came to tell me that her father was so sick he might die. He really needed to have some soup, but her family couldn't get any for him. I was very, very hungry but that made no difference to me. I knew just what I wanted to do. I took my bowl of chicken soup and brought it over to Sala's house for her father. If anything could help, I thought, it would be chicken soup!*
Love to all and joyous Thanksgiving!
* This was all I could share here... for the rest... please get in touch at zerah2@hotmail.com
Thank you Aaron for your beautiful story. I’d love to read the rest and ill send a message to the email you listed. What an amazing woman, and powerful story of family, suffering, human kindness and resilience. Yes, there is much to be carried from such of a story. Some that is hard with such grievous loss and suffering, and other parts that celebrate the dear girl that was your grandmother, the possibility and presence of dignity, courage and kindness that can happen even in the most unimaginably difficult circumstances. It is lovely that you wrote it down in a way that it could be read to a small child, to encourage and educate. I’ll look forward to the rest of the story my friend. Bronia must have been the most amazing mother and human spirit.
Your stories about stones reminds me of one of my favorite picture books, “Everybody Needs a Rock” by Byrd Baylor and illustrated by Peter Parnall. I always love finding kindred stone collecting souls.
I love this, Carrie! One of the stones you carry with you (a geode, in fact) now graces our kitchen, and every time we see it, we are reminded of the grace at the heart of your approach to life and art. Thank you!
Yep, It may have been that very geode. I love knowing that it lives at your house now. And I love that you didn’t roll you eyes (ok, roll them much) when I pulled a rock out of my bag. Some folks bring flowers or wine or something Emily Post would have given a nod. Thank you for keeping that stone with the sentiment it was given my friend.
Recalling my college age son leaving for a semester of study in Australia…the evening before we gathered with his three siblings and I held out a stone that fits right into the palm of my hand…I offered Dennis a blessing for his journey as I pressed my love into the stone., ‘when you feel alone, lost, wondering, hold the stone and we are there.” The stone was passed as each person followed this ritual. We gifted the stone to my son, who continues to carry a stone in his traveling pocket 20 years later.
Thank you Mary-Claire. I think one of my favorite things about the unfolding of the creation story in the book of genesis is that Light came into the world, three days before the moon and the sun. So Im always looking for that Light that permeates the world, in the untamed things, in the people we meet, at the center of a beautiful melody.
Carrie your day reflection was a reminder of a practice I find meaningful. I pick up stones and drift word to place in my garden to remind me of the times I experienced when I found them. One time when after saving money for 5 years dog sitting I could take a River Cruise. My daughter went with me. We were walking down a side street in Prague. I saw a lot of loose stones and I picked up one and put it in my My daughter was horrified. I on the other hand when I see it those memories surround my heart.
Carrie the poem was lovely, but the telling of the experience wise so special.
Have a Thanksgiving filled with joy and gratitude. I am filled with joy when I read your reflections, and gratitude that you have chosen to share with us.
A dear friend shared your poem about the hay-field today. At the end you encouraged us to notice and embrace the special moments of our day. That encouraged me to take time to write up a special experience I had today when I popped into a Latino restaurant with 20 minutes left in the World Cup final of Argentina versus France; because they had the game playing over there speaker out front as I passed by. It was magical and I shared it with a group of avid fans who were strangers and yet not. It’s a memory I will treasure and you are the reason I set it down in words to keep and share. Thank you!💞
Oh, this is so lovely. I have collected rocks all my life. It started on the shores of Lake Michigan in northern Illinois with my mom.
Then I found that the ocean likes to share heart shaped rocks. I have even had to return some to where they came from when I realized how many I had. But, I am most fond of sandstone. It can break down a bit. But there’s something magical for me about it. Red rock somehow heals my soul.
I also love the idea about how things that are “common” can still hold a unique beauty. I try to look for that as I walk. And it happens so often that a new hue of green, a new flower, the leaves with all their different colors and patterns right now, and much more, can spark that bit of joy in me. I’m so grateful for that gift.
Carrie is a light and I love how she shares her light and lifts others too. 🙏
There are too many to name but what comes to mind are, every time I see the Casablanca La Marseillaise scene, or when I get a really heartfelt hug, connect with nature, witness loving change from simple acts of kindness, sense the presence of something more than this world, I am moved in the way you beautifully described. Recently it was a heart warming viral video of a chimpanzee reuniting with her baby, 2 days after giving cesarean birth. She was so emotional, urgently picking up then holding the baby close to her ..rocking her babe. The zoo keepers were crying in their voices, supporting her. I can't even talk about it without tears. From Coco's sign language, to primates in the wild, to that momma chimpanzee, I hope the video opens hardened hearts to these sentient beings and that they are treated more compassionately throughout the world. And how wonderful, your stone practice is, and the idea of carrying them with you. Thank you for sharing. I will share those ideas with the children in our family and others. Just thinking about holding and sharing a warmed stone in the palm of my hand gives comfort and connection to something more.
So lovely and perfectly articulated. We had gone to the beach to celebrate my Dad's 90th birthday. It was April and the moon was full. I woke around 2 a.m. and felt compelled to walk outside.
I strode on to the beach bathed in moon glow. Looking up the beach, a gentle breeze was dancing with the sand, sending little swirls as it moved down the shore. It was quiet except for the gentle thunder of surf and the murmuration of sand on sand. I don't know how long I stood transfixed in that cool light, my heart wide open with joy.
Oh Catherine, what a beautiful moment to hold in your heart. Thank you for sharing this powerful heart opening description. I can almost see the moon glow, the night air and sky, the murmur action of the water, and swirls of sand. Ah yes…these are moments that change us.
Appreciation my friend.
Thank you. Your reflections always make me take a pause and a breath. Much appreciation,
Theresa
I love this post as a reminder to stay tuned in to the potential mystical/spiritual experiences all around us. I believe these experiences can take many forms in many degrees. I don't consider myself a mystic but I would like to be and I know that this can only happen if I'm open to it and not caught up in the narrative thought-stream. Music and philosophy have helped me to sense something more. Also love the idea of gathering and carrying stones as a concrete reminder of this. Thanks for the post!
Thanks mike. Yes, music and poetry and philosophy and art can have such transcendent powers. In the context of a fine song, we see one another and sense something if not greater at least wider than ourselves. Yes. I like holding a stone in my hand, and giving it a name or memory to carry. On hard days I have carried stones that represent parts of myself that might need my nurturing…maybe a tender part that needs a little extra care. It seems like such a small thing. But the presence of those stones a lovely reminder. Wounds are real, but the presence of stories of delight, love and courage and curiously are just as real.
Dear Ones: I too hold stones. I'm holding a heart-shaped one now... and feeling my mom -blessedly still with us! - and about hope... Here is the beginning of the children's story (which I "wrote" several years ago from her telling...)
Bronia and the Bowls of Soup
My name is Bronia and I'm 90 years old. I just had a very big birthday party and thirty of my friends came to celebrate with me. I was very happy!
My life is very beautiful! I have two wonderful sons, identical twins, and two grandchildren, a boy and a girl, and I love them with all my heart.
Today, I want to tell you a story about how my life was when I was a girl. I lived with my mother Miriam and my grandmother and grandfather in a small city in Poland. My family owned a clothing store and my grandfather was one of the first people in the whole country to sell jeans.
We also sold jewelry that my father brought from places very far away. Every time he came back from one of his long trips, he always treated me to ice cream or the special wafer cookies I loved so much!
I liked going to school because I enjoyed learning new things, and also because all of my closest friends, Jewish children like me, went there too. Sometimes, I made up stories for all of us to act out. Everyone had a part to play and it was really fun!
I believe I began to love stories when I was very small. My mother took me with her to the movies or the theatre, and my grandfather told me lots of stories from the Bible about women and men who were great heroes. In my imagination, I wondered what kind and brave things I might do.
Then, when I was only ten-years-old, everything changed. One day, just after coming home from summer camp, I ate a bunch of blueberry turnovers fresh out of my grandmother's oven. Suddenly, I felt terribly sick. I had such a horrible pain in my belly I had to be taken to the hospital. I needed an operation to make me better and I was really worried I'd miss the start of school.
But the next day, it turned out, that was the least of all our troubles. Without any warning, Poland's neighbor, Germany, attacked us with thousands and thousands of soldiers and tanks and airplanes too. I was still not well, but the doctors had to send me home anyway.
We waited to see who would win the war, but in one short month our army was forced to surrender. The German soldiers had won!
Right away, they marched into our town and started beating up lots of the men. They took some of them away in trucks. That's what happened to my cousin Benny, even though he was just a few years older than me.
Everyone was very scared. We knew that the soldiers had been told by their leader, a man named Hitler, that all Jewish people were bad and dangerous. He wanted them to hurt everyone, the babies and children too, and to get rid of us once and for all if they could. This man Hitler only knew how to hate!
The soldiers closed down all the stores, including ours, and they stole as much money as they could find. Before long no one had enough food to eat.
My friend Sala came to tell me that her father was so sick he might die. He really needed to have some soup, but her family couldn't get any for him. I was very, very hungry but that made no difference to me. I knew just what I wanted to do. I took my bowl of chicken soup and brought it over to Sala's house for her father. If anything could help, I thought, it would be chicken soup!*
Love to all and joyous Thanksgiving!
* This was all I could share here... for the rest... please get in touch at zerah2@hotmail.com
Thank you Aaron for your beautiful story. I’d love to read the rest and ill send a message to the email you listed. What an amazing woman, and powerful story of family, suffering, human kindness and resilience. Yes, there is much to be carried from such of a story. Some that is hard with such grievous loss and suffering, and other parts that celebrate the dear girl that was your grandmother, the possibility and presence of dignity, courage and kindness that can happen even in the most unimaginably difficult circumstances. It is lovely that you wrote it down in a way that it could be read to a small child, to encourage and educate. I’ll look forward to the rest of the story my friend. Bronia must have been the most amazing mother and human spirit.
Your stories about stones reminds me of one of my favorite picture books, “Everybody Needs a Rock” by Byrd Baylor and illustrated by Peter Parnall. I always love finding kindred stone collecting souls.
Im going to have to look for this book. Sounds lovely.
I love this, Carrie! One of the stones you carry with you (a geode, in fact) now graces our kitchen, and every time we see it, we are reminded of the grace at the heart of your approach to life and art. Thank you!
Yep, It may have been that very geode. I love knowing that it lives at your house now. And I love that you didn’t roll you eyes (ok, roll them much) when I pulled a rock out of my bag. Some folks bring flowers or wine or something Emily Post would have given a nod. Thank you for keeping that stone with the sentiment it was given my friend.
Recalling my college age son leaving for a semester of study in Australia…the evening before we gathered with his three siblings and I held out a stone that fits right into the palm of my hand…I offered Dennis a blessing for his journey as I pressed my love into the stone., ‘when you feel alone, lost, wondering, hold the stone and we are there.” The stone was passed as each person followed this ritual. We gifted the stone to my son, who continues to carry a stone in his traveling pocket 20 years later.
“I am in love with the untamed things.”
This brilliant line from your reading today would be a perfect preamble to the Book of Genesis.
Thank you, Carrie
Buona Domenica 🔆
Thank you Mary-Claire. I think one of my favorite things about the unfolding of the creation story in the book of genesis is that Light came into the world, three days before the moon and the sun. So Im always looking for that Light that permeates the world, in the untamed things, in the people we meet, at the center of a beautiful melody.
Thank you for sharing that awesome insight. Now I have a new favorite thing about Genesis too!
p.s. I see ...and hear...that Light in you, Carrie.
Beautiful thread
Carrie...Thank you 🙏 for your musings, writing, music. I too collect stones.
What is sustaining me and breaks my heart❤️ open is your music. Enjoying “Everything Is Everywhere” with AMJAD ALIKHAN.❤️
Thank you Barbara, that is probably one of my favorite projects I’ve ever done. Im so glad you enjoy it too. And yes to all of us stone collectors :-)
Carrie your day reflection was a reminder of a practice I find meaningful. I pick up stones and drift word to place in my garden to remind me of the times I experienced when I found them. One time when after saving money for 5 years dog sitting I could take a River Cruise. My daughter went with me. We were walking down a side street in Prague. I saw a lot of loose stones and I picked up one and put it in my My daughter was horrified. I on the other hand when I see it those memories surround my heart.
Carrie the poem was lovely, but the telling of the experience wise so special.
Have a Thanksgiving filled with joy and gratitude. I am filled with joy when I read your reflections, and gratitude that you have chosen to share with us.


.
Have a lovely Thanks giving my friend. I do love the image of you picking up stones in Prague!
"I needed to stop my outward forward motion to be able to sense an inward movement.
Only then can we transcend..."
Exactly! To pause and notice the light and the moment, to breathe and let go of the mind clutter is a moment of peace.
With gratitude for this reflection and poem,
Peter