I love seeing how other people live around the world so in that spirit I caught a few pictures of the flat we rented in Rome to share with you. The white walls were so nice. The white sofa….less nice. I think I am officially over my white slipcover obsession. Ok not really but they'd need daily washing in my world and I AM over that.
It was a wonderful sunny bright space. Definitely Euro-sized but fabulous for our needs.
(elevator going down past the window and from the front, entering)
We have been in Rome and my camera card and my brain are both completely full up at the moment. Such a different world. Maybe that is a continuing thread weaving through my life right now.
There was a discussion I overheard recently about population – over population specifically. Two individuals were debating the data, one completely certain that space and resources were nearly gone and the other that vast open spaces still existed and that people were being paid to leave fields lie fallow or to dump harvests to boost markets. It turned out that one of them lived in one of the world's most populated cities and did not see even a patch of grass from his apartment. The other looked out onto the open prairie.
Perspective.
They were both right, in speaking about their own realities, but could not speak well to each other's. This is the irony of living I guess, the challenge of it. How do we come together and see out of another's window? To look at things from a different angle. To incorporate that perspective into our framework of truth. This is my personal challenge right now. To hear more, care more, and speak less. To focus less on being right and focus more on being there.
I will come up short. Guaranteed. Still, I left Rome certain about embracing some Franciscan ideals: To watch thoughtfully enough to actually see. To listen for the things that aren't said.
Just this, because every time I come back to these it makes me smile. Such strength. Such a blessing to come so close to majesty in ordinary moments.
"Give me a simple heart which will not retire within itself to savor its own sorrows, a heart magnanimous in giving itself, easily moved to compassion, a faithful, generous heart, which does not forget any favor received, nor hold resentment for any injuries done to it. Make my heart meek and humble, quick to forgive and capable of bearing tranquilly all opposition, a heart which will love without expecting love in return, content to vanish in the hearts of others, sacrificing itself before the heavenly Father, a great and indomitable heart, that no ingratitude can close."
Happy Sunday
“The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere where they can be quite alone with the heavens, nature and God. Because only then does one feel that all is as it should be and that God wishes to see people happy, amidst the simple beauty of nature. As longs as this exists, and it certainly always will, I know that then there will always be comfort for every sorrow, whatever the circumstances may be. And I firmly believe that nature brings solace in all troubles.” Anne Frank
Go outside. Get your feet wet. All is as it should be. : )
“Each golden day was cherished to the full, for one had the feeling that each must be the last. Tomorrow it would be winter.” - Elizabeth Enright
It's that. And it's more than that. This changing season feels more than just a turn of the weather sometimes.
I spent this whole day at home. It was the first in many, many days although the journeys out have been wonderful. There has been lots of listening lately. Old friends, new friends, passing acquaintance, sweet children making big lives. Whispered wishes, tentative plans, bitter regrets all mingling and mixing and floating in the air. By days' end sometimes you need to just let all those words settle down into your heart, rather than stirring them up. So it's been quiet over here in this space.
We went to a house party a few days back and I found myself between a former Russian actress and her Irish husband. He told me stories about working as a UN aid worker, being taken captive in Beirut years ago, about how that thing where they put a gun to your head and they shoot and it turns out to be a blank and you're still alive? How that happens for real.
The actress? Oh my. At 68, she has outlived two husbands and still has the energy of a teenager. She lit up the room with her tales, each more improbable than the last and all likely true. Then she demanded to know everyone's birthdates being, among a dozen other things, an armchair astrologer. She came to mine, looked me in the eye and said in her thick accent ahh, so you're on the cusp.
I do not follow the stars for my fate but yes, she was onto one thing for sure. The cusp. The point of transition between two different states, Webster says. I am trusting it is, as always, the verge of good. That the seasons of our lives are marching along in their intended order. That it's all just a change in the type of beautiful.
That these are golden days and should be cherished to the full.
God Hath not promised
Skies always blue,
Flower strewn pathways
All our lives through.
God hath not promised
Sun without rain,
Joy without sorrow,
Peace without pain.
But God hath promised
Strength for the day,
Rest for the labor,
Light for the way,
Grace for the trials,
Help from above,
Unfailing sympathy,
Undying love.
Things seen from the car window…
“See the world. It's more fantastic than any dream made or paid for in factories. Ask for no guarantees, ask for no security.”
Ray Bradbury, Farenheit 451
Since I don't quite fit into the available memes and am notoriously erratic posting these things, we bring you books and bites this week. Maybe we shall do this again. Maybe I will flake out and not. Disclaimer – either scenario is entirely possible.
A stretch for this culinarily-challenged chick the gyro meatballs and sauce from the Against All Grain cookbook which I heart. (The recipe is here in burger form. Same same though) It's been a very long time since I have had lamb but this was a surprising hit here. I have no pic of the zoodles on my plate which is ok because the spiralizer is not here yet so my zoodles are less than photogenic. But yum nonetheless.
In reading news I am working through the boys' book report boys with gusto so we can discuss as they go. This month it is The Singing Tree for Kieran and Lilies of the Field for Aidan. The Singing Tree is the second "children's" book I have read in recent months and ended up laughing and crying my way through. This one however hits rather close to home having a son in the military in an unstable world. Sometimes it seems we have not progressed all that much from 1914 to 2014. Anyway, a very good read.
Lilies of the Field is on deck tomorrow. I admit my only reference is Sidney Poitier. We shall fix that. Upside of waiting this long to read it is that I have recently lived in Germany. Aidan can read the dialect lines quite well. ; )
Just a handful of shots with this little man on the farm tonight. Am backlogged and should be sharing those images piling up but humor me. It's a late September sunset with a boy who is so very nearing the end of little boyhood and moving into middle boyhood. So that's where I am tonight, trying to freeze these moments of my last "little" boy.
Starry Sky Journal 