Out Like a Lamb
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Posted:May 1, 2024 2:04 pm
Last Updated:May 1, 2024 2:11 pm 39 Views
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This one is a little late, but still appropriate as we sit on the cusp of summer. Old Man Winter is still making an appearance where I am, but thankfully his visits are getting shorter and shorter.
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Our story tonight is called Out Like a Lamb, and it’s a story about the changeable month of March … and a day spent enjoying a bit of both winter and spring. It’s also about a book read in the bath, the luxury of a slow start to the day, sunlight warming the floorboards, a pot of pansies dusted with snow, and making peace with a bit of chaos, inside and out.
March is wild and ever changing. Sweet mild spring one hour, a howling gale with snow and ice the next. I liked her unpredictability; how unapologetic she was when she turned on a dime and changed herself completely in an afternoon. I’d heard once that each person is a string of DNA that would take over a century to recite, so I imagine that if we feel complicated at times, like we hold zones of temperate and inclement weather within ourselves, that they sometimes overlap and emerge on their own schedule .. well that adds up.
The morning had come in like a lion when I’d pushed aside the curtains in my bedroom. I’d found a few inches of fresh snow spread over the yard and more falling fast behind it. The winter aconite with its tiny yellow flowers that had appeared a week before around the roots of the pine trees were covered with white. While they had been beautiful, I had to admit this snowfall was as well. It slowed me down. In a real literal way. I stopped and breathed. Spent time just looking. I’d had a plan in the back of my mind to dress and head into town, to spend the morning running errands. But suddenly none of that sounded pressing or appealing. And if the roads were slick, it seemed a silly risk to take in order to return some library books and stand in line at the post office. No, I should stay tucked in at home. Bundle up and enjoy watching the snow come down.
It hadn’t really taken much time to convince myself of this. I was still standing in front of the window with the curtain in my hand. A gust of wind blew a thick wave of flakes against the pane, and I could feel the chill of it on my skin. I could get back into bed. That was always a lovely option. But I thought about another that I rarely took but would feel so good right now. A morning bath. Oh, a morning bath! It sets the perfect tone for a day when you don’t have to rush off to anything. It says, “today we are going slow.” I stepped into the bathroom and opened the tap over the tub. In the cabinets, I looked through the bottles and jars. I had some Epsom salts. Good for soaking when my body was achy as well as a jar a friend had gifted me with rose petals and grains of lavender mixed into the salts. It smelled wonderful but last time I used it I’d been picking the lavender out of my hair for a few days. Instead, I reached for the bottle of pearly bubble bath and trickled a stream of it into the steaming water. As the tub filled, I got a fresh towel and wash cloth from the linen closet, my book from the bedside table and a tall glass of water from the kitchen. It’s strange what feels indulgent to you at different stages in your life. When I was younger, I wouldn’t have been staying home to take a bath on a Saturday morning. But here I was. Maybe it’s a gift of ageing. A growing understanding of - what is enough. And the capacity to enjoy it when you have it.
In that first minute in the hot water, my mind went peacefully quiet. I wasn’t thinking much of anything, just feeling the heat and the relaxation in my muscles. I stretched out in the tub, closed my eyes. I could hear the wind blowing around the house and I thought about the squirrels and rabbits digging deeper into their dens. Curling around one another for warmth. I picked up my book and read. When the water started to feel a little cool, I just turned the hot tap back on and let it run till it was piping again. I sipped water, soaped up my washcloth, scrubbed and eventually felt ready to get out. As I reached for my giant bath towel and wrapped it around me, I had a memory of being helped out of the tub a a . Being wrapped in a warm towel and how safe and happy it had made me feel. I smiled at myself in the steamy mirror. I’d taken over that job. Of being the steward of my own happiness and safety. And while I hadn’t been very good at it at the beginning, (it had taken practice and unlearning some things along the way), I was now adept. I protected me. I was safe with me. I was happy with me.
I pulled on a robe and stepped back into the bedroom to peer out of the window. To my surprise the sun was shining and the wind had dropped to nothing. The trees stood still, dripping in the sunlight and the sidewalks were already free of snow. I cracked the window and leaned down to the sill to breathe in the air. It wasn’t warm exactly, but I thought I could smell the sunlight in it and it was inviting. As I dressed and combed my hair, the sunlight grew brighter, cutting into my rooms and warming my wood floors with its rays. By the time I was pulling on my shoes, thinking about an early lunch, all the morning snow was gone. And when I opened up my front door, bird song rang from the treetops in my yard. I chuckled at March and her changeable ways, zipped up my jacket and set out in search of something tasty. I’d been so ready to spend the day curled up at home, but now I wanted to be out in the world, enjoying the warmth till March took another left turn.
There was a cafe on the corner, built into a little brick building and their pots of pansies were still dusted with snow as I walked up and pulled open their door. They made excellent sandwiches and soups and there were always a few empty tables and booths to slide into. I found one near the front window and sat down, unzipping my jacket and letting the sun shine on my face. On special they had a roasted cauliflower sandwich with avocado and Tahini sauce, served on toasted marble rye with house made chips and ginger iced tea. It had my name all over it and after I ordered it, I sat back and watched people walking out on the street. By tonight the winter could be back in full force, icy with fresh snow or we may be headed into a few days of sun and warmth, I guess in some ways it didn’t really matter. I could find ways to enjoy whatever came.
Kathryn Nicolai
Nothing Much Happens
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Deeper Conversations
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Posted:Apr 10, 2024 9:44 am
Last Updated:Apr 15, 2024 2:22 am 1317 Views
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”Lovely days don’t come to you; you should walk to them. You’ll find them waiting in the simple joys of a morning cup of coffee, in the laughter of a friend, or in the beauty of a sunset. It’s about noticing the small moments that make life wonderful and actively seeking out the things that bring you joy. So, put on your walking shoes and step out into the world, ready to embrace each day with open arms. Because in the end, it’s often the journey to find the lovely days that makes them all the more precious.”
Rumi
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Revisiting - A Door Into Summer
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Posted:Mar 8, 2024 1:02 pm
Last Updated:May 1, 2024 4:39 pm 1420 Views
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”But I am not mad at anybody and I like now. Except that Pete is getting older, a little fatter, and not as inclined to choose a younger opponent; all too soon he must take the very Long Sleep. I hope with all my heart that his gallant little soul may find its Door Into Summer, where catnip fields abound and tabbies are complacent, and robot opponents are programmed to fight fiercely - but always lose - and people have friendly laps and legs to strop against, but never a foot that kicks.”
Robert A. Heinlein
The Door Into Summer
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Sore Eyes
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Posted:Feb 23, 2024 4:26 pm
Last Updated:Mar 8, 2024 1:11 pm 1906 Views
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”If you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day, so I never have to live without you.”
I felt like a pool drained on the last day of summer
So lonely to sing leads when your band needs a drummer
Had a bloodshot look, had a lovesick head
Didn’t know I missed you until we met
What a sweet relief in an often bitter life
You’re such a sight for sore eyes
Like waiting up all night for sunrise
I might be blinded if I stare
But baby I don’t think that I care
You’re just my type
You’re such a sight for sore eyes
Woke up in the fast lane and the gas tank was empty
I would drive all night, I would drive all day
If it means I might get to see your face
It’s an ugly place but you make it feel alright
You’re such a sight for sore eyes
Like waiting up all night for the sunrise
I might be blinded if I stare
But baby I don’t think that I care
You’re just my type
You’re such a sight for
Yeah, I was so bored
Yeah, I wanted more
My eyes were so sore before you
A sleep with no dream
A ship with no shore
My eyes were so sore before you
I felt like a pool drained on the last day of summer
You’re such a sight for sore eyes
Like waiting up all night for sunrise
I might be blinded if I stare
But baby I don’t think that I care
You’re just my type
You’re such a sight for sore eyes
Sore Eyes
Babygirl
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Mix Tape
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Posted:Feb 23, 2024 4:00 pm
Last Updated:May 1, 2024 4:39 pm 1712 Views
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Our story tonight is called Mix Tape. And it’s a story about a box of memories tangled up with songs. It’s also about the messages we send with the tracks we pick out, new batteries in an old Walkman and finding the music that helps you find yourself.
There was an art to it. The first song had to be really, really good. It needed to pull you in and lay the framework for the mood you were attempting to build. But the second song had to be even better. It had to surprise the listener who had assumed that all the magic had been spent on the first track. Then it would pull back a bit, a song with less punch but more poetry. Maybe something a little odd, but catchy. And then a song you hadn’t heard in ages but loved and remembered every word of. With room for one more song on the first side of the tape it was time for another heavy hitter, something that would be rewound and played again before the cassette was flipped. Then the second side called for some nostalgia. Slower songs. Harmonies that you felt inside your chest when you sang along. The whole thing was of course a message of some sort. Shared favourites for growing a friendship. Showing off your taste or prowess as a curator, but very often it was a kind of covert love letter. And the second side was the best place to slip in a song or two that showed your heart. It was all deniable if need be. They were just songs. But they weren’t. And finding the one (or two) that might make the listener, with their headphones pressed against their ears, their Walkman clutched in one hand as they crossed campus, stop and wonder … or smile. Well, that was the point of it all.
If you were really going to go all out, you named the mix and scrawled it out on the label stuck to the tape, something enigmatic and impressive sounding, or a scrap of an inside joke that reminded them of how you’d laughed together. You might even design a cover, some hand drawn art or a photo that had gone through the copier and come out a bit streaky. But that only added to the effect. Then folding it just so, so it would mimic the J-card that usually sat in the hinged plastic case. Did you write anything inside the cover? How brave were you? Did you just write out the play list? Or maybe you wanted them to discover it one song at a time. That’s how I liked to do it. It kept the mystery and hopefully weaved a sort of spell as it went from one track to another.
I’d forgotten just how much thought went into those mixes. Almost forgotten about the idea of cassette tapes at all, until I found a shoe box full on a shelf in the basement. It was inside a bigger box full of things I’d cleaned out of my car. That car that had just barely gotten me through the last two years of high school and the first two of college. I couldn’t remember what kind it had been except that it was red and while it didn’t start reliably and the heat was hit or miss in the winter, it had a moon roof which I thought was the fanciest thing I’d ever seen. That box of cassettes, when I’d pulled off the top and looked down into the mess of them, had brought back a flood of memories. Some were tapes I’d bought at the music store and I remembered standing in front of the rack of new music figuring out if I could afford more than one … and if it was going to be just one, which one? I thought about how we’d listened to the same tapes over and over, how you could come to know the songs in order and when the flip to Side B would be.
In the box were a few very beat up cases that had been carried in back pockets and book bags, passed back and forth at lunch and traded for weeks at a time. I swung open a few cases and took out the liner notes to read what the artists had written. Some were just lyrics and others had pictures of the band, drawings and quotes. These had felt so meaningful, so special when I’d opened them for the first time. There is something about finding the music that feels like it was written for you when you’re growing up. You’re trying on different ideas and styles and when something fits you down to your bones, it might be the first time you feel like you belong. That changes a lot. It’s no wonder we made these mixes with such care. They were a way of asking if we belonged with each other.
In the bottom of the box, past the tapes I’d bought from the music store were the mix tapes. Most of them were loose, without cases, just a few words scratched out on the label, and suddenly I had to hear them again. I went through the boxes in the shelves around me. There must be a tape player somewhere here. I’d had a stereo that had a record player built into its top, an AM/FM dial in the middle and two tape decks on the bottom that let you record from one tape right onto the other, the height of technology at the time. But that had been sold in a garage sale when I was still in high school. I found a flat, black tape deck with a microphone attached and a bright red RECORD button and remembered that for a while folks would make all sorts of recordings with devices like these. We’d just talk into them as if they were our diaries. We’d record family histories or tape birthday parties to play back later. Though I can’t imagine that was ever actually done much. Beside it, in the same box was exactly what I needed. My Walkman. Bright yellow and with the headphones still plugged in.
I rushed to the kitchen drawer for a couple of batteries and settled on the sofa with the Walkman and the box of tapes. I played a few I’d made myself. Songs for driving with the windows rolled down, Songs for amping myself up before a test or audition. Songs for a broken heart. I found some in the handwriting of my best friend. Funny how you don’t forget how someone writes their “e’s” or “m’s”. These songs made me smile and tap my toes on the living room rug, remembering how we’d listened, stretched out on one of our beds on Friday night, talking for hours and eating bowls of popcorn, ‘til one of our parents got fed up with the music and told us to pack it in for the night.
Finally (and maybe I’d been saving it since I’d first spotted it in the bottom of the box), I played a tape whose case was still carefully preserved. The tape had my name written in red ink on the label. “FOR YOU FROM ME” it said. I turned the cassette over in my hands a time or two. I’d played it so many times that it was probably near worn out but I hoped it would play at least once more. I flipped it to Side A and slid it carefully into my Walkman and pressed play.
Kathryn Nicolai
Nothing Much Happens
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Time Passages
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Posted:Jan 29, 2024 3:05 pm
Last Updated:Feb 25, 2024 8:51 am 3196 Views
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”At my age, you recognize the poignancy of time passing. Seventy resonates, letting you know for sure that there are not as many years remaining as you’ve already consumed. I take great satisfaction in accepting that regardless of how many more suns are left - the rising each time has been worth it.”
Oprah Winfrey - reflecting on her 70th birthday
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Water
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Posted:Jan 21, 2024 1:09 pm
Last Updated:Jan 22, 2024 6:32 pm 4724 Views
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”In those days, I didn’t understand anything. I should have judged her according to her actions, not her words. She perfumed my planet and lit up my life. I should never have run away! I ought to have realized the tenderness underlying her silly pretensions. Flowers are so contradictory! But I was too young to know how to love her.”
Make me sweat, make me hotter
Make me lose my breath, make me water
Make me sweat, make me hotter
Make me lose my breath, make me water
Normally
I can keep my cool, but tonight I’m wildin’
Imma be, yeah
In a dangerous mood, can you match my timing?
Mm-mm, telling me
That you really ‘bout it, why try hide it? Oh
Talk is cheap, so show me
That you understand how I like it
Can you blow my mind?
Set off my whole body
If I give you my time
Can you snatch my soul from me?
I don’t wanna wait, come take it
Take me where I ain’t been before
Can you blow my mind?
Set off my whole body
Whole body
Make me sweat, make me hotter
Make me lose my breath, make me water
Make me sweat, make me hotter
Make me lose my breath, make me water
Hopefully
You can last all night, don’t get too excited (ooh)
Oh, privacy
You ain’t gotta go nowhere, you can stay inside it
Can you blow my mind? Oh
Set off my whole body
If I give you my time (if I give you my time)
Can you snatch my soul from me?
I don’t wanna wait, come take it
Take me where I ain’t been before (before)
Can you blow my mind? (Blow my mind)
Set off my whole body
Whole body
Make me sweat (make), make me hotter
Make me lose my breath, make me water
Make me sweat (make me), make me hotter
Make me lose my breath, make me water (make me sweat)
Make me sweat, make me hotter
Make me lose my breath, make me water
Make me sweat (make me sweat), make me hotter
Make me lose my breath, make me water
Make me sweat (make), make me hotter
Make me lose my breath, make me water
Make me sweat, make me hotter
Make me lose my breath, make me water
Water
Tyla
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Houdini
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Posted:Jan 21, 2024 12:30 pm
Last Updated:Jan 22, 2024 6:33 pm 2914 Views
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”Houdini” is the first single from Dua Lipa’s third studio album. The track kickstarted Dua’s new era and was first alluded to on October 27 2023 - after deleting all of her Instagram posts, Dua posted a cryptic teaser on social media of her mouth holding a small golden key between her teeth, paired with the caption “catch me or I go…”
The post was deleted two days later and the singer shared a new video instead of it. It portrayed Dua with the key now inside of her mouth with the caption “I’m not here for long.” It provided the first glimpse at the song’s sound, with a snippet of the song playing in the background. On October 31, the teaser was also deleted and yet another teaser video with a snippet was posted. The last frames of the video showed the numbers “4 8 9 9 14 15 21.” Soon enough fans figured out the numbers converted to the alphabet letters “D H I I N O U,” which when rearranged spelled out the song’s title.
The song’s release date marks the anniversary of Harry Houdini’s death, the famous illusionist noted for his escape acts. Another allusion to Houdini’s escape acts is the key seen in Dua’s mouth in all of the teasers, as the magician’s wife would frequently give him the key to his handcuffs through a kiss.
Having said all that (and all that aside) .. I just think it’s a kick as* song that’s perfect for a Sunday afternoon workout.
I come and I go
Tell me all the ways you need me
I’m not here for long
Catch me or I go Houdini
I come and I go
Prove you got the right to please me
Everybody knows
Catch me or I go Houdini
Time is passin’ like a solar eclipse
See you watchin’ and you blow me a kiss
It’s your moment baby, don’t let it slip
Come in closer, are you readin’ my lips?
They say I come and I go
Tell me all the ways you need me
I’m not here for long
Catch me or I go Houdini
I come and I go
Prove you got the right to please me
Everybody knows
Catch me or I go Houdini
If you’re good enough, you’ll find the way
Maybe you could cause a girl to change (her ways)
Do you think about it night and day?
Maybe you could be the one to make me stay
Everything you say is soundin’ so sweet
But do you practice everything that you preach?
Tell me something that I’ll really believe
If you got it baby give it to me
They say I come and I go
Tell me all the ways you need me
I’m not here for long
Catch me or I go Houdini
I come and I go
Prove you got the right to please me
Everybody knows
Catch me or I go Houdini
If you’re good enough you’ll find the way
Maybe you could cause a girl to change (her ways)
Do you think about it night and day?
Maybe you could be the one to make me stay
I come and I go
Tell me all the ways you need me
I’m not here for long
Catch me or I go Houdini
I come and I go
Prove you got the right to please me
Everybody knows
Catch me or I go Houdini
Houdini
Catch me or I go Houdini
Houdini
Dua Lipa
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Stranger in a Strange Land
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Posted:Jan 10, 2024 6:02 pm
Last Updated:Mar 8, 2024 1:13 pm 6240 Views
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Anybody can look at a pretty girl and see a pretty girl. An artist can look at a pretty girl and see the old woman she will become. A better artist can look at an old woman and see the pretty girl that she used to be. But a great artist .. a master .. and that is what Auguste Rodin was .. can look at an old woman, portray her exactly as she is - and force the viewer to see the pretty girl she used to be .. and more than that, he can make anyone with the sensitivity of an armadillo (or even you), see that this lovely young girl is still alive, not old and ugly at all, but simply imprisoned inside her ruined body. He can make you feel the quiet, endless tragedy that there was never a girl born who ever grew older than eighteen in her heart .. no matter what the merciless hours have done to her.
Robert A. Heinlein
Stranger in a Strange Land
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9
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Forever Young
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Posted:Dec 31, 2023 11:33 am
Last Updated:Jan 2, 2024 7:24 am 14783 Views
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TO BE A
It is to have a SPIRIT SHINING through everyday
It is to BELIEVE in LOVE
To BELIEVE in BELIEF
To WALK BAREFOOT in the PARK
To CATCH A BUTTERFLY - then SET IT FREE
It is to be so LITTLE, that ELVES can WHISPER in your ear
It is to turn PUMPKINS into COACHES
MICE into HORSES
LOWNESS into LOFTINESS
And NOTHING into EVERYTHING
It is to PICK the first DANDELION
That GLOWS IN THE SUN
To SWING to the TOP OF THE TREES just for FUN
To TASTE the FIRST SNOWFLAKE
To PLAY with the HOSE
To JUMP in the PUDDLES
And WIGGLE your TOES
So go RUN IN THE SUNSHINE
And WALK IN THE RAIN
And RE-LIVE YOUR CHILDHOOD
ALL OVER AGAIN!
HAPPY NEW YEAR - MAY 2024 BLESS YOU ALL WITH ABUNDANCE, GOOD HEALTH AND ABIDING LOVE
Catherine Simpson
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