Standing in line at Whole Foods

I’ve been mentally revisiting an interaction I had recently.  An interaction that still has me smiling.  A few days ago, I was standing in line at Whole Foods. There were three lines, already with single customers, and I just picked the first one. After a few seconds of standing, the signal for the customer in the third line came on, and so that person headed off to a register. This left that third line empty. This all unfolded on the periphery of my right eye’s line of sight. I noticed it but didn’t think too much of it. Now, the guy in line #2 looked at the newly vacated spot, and then looked over in my direction. A few seconds later, new customers joined the line and stood directly behind him, leaving line #3 still empty. When I finally made eye contact with the guy, he encouragingly gestured his head towards the empty line in a manner that had me laughing and appreciating his sweetness. I laughed because it reminded me of the head gesture the guitarist gives Rivers Cuomo in the Weezer video, Perfect Situation— the one that encourages Rivers to come out on stage to sing. And it was sweet, because it was. He didn’t have to signal to me, but he did. And this meant I was now third in line to be called to the register as opposed to fourth. It’s funny sometimes the things that stay with us :)

Two Perspectives on a Subway Platform

While waiting on the subway platform with the after work crowd, I glanced over just in time to see a little girl and boy engaged in play.  The little girl, her hair in two ponytails— one slightly askew, wore a bright orange coat, and had a lollipop in her mouth.  The little boy, his gaze primarily downwards, yet no less exuberant,  wore his dark, straight as rain hair in a bowl cut.  Both looked to be around 5 years of age.  Being the only little ones in the loosely assembled crowd, and being the only ones engaged in what appeared to be a circle chase game of round and round, they immediately drew my attention.

I watched them go round and round, much joy evident in their chase. But they also appeared to be delighted with themselves— such was the glee that sang through their movements, their giggling, their expressions. I couldn’t help but happily bear witness and share in their delight. 

Next, having made their way through the turnstiles, came their two adult guardians. 

The adults, albeit quietly, kept trying to get the children to stop.  Arms outstretched, they kept making corralling movements— attempting to round them up into a contained corner.  Their focus was clearly on making sure they didn’t rush towards the platform edge next to the train tracks. 

As an observer, there was something to be said for being able to see both perspectives. I could feel the innocence and delight in the children’s joy and at the same time understand the guardians’ protective inclinations.  

Last I saw, as the subway train pulled into the station, the kids had stopped the circling chase game and replaced it with what appeared to be a dancing game. And as they grooved to the music most often heard only by the young, the adults, still maintaining vigilance, relaxed their attempts at corralling .

Poem: What I Would Have Said Before You Went Away (Jen Leo Renaud, RIP)

To you, my dear, navigating heartfelt pain, the kind that has you feeling wrecked,

has you feeling tied down, lying on the floor in the darkest of rooms, has you feeling besieged on all sides by your demons and worst fears— and your demons’ worst fears, has you feeling crippled, anxious, trapped in the quicksand of a seemingly never ending bottomless grief, I am so sorry. I wish I could help you understand the why. I wish I could help you heal the pain. I wish. Please know I’m standing next to you. Enveloping you in my heart. Loving you through this— no matter how long this, and remember, please remember, we’ve overcome before. Both you and I, somehow, we’ve overcome. So, “Mourn. Cry. Rage. Storm!” But also allow, give permission, be open to seeing the slivers of healing, softly, piercing through the curtains. Your grief is valid, Your pain is valid, And so is your healing.

Poem: A Shoutout to the Healers

To the givers,
the ones who do the kind thing.
Even when stressed,
the dependables,
whose instinct is to help beings
and do.
Even when it comes out gruff,
there’s never truly any doubt of intent
as you see the act through.
But especially
to the ones growing
into healthy boundary setters,
adding your peace of heart plus mind
into the equation too, thank you.
Thank you
for all the caring you do for others.
And thank you
for starting to care for you.
(Cheering. You. On. Xx)

French

Sitting on the subway train on my commute home, some French speaking passengers board and suddenly it hits me, in aural technicolor, how very sexy the language does sound 🤔Or maybe it was the confidence and joy evidenced in the musicality of their speech coupled with the energy of their exchange😜

A few stops later, after they’d exited, I glanced up to see a young man reading a book.  It was a learning how to speak French book!

Poem: A New Day Dawns— Cheering. You. On. Xx

“Places! Places!” The morning birds call out.

A new day dawns on the earth stage.

Improvisational skills, to varying degrees, at the ready,

Scripts in hand,

We take our places,

Await our cues.

In some parts we are the writers, re-writers, Director, crew.

In some parts we are the leads,

In some parts, seemingly, volunteer extras.

We’ll play our part though.

We’ll do it to the best of our abilities.

Cheering. You. On. Xx

Poem: If You Can Speak Up?

If you can speak up?

Speak up. And speak loud.

Some of us have laryngitis.

Some of us, too proud.

Some of us, afraid, uncertain.

Some of us, no words

but searching 

for a way to express 

the niggling in our chest.

So when you appear,

giving voice to a recognized fear,

you speak up for you

but if in your truth I share,

you speak up for me, too,

making the journey of healing

a shared affair.

So, if you can speak up?

Taking a step towards healing?

Humanity benefits

when all share in that feeling.

If you can speak up?

Speak up. And speak loud. 

Poem: Healing

What if healing, like Waldo, was always on the scene?
And in this believing,
heartfelt before the seeing?
What if healing, like Waldo, is always on the scene?
But instead of looking outside,
we carefully looked within?
What if?

Music

Music. The amazing power of music! I’ve watched folks getting their dance on, singing/lip singing with all the passion of the original artists, be so taken over— so moved, so full-filled by the music playing that they just can’t care what anyone else looking on is thinking. That was me this morning with some Jon Secada. Grooving in my seat in the subway car, watching the video, cheering him on when he burst into that church! I couldn’t help myself 😊 Music. The magic that is music. What a gift♥️ I’m so elated to live in a world with so much music, such an aural, all you can eat buffet that gives my spirit exactly what it needs when I make the  connection. I hope your day is full of glorious music♥️

Poem: I Once Stapled a Piece of Paper to my Finger

I once stapled a piece of paper to my finger.

It wasn’t on purpose.

A sixth sense registered it was about to happen 

but action, already set in motion, demanded I see it through to fruition.

And, perhaps because of the forewarning, when the staple pierced my skin,

I didn’t cry out,

rationalizing,

it would have felt excessive. Melodramatic.

But in the years since, 

when I think back, 

in random moments such as this,

if I could go back in time,

to that instant moment after,

even with knowing what was about to happen,

maybe I would cry out,

so as not to shortchange me of the vocal experience 😬😜😊

Poem: Evening Beckons

Pearlescent white clouds softens in evening 

gentling the empath in me.

The strains, stresses and chaos of the day, forgiven, almost forgotten, 

as I breathe in the peace

transforming into honey

flowing through my veins.

Gratitude, instinctive,

before consciousness drops in.

Gratitude, recognized,

prolongs the feeling.