Packing for a Trip: Thursday's Reflection

I don't like packing to go on a trip.

There's just too much to consider. The weather. The number of days. Our plans--where we are going, who we will see and what we will do.  And what happens if I spill or get something dirty, as I am apt to do?

And then the accessories. The right shoes. Will we be doing lots of walking? Well, then comfort is the most important thing. I'm someone who likes variety, and I like what I wear to match--at least to some degree. And I don't like wrinkles. Oh, the wardrobe woes! 

The bottom line is that I feel better, if I think I look ok, presentable. 

So I stand in my closet and I pull out possible outfits. I sort and I toss. I fold and then I reconsider and rehang those pants and this top. Maybe this blouse would be better. And I can always wear my trusty jean jacket, if it gets cool. 

And will I have enough toothpaste and shampoo? How often will I need to wash my hair? On a recent trip I forgot mascara. I look invisible without mascara, I think. Oh well, I survived. I usually forget at least one thing, but rarely does it matter. I know that, but still...

Do I want to stay home to avoid my packing phobia? No, of course, not, but a maid, like one in Downton Abbey, would be nice.
      "Might I suggest the pink frock, Madam, and your
       long strand of pearls? You'll look stunning at Lord and
       Lady X's dinner."

And, of course, this imaginary maid would do the actual packing. Neatly and precisely. 

I may not be a good packer, but I am excellent unpacker. We came home from a couple days away recently and within 45 minutes everything was unpacked--washer was swirling with dirty clothes, and unused or still clean were hanging in their assigned spots. I had emptied the cooler, read the mail, and made a grocery list. All was restored, for the art of resettlement is one of my gifts. 

Of course, in-between the packing and the unpacking is what is most important. This is a month of short trips to spend time with friends and family. In fact, soon we will be on the road again for the next round of reconnecting with loved ones. My wardrobe woes will fade into the background, and I will quickly remember what makes my dreaded packing indecisiveness worth it. 

A confession: writing this post has been a distraction. I have not finished packing and we leave in a few minutes. 
              "Madam," says my invisible maid, "don't forget
              your pajamas."

An Invitation
What is your least favorite part of traveling? I would love to know. 

NOTE: I am going to be away from the garret for awhile and more than likely won't be posting till early July. 

Traveling Mercies: Tuesday's Reflection

Together Last Summer

Today our son and daughter-in-love arrive from Cleveland to spend the Thanksgiving holidays with us. Their flight is due early afternoon, and I am eagerly awaiting the call that they have landed safely, and we can pick them up. I will do the happy dance when we are together again.

All morning I will whisper "traveling mercies" under my breath, hoping all will be well as our loved ones head toward us. 

I pray "traveling mercies" for all who are on the road or in the air this week. Or crossing borders of any kind. 

The writer Anne Lamott titled one of her books Traveling Mercies, Some Thoughts on Faith, saying when someone in her church goes away for awhile, they are offered this blessing. "Traveling mercies: love the journey, God is with you, come home safe and sound."  

How simple and clear this is. And perhaps it is all we ever really need. 

            To love the journey -- yes, a specific trip, but our 

            whole life. The journey that is our life. 

            To know God is with us. No matter where. No matter 

            when. No matter what.

            To come home safe and sound. To come home to

            ourselves, the essence of who we were created to be. 

We are all travelers and all travel is sacred. We all need traveling mercies wherever we are on the journey. May all be well. 

                   May you travel in an awakened way,

                   Gathered wisely into your inner group;

                   That you may not waste the invitations

                   Which wait along the way to transform you.

                    May you travel safely, arrive refreshed,

                    And live your time away to its fullest;

                    Return home more enriched, and free

                    To balance the gift of days which call you. 

                                               John O'Donohue

                                               To Bless the Space Between Us

                                               A Book of Blessings

An Invitation

If you are traveling or if others are traveling to you this week, what do you need for this time to be holy time, sacred time? 

Seeing Friends: Thursday's Reflections

Time with son Geof and Daughter-in-Love Cricket

My husband and I recently returned from a two week road trip to the East Coast and back. 3300 miles in our blue Jeep Liberty. Time for another oil change. 

Mileage is only one way to measure the trip, however. Another way might be to list all the things we saw and did while we were gone or how many photographs we took, but this was not a trip about sightseeing or adventure or checking off items on a bucket list. This was a trip to see people we love, to be in their presence and to get a taste for the life they are each living. 

I admit I am a bit of a reluctant traveler, and it is hard for me to tear myself away from home. I had a good writing rhythm this summer, and while a few days away to refresh and restore, to reboot, seemed like a good idea, I was hesitant to interrupt the flow for very long. I love my days in the garret. I love my loop of life. I love the mix in my life of people and activity, alongside the solitude of writing, reading, and praying time. 

Some people eagerly plan their next trip. We have many in our life who are passionate travelers, and when they are on one exciting trip, they plot the next one. Their calendars fill with travel plans, and they move through the seasons as they move through different countries. When talking with these inveterate travelers I wonder sometimes if I am closed to new opportunities or possibilities or if I am merely dull. Sure, there are places I would like to visit or revisit, like Paris or the English countryside, but for the most part I am content. 

Where I am passionate, however, is remaining connected with the people in my life. And that was the reason for this trip. 

We spent an evening with friends who have recently been touched by a major health challenge and are confronting how this changes their life. We spent time with our son and daughter-in-love who love their life in Cleveland, but are at a stage when they wonder if it is time to explore other work possibilities. We spent time with friends in the Boston area who have moved there from Cleveland to live near a daughter and her family. He was in the early stage of recovery from major shoulder surgery. She had similar surgery only months before. After too long a time to sell their home, they are now beautifully settled in a condo and while there are challenges where they live, they are happy with their decision. 


We spent time with friends who have relocated from Wisconsin to the Chesapeake Bay area in Maryland, also to be near a daughter. He is able to continue working for his same firm, which has an office in Washington DC, but now that the house is happily and radiantly settled and they have slipped right into life in a charming and active small town, she is wondering about her next step. 

As I look back on these separate encounters over good food and wine, I realize how these relationships are part of the sacred text in my life, and how important it is to continue adding chapters and verses to the text. 

In Madison we had a chance to see for ourselves how our friends are doing, given the health scare they have experienced. In Cleveland we were part of a backyard party on our children's block and met people who are important to them, including their adorable goddaughter. In Massachusetts our friends' daughter and her husband invited us for dinner, and we gathered around the table with them and four of their five children. We delighted in the banter, the activity of this busy household, and have a better sense of why our friends made the move from the known to the unknown. Thanks to the House Party atmosphere our gracious hosts in Maryland created, we now have four new friends who were also there visiting. We learned about generosity and hospitality and the gift of enlarging one's circle. 

How wonderful it would be if all the people I love lived right here. If that were the case I wouldn't have to face one of my least favorite tasks--packing. Each gathering over the course of the two weeks, however, was a time to strengthen the bonds of friendship and love. And to give thanks for their presence in our lives. Because we have had this face-to-face time, we have a better awareness of their lives, what is important to them, the joys and the gifts, along with their current challenges and questions. We broke bread with each of these dear ones, and their names are forever written in the sacred book of our lives. 

An Invitation

What is currently being written on the sacred text of your life? I would love to know.   

Home Again! Tuesday's Reflection

After two weeks of being on the road, visiting our son and daughter-in-love in Cleveland, friends near Boston, and friends in Chestertown, Maryland, the vagabonds unlocked their front door and crossed the threshold back to life at home. 

Earlier on our last day on the road my husband asked me if being away had given me any ideas about changes I might want to make in our home decor. He was asking out of experience, for being away seems to give me space to re-imagine and envision. Plus, when we are on the road I always take a stack of home decor magazines barely browsed, and reading those, while glancing frequently at the passing scenery, encourages possible new arrangements and adaptions. I go through in my mind an inventory of what I have waiting for me in cupboards and bins. 

"Yes," I answer, "I am thinking about removing the cream slipcovers from the living room wingback chairs." Doing that would expose the deliberately faded flower look of the fabric underneath. On vacation I had read a new novel Circling the Sun by Paula McClain about the aviator Beryl Markham who was friends with Karen Blixen and whose lover was Denys Finch Hatton, all of "Out of Africa" fame. That movie influenced my fabric choice when I had the chairs and a couch reupholstered over 20 years ago. It is still in good shape, and I wondered if it might be time for that look again. The rugs and other chairs and lamps would look just as good with the busier floral look, I imagined. 

I had other thoughts--moving the chair in the entry to our bedroom and storing for awhile the one currently in there. A new duvet for the bed, and the lamps in there are really too small. Oh, and I want to go through our pictures from our trip from Paris and have a couple printed in black and white and framed for the first floor bathroom. 

None of this is major and after being in other homes the last two weeks, I felt inspired to look at ours with fresh eyes again. I like that part of traveling. 

But then we walked in the front door, and I was overwhelmed by a sense of not just familiarity, but more than that--a feeling of perfect contentment. I love the look we have created. Calm and yet interesting. A place for books and art. Personal with things we love, but not too fussy. It felt fresh to me and not just because I had cleaned before we left. (I love returning to a clean home--at least cleaning is not on my re-entry list!) How quickly I re-bonded to our home, just the way it is.

As I reflect on this, I realize my contentment is not just because the house is perfect or that I am a rock star decorator (I'm not!), but   instead I have made a shift in how I most want to spend my time. It has taken a long time to get here. First, we waited to sell our home in Madison and then we went through the initial stages of downsizing and redecorating this little house for our taste and making some functional changes here as well, such as new windows and air conditioning. 

I have no intention of ignoring the care and tending of this house, but this seems to be my time to rest with what we have and to focus on other creative and spiritual pursuits, writing, leading retreats, and meeting with others in spiritual direction. How lucky I am to be able to do this in the context of a home that feeds my soul. 

I won't be pulling off the slipcovers, but I probably will look for new bedroom lamps whenever I am in the mood. And I am eager to open the bins of fall decorations--velvet pumpkins for the living room and vintage Halloween candles for the window ledge in the kitchen. After all, I don't intend to live in a Miss Havisham kind of house, preserved for posterity. But this is home--just as it is. 

An Invitation
How have your attitudes about your home changed over the years? What gives you most pleasure in your home? What does your home say about you? When you make a change in your house, what internal reflections does that spark? I would love to know. 

What Have You Been Missing? Thursday's Reflection

Don't ask me where we got the idea, but yesterday, my husband and I and two good buddies decided we needed a Donut Day. Research was done. Four (yes, four) stops were selected and an itinerary was prepared. A scoring system with four categories (taste, texture, creativity/presentation, and ambience) was designed, and off we went. 

Fun! Pure sugary fun! 

Here's what we discovered: Simple is best. We liked the ambience of two "hip" bakeries, which, of course, were the most expensive, and it was fun to be in the know about where to go in Minneapolis and St Paul. But when it comes to taste and texture, give us the non fussy, back to the basics of the donut world. Perfection is a glazed donut at Mel-O-Glaze and cinnamon sugar or powdered sugar cake donuts at The Baker's Wife. Yum!


Now here's the surprise. We have been driving by Mel-O-Glaze for years and have never stopped. We had no idea. This neighborhood bakery has been in business for decades, located in our loop of life, and we have never checked it out. To think of what we have been missing all these years! 

What have you been missing that is practically in your back yard?

We have a number of friends who travel widely and passionately, and we love hearing about their adventures. We have done our share of big trips, which we have loved, but we tend to travel just as passionately, but more narrowly. Trips that don't require a passport or weeks of making arrangements for someone to water the yard and take in the mail, or long plane trips leaving us with jet lag. Sure, there are distant places I would love to visit or revisit, but wow, I had never been to Mel-O-Glaze before, and it is only minutes away.  

Perhaps it is because we have lived in a number of places in our adult life and my childhood years included several moves, but Bruce and I have always been tourists in our own back yard. We love nothing better than roaming, sometimes with a specific destination, but sometimes just heading out with the platte book at hand and seeing what we see. Museums and interesting little shops, and scenic overlooks, and cornfields, and small town cafes and views into how people live and work. Now that we have moved back to St Paul, we are enjoying getting to know it all over again, including places we missed the first time around. 

What have you been missing that is practically in your back yard?

Yesterday provided several lessons. First, I learned three donuts in the course of a morning is more than enough, but beyond that, is the lesson of simple fun. What could be better than being with loved ones, laughing and telling stories and yes, deepening our friendship over coffee (or in my case, Diet coke) and donuts? 

This summer has been full of those kinds of adventures, including most recently, going with a friend to the Paine Museum in Oshkosh, WI to see the exhibit of costumes from Downton Abbey and meeting other friends in Winona, MN to see the production of Much Ado About Nothing at The Great River Shakespeare Festival. We have had a few days in Door County and I spent a couple days in the Iowa City area, meeting friends from Madison. All wonderful times. 

Even closer to home we have gone to band concerts in the park and art fairs and saw a heart-filled production of The Music Man at The Guthrie. We go for drives and stop for ice cream cones and explore neighborhoods we have not been in before. And there is so much more to do. Right here in our back yard.  

Yesterday was a reminder that there is always more to explore wherever we find ourselves. Wake-up and take joy in life right here, right now. 

Even as we were finishing our last donut, we were planning our next adventure--soda fountains. We know of two close by and one we have never been to, which makes no sense, because once again it is in our loop of life! And what about wine bars for our sophisticated natures, but probably only one of those at a time. There is so much to explore. Stay tuned!

What have you been missing that is practically in your back yard?


An Invitation
What have you passed by or read or heard about or wondered about, but have not stopped to check it out? Do it. Be a tourist in your backyard. What did you discover? I would love to know. 

Thursday's Post: Returning Home

Ready to Head Home

After two weeks of fun and easy time in Florida warmth and sunshine, we have returned home. One of the purposes of traveling and vacationing, it seems to me, is to know the pleasure of returning home--in spite of the frigid below zero temperatures here in Minnesota. Even though we loved our time with our dear and generous friends, how good it was to open the door of The Little House and to be home. 

Never mind that one of the smoke alarms was beeping and the battery needed to be changed, (Note to self: February, 2016, change all smoke alarm batteries.) and one of the window shades had pulled away from the top.  Those are only minor "that will teach you to leave for two weeks" pokes. Our daughter had stopped by to turn up the furnace before picking us up from the airport, making the house toasty warm for our arrival. I had worked to leave the house clean and ordered, which I knew would add to the ease of re-entry. Our daughter invited us for supper and even though it was shocking to head back out into tundra temperatures, we were eager to reunite with our family. Oh, how we missed the grands! Seeing them right away was another signal that we are truly home.

Generally, we handle re-entry well. I know some people like to ease into their return, unpacking in stages, for example, but we move into action. We unload our suitcases and get the laundry going right away. We sort through the mail, even opening the bills that arrived while we were gone. I make a grocery list and if we have returned early in the day do the grocery shopping right away. If this were summer, Bruce would mow the lawn and begin working in the garden. Soon one would never know we have been gone. 

For some people this kind of immediate settling-in routine might feel as if they are letting go of the pleasures, the adventures, the sights and sounds and experiences of being away, but, instead, for me re-bonding with our life here at home is part of integrating those times. For example, if we have brought any treasures home with us, I find a place for them, re-living, as I do so, the enjoyment of finding them at an outdoor art fair or the terrific independent bookstore we had read about or the beach in Sanibel. 

Along with these treasures, I usually return from trips with various resolutions tucked into my suitcases--to eat better or exercise more, for example. Or I have formulated some redecorating plans or I have jotted down lots of ideas and thoughts for future teaching or writing. I am not sure what the long term effects of this recent time away will be, and not everything sticks as ordinary days take over, but I know if I listen carefully and if I plan for reflection time, I am more apt to clarify the gifts of this recent time. 

In fact, I experienced one gift the first morning home. In recent months I have not routinely included meditation time in my morning quiet time. I have read stimulating and thought-provoking material. I have written in my journal and spent time in prayer, but meditating has fallen by the wayside. Ah-ha, I realized while sitting on the beach. I need to change where I sit when I meditate, for my reading chair is  too cushy, and I also need to change when I meditate. Instead of doing it first thing after getting up and coming up to my garret space, I need to keep that activity separate from the rest of my devotion time, doing it after my shower when I am more awake, and doing it right before I begin my writing time. And that is what I am now doing. Who knows if this new thought about a spiritual practice that nurtures me would have occurred if I had not stepped away from it for a period of time? 

When I facilitate a retreat for a group or an individual, I often end the retreat by asking the participants to consider what they might do to bring the learnings and new awarenesses into their day-to day life. I ask them to think ahead to what they might need in the first days home--both from themselves and from those around them who were not part of the retreat. What do you want them to know? What will it be important for you to share? Is there a next step you want to take now that you have had this experience, one that may have been profound for you? How will you make home even more your home because of what you have just experienced? 

The time away, the time-out, has added to who we are, although it may take awhile to discover what that means, and this process of settling-in is a way to blur the lines between vacation time and life at home. 

     …sometimes  we don't know our true home, or where 
     we most belong, until we leave there. The pilgrim's
     journey home is an opportunity to integrate the 
     learning and experiences of the present with the memories
     and relationships of our past…The way of the pilgrim is
     essentially about fostering greater connection between our
     past, our present, and our future…To become whole, we
     need the journey and we need to journey home.
                                      Pilgrimage, The Sacred Art, Journey
                                      to the Center of the Heart
                                      Dr. Sheryl A. Kujawa-Holbrook
                                      pp. 148-150                                     http://www.cst.edu/academics/faculty/profile/sheryl-kujawa-holbrook/

Even though being away from home is not always a pilgrimage and even though travel may not be considered an intentional retreat, still, there is always the possibility for new growth and insights when we are not in our daily routine and are away from our accepted loop of life. In these first days of resettlement how important it is to pay attention and watch and listen for the gifts of being away and returning home. 

An Invitation
When did you last leave home? How did that time enrich your life and what have you done to integrate that time into your ordinary life? Are you currently planning a trip, and if so, what can you do to ensure that you are awake and aware from the time you leave home till you are safely resettled? I would love to know.   

Thursday's Reflection: Re-Entry

Laundry Time

What is your routine after you have been away from home for a few days or longer or even when you have just been doing some errands for a couple hours? We recently returned from spending several days with our son and daughter-in-love --a wonderful time, I might add, making us wish once again that we lived closer to each other. However, it is always good to get home. 

We like to resettle into home immediately. Without hesitation. We each unpack and before we know it the washer is going. We find places for anything we have brought home with us and put away our luggage. We go through the mail and stack the papers. We water plants, and if it is still daytime and the lawn needs it, Bruce will mow. I may head to the grocery store to replenish milk and other necessities and figure out what to fix for dinner. Before we know it we are each in our favorite chairs, comfortable in our pajamas. We are home --and life goes on. 

That's not to say that catch-up time is not needed after an absence. This week, for example, I am huffing and puffing to re-insert myself into the scheduled assignments and readings for the online writing class I am currently taking. And there are bills to pay and a long list of emails that need attention. Yes, I had my laptop and iPhone with me, but I devoted only minimal time to them. Only for the necessities. Plus, I have not seen my Dad for over a week and need to schedule more than phone time with him. 

But in this case re-entry does not add up to stressful moments, erasing the pleasures of the recent days. I wondered about that, thinking about past times of return. When re-entry means a return from a trip out of the country there is jet lag to handle and maybe a feeling of displacement. Where am I? What is it I am supposed to be doing now? Did that vacation really happen? Was I really just in Paris a few hours ago? There may even be a reluctance to let go and re-enter.

Several times, when we were trying to sell our house, a showing would be scheduled for just the time we should have been driving the car into the garage. Once returning from a week in Florida, I listened to messages as we disembarked the plane only to discover that we would not be going home, but would have to camp out at a coffee shop because of a scheduled showing. All we wanted was to get home, for once the direction is back towards home getting there, being there, sleeping in one's own bed becomes the goal, and sometimes one's energy is stretched to make arriving back at home possible sooner rather than later. Delays are not appreciated.

Now, however, the schedule is ours. Bruce is not heading back to work the next day no matter what time we arrive home. Now we have the luxury to treat leaving and returning as times in themselves--time to be in that moment of anticipating the days to come or to reflect on the days just enjoyed. There is time to be grateful. To notice the extraordinary in the ordinary. 

When we lived at our Sweetwater Farm in Ohio, my heart lifted and I started breathing faster as we approached home. I felt that way whether I had been gone for a week or only a few hours. I felt welcomed by that place as much as I hope we were a welcoming presence in that home for others. I always felt a sense of sacred re-entry there. I feel myself opening to that feeling here and now as well. Thich Nhat Hanh says, "The path around our home is also the ground of our awakening."

I try to remember to express a prayer of gratitude for our safe return, to do that as part of my re-entry routine, but I must admit I am often too distracted by heavy suitcases and bags as I cross the threshold. Later, however, as I re-bond with home, lighting a lamp, turning down the bed, folding the clean laundry, I know I at least sigh my deep thanks for the leaving and time away, as well as the return and re-entry.

An Invitation
Phil Cousineau quotes Trish O'Reilly in his book The Art of Pilgrimage, The Seeker's Guide to Making Travel Sacred, "…you are now back where you started and you have to know you've come full circle." What does that mean for you? Did you bring yourself back with you? Has something shifted for you while you were on the road and if so, how will you keep that awake in you now that you are home? How can you enlarge your circle because of the time you have had away? Are you more aware that the sacred is everywhere? I would love to know.

 

Ash Wednesday Part II: A Field Trip

     I like being a tourist. I know that is no longer a popular concept, and it is more acceptable to talk about being a traveler. I know there is an unflattering "camera around the neck" image of tourists, especially American tourists here and in other countries, but the truth is when I am visiting an unfamiliar place,  no matter where it is, I am a tourist. I do hope I am a polite, nonoffensive, and discerning tourist, however.  
     I like going on field trips and have fond memories of school field trips, such as the 6th grade class trip from Mankato, Minnesota to the State Capital in St Paul, and when we lived on Long Island going into "the city" with my high school choir to see a play and visit the Metropolitan Museum of Art. My family moved frequently in my growing up years, and I recall one of our first Sundays in New York going on a sightseeing boat around Manhattan and being awed by my first view of the Statue of Liberty and the Empire State Building.  When my husband and I moved to Cleveland, we loved nothing more than exploring the city and roaming the surrounding areas. Work colleagues and new acquaintances were amazed by all we did and all the places we discovered. "Have you been to Amish Country?" they would ask, and we responded with stories about our Sunday drives on country roads. We knew more about Ohio than people who lived there all their lives.
Being a Tourist in Your Own Town
     When we moved to Madison about 4 years ago, we became tourists once again. Part of it is natural, for everything is new and just deciding which grocery store will be part of your loop of life requires exploration, and part of it is filling the time when you don't yet have a social network and haven't yet filled your time with activities. The first year we lived in a small and unsatisfying apartment before our farm in Ohio sold.  I laughed about the 7 minutes it took to vacuum the place, but trust me, I had lots to time to discover my new city! 
     Most days I set a goal for myself.  One day I went to a small town with a new library built in Mission style. Another day I visited a fancy cheese shop on Capital Square and then walked State Street from beginning to end, enjoying the university atmosphere. I walked the trails at the Arboretum, and I drove up and down the streets of neighborhoods imagining what it would be like to live there. I enjoyed afternoons at the UW Memorial Union sitting on the terrace overlooking the lake, writing in my journal and reading. I planned weekend events and jaunts for my husband and myself--new restaurants to try, concerts to attend, and neighboring towns to visit.  
     I enjoyed it all, but it didn't take long to establish a routine, to have an established loop of life in place, and while I have no problem setting out on my own, I enjoy my solitude at home even more. I ceased being a tourist. My desire to unearth, to discover, diminished. But then Ash Wednesday and the season of Lent nudged me to awaken my pilgrim self. 
Lenten Tourism 
     One of my guides this Lent is Margaret Guenther, an Episcopalian priest, a spiritual director, and writer whose many books I have treasured. Currently, I am reading Walking Home, From Eden to Emmaus in which each chapter is a meditation on the "walking stories" in the scriptures.  I decided Lent would be a good time to set out on some new walks or even old walks, but survey the sights with new eyes. One aspect of Lent is to retreat, but perhaps another part is to seek a new path; to follow a quest, even if it is just around the corner. 
     My first walk was down the street from where I attended the Ash Wednesday service, the Chazen Museum of Art, home to Wisconsin's second largest collection of art. I had been there before, more than once, but not since a new building had opened. I had been intending to visit the new space, but ..... On their website I encountered this quote describing an upcoming lecture, "When your outer eyes stop working, what happens to your mind's eye?" What better way to expand one's eyesight than to expose them to art? I went on an art walk. 
     And what did I see? Charming watercolors by a UW art faculty member, Elaine Scheer. Claes Oldenburg's Typewriter Eraser. Collage drawings of planned projects by Christo. Tiger Sitting Under the Moon, a Cantonese scroll. Lots of nudes, including many in paintings by John Wilde which I found very disturbing.  A large work composed of colorful, narrow aluminum strips by a Ghanaian artist. So much more. I was most comfortable among the Thai and Indian Buddhas and least comfortable when a piece depicted violence. I laughed at myself as I stood in front of a large canvas painted only in solid black. I could have done that, I thought, but I didn't and why did the artist do it?  I sat on a bench and enjoyed the view of the campus pedestrian mall leading to Lake Mendota through a brightly colored glass sculpture called Cornucopia by Tashima Etsuoko . Glorious. Another walk I will take. 
     I wandered the galleries and missed the company of my artist son. I remembered the last time I was there when I brought my granddaughter who sat on the floor and sketched. I thought about other museums I've visited, and all the great art I have been privileged to see, and I was grateful for all those who have used and developed the gifts God entrusted to them. I thought about walking the skyway system in downtown St Paul recently and wondered why those walls were so bleak and how they could be a blank canvas for someone's imagination.  I shuddered at how much I don't understand, and I rejoiced when I my heart lifted at the beauty in front of me.  
     The headline on the Chazen's website says, "What will inspire you today?" Perhaps it will be a piece of art or something you read or hear on the radio. Perhaps it will be a conversation you overhear or the view out your kitchen window. Perhaps you will be inspired by going on a walk, following a path, being a tourist.   


     
     

Our Last Day in Paris: True Confessions

I confess, I was ready to be home. Or at least that is what I thought at the time. The previous night a head cold hit me and with it came a desire for my own bed, my closet with different clothes, and a washing machine and dryer with English instructions. Oh, another entitled American tourist! The previous nearly two weeks, however, I rarely thought of home. I enjoyed the fullness of each day, the wonder of what we would see and experience next, and the voyeurism that comes with being a stranger in a foreign country. 
     Until that moment I had not been bothered by sitting in a cafe next to someone smoking or by not being able to eavesdrop on what I knew must be a fascinating conversation because I couldn't speak French. I had actually enjoyed using a few French words and phrases and was even considering taking a conversational French class. Up until that moment I had been in the moment, soaking in the famous French light made famous by Monet, adapting to the slow pace of cafe' time and later evening meals, and appreciating the ongoing parade of beautiful women wearing exquisite clothes. I must dress better at home, I told myself, and incorporate a bit of French style into my everyday routine. It had all been good. C'est bon. What an amazing trip this had been, and we would be leaving knowing we had barely scratched the surface of the city, but at that moment, blowing my nose, I didn't just want to go home. I wanted to BE home. 
     It seems to me that the last day of vacation actually occurs prior to the last day of vacation. Vacation ends when one begins to worry about exceeding the airline baggage weight limit, when one checks the calendar for appointments the first days home or when one just can't go into one more museum.
     On our last day of Paris we went to the Louvre. True, that was probably not the best plan for a final activity, but that's how it worked out. We arrived before 9 a.m. and the line wasn't too bad. The crowds in front of Mona Lisa weren't even that thick, but we were just done. Not even Rick Steves' usual stellar museum tour could entice us to stay. We'll start with the Louvre on the next trip. We were done.
      Instead, we headed back to our nearby apartment, stopping at the boulangerie across from the apartment, the oldest bakery in Paris we had been told, and bought crudités and poulet baguette sandwiches and Diet Cokes (not wine--I was even weary of wine!). We decided to get our books and go to the Palais Royal Courtyards only steps away from our historic apartment building. Rick Steves describes it this way: "This is where in-the-know Parisians come to take a quiet break, walk their poodles and kids, or enjoy a rendezvous--amid flowers and surrounded by a serene arcade and a handful of historic restaurants. Bring a picnic and create your own quiet break, or have a drink at one of the outdoor cafe's at the courtyard's northern end. This is Paris." 

     As I started planning this trip, I read this quote: "Until you've wasted time in a city, you can't pretend to know it well." (Julian Green) This is what I actually needed--not to go home, but to waste some time. To take a time-out to read and write in my journal. To doze in the sunshine. To enjoy a midday pause. To join Parisians and tourists alike and to pretend that I really and truly live here--can't you tell? At that moment I returned to the present and was able to fully delight in the pleasures of Paris on the last day. 


NOTE: My last post on my previous blog, sacredsixties.blogspot.com was written soon after we returned from our trip to Paris. I continue to learn from those sweet days there and am grateful for the chance to revisit them and share with you.