Archives for posts with tag: in the moment

This morning, I knew that when I left the house, I would be stopping at the coffee shop before work. I knew I would attempt to write something on my blog, and I knew that there was a book that I wanted to share before so much time went by, that the thought fell away. 

At this particular coffee shop, there is a waterfall in the background, trees, and large cement structures that hold bright pink and white flowers and other textured shrubbery. Usually, if I stop for coffee, it’s in and out, then off to work. It feels like my little piece of Zen–the soothing sound of the water swooshing out, bees buzzing here and there, and the canopy of trees that makes me feel like I’m in a tree house–these beauties get my day going in a peaceful direction.

This morning, as I sat at the table, before I opened my iPad, I stretched to the left to help alleviate some muscle stiffness and what did I spy, but a heart shape on one of the red bricks. This brought a great smile to my being; and it felt like that feeling you get when you feel like the Universe is speaking to you–as though the Universe is smiling or tickling your funny bone. Here I was sharing a heart yesterday, a heart that I had taken a photo of a long while ago; and here, this morning, another heart appears in the present moment. Such a wonderful feeling.

The book that I’d like to share that is written for young readers and the young at heart is The Poet’s Dog by Patricia MacLachlan. I was lucky enough to come across this when my mother-in-law came across it in one of her book catalogs. She passed it along to me and said how much she loved it. I happily accepted it and put it on a nearby shelf to be read when I felt in the mood. It’s a very short story that can easily be read in a short sitting. I chose to read half in July and was drawn to finish it recently. I was taken with its beauty, with the love on those pages. It’s a special book to be read and shared. For anyone that loves dog’s, children, poetry–they will especially appreciate this book.  


Music blows by; wind sounds in my ears. Trees invite an instant tranquility and grounding that is inexplicable–take the trees away, take the patches of grass, the white umbrellas, tables, and chairs; leave only concrete and the scape feels far different. 

While Hubby is inside one of the stores, I take in the different people–there a couple holding hands; there two women walking their bikes, one with a basket for her obedient Shih Tzu. Cute babies, little girls in their summer dresses. 

I feel at peace in this moment. Hubby nearby, the trees, a napkin to catch my thoughts. 

It’s ironic that I’m reading more since I’ve been taking classes to complete the A.A. in accounting. Better late, than never. Now that our living situation is different, after work I go to the library almost everyday to study. Usually I only take one class per quarter because it’s all that I have the energy or focus for; however, I’m getting close and have decided that I will take two courses next quarter begins. Summer session is almost done and I finally get a small break before the Fall quarter. At this point, I feel like I’m doing this A.A. degree more for myself than anything. I’m viewing it as a small attempt to provide a cushion if I should find myself somewhere else, and it’s also a challenge that I can afford to take-and must take.

I remember blowing on dandelions when I was a kid; I don’t remember thinking of them as clocks. Today, my daily calendar has a close up photo of a bunch of dandelions with the caption, “Dandelion clocks await a child’s puff of breath.” Today this is really special to me because, amongst other books and audios, I’m listening to Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451 and Bradbury Stories: 100 of His Most Celebrated Tales. I’m also wanting to revisit The Illustrated Man.

When I see the dandelions this morning, I see Ray Bradbury. I see Clarisse holding the dandelion up to Montag’s chin. And I remember that when I was in a writer’s group for a very brief moment, one of the writers told me that I should read Dandelion Wine after having read one of my snippets.

I don’t have a strong tie to my own childhood and the dandelion, but after returning to Bradbury, and the dandelion that turns up in his other stories, I feel a real resonance and connection to him. So now when I see dandelions, I see him and I’m reminded of childhood-the childhood that I know he speaks about but haven’t yet read in Dandelion Wine. I think of what a remarkable person that I imagine he was, and of course, a great writer and storyteller. I appreciate how open he is about sharing where the seeds of his stories began.

I knew that if I didn’t come to the page, in this moment, that this moment would fly away just as the seeds of a dandelion, and that sometimes you just have to stop what you’re doing and GO. To be in the moment, lest it fly away, blow into the wind.

Horns boom, trumpets tune,
chattering voices fill the air, while drumsticks tap,
pom poms swish, a
the last days of summer,
highlighted by a twilight parade.

White egret high in the twilight sky.
Wings wave against the brisk air.
With each wave of those great wings,
the cold chill inside yields,
fills me with warmth. I keep my gaze
on the twilight sky and this graceful creature,
as they fade into the distance.

Child’s gaze–
by the merry go round music.
When the music stops.
He is back.

Dew drops glisten on tufts of grass.
Tiny clear jewels, they sparkle and glisten.
Birch trees canopy the surrounding grass,
familiar ghosts upon this land.
Water gurgles from the fountain.
Cars whizz by. A blue bird rests upon a branch,
he flies away.
A small slice of solace to this noisy day.

Ocean waters hug at my feet and legs,
pull me into the ocean.
The waves tease–
as I edge away, I tease back, hair flowing wild with the wind.
I stand there looking out at the vast ocean,
lost in my thoughts that are blank and serene.
The waves crash upon the shore, run like white horses.
I continue walking along,
feeling my feet with each step, secured in the wet sand.
And then, something catches my vision, out of the corner of my eye.
A fin. Two fins. Then three!
Then I see clearly, not too far from the shore,
a group of dolphins swimming along with the waves,
being playful with each other. I can’t take my eyes from them,
and I think this is the first time they’ve been so close.
All the other beach goers close in, cameras in hand.
We all watch in awe as the dolphins swim on by.

Things that made me smile today:

Being in the shower and feeling the onset of a migraine begin to subside after taking a pill.

The raindrops on my truck.

Knowing there was rain on the way to help with the fires in Tahoe, Yosemite, Weed, and other places that need Mother Nature’s help.

The fluffy clouds and the grey clouds. I saw a Scotty dog in the folds of the thick white mass.

Approaching a stop light and pausing to watch a little girl and her mother walk through the crosswalk; the little girl began skipping, then her mother joined as they skipped on by.

Getting to work and saying hello to Shorty the plant through the window as I always do.

The quote of the day: “The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched—they must be felt with the heart.” –Helen Keller

Art of the day: Claude Monet’s Cabin of the Customs Watch, 1882 – Oil on canvas. A cabin nestled seaside overlooking the ocean, lovely tones of moss green, sea greens and blues, and sail boats a plenty.

At the end of my shower thinking about the old adage that laughter is the best medicine and thinking how lucky I am to get a dose every day from my husband. : )

Dropping the soap and laughing instead of cursing.

Reading the first few pages of a miniature prayer book that I got at the Carmel Mission Inn…reminds me of my grandmother, my angel.

And the day has only begun.

More smiles to come. : )


I love the smell of fresh cut grass. As I cross the street, reach the other side, the grass at the park takes hold of me, causes me to sit a while. I then see three birds playing tag with each other, circling the young pine trees; a mother pushing her child in a stroller; crepe myrtles with pink florets in bloom. I inhale the fresh scent of grass, breathing in and out, feeling grounded and connected to the day.