I am in the process of moving on the first level of this house and I am fixing it up and cleaning. My son and his almost Finance bought a house in Providence and they just moved. He is keeping this house and renting out my little apartment that I am in now. One of his best friends from childhood rents out one of the rooms upstairs and I’ve known him forever! So far my new space is becoming “my small beauty” with some things he left beind and my own things and taste. 🌞
One of my favorite haunts
has been thrift and second hand shops,
more recently,
since I’ve been settled,
the one that was established a few miles from home,
but it now defunct
due to rising rents.
For some reason
my son never understood the pleasure I get.
Perhaps he does now.
There are always treasures to be found,
and I never know what they will be . . .
objects that held stories that I would never know,
both things of whimsy
and things of utility . . .
I shop for both.
I’ve bought beautiful old clothes,
and antique bowls
that are of little interest to most people today . . .
I purchased an old fashioned egg beater
that I still use today,
and it doesn’t spatter everything
like whisks do.
I found a vintage pen and ink etching
by an artist now long dead
of a barn owl,
and a watercolour of native birds
by a living Hawaiian artist.
They both hang in my stairwell.
While looking through my jewelry box this morning,
although I seldom buy it,
I came across an ivory lizard or alligator,
hand carved,
and made to be a pendant.
The little creature
is elegant in every way,
from its delicately splayed feet,
to its ridged body,
and curved tail,
grown darker with age,
he is just splendid to look at.
I usually wear him on a ribbon ’round my neck,
warm against my chest,
just below the throat.
To be certain,
he is a small thing of beauty,
and I think the $1.50 I paid for him
was well worth the spend. ♥
In Taos, New Mexico, some 30, or so years ago, I happened upon a small box of antique hand painted “fake eyes” so realistic that they even had tiny veins painted in. And the irises, I am sure a close match to the one left was very possible. Our children were young, so were we, and money was a bit scarcer. I did not buy them. I have been back; the little shop is still in the same spot and still in business. But no “fake eyes”!
I was given a small water bamboo plant as a gift, and it looks lovely sitting on my coffee table. We live in a small Manhattan apartment, and it is just perfect for bringing a bit of nature into our space. I’m grateful to my friend Esther for the gift.
Sitting on the back porch with no urgent chores to do except delete my old emails. I’m watching and listening to the hummingbird flitting onto the feeder every now and then; ; really enjoying the cool, overcast weather for a change; hearing the occasional goldfinch and overall background humming of summer crickets. Now the cicadas are starting up. It’s getting hotter, and sun is coming out. Time to get up.
Carol Ann, it’s getting closer to that time of year. August has been cool in the Twin Cities. College students and kids are returning to school very soon.
Everywhere I look is beauty. It’s a choice that I make.
I choose to see all of it. The pain and the ecstasy.
The only thing between reality and my perception, are coffee and my meds. And of course my past experiences. They are filters of sorts. The meds help to get my brain chemistry to a more neutral state. A better starting point to see things as they are. Not how I want them to be, or how I wish they were, but as close to a neutral state as possible.
Not sure why, but this reminds me of a song from Todd Rundgren.
I first heard this when I was young and experimenting with mind altering substances. Strangely, I can still tap into that open state.
Here’s a bit of the lyrics.
Born To Synthesize
“In one hand I hold what people call good
The rest I hold in the other
But these are just symbols to the perfected minds
Of which we are but mere reflections
I was born to synthesize
Energize and catalyze
I was born to synthesize”.
And in true tongue in cheek fashion, it ends with this.
“Ain’t no jive – it’s no surprise
You were born to synthesize”.
It was 1975, after all. 😁
Todd Rundgren. Another memory jog, Charlie. A friend’s sister really introduced me to his catalog in the mid-seventies. Beverly, she was named. First time I have thought of her for quite some time. Thank you.
Charlie, Thanks for sharing the lyrics to the song “Born to Synthesize.” My mentor use to tell me that it was my job to learn to integrate my insides and my outsides. These lyrics remind me of the need to be “real”. This old lady doesn’t know who Todd Rundgren is and has never heard this song! Appreciate you, Charlie. So glad you are here.
Wow!
Todd Rundgren
has walked a long journey
since ‘Hello, It’s Me’,
dear Charlie.
It’s amazing
how we morph throughout our lives.
Small beauty,
indeed. ♥
I’m listening to Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young Deja Vu as I start writing this post. Sounds beautiful to me. The harmonies. The way it transports me to a different time. I’m a little younger than the Woodstock generation but I just love this album. Music always changes my mood, and most music that I love lifts me up so high. So there are many beautiful things all around me, but for right now, I will focus on the auditory beauty of these voices, instruments, and song. Peace to all on this lovely Saturday.
I agree,
dear Mary . . .
music transport us
as nothing else. ♥
ps.
I drove past Woodstock,
giving some hitchikers a ride in my old VW,
whose heater was stuck on in the middle of summer.
Didn’t stop there . . .
was on a journey of grief
after my son’s recent death,
but I remember that day well.
Right outside of my office window. The beauty of silence, the beauty of peace. Today, I’m going to the first day of training for my new volunteer job. It will be the beauty of knowledge and curiosity to improve my skills in helping others.
Happy Saturday, everyone! 🏕
NGOC, Your post made me think of a quote from Franciscan Richard Rohr: “Prayer is listening to the silence until it silences us, choosing gratefulness until we are grateful and praising God until we ourselves are an act of praise.”
Sitting on my porch with a cup of coffee, listening to distant thunder, and watching the squirrels chase one another around. I wonder if they know how entertaining they are?🐿️
I have a mini-Ganesha and mini-Buddha next to my laptop. They add beauty and energy to my space. I appreciate the quiet grey skies this morning after the crazy storm that whipped through the area yesterday evening. My big-little black dog, Reese, is laying on her bed staring at me. She’s so cute and has a very intense stare. She acts like a little dog, but she’s about 75lbs 🙂
Seems to me that IS the point. If we reserve the thought “Oh, beautiful!” for major works of art and symphonies and double rainbows, we miss the beauty of the peahen, Avril’s cat’s little pink paw, an old song heard again after many years. As you say, it’s all beauty.
It’s everywhere. The quiet of the early morning with no hustle and bustle. The pink paw of the cat prying the bathroom door open. The lemon for my morning water. It’s boundless.
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I am in the process of moving on the first level of this house and I am fixing it up and cleaning. My son and his almost Finance bought a house in Providence and they just moved. He is keeping this house and renting out my little apartment that I am in now. One of his best friends from childhood rents out one of the rooms upstairs and I’ve known him forever! So far my new space is becoming “my small beauty” with some things he left beind and my own things and taste. 🌞
Wishing you lots of happiness in your new upstairs space.
One of my favorite haunts
has been thrift and second hand shops,
more recently,
since I’ve been settled,
the one that was established a few miles from home,
but it now defunct
due to rising rents.
For some reason
my son never understood the pleasure I get.
Perhaps he does now.
There are always treasures to be found,
and I never know what they will be . . .
objects that held stories that I would never know,
both things of whimsy
and things of utility . . .
I shop for both.
I’ve bought beautiful old clothes,
and antique bowls
that are of little interest to most people today . . .
I purchased an old fashioned egg beater
that I still use today,
and it doesn’t spatter everything
like whisks do.
I found a vintage pen and ink etching
by an artist now long dead
of a barn owl,
and a watercolour of native birds
by a living Hawaiian artist.
They both hang in my stairwell.
While looking through my jewelry box this morning,
although I seldom buy it,
I came across an ivory lizard or alligator,
hand carved,
and made to be a pendant.
The little creature
is elegant in every way,
from its delicately splayed feet,
to its ridged body,
and curved tail,
grown darker with age,
he is just splendid to look at.
I usually wear him on a ribbon ’round my neck,
warm against my chest,
just below the throat.
To be certain,
he is a small thing of beauty,
and I think the $1.50 I paid for him
was well worth the spend. ♥
Both my girls share your interest and love shopping at thrift stores. 🙂
In Taos, New Mexico, some 30, or so years ago, I happened upon a small box of antique hand painted “fake eyes” so realistic that they even had tiny veins painted in. And the irises, I am sure a close match to the one left was very possible. Our children were young, so were we, and money was a bit scarcer. I did not buy them. I have been back; the little shop is still in the same spot and still in business. But no “fake eyes”!
It’s funny,
dear Joseph,
how you’ve remembered that
for all these years . . .
the eyes have it! 🙂
I love browsing thrift shops and old antique shops too! So fun to find little treasures!
. . . a like minded soul,
dear Robin Ann. ♥
I was given a small water bamboo plant as a gift, and it looks lovely sitting on my coffee table. We live in a small Manhattan apartment, and it is just perfect for bringing a bit of nature into our space. I’m grateful to my friend Esther for the gift.
Even little doses of nature are Life! And I am grateful for you.
You must have done something lovely,
dear Clay,
to warrant such a wonderful gift! ♥
Sitting on the back porch with no urgent chores to do except delete my old emails. I’m watching and listening to the hummingbird flitting onto the feeder every now and then; ; really enjoying the cool, overcast weather for a change; hearing the occasional goldfinch and overall background humming of summer crickets. Now the cicadas are starting up. It’s getting hotter, and sun is coming out. Time to get up.
I walked after a gentle morning rain and there was a gentle cool breeze and just a touch of Fall in the air. I would count that as a “small beauty.”
That late summer breeze. We have been experienced that here to. Even though it is still dry, the bi-annual tilt of the earth continues.
Carol Ann, it’s getting closer to that time of year. August has been cool in the Twin Cities. College students and kids are returning to school very soon.
I would also call it
perfect timing,
dear Carol Ann. ♥
Everywhere I look is beauty. It’s a choice that I make.
I choose to see all of it. The pain and the ecstasy.
The only thing between reality and my perception, are coffee and my meds. And of course my past experiences. They are filters of sorts. The meds help to get my brain chemistry to a more neutral state. A better starting point to see things as they are. Not how I want them to be, or how I wish they were, but as close to a neutral state as possible.
Not sure why, but this reminds me of a song from Todd Rundgren.
I first heard this when I was young and experimenting with mind altering substances. Strangely, I can still tap into that open state.
Here’s a bit of the lyrics.
Born To Synthesize
“In one hand I hold what people call good
The rest I hold in the other
But these are just symbols to the perfected minds
Of which we are but mere reflections
I was born to synthesize
Energize and catalyze
I was born to synthesize”.
And in true tongue in cheek fashion, it ends with this.
“Ain’t no jive – it’s no surprise
You were born to synthesize”.
It was 1975, after all. 😁
Todd Rundgren. Another memory jog, Charlie. A friend’s sister really introduced me to his catalog in the mid-seventies. Beverly, she was named. First time I have thought of her for quite some time. Thank you.
Charlie, Thanks for sharing the lyrics to the song “Born to Synthesize.” My mentor use to tell me that it was my job to learn to integrate my insides and my outsides. These lyrics remind me of the need to be “real”. This old lady doesn’t know who Todd Rundgren is and has never heard this song! Appreciate you, Charlie. So glad you are here.
Wow!
Todd Rundgren
has walked a long journey
since ‘Hello, It’s Me’,
dear Charlie.
It’s amazing
how we morph throughout our lives.
Small beauty,
indeed. ♥
We both have music in mind today! Ain’t no jive! 😀
I’m listening to Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young Deja Vu as I start writing this post. Sounds beautiful to me. The harmonies. The way it transports me to a different time. I’m a little younger than the Woodstock generation but I just love this album. Music always changes my mood, and most music that I love lifts me up so high. So there are many beautiful things all around me, but for right now, I will focus on the auditory beauty of these voices, instruments, and song. Peace to all on this lovely Saturday.
Wonderful album cover to match the wonderful tunes within.
Yes, Mary, we are both vibrationally aligned. 😁
I love that album, and the one before that too.
I agree,
dear Mary . . .
music transport us
as nothing else. ♥
ps.
I drove past Woodstock,
giving some hitchikers a ride in my old VW,
whose heater was stuck on in the middle of summer.
Didn’t stop there . . .
was on a journey of grief
after my son’s recent death,
but I remember that day well.
❤️🙏
Love you, dear Sparrow.
Namaste,
dear Carol Ann . . .
I hold you close. ♥
The dog drifting off to sleep in a sunny spot on the couch.
Nothing more beautiful than that . . .
anyone
taking a sunbath.
Pure Heaven. ♥
How perfect.
I was making an entry in my journal. I paused and read the question. My “small beauty” would be the dying art of cursive writing.
I print. My knuckle’s still have PTSD from the Sisters of Notre Dame in the early sixties.
Oh no! 😂
YRAM, I, too, love the art of cursive writing and still like to send cards and messages by snail mail.
Ah yes,
dear Yram . . .
I remember my shock and disbelief
when I heard
they were no longer teaching cursive in schools. ♥
Right outside of my office window. The beauty of silence, the beauty of peace. Today, I’m going to the first day of training for my new volunteer job. It will be the beauty of knowledge and curiosity to improve my skills in helping others.
Happy Saturday, everyone! 🏕
May your work and you be blessed, Ngoc.
NGOC, Your post made me think of a quote from Franciscan Richard Rohr: “Prayer is listening to the silence until it silences us, choosing gratefulness until we are grateful and praising God until we ourselves are an act of praise.”
This is such a heart enriching quote
from Father Rohr,
dear Carol Ann. ♥
You have so much kindness, Ngoc.
Sitting on my porch with a cup of coffee, listening to distant thunder, and watching the squirrels chase one another around. I wonder if they know how entertaining they are?🐿️
I have a mini-Ganesha and mini-Buddha next to my laptop. They add beauty and energy to my space. I appreciate the quiet grey skies this morning after the crazy storm that whipped through the area yesterday evening. My big-little black dog, Reese, is laying on her bed staring at me. She’s so cute and has a very intense stare. She acts like a little dog, but she’s about 75lbs 🙂
Reese…what a wonderful image!
Reese sounds wonderful! Just like us, animals all have their own personalities. ♥️
There is a peahen nesting across the street in my neighbors yard – so cute.
Not sure what the point of ‘small beauty’ vs large beauty is – beauty is beauty. There is truth in ‘beauty is in the eyes of the beholder’
Have a great weekend everyone!
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Seems to me that IS the point. If we reserve the thought “Oh, beautiful!” for major works of art and symphonies and double rainbows, we miss the beauty of the peahen, Avril’s cat’s little pink paw, an old song heard again after many years. As you say, it’s all beauty.
How lovely,
dear Michele!
I hope you get to see the little ones. ♥
I agree – beauty is beauty.
It’s the little light at my window straight ahead to show me that I just had a great sleep.
It’s everywhere. The quiet of the early morning with no hustle and bustle. The pink paw of the cat prying the bathroom door open. The lemon for my morning water. It’s boundless.
”The pink paw of the cat prying the bathroom door open.”
I love this gesture! ♥
Cats have no respect for doors. 😸
🙂