A Long Cold Winter ...

On Anna Karenina ... 

I have wanted to read Anna Karenina for some time.  In fact, a few years ago a friend gave me a beautiful classic hardcover edition of the Tolstoy novel, complete with its own slide in case. It was truly lovely. This great long novel sat on my desk, intriguing me. Vivien Leigh -- my favorite actress of all time -- had played the title role. So had Keira Knightly. There must be something beautiful to this tale ...

As I've mentioned before, my friend Ron had invited me to participate in his 2015 Classic Challenge. One of the steps of this challenge included reading a book written by a Russian author. Ah-ha I thought ... here is my chance to finally read Anna Karenina. 

I began the book in earnest, with such energy and enthusiasm. Cup of tea, cozy blanket, perfect reading chair. A quiet Sunday afternoon. And, I made it 163 pages through part one before my attention began to waver. William Faulkner had declared the novel "the best ever written." I wanted to be drawn in ... I wanted to be mesmerized and captivated. 

It's not that I didn't enjoy it. It was just the tedium of the tale that got to me after a while. Levin's humdrum life on the farm was not interesting to me at all. Give me Anna and Vronsky. Make me like Vronsky (sorry, I just didn't.) I found the drama of Kitty amusing -- true love "sickness." Perhaps if the dramatic romance between Anna and Vronsky had actually begun by page 163, I might have found something that enticed me to read on. I mean, it was all talk and speculation. Too much exposition and too little action.

Honestly, though, the worst part for me is that I already knew the ending. I knew where it was going before I opened to page one. I find myself holding a character I might become drawn in by at arms length when I know exactly what will befall her on page 972. There is the rub. And there is the biggest problem I experienced with this great Russian Classic ... I knew what was going to happen in the end and I didn't want it to so I didn't want to read on and watch the destruction in Anna's ultimately unfortunate existence.

So, I stopped. I picked up a couple other quicker reads, fully intending to get back to Tolstoy until I finally admitted that right now I just didn't want to suffer another long cold winter. The one I just went through in Michigan was enough. I'd had enough of this book ... for now.

I still want to read it. I do. I still hope to read it. One day. Perhaps I might better understand it with a commentary -- something that explained to me the undercurrent of Tolstoy's politics and what he was stating about the aristocracy and peasant life. Yes, that might help. Perhaps if it wasn't 972 pages and I felt with each sitting I was actually making progress ... Not sure. Honestly. 

It just didn't captivate me and I grew restless with the Russian way of using every single name every single time and the tedium Tolstoy felt necessary to present. (Why does it seem that everyone is a Prince or Princess?)

I am still curious about what actually transpires in the pages from Anna's shining beginning to her dramatic end. If I can find it in me to be more patient, I may consider trying again. But, sitting on a beach where it's warm and sunny instead of surrounded by frigid temperatures and snow.

There was one "Ah-ha" moment though. Something I will take away from Part One of Anna Karenina. Words that just might draw me back to the tale at some point since they were brilliant.  It was the observation made by Anna's brother Stepan Arkadyevitch:

"All the variety, all the charm, all the beauty of life is made up of light and shadow."

Perhaps that sums up the story for me. Not the "Vengeance is mine, I will repay" Romans 12:9 Biblical epigraph. That just doesn't capture the essence of what I believe Tolstoy ultimately conveyed. No ... it was Stepan who truly understood the reality of human existence. Life IS made up of light and shadow. Those that crave too much light never learn to cope with the inevitable moments of shadow and darkness. It's the Blend we must learn to accept ...

Only then can we avoid the Train Tracks ...
                                                                                                          -- Jenni

On NonGrasping Impermanence

"It's funny how some distance

Makes everything seem small.

And the fears that once controlled me

Can't get to me at all ..."

              - Let It Go/Frozen

I admit it. I'm a fan of the movie Frozen. I am not sick of the movie or the characters or the song which topped charts and iTunes download records immediately upon its release. It doesn't bother me that the Elsa costume was more popular than any other this past Hallowe'en. And I enjoyed the arc on Once Upon A Time that featured well-cast actors in the key film roles.

Why do I love this movie so much -- despite the abuse by retailers and the mass inundation of all things Frozen over the past 12 months? (Let It Go is NOT a Christmas song -- seriously.) I like the theme of this Hans Christian Anderson/Disney-blended tale. It spotlights two strong, independent and kind-hearted women -- sisters who love each other and honor each other. I like that their story allows them to explore and eventually discover who they truly are, concluding only when they embrace their different paths and their own personal truths and uniqueness.

For those of you who know me, you might say that I'm a rather, um, Type A personality. Like Elsa, I tend to hold things in and shut myself off. I like to feel in control and I cling tightly to my perceived power, managing my existence and seeking to affect occurrences with my own willpower.

Ha!

As Let It Go played endlessly over the past year, I made the choice to select it as the theme-song for my own personal soundtrack. I've learned something from its animated tale. Elsa held so tightly to everything in her life that she caused devastation when the pressure built up and she inevitably lost control -- and she lost the people most dear to her. She ran away. She shut herself off. But in the end, she faced her fears and discovered the beauty of her uniqueness and the strength inside her heart. She learned to love herself for who she was. Only then was she able to find joy and truly Let Go.

Now, I don't believe in New Year's Resolutions. I believe in Intentions. In Hopes and Wishes. And I believe in listening to the subtle whispers of the Universe as it nudges me toward people, places, projects, ideas, etc.

How could I ignore a message that resonates with me so strongly? Especially when it seemed to come from everywhere. And, just in case I shook it off as a fluke or wasn't paying attention, the message came from another source ... then another ... and another ... and so on.

It was Suzanne's yoga class a few weeks ago that truly gelled the idea within my spirit. (It's been kind of an ah-ha game the Universe and I have been playing until I finally got it.) See, so often we find ourselves struggling against the elements or trying to affect control on the people and events around us.  Control is an illusion. I've said it before and I'll say it again. All things have their own flow and move at their own speed and in their own time. And, it's not all about us all the time. Sometimes we have to sit back and wait for things to happen or change or whatever. Sometimes we can't manipulate, script or force it to play out "our way." 

Sometimes??? Well, most of the time ...

When we hold too tightly to something or someone ... when we attempt to control when or how a person behaves or an how event transpires, we damage it ... them ... the relationship. Only when we surrender and allow things to flow on its own can we truly appreciate the ride and the experience and the person ... or whatever it is we were once attempting to "manage."

It applies to everything ... this idea of Non-Grasping Impermanence.  In cooking you add ingredients and then step away as the baking occurs. In a book -- be it fiction or non, you read from beginning to end, awaiting the next chapter, character choice, discovery or revelation. With friends, you reach out and then step away and wait for a response or a word or a comment or a conversation or an evening where you spend time. With children, you teach and guide and then step back. With flowers, you plant them lovingly in the ground and offer food and light ... then you step away and watch them bloom. 

If you hold too tightly, you loose control. (Thanks .38 Special for telling me that 30 years ago. Wish I'd listened then!)  And in holding too tightly or trying to control the "flow," you damage and miss the beauty. Sometimes, you even lose what (or who) it is you're trying so desperately to control.

In yoga, we flow from pose to pose. Sometimes there is one that is more challenging. When I find myself in a difficult pose, my mind and body struggle. I realize then that I'm fighting myself, attempting to control the pose and its affects. Sometimes it's better to step away -- to get out of the "pose" that is causing the stress. Another option though is to ease your grip on your body and your mind and relax. Breathe. Remember that what is happening truly lasts only a few moments. Then, you might find beauty in the subtle struggle.You might be able to settle into it. You might even discover a little extra strength as you relax and truly allow the endorphins to flow.

Okay, okay, I say to the Universe. I got it. Let It Go ... Surrender. Embrace the idea of Non-Grasping Impermanence. And like Elsa did so beautifully, Sparkle On and Evolve.

How to accomplish said Intention you ask? Ah ... that's sharp of you. See, for the first time in forever ... I don't know. I don't have a little list of steps or expectations. It's kinda neat. Like I don't know what pose is next for me in a Yoga class, I don't know what awaits me in the days ahead. But, I intend to honor and celebrate and enjoy them, resisting the urge to control, spin, manage, maneuver or bend the people and experiences I encounter to my will, My hope and wish is to meet what comes without swirling and seeking in my frenzied Type A control-freak way of old to shape the people and experiences into what I think they can be ...

I challenge you to discover the Beauty of Non-Grasping Impermanence. After all, any illusion you have regarding your ability to control what comes next is just that ... an illusion. Explore surrender and enjoy the beauty that comes back to you and the stress that falls away.

Let It Go ... Let It Go ... Can't hold it back anymore.... I once thought I should. But then I realized that Surrender offers its own unique gifts. Time to enjoy the surprise and adventure that greets me when I don't hold tight. 
                                                                                                                         -- Jenni

Crazy Chaotic Class Creates Clever Challenge-Management

Rehearsal cancelled last night to offer our cast a much-needed night off to regroup and process what we'd been working so diligently. Feeling a little frayed at the edges, I thought I'd make use of the free night with a calm evening of Slow Flow Yoga at the Shelter. Re-focus a bit. Ground myself. Find that inner calm. 

Well, I found what I needed. But not how I expected to find it ... 

First, the instructor -- the Shelter founder's sister who always leads a stirring class -- had jet-lag from her training trip to India. (Totally understand that.)  Hence, a last-minute replacement instructor -- Destiny by name -- was called in. Then, Destiny had car issues. And thus, class started about 15 minutes late. 

No problem. I made use of the time to meditate, focus, chill, stretch and clear my head. Did some visualization to settle my busy mind. Do you recall how adults sound in those Charlie Brown cartoons? Well, as I sat in what was a very full room last night, that's what I heard. As time passed and class didn't begin, voices and conversations flowed through my head getting louder and louder. At some point, I recognized that the couple in front of me was speaking French! I found my mind reactivating in an effort to interpret but then made the choice to let that flow through as well. The result was a cacaphony of chaos flitting about inside my already fatigued mind.

Destiny arrived. The teacher that is. And the Flow began. Zoinks what a Flow it was! And though I can honestly state that the evening was not what I had set out expecting to experience, it turned out that it helped me find exactly what I needed -- physically, emotionally and mentally.

Poses came about differently. Warm up, balances and side planks. Twists and turns then half moon and reverse half moon. Chair to chair prayer twists on the toes and standing splits. Grounded crescent to crescent twists. It came at me like a tennis ball from one of those batting-cage like machines.  Music seemed a bit loud and out of sync with my anticipated definition of "Slow Flow" tunes. I dripped sweat more than I recall from any recent classes. And, at the conclusion of what I believe was a full hour of poses crammed into 49 minutes, I felt like one of those dishrags you ring out after doing a plethora of holiday dishes -- well used, stretched out and limp. But SO relaxed. And SO good.

It was a whirlwind. And it was JUST what I needed.

I got the message. When the unexpected disaster or challenge comes your way, you can let it break you or shake it off and keep going. You can stumble and fall and stay down. Or, you can stumble, fall, get back up and moving. You can let it throw you or you can let it flow through. You can fight it or you can embrace and experience.

Cause it happens. People do unexpected stuff. Life happens. The lines you expect or want to hear are not what come. You have to think on your feet ... stay focused and in the moment. The roads are slick and you have to reject the inclination to panic and opt for calm. The lights are set wrong. The car doesn't start. The weather thwarts the best laid plans. The words you want to hear or the call you hope to get doesn't happen. In these moments, only You can decide not to fall apart and pull it together. And you have to prepare mentally and physically and emotionally for those moments cause they Will come.

As I'm personally managing a crazy schedule and embarking on some more stressful moments in upcoming days and weeks, Destiny's class reminded me how to manage ... how to Let It Flow. 

Amidst the drama, rejections, twists and turns, silence, sludge, disconnects, demands, sounds and undesirable "stuff" that flies your way, consider choosing your challenge-management cure now.  I can pretty much predict that when it actually hits you won't have a nice calm environment to evaluate options. You'll have to do it on the fly.

You might even have to do it in a Slow Flow yoga class.

Thanks Destiny for reminding me that you can find calm in chaos. 'Cause that's truly when you need to find it.
                                                                                    -- Jenni

Shades of Grey … Confessions of a Hopeful Romantic

In 2012 E.L. James' Fifty Shades of Grey hit the book-stand and took the world by storm. What began with one little book transformed the romance industry and elevated a shadowed genre into the mainstream.

Perhaps it wasn’t actually a "new" genre. Heck, I'm sure it's been around. Underground. But suddenly extremely and intense … um … detailed ... um -- let's just define them as "aspects of love" -- went mainstream in the vivid manner they were captured in print. No matter how you feel about the characters, the subject, the plot, the choices made or the writing in general, these books obtained both popularity and notoriety. 

Everyone was talking about them. Everyone had an opinion about them. Everyone had heard about them. Sales sky-rocketed, resulting in the release of numerous new trilogies following the "aspects of love" introduced so graphically in Fifty Shades. The Crossfire Series by Sylvia Day and Stark Series by J. Kenner are just a couple examples. Scroll through Barnes & Noble or Amazon.com’s websites for books with similar themes to Fifty Shades and Fifty trilogies come up.

As a savvy reader, I found myself curious. What was this book all about? What was it about Fifty Shades that was sucking in the readers? Was it "all that?" So.... yes, I read it. In fact I read all three.  (This Trilogy concept of writers nowadays is becoming rather annoying. I can't read just one book to get the story? I have to read three??? But that's another blog.) 

I downloaded the books to my Nook. A common choice with this series I have discovered. When it's on an electronic reader, it can be read anywhere. And no one is the wiser. Again, an interesting element of this genre. And yes, I was intrigued enough to read to the end.

Now, I'm not for a minute stating that the "aspects of love" described in this tale are the way to go for the mainstream. Fifty Shades dealt with a specific lifestyle choice -- and examined some of the reasoning behind that choice too if you read to the end. I'm not in any way approving or advocating victimization or domination or cat o' nine tales or physical abuse. That's not what I'm saying here at all. No, this book involved consenting "characters" making choices on their own and shined a spotlight, taking these "aspects of love" into mainstream popular novels. I'm not getting into a debate about the subject matter or peoples' rights to choose how to express love to another consenting adult. We're all unique individuals and what's right for some isn't right for others. 

No, I'm just observing here and admitting that I was intrigued by this book series. And I don't think I'm the only one out there who was drawn in by the storytelling crafted by E.L. James. 

This week, all the conversation and focus has turned to the movie. People are slamming or laughing or commenting or criticizing. BUT -- and this is what I find so curious -- they are GOING. People are talking about it. People are buying tickets -- no matter what the critics say. They are taking dates. And they are watching this film. The Fifty Shades movie whipped up $81.7 Million its opening weekend!

What is that? Why is that? Curiosity? Hype? Perhaps, like me, they are simply curious ... perhaps they wonder where these "aspects of love" lead? And, if people are curious, they will read on or buy that ticket to find out themselves in the safe environment of a movie theater or their own imagination. No judgement here ... just an observation.

Whatever the case, Fifty Shades has sparked a writing revolution. Bared to You, Reflected in You, Entwined with You, Release Me, Claim Me, Complete Me. WOW! That doesn't draw in the Pearl Series or Glass Series or these numerous other trilogies out there that have continued to explore these ... um ... detailed "aspects of love."  

When I started to read "romance" novels, it was Victoria Holt and Phyllis A. Whitney that inspired my imagination and made my heart race with their tales and characters.  I liked the romantic settings and the intrigue. MM Kaye gave me India in Far Pavilions. Jane Austen gave me Mr. Darcy. Charlotte Bronte gave me Mr. Rochester. And Emily Bronte gave me my beloved Heathcliff. These strong male characters all had their own issues but I'm still drawn to their stories. Anyway ... as detailed and creative as these stories were, there were few graphic scenes. 

My reading selections are really beside the point but I have them. I remain a hopeful romantic. By choice. But Fifty Shades has commandeered and created a spin-off to the romance genre that no one could have predicted. People are talking about it -- if they object to it or not, they still are giving it air time. And that makes me curiouser and curiouser. 

Yes, I read the Shades. No, I didn't explore any of the spin offs. One series of this type was sufficient. I personally prefer a little more romance in my reads. I'll take Jamie Fraser and the Outlander series any day. I'll take images of Scotland and dashing highlanders over red rooms and safe words. I'll take Healthcliff and the moors. Stories that inspire my imagination and dreams.

But, that's just me. 

                                                                                     -- Jenni

The Best Of Times

The best of times are when I’m alone with you.

Some rain some shine, we’ll make this a world for two.

Our memories of yesterday will last a lifetime.

We’ll take the best, forget the rest

And someday we’ll find …. These are the best of times.

                             - Styx/Paradise Theatre

Today is my daughter's 10th birthday. And once again, a few days prior to this illustrious day, I hosted her little girl birthday party. I began this tradition with her 4th Birthday and have continued hosting the party in my home and coordinating all the aspects of these special events -- baking, crafting, planning, decorating, creating ideas and favors and so on. 

This year's theme followed the storybook lives of the 2nd generation of fairy tale characters. Ever After High introduces us to Snow White's daughter as well as the Wicked Queen's daughter and their many fairy tale friends. There are dolls, of course, dressed in clothing, tights and shoes only a doll could wear -- though I seriously want the SHOES! Anyway, Ever After High is relatively new so there's no "party stuff."  Of course NOW since I've paved the way, by next year I'm sure there will be tons of supplies. 

My daughter and I are always trendsetters when it comes to birthday themes.

I vow at the conclusion of every party every year that "this is the last one I host." And, I always purchase a post-event bottle of wine to celebrate my achievement after hosting and remaining sane at the conclusion of a successful event. The ability to manage an afternoon (or overnight) with high-pitched, high-energy, very busy little girls is worthy of honor. But, I know it's an empty threat. I enjoy it too much (yeah, I'm sick that way I guess.) The challenge thrills me. It gives me a creative rush to come up with a theme and all the necessary and related elements every January. Heck, I think it gets me through the post-holiday/January blahs. And this year, it was even more fun.

This year, my daughter and I truly created this event together. We selected the invitation together. We assigned character roles to each friend, casting carefully who would be who. We shopped for craft supplies and favors together. We baked together. We made cookie dough from scratch, cut out sugar cookies and frosted them. We prepared the cake batter and frosting. We experimented and created apple-looking cake pops, complete with a sparkly red candy coating. We decorated the table and counter and arranged the favor bags. And it was genuine fun.

The Best of Times -- to quote one of my favorite teenage songs -- are those kind of moments. Sure, I could hire someone or go out somewhere and let someone else do the work. I could order a cake. I could hire a cleaning company. But I gain true pleasure from creating this little party for my daughter and her friends. I honestly enjoy baking and doing all the prep with my daughter. These special moments mean a lot. And I have a feeling she will remember these moments long after she's forgotten what I bought her.

The Best of Times are different for everyone. You may not personally enjoy baking or planning a little girl birthday gig. Perhaps your Best of Times is a game afternoon with family or friends, or assembling legos, or playing tennis, or an afternoon at the beach. Perhaps it's being on stage or performing with a special friend or family member -- perhaps its sitting in the audience and watching that someone special and celebrating together. It doesn't matter what the "thing" you do is. What's important is time spent with people you truly care for ... the individuals that you truly enjoy being with.

Who are those people for you? Do they know? Do you tell them? Do you reach out with a phone call or write a text or a letter or an email? Do you send them a thank you note when they select a special gift or touch you in some unique way? Do you call to make plans for lunch or coffee or a drink to simply spend time together?  

A friend once remarked ... People don't care how much you know until they know how much you care ... (Not sure where that came from, though sources say Theodore Roosevelt.)

So, do they know? How do you tell them? How do you choose to show them? Physical expressions ... written words ... spoken kindness ... special plans... Oh, it really doesn't have to be something major to mean something big.

People come in and out of our lives. But their presence leaves an impression -- footprints on our hearts if you will. The Best of Times are spent with such people. Fleeting moments can leave lasting marks on our souls. Our memories of yesterday will last a lifetime ...

In discovering your Best of Times, you define the people most precious to you and the aspects of life you most treasure. They may be birthday events or simple moments reading a story to your kid. They may be family bike rides or vacations to exciting places. They may be quiet conversations sitting at a bar or walks and hot chocolate by the moonlight. They may be dancing classes or trips to the American Girl store. They may be evenings spent companionably on a couch reading or outings to the movies. They may be a casual dinner at a favorite place or cocktails in the backyard.  

There's no limits or rules that define the Best of Times. Just find a way to Honor them for what they offer ... and the people for what they bring to you ... and what you give to them. 

You may never choose to host a little girl birthday event. But watching those girls as I have for the past 7 parties I've planned has been a blessing and joy. Sharing an afternoon with them crafting and giggling and celebrating is one of the Best of Times for me. And getting it ready, laughing and licking batter from spoons with my daughter, well, that's pretty much The Bestest! 

And I tell her so every day...

                                                                                                                    -- Jenni

Books Are Like A Box of Chocolates ...

I love to read. Followers of my blog will know that. You'll have heard about it or noted in a quote, title or reference from earlier blogs. I have a Goodreads Account where I log the books I read. It helps me remember an author I particularly enjoyed. Goodreads friends can learn more and find new books ... and I find books thanks to them. Once in a while, I take the time to provide a review or response to a book I've read. And, I have a Goal to not only read 49 books in 2015 but to complete the 2015 Classics Challenge. My friend and fellow blogger Ron tossed out the gauntlet from Ron's Bookshelf, and I decided to pick it up.

So three weeks into January and "The Challenge," here's what I have discovered. Books are like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're going to get until you bite into them ... and some of them are chewy ... some are smooth like caramel ... some are milky sweet while others are dark ... some are filled with nuts ... and some are just plain dry. 

The first step in Ron's Challenge was to read a book by a woman writer. Now, based on Ron's criteria defining classics as books 50 years or older there were lots of options open to me. In his challenge, various categories outline the different types of books you will explore during the year. One key requirement though is it's not a book you've already read.

So, a woman writer and a book that I haven't read eliminated Austen and both Bronte sisters. It eliminated Louisa May Alcott's Little Women since I think I at least read part of that book as a child. I considered du Maurier but since I've read several of her books already and enjoyed each one I thought I should begin the challenge with someone completely new. Same was true of Agatha Christie. I considered Mary Shelley since I have not yet read Frankenstein, but decided to save her for a later category.

So, I examined my bookshelves and pulled from it a copy of something I'd long wanted to read but hadn't gotten around to it ...Isek Dinesen's Out of Africa.  

For those of you who read the name and thought Isek was a man, uh uh. Isek is better know as Baroness Karen von Blixen-Finecke -- if you saw the film based on the book Meryl Streep might come to mind. And Out of Africa was written in 1937, setting it securely into The Classic Realm. Thus satisfied, I settled into my cozy reading chair with a cup of tea, blanket and book.

This is where the Chocolate analogy come in ... yes, I'm getting to it ... Out of Africa was no romance novel and it wasn't a smooth caramel read either. It wasn't nutty or dry. Just ... chewy. It took time and engaged my mind fully.

For those of you, like me, who adore the film, let me just say that the book and the film have a very loose relationship. With exception of the title, key characters and select places, I'm not sure how the film was crafted from this particular book. There must have been some other source to create the tale I saw on screen. See, very little happened in the book that happened in the film ... save the fact that Karen "had a farm in Africa at the foot of the Ngong Hills." Once in a great while, a line or a comment resembling one from the film appeared ... like Kamente's "I think that you had better get up, Msabu. I think that God is coming." But that's pretty much where the alignment ends.

Many of the beloved characters were there ... Farah, Kamente, Denys, Barkley and, of course, Karen. But of her husband I read nothing. And of the romance between Denys and Karen ... well, if there was one, it didn't appear very significant in this book. And the club and the toast ... the plea to the Governor ... if it happened, it didn't happen in this book.

So, if I was looking for a romance read, this wouldn't be it. HOWEVER ...

The writing style was poetic and filled with beautifully crafted descriptive elements that made the sites, sounds and smells of Africa come alive. I could truly see the colors in the sky, hear the sounds of the lions, feel the dust during a drought or the itchy feeling of grasshoppers after their horrible visitation. I heard the echo of her footsteps on the porch and the sound of her cuckoo clock. I saw the giraffes and elephants. 

Many lovely, poignant observations were made. I found myself tearing little pieces of paper to mark when a particular comment moved me. Chapters were less linear and more like I was reading Karen's personal journal. With this book, I not only selected an author I'd never read, but experienced short stories, non-fiction and a book based on a movie -- well, loosely. 

There was one observation that I found quite compelling: "People who dream when they sleep at night know of a special kind of happiness which the world of the day holds not, a placid ecstasy, and ease of heart, that are like honey on the tongue. They also know that the real glory of dreams lies in their atmosphere of unlimited freedom. It is not the freedom of the dictator, who enforces his own will on the world, but the freedom of the artist, who has no will, who is free of will. The pleasure of the true dreamer does not lie in the substance of the dream, but in this: that there things happen without any interference from his side ... and altogether out of his control. Great landscapes create themselves, long splended views, rich and delicate colours, roads, houses, which he has never seen or heard of ..."

Out of Africa, by Isek Dinesen/Karen Blixen was a chewy read. The passages were thick with descriptive elements. (I admit I had to take a little break in the midst of this read to allow my eyes and mind a quick respite with a delightful coffeehouse mystery (Billionaire Blend by Cleo Coyle) -- something Ron not only approved but endorsed in his blog!) But since I've never personally traveled to Africa, I read this book with intent and received the full gamut of this unique lifestyle without the expense of a ticket to Kenya. Save the final few chapters, there truly wasn't a plot to speak of ... oh, okay, she traveled to Africa and farmed coffee. The book examines the impact of that choice, the people and places she experienced resulting from that choice, and the changes she faced -- including the loss of the farm -- based on that choice. Of Denys, there is very little written. So, I didn't get any sense of romance between them.  Have to admit, I missed that. 

But in the end, I fell more in love with Africa with each page. And I walked with her up the hill where Denys was buried. My romantic nature was satisfied as I read about how the lions did come there, to Denys' final resting place -- one male and one female -- to look over their domain. 

So I guess the romance to be found in Karen's book was the adventure of farming coffee and the challenges of life in Africa during the early days of the 20th Century ... of native encounters, safaris and wildlife. The romance in Out of Africa-the book was found in her eloquent ability to paint with words an enticing and sensory tale of the Kenya of days past ... and make us long for our own farm at the base of the Ngong Hills. 
                                                                                                                 -- Jenni

What's In A Name?

"What's in a name?

A rose by any other word would smell as sweet ..."

Romeo & Juliet 
William Shakespeare

There's a gentleman at my corner grocery store. He's always friendly and helpful. When I look like I need help, he asks what I'm searching for. If I can't find something I need, I can ask him. He doesn't simply tell me where it  is. No. He goes beyond that. He actually takes me to the item and makes sure I have what I need before he walks away.

He's always pleasant, in that corner grocery store manner of days gone by. In fact, everyone who works at the store is like that. I can honestly say that's one of my reasons for shopping there as often as I do. In a few simple moments, I connect with another human being.

In those few simple moments, I feel a little lighter. I smile a little brighter. 

Doesn't matter whether I'm just stopping in for milk or filling my cart, there is a kindness and a joy to this store and the people who work there. For a while though, he knew my name and always made that personal remark when I was shopping -- easier to do since they run my credit card and see it -- but (shamefully I admit) I didn't know his name. So, I asked Matt -- the owner. And then I gently suggested that he consider Name Tags.

Do you have a "local" grocery store? Or a "local" market or shop? There is truly nothing like the welcoming feeling of a place where everybody knows your name. And it's nice to give that back by using the name of that person helping or serving you. I always try to take that time to look at a name tag and thank people who help me by name. I don't dismiss others based on their jobs .... A person's a person no matter how small (so sayest Horton.) And he's right. 

The gentleman at my corner store is Jim. He waves when I drive by and always takes the time to ask about me and my family. And, now that I know his name, it's even easier to say hello. One day in the busy month of December, I wasn't feeling well and had stopped for juice and soup. Jim carried my groceries to the car. The next time I shopped, he asked me if I was feeling better. 

Why is that important? I guess to me it makes me feel good when people show I matter to them. And by using their name and making eye contact, it shows that I value not only the service they are providing but them as individuals. I feel it is important to take the time to pay attention to the people who I come into contact with no matter their "title."  Showing interest offers validation. It honors and pays respect to the people who surround us, work with us or serve us on a regular basis. A title or paycheck doesn't make one person more significant than other. We're all connected. We rely on each other. And, we need to value each other.

  

I have a friend who gets that ... uses my name in emails or in a text or face to face. It feels good. To hear my name or see it in writing. It means in that moment, he was thinking about me solely. That I wasn't a casual correspondence. At that time, we were connected. It means something even when we're not face to face.

So many people are in such a hurry. They walk down the street searching through their cell phone. They don't make eye contact with the people they see or meet regularly. They don't have time to say genuine words to the Barista making their coffee or the attendant ringing up their groceries. They appreciate the yoga instructor that guides them thru class but they don't take time to say thank you or ask them about their day. 

A waiter or waitress -- or flight attendant for that matter -- usually introduces him or herself when arriving to serve. But how many of us truly pay attention to their name? How many of us use it or make casual conversation with that server we find so easy to dismiss out of mind? 

My elementary school janitor's name was Mr. Claypool. I remember him well. I remember saying hello to him every day. His job was certainly not an easy one. How many janitors do you know? Have you ever stopped to say hello? 

The grocery store clerks vary depending on where I shop. But most wear name tags that are easy to see, if I pull my head from my cell phone or lists long enough to say hello when they ring up my groceries.  I tend to have enough groceries that we strike up a little casual conversation. I like to think they offer me something and I do that in return as they stand behind that register on their feet all day. 

The Barista asks my name when preparing my drink of choice. Isn't it a nice gesture to thank them using theirs before moving along to wait for the non-fat, grande cinnamon dolce latte with whip? Heck, if they are going to the trouble to make my order to such lengthy specifications, a simple thank you and use of their name is the least I can offer.

It's all about looking up. Looking around. Looking outside of yourself and your own drama. Connecting. 

Used to be a local bar named Rumors. As a young single on a limited income, I would hang out there with my friends. That bar was as close to a "Cheers" as any bar I have ever known. I knew the bartender by name. I knew the wait-staff. I've found a few other bars like that around. Those are the ones I choose to go because I feel welcome. I feel like they are glad I'm there.  

When I see Jim at the corner store, we talk. He's a neat guy. I don't know a ton about him but he's good people. He makes shopping there just a little more enjoyable.  I'm not saying we have to be best friends with "the world," but eye contact, a smile and use of a person's name go a long way these days.

What's in a name? Identity. Individuality. Personality. I like it when people use mine and I bet you like to hear your own. It offers you a momentary flicker of connection. That's more than some people ever achieve. 

What's in a name? Quite a lot. We all have one. Making a genuine effort to use them ... to create a connection with someone you don't truly know but see all the time ... well, that's pretty sweet. 

                                                                                          -- Jenni