Tags
November 7, 1997
It rained all night, but the sun was out and everything sparkled. I parked at the far end of Stow Lake, jogged around the lake, into the botanical gardens, past the museums and a rock band complete with dancing groupies in the band shell, then back to the lake. A rented surrey filled to the brim with seven small children and steered by two hearty women, made its way up the hill in front of me. I overheard one of the women say to the other, “That is the last time I’ll wonder what renting a surrey is like!”
I saw a young couple kissing as an older couple passed by holding hands. I thought about my own marriage and a topic of conversation that has recently become popular among my circle of thirty-something friends, “passion.”
I saw the remnants of what must have been a very damp wedding being picked up by a couple of young men in tuxes. I saw a woman wearing way too much makeup, dressed in a bright orange and gold kimono walking down the road.
I thought of passion again:
taking in enormous gulps of life with each breath;
stepping out of the observing, grateful mode;
offering up a piece of one’s self, not shrinking;
connecting, and in doing so giving others permission to do the same.
So simple, and there for the taking at any given moment.
November 11, 2011
It rained all night. We had planned a run and a picnic at Golden Gate Park. “Let’s go anyway,” I said to Tony as we watched it drizzle over the bay from our teeny, tiny empty nest. I quickly cleaned the cottage (in five minutes flat) in preparation for our weekend guests – a family of seven! I can already hear myself saying to Tony, “That’s the last time I’ll wonder what sleeping on the kitchen floor is like” (our kitchen alcove is the closest thing we have to a spare room), we loaded up Cassidy, and headed across the Golden Gate to the park.
By the time we found a place to park that was suitable for Cassidy (deserted spot in a city of 700,000 people), it had stopped raining. We ran past the museums, now entirely different buildings, we ran past a group of young people dressed in Great Gatsby garb (sparkles, long strands of pearls, pin striped suits), Tony thought maybe they were part of a band, we ran past a young couple kissing.
As we passed by Stow Lake and approached the spot where I had seen the woman in her kimono 14 years ago, I felt a bit weepy and joyful (menopause + endorphins?).
Tony and I were the older couple, on this day in the park.
I took in a big gulp of life, so grateful for every breath, not shrinking (literally), so fortunate to be able to connect with others in a meaningful, positive way.
Passion, so simple, and there for the taking at any given moment.
sweet.
Thank you.
What a beautiful way with words you have!
Thanks Cathy.
That was just beautiful and inspiring!
Thanks Annie. You and I got lucky.
This is my first visit and I have to say, I’m impressed! Great design, execution and an overall great experience!
Thank you! I have been enjoying your blog(s) as well!
Thanks be to the Passion gods that it never dies – merely changes degrees, forms and places! :D
Love your comparative approach to this. I’ve lived on my little island for 30+ years and once in a while, I’m hit with a memory that puts me in a heartfelt frame of mind!
Also, thanks for your subscription. May you find good stuff to take with you.
Thank you. I’m usually not so serious, but was definitely struck by a heartfelt moment. It was a great reminder of what brings joy to my life. Looking forward to exploring your blog.
Beautiful!
Thank you. I thought your post The Fog was beautiful as well (and I have a bit of a fog phobia).
Love the retrospection and design. And I, too, am grateful the passion still reverberates, be now a different pitch.
Red.
Wow. I just read some of your blog. I will be paying it forward to the family of seven filling my home right now. I don’t know how you do it. The only reason I can write at the moment is that family has five teens so they are all still sleeping at 9:00 a.m.
Thanks for visiting (I’ll look forward to reading your travel tips more in depth when my guests leave).
You are welcome to come, share and be sure to leave a link to your blog in your response. M3 leaves a little trail of crumbs for most everyone to follow. One of my followers told me of the Morning Rush posts it was a terrific “Never Be Late To Work” plan. Ingenious!
I shall return!
Red.
Pingback: Making Friends «
Pingback: Drops of Jupiter «
Just when I was looking for something to pull gently as a reminder rather than yank my chain. Thank you.
You are welcome. I enjoyed your piece on women and strength this morning. http://valentinelogar.com/2011/11/27/women-of-strength-not-for-the-faint-of-heart/
This piece made me wonder how the ability to so effectively weave together disparate people, places and times impacts our ability to feel. If played right, my guess is perspective truly does fuel passion, as it seems to have for you and your man.
Pingback: Dear Self, Just Stop It! «
Pingback: My Year of Living Aimlessly (and apologies*) « The Worrywart's Guide to Weight, Sex, and Marriage
Perfectly stunning! I’m looking forward to reading more of your posts after this one.
Thank you!
This is lovely now, as it was when I first read it….hope all is well in your world. pj
Thank you Patrice. Things are really, really good at the moment – I even had time to read some of my favorite blogs this weekend.
I didn’t realize that when I repost that it goes back into everyone’s inbox again. I don’t know why I wouldn’t realize that.
In a way I feel like I have nothing new to say (although I have been crushing my weightloss goals like crazy lately – down 25 pounds). However, there are some things I want to say over and over, and this was one of them.
I’m glad to hear all is well, way to go with the weight loss! July is a good month.
Amazing to come back around to that after the years. You’re a different person now but there are some things that have to be clung to no matter where we are in life. Love your passion!!
Great connection. Full of truth, beauty, and gentle truth.
I appreciate your heartfelt moments. I even appreciate it more that your share them.
I love this. (But I love all your posts.) I think it’s funny how small moments touch us and speak to us this way after so many years.