spider web with dew drops, Canon Digital Rebel XTi

“If we knew that tonight we were going to go blind,
we would take a longing, last real look at every blade of grass,
every cloud formation, every speck of dust, every rainbow, raindrop-everything.”
– Pema Chodron

….
One of the more beautiful things I have heard in a long time.

Jonatha Brooke, Tennessee Valley, my perfect birthday gift, Canon Digital Rebel XTi

I believe in art, I believe in love, I believe in color.

I believe in wearing a daily spf 15 moisturizer.

I believe in Montreal bagels, Mt. Tam cheese and a good bubble bath that smells like lemons and black currant.

I believe in making friends and keeping them, in meeting your heroes, and in dish soap that smells like ylang ylang and grapefruit.

I believe in hikes in the woods, in the smell of rosemary and in seeing the ocean as often as possible.

I believe in sleeping 10 hours a night, in big beautiful meals and in extra virigin olive oil.

I believe in the cartoon blue sky at dusk. I believe in the fiery maple leaves on the sidewalk that look like starfish.

I believe in a tiny scoop of vanilla ice cream in your morning espresso.

I believe Oprah when she says that all kids ever want to know about their parents is this: “Does their face light up when I walk into the room?”

I believe in strong women, strong coffee and strong friendship.

I believe in celebrating the ones you love, writing thank you notes sooner than later, and telling the truth even sooner than that.

I believe in hugging people the first time you meet them.

I believe in synchronicity, in intuition and in my own magic.

I believe in friends and family to support me, in my partner who loves me, and that there are angels to help me out when I can’t help myself.

I believe that to stay young, you must stay curious and have a tiny adventure every day.

I believe in people singing together, in holding hands, and in people who are easily moved to tears.

I believe that somehow we all think we’re not good enough, and if I had one superhero power it would be to remind you to trust yourself…

red starfish, Canon Digital Rebel XTi

There is a postal worker I see every few days when I mail packages. Her name is P and for the last several months that I have lived in Berkeley, I had the impression that she was a bit crabby or didn’t like me. But suddenly at the window last week, everything was different. She asked me about the baby, when he was due, what his name is, etc.

When I told her the name she exclaimed, “That’s a terrible name!” and I laughed as her brown skin and freckles scrinched up on her face in mock disgust. She offered up other names like Mystic and Jordan and the name of a football player that she liked but couldn’t quite remember the name of… The one that started with an L.

She surprised me and I blushed when she said she wouldn’t sell me a whole sheet of stamps but only 10 because, “This way you’ll come back to the window sooner.”

We all want to be connected.

As I walked away, I remembered Margarita from my old post office who I would see nearly every day, who got mad at me when I started using the automated postal machine for my priority packages. Who said, “Girl, if I ever see you using that machine again and not waiting in line to see me, you’re gonna get it.”

Either I have a special way with the ladies at the post office, or we are all hungry for human connection.

I know from working at home alone that my first human contact of the day is often the UPS guy or the teenager that checks me in at the YMCA. I probably seem overly eager to them as well, like a puppy that hasn’t been out all day.

What I really want to say is that each of these connections matters. In the same way that those ladies at the post might be my first human contact of the day, I might be theirs too. They remind me that we all matter. Everywhere we go we matter. And that we take that for granted. We think, “Oh, I won’t go to the meeting/ the party/ the class. No one will miss me anyway.”

But the truth is, we all matter and we are all missed.

Even here, on this blog. Each comment left is a thread of connection that I cherish.

And if y’all ever stop commenting, you’re totally gonna get it.