that's mrs. mediocrity to you

Yesterday, my husband broke my all-time favorite teacup. It was an accident, and I forgave him thirty seconds later (yes, it took thirty seconds). And I know what you’re thinking: it was just a cup.

But it wasn’t. It was the perfect cup. The perfect sky blue color, the perfect cup-in-palm shape, the perfect weight, the perfect size for morning tea. I’ve seen a lot of life reflected in this cup. It’s the first thing I talk to every morning. No one else even wants to talk to me before we’ve shared at least one cup of tea. And by we, I mean me and my cup.

I found it one day at a flea market, years and years and years ago. It jumped right into my hand, knowing it would be going home with me. It only cost a few dollars, and I already had a beige version of the same cup at home, my then-favorite that had developed a hairline crack after many years of daily use. I still have that cup in the back of the cupboard, even though it’s cracked. It’s hard to part with old friends.

I also have a white version of the same cup, which is what I’m drinking out of this morning. And it’s almost as good as the blue one, but if I am honest, I must admit, I’ve always played favorites and loved the blue one just a little bit more. I know it’s wrong. But I couldn’t help it.

Truth is, I have a cupboard full of tea cups. And favorites I use for every different kind of tea. But my favorite tea is morning tea, most especially the very first cup, and my sky blue cup has been through a lot of mornings with me. Outside in the garden sipping a reflection of the sky, inside snuggled up with a book and blanket, work days that I would never have been able to face without my friend in hand.

Don’t get me wrong, in the grand scheme of things, I know this is nothing. That it is, in truth, just a cup. There are ten million things in life more important than this.

But just for this one short minute, in answer to this prompt, I’m allowing myself to mourn my cup.

Call me crazy if you want, I don’t mind.

But whisper, okay? Because I’ll be having a moment of silence.

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Reverb 12/Cultivate 2012:

What matters most to you right now?

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The older I get, the more often I find myself starting books and not finishing them.

It used to be that if I started a book, I would finish it, no matter what. But these days, with so many options, and so little time to give to reading, if a book doesn’t grab me pretty early on, it goes back in the pile. And even if I get halfway through and it isn’t holding my attention, it goes back in the pile.

I feel a slight twinge of guilt about this, always. But, so be it.

I didn’t find an over-the-top favorite this year.  A beautiful book to vie for a place on my top ten list. Of course, that can’t happen every year, that list is only for the exceptional standouts.

But there were a few that came very close. The Language of Flowers by Vanessa Diffenbaugh, The Fault in our Stars by John Green, Nightwoods by Charles Frazier, Freedom by Jonathan Franzen. All excellent.

There was also When Women Were Birds by Terry Tempest Williams, non-fiction, but beautiful just the same. And I also bought several of Mary Oliver’s books and read her poetry for the first time. To be honest, I hadn’t expected to love it as much as I did. Oh my. Silly me.

So let me ask you this question: What was your favorite book of 2012?

Because you know, there’s still time, and I’m still looking.

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Reverb 12/Cultivate 2012:

What was the best book you read in 2012, and why??

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i begged my garden

for forgiveness,

and she

brought me

flowers.

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Reverb 12/Cultivate 2012:

What was the most important relationship that you fostered in 2012?

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simply this.

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Reverb 12/Cultivate 2012:

What’s the one thing you want to take with you into 2013?

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2012 was the year of discarding.

It was amazing how good that felt, amazing how opening up a little physical space in my life made my mind open up a bit as well.

Of course, it wasn’t just things that I let go of, it was also ideas. Perfection was at the top of the list, followed by the notion of being caught up. I also tossed some fear to the wind and watched it fly away, despite the fact that it kept telling me those wings were broken.

Truth is, I tossed with abandon.

I threw out boxes of things and bags of possessions. I flung words into every corner and watched them wrestle. I hurled old hurts into the fire, and grudges got the boot.

And then I opened my arms wide and embraced the sky.

My hands are empty, but my heart is not.

I became a gypsy.

Well, okay, not exactly.

But you know what I mean.

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Reverb 12/Cultivate 2012:

What do you need to let go of to cultivate your best life in 2013?

What did you learn?

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In thinking about what lesson really jumped out at me this past year, the word that kept popping into my mind was dance. And I don’t mean I took dance lessons, I mean, I danced.

Oh there were other lessons, I learned that discarding is a beautiful thing, that time is more valuable than money, that space, empty space, doesn’t always need to filled. I learned how to let go and how to hold on, how to be strong and how to be open, the importance of forgiveness and the impossibility of tomorrow. I learned that I still have so very much to learn.

But mostly, I danced.

Beneath the moon and out in the sun, while I washed dishes and vacuumed the floor, in my mind and in my heart and everywhere I went, I danced. With trees and flowers, birds and butterflies, snowflakes and smiles.

I danced while I worked, I danced while I ran, I danced while planting tiny seedlings.

I twirled and turned, bent and dipped, waltzed and two-stepped. (I even kicked and stretched like Sally O’Malley in the parking lot of the mall to make my mom and sister laugh – but that’s a whole different story.)

In the fall, after I had been sick with the flu and stuck inside forever, I went to walk with my husband and son one day while they golfed. And way across on the other side of the course, I spotted this dancing leaf girl, some crazy vine gone wild in the untended edge of the rough.

She’d been out there the whole time, holding my place.

And then I knew that I was just exactly where I was supposed to be at that moment, beneath that endless bowl of sky, pirouetting in the golden glint of sun.

I danced all the way home.

I’m dancing, still.

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Reverb 12/Cultivate 2012:
What lesson really jumped out at you this year? How can you cultivate that lesson going forward?

What was your dream destination in 2012 and why? ?

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pink raspberry rhyme of sky
in a slice of winter window
pie-faced and pretty
and asking nothing
in return

no one ever said
a clean slate
was required
to be grey

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Linking up today with the fabulous dVerse poets for Open Link Night, join us!

Time marks its own passing on all of our faces.

This year, my father turned 75, my mother turned 70, and both my husband and I turned 50. It was a milestone year when it comes to time, recorded with pictures and parties and trips and love.

I gave myself the gift of more time this year, cutting the number of jewelry shows we did in half, giving me more hours to spend outside in my garden, one of my favorite places to be.

I also made friends with time. I stopped fighting it, racing it, cursing it, and I started embracing it.

It is, after all, not time’s fault that we cannot bottle it and save it up for later, not time’s fault that gravity wins and bones grow brittle. Not time’s fault that we do too much and relax too little.

So did I spend my time wisely this year? Absolutely.

I celebrated every breath I took, every sunrise I saw, every midnight moon that called me outside. I saw the most amazing comet sear across the sky as I sat shivering beneath a quilt, I ran seven miles for the first time in two years one hot summer day, I started flowers from seed and watched them cycle through life.

There were family parties and quiet dinners, summer picnics and holiday feasts. Toasts were made and hugs were given.

We don’t spend time the way we spend money, we can’t bank it or save it or even give it away. We take what we get and then it is gone, and we are changed forever by the stamp of each passing moment.

Time moves through us, weaving its own plaids and patterns, creating an endless swath of fabric that waves in the breeze of who we are.

Fluttering, ever so slightly with each inhale, exhale, inhale.

Time is life.

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Somehow, at my birthday party, we failed to take a photo of me and my parents together. So my mom asked if she and my dad could stop by on my birthday to record the moment. I detest having my picture taken, and never, ever like photos of myself. But I have to say, I don’t hate this one, and I am posting it here as a surprise for my mom.

And yes, I am in my pajamas. I could have changed, but somehow, this seemed just right.

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Reverb 12/Cultivate 2012:
Did you spend your time wisely this year?

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“I’d rather explore life on my own and get lost a thousand times than follow someone else’s beautifully landscaped path.”

One of my own facebook quips, after a day that felt like everyone in the world was telling me the best path in life, seemingly claiming to have all the answers.

I’ve always walked the path less traveled, always been on the outside looking in, always fallen just shy of fitting into any group, or being in any loop. It has never been about answers for me, but always, the questions.

And the questions can only be found by living them, getting dirt under your nails and scrapes on your knees, tripping blindly through the dark on the way to nowhere, wandering alone and lost in a wilderness of possibility.

Do I ever get lonely? Sometimes. Though probably not as often as I should.

Do I reach out to take an offered hand when I stumble and fall down? Absolutely. And if, by chance, there is no one there to offer that hand, I get up anyway, and keep on walking.

Mystery and wonder are always there to greet me, one on either side.

The path of the introvert is the path that’s chosen me.

The path of wonderfully, magically always just a little bit lost is the path that I have chosen.

And despite the drawbacks, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Besides, I couldn’t find my way out of here if I tried.

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Reverb 12/Cultivate 2012:
Sometimes the best path chooses you. — Patrick Rhone

What path chose you this year??

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with words and music

flowers and friends

life and death

hope and folly

in pretty skirts

and ragged pajamas

barefoot and high-heeled

through sun and rain

wind and drought

in a forest of birds

and a flight of trees

with the moon at midnight

a blushing sun at dawn

holding snowflakes on my tongue

and sweat trickling down my spine

with one foot tapping happiness

and the other marking sadness

alone in the dark

together in the light

always

with one hand waving free

i danced

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Cultivate 2012:
What did you set out to accomplish this year?
What have you done to cultivate your goals and your life?

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