“I am here to seduce you into a love of life;
to help you become a little more poetic;
to help you die to the mundane and to the ordinary
so that the extraordinary explodes in your life.”

~ Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh

mid-january seems like the perfect time for a riotous display of color. don’t you agree?

so, i am pulling one from the archives. and who knows – in the southern hemisphere, tulips might actually be blooming.

tulips are one of the things i miss the most about the pacific northwest. they are a bright pop of color in the mid-winter gloom.

i seem to have an affinity for tulips. there are tulip fields in michigan too. unfortunately, these fields are ten hours away (instead of one), but someday i will see them.

once, i had a layover in amsterdam during tulip season. i still think: if only. if only there had been enough time to sneak away and visit the tulips.

just look at them! i am smiling away over here.

(i closed my eyes and asked the tulips if they had a message for you. it was this, “sing, dear ones, sing.”)

today, following my excitement led me to create this.

because atlas likes me to tell him a bedtime story, and maybe you (&/or a beloved child) would too.

(want more stories? check out the story club! it’s like a fruit of the month club, only with lighthearted + delightful stories.)

“October’s poplars are flaming torches lighting the way to winter.”

~ Nova S. Bair

(i am currently loving this photo & this quote. since it is mid-winter here in the northern hemisphere, it seemed an opportune time to share.)

my nephew lars likes to do somersaults.

the first few times lars asked me to do a somersault, i tried – i really did – but then my head and feet were on the floor and my butt was in the air and i just didn’t have the nerve to lift my legs up and over. it seemed so far from here to there and i was afraid. after that, i said no whenever he asked me to do one. but i still wanted to do a somersault. i really did. (also, i wanted to not be afraid of them.)

finally, a few weeks ago – after my mom and my brother reminded me not to put my head on the floor – i crouched down and swayed back and forth a few times and then i flung myself forward and over. i rolled through the somersault and found myself sitting cross-legged on the floor – head and limbs intact, slightly dizzy.

i had done it! i had done a somersault! i was so delighted. now lars does a somersault and then i do a somersault and it is so much fun.

last weekend, i went cross-country skiing with my dad and my sister.

cross-country skiing is big here. there are a number of excellent trail systems in the area, including one less than a mile from my house. since i moved back, whenever anyone asked if i skied, or if i’d gone skiing, i’d explain that i didn’t ski because i didn’t enjoy it.

that story seemed true. it was formed during a cross-country ski outing when i was young that was pure drudgery.

if i paid close attention, i noticed that there was a tiny bit of excitement when i thought about trying it again – after all, i enjoy many things now that i disliked when i was young – but i ignored the excitement because i was locked into that old story.

until last weekend, when my dad and my sister decided to go cross-country skiing at night. night skiing sounded idyllic, so i decided to join them.

it was so. much. fun.

the black sky. the white snow on the dark green trees. the swish swish swish of my skis in the tracks. the welcoming glow of the lights on the trail. my shrieks as i sped down each hill. the whistle of the wind. my slightly numb fingers encased in a pair of gloves and a pair of mittens.

so. much. fun.

there is something important for me here.

i don’t know where it will lead, or why it is important, but i want to pay closer attention to what excites me, and follow the trail of that excitement.

do you do this already?

is it easy for you?

how are you at recognizing and following the trail of your excitement?

i have a gratitude journal on my iphone. every night before bed, i write (type) a list of tiny moments of gratitude.

like the sunlight reflected by the stained glass window that reminded me of a rainbow-edged wing.

or the miniature acorns that were hanging on a snow-covered evergreen as if they were nature’s own christmas ornaments.

or my first (and so far, only) latte art heart.

or the snowflake trail i found in one of my photos after an afternoon spent watching fat fluffy snowflakes fall to the ground while atlas tried to follow the scent of a rabbit.

i like the act of collecting these moments.

they remind me that a simple life can be full + rich + wondrous. even when my mind tries to convince me otherwise.

may the earth support you.
may the sun warm you.
may the wind whisper good night to you.
may the stars light your path.

may you receive your deepest heart’s desire.
may you see the sacred in everything.
may you know that you are love.

on this, the first day of the new year – and always.

i woke up on tuesday to find myself living in the land of ice and snow. it was truly spectacular.

on thursday, the world was still frozen.

i took atlas and my camera for a walk that evening and nearly froze my fingers off.

on friday, the world was still frozen.

i took atlas and my camera for a hike around calumet lake that afternoon. the alternate thawing and freezing meant that the trail was pretty solid, no snowshoes required.

i will confess that i expected to see jon snow and some of his brothers on the night’s watch, or else the snow queen, around every single corner.

from now on, when i read game of thrones, this is how i will picture the wall, the lands north of the wall, and winterfell in winter.

{a story from the archives. because it makes me happy. because it is the season.}

dear savannah,

brrrrrrrrr, it is cold at the north pole right now. it might be just as cold as north dakota.

the elves in the stable are working round-the-clock to keep the water in the reindeer’s water dishes thawed. it seems to freeze solid every hour. when they miss a bowl, the reindeer bump their noses on the ice when they go to take a drink. almost all of the reindeer have bruises on their noses now. even rudolph.

did you write a letter to me this year? mrs. claus says i’m getting old because sometimes i forget things. i am getting old, but i never forget the important things, like where you live or how old you are. i do, however, often forget where my glasses are. (usually, they are in my beard. it is such a big fluffy beard that i often put my glasses in there for safekeeping and then forget about them.)

are you enjoying the holiday season? there is so much wonder and magic in the air right now. you can watch the snowflakes sparkle in the lamplight. you can giggle at the icicles on atlas’s chin. you can see the colorful shadows on the wall behind the christmas tree. you can watch the chickadees as they hop from branch to branch. you can find the green of the evergreens hidden beneath their winter coat of snow.

mrs. claus and i love this time of year. we drink hot cocoa and swap stories about the people we love. sometimes we feel sad because we miss the elves that have retired and gone back to their villages, so we cry for a while and then give each other a big hug.

(silly me. i am getting old. i don’t need to tell you about wonder and magic. you can find it anywhere. i heard how you found the mardi gras beads and made a rainbow.)

it’s fun to think of you getting older, savannah. i hope you know how special you are and how very much you are loved, exactly the way you are.

it’s time for me to say goodbye now. i need to bring some soup to the chief elf. he has a cold and his nose won’t stop running. it is dripping all over the presents.

don’t forget your friend santa claus, and please leave me a cookie! i love pumpkin raisin, just like your auntie nibby.

merry christmas.

love, santa claus

do you know someone who would love their very own letter from santa claus?

here’s a way for you to delight them!

i can feel all the anger + frustration + anguish in the united states right now and my heart is breaking.

i don’t know what to say, for many reasons, but it feels important to say something.

here is what i know.

the civil rights movement occurred from 1954-1968.

1968 was less than 50 years ago.

no matter how much i might want to believe otherwise, i have heard enough + seen enough + read enough to know that racism is not dead, privilege does exist, and sometimes i am part of the problem.

i want to live in a world in which everyone feels seen + heard + valued.

i want to live in a world in which everyone truly feels free.

perhaps it sounds naive, but i believe that such a world is possible.

maybe not now. maybe not for generations. maybe systems will have to be dismantled.

still, i choose to believe it is possible.

as i sit with hard questions, i commit (again) to this.

i will check my privilege.

i will listen; i will learn; i will seek to understand.

i will notice the way i divide the world into us and them, and meet each person as an individual.

i will not fear my blind spots, my darkness, the many times i will fail at this. i will acknowledge them & do the work necessary & send love to myself through all of it.

above all, i commit to love.

i was wondering how this post connected to my mission – to remind you of beauty + wonder.

perhaps it doesn’t.

but i do know there is beauty in everything: beauty in rising up, beauty in coming together, beauty in what seems like darkness.

this part is for me, a reminder of my touchstones.

If only there were evil people somewhere insidiously committing evil deeds, and it were necessary only to separate them from the rest of us and destroy them. But the line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being. And who is willing to destroy a piece of his own heart?

~ Solzhenitsyn

It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare. All day long we are, in some degree, helping each other to one or the other of these destinations. It is in the light of these overwhelming possibilities, it is with the awe and the circumspection proper to them, that we should conduct all our dealings with one another, all friendships, all loves, all play, all politics. There are no ordinary people.

~ C.S. Lewis