Travel On!

Travel On!

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This morning on the way to work I opened yesterday’s New York Times travel section with its cover story on 52 places to visit in 2020. It’s a wonder I made it into the office. I could totally have seen myself looking up at National Airport or Eisenhower Avenue, having sailed past my stop, salivating over a double-page spread photograph of the Lake District.

I’m not a bucket-list kind of person. I love to travel but am more of an “I’ll-take-whatever-I-can-get” kind of person, and when reading a luscious travel section, as I was this morning, I pretty much want to go to everyplace I see — except, maybe, Richmond, Va., — it’s too close!

But articles like these do us a great service, I think. They simulate the imagination, they lead us to research the spots that look interesting, and, who knows, they might even be the first nudge that gets us to Tajikistan or Slovenia or the British Virgin Islands.

It’s a brand new year, a brand new decade. Travel on!

(If you’d told me in 2010 that I would visit Bangladesh, above, in 2017 … I wouldn’t have believed it!)

Walking Tall

Walking Tall

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It was an aha moment made possible by a liberal arts education, and it happened in the biology lab. While dissecting the brain of a fetal pig I came across the pineal gland, located between the two hemispheres and thought by some (including Descartes) to be the seat of the soul. I had just been reading Descartes in my philosophy class, and the fact that I was now seeing that very gland (albeit a tiny porcine version of it) made my heart skip a beat.

I still pay attention to things like this, strange connections and coincidences when the fates seem to be saying, listen up … this is important.

What I’ve been noting lately — both from Becca, the physical therapist I’ve been seeing, and reading in Sarah Kaufamn’s The Art of Grace (more later about this fine book) — is the importance of good posture.

Posture is a foundation for moving gracefully, Kaufman writes, and good posture provides an uplifting feeling. This was seconded by Becca, who tells me that in the process of tightening my core I should concentrate on being pulled up, that this will counteract a tendency to collapse in the midsection that can irritate the spine and cause sciatic flare-ups.

“If you watch people walk,” Kaufman writes, “most of us sink into our hips. … There should be a comfortable tension in the torso, lifting the abdomen and hips against gravity while helping relax and easing shoulders down slightly.”

The fates have spoken  — and I’m trying to walk tall.

Blank Slate

Blank Slate

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I’ve started off the new year with almost as much clutter as before — with one notable exception: I cleared off one counter in the kitchen. I banished the bread box, moved the canisters and corralled the papers. Which means I begin 2020 with one clean sweep of vintage Formica.

I’m not sure why I did this, but there must be a deep-seated need to begin the year with a blank slate, to clear the way for 12 more months of experiences … and stuff.

Nature abhors a vacuum, of course, especially in this house, and things are constantly piling up on the counter: newspapers, mail, glasses, crumbs. But so far nothing I can’t dispatch quickly to its intended spot or to the recycling bin.

This won’t last long, I know. The house in general is full to bursting. There’s a warren of boxes in the basement, and a vanity and bathtub in the garage … but here in my kitchen, at this very moment, there is a lovely open countertop. And I’m going to keep it that way as long as I can.

Little Women

Little Women

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We were at least 20 or 30 minutes into the new film version of “Little Women” before Jo uttered the famous first line: “Christmas won’t be Christmas without any presents.” But the disjointed telling of Louisa May Alcott’s tale is one of my few quibbles with this lovely new movie.

What a moral world Louisa May Alcott has created for us in Little Women, and what a fulsome rendition of it director Greta Gerwig has brought to life in this new adaptation. Seeing it with one of my own “little women,” I thought about the world it evokes and the world she and her sisters inhabit — a world where personal sacrifices seem as out of place as dance cards and turned collars.

I devoured Alcott books as a girl and took their lessons to heart. They are simple and old-fashioned — be kind, work hard, think of others and not just yourself — but as difficult to follow now as they were then. It’s not as if the modern world doesn’t celebrate these virtues too, but the concept of self-improvement, that we are pilgrims on a moral journey, often seems lost in bits and bytes and likes.

Being immersed in an earlier time for two hours, albeit glamorized and spit-polished, made me realize what we have lost. It is much indeed.


(Photo: “Little Women,” Sony Pictures)

Whiff of a Resolution

Whiff of a Resolution

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At this time of year ought we to be skeptical of the new behaviors we see in others? Was it my imagination or did the energetic jogger I noticed on the street the other day look down a bit sheepishly? Did he realize what I was thinking, that I was wondering whether he’ll be running this time next month?

And to use myself as an example, will the perennial “don’t worry, be happy” resolution prompt people to think “Hmmmm …. she sure seems cheerful … there’s a whiff of a resolution about her?” Probably not, of course. People aren’t thinking about much other than their own concerns, understandably.

If resolutions are even made anymore, then this time of year ought to witness some of the kindest and gentlest of interactions, both in person and in traffic. With the exception of the dieters, of course. They are allowed to be cranky.

For us resolution-makers whose earnest attempts invite knowing smiles or arched eyebrows, let’s just plow on. Yes, there may be whiff of a resolution about us … but that’s just the aroma of change.

Flip Side

Flip Side

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Washington, D.C., had its first official snow day yesterday, with a quick-moving and more-powerful-than-anticipated storm closing federal government offices and sending commuters and school kids out on deteriorating roads.

It was a chaotic scene that’s now replaced by the peacefulness of a snow-crusted Wednesday morning. I’m working in front of a window with the transformed world spread out before me. Every limb and branch is coated in white with crows providing the contrast. When birds land on a snow-covered limb, a bit of the white stuff falls to the ground in a small clump, creating a second gentle snowfall.

I’m not a skier or skater. Walking and shoveling are the occupations that get me out into the elements. But I love these snowscapes just the same. They are a monochromatic, matte version of the usual scenery, a flip side, so to speak.

Absolutely Ridiculous!

Absolutely Ridiculous!

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Early January requires a sense of humor, I’ve decided. Holidays behind us, long nights and bad weather ahead, we must cultivate a lighter way of looking at things. This does not come easily — especially with the doom and gloom that come to us regularly from the airwaves and our phones.

Watching comedies helps. So does talking to upbeat people, animals (though they seldom talk back) or, in a pinch, to one’s self (again, talking back seldom happens, or at least let’s hope that it doesn’t).

The right kind of book can also do the trick. The Salt Path, which I just finished, is one example; of course there are thousands of them. And then there is noticing the silly and ridiculous details of daily life. That works best of all.

Everyday Epiphanies

Everyday Epiphanies

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This year the feast of the Epiphany falls on the first back-to-work-and-school day. For some, it may even delay the first back-to-work day. For me, back-to-the-office cannot be postponed … so I’ll just have to be astonished by the daily grind.

Maybe this is not such a bad thing. Maybe we need to take our epiphanies where we find them, not just in the grand celebrations of life but in the everyday moments — hopping on Metro, settling into the office, getting a glass of water at the kitchen sink.

It’s difficult to find wonder in the everyday, but it is, I think, what we were born for.

Over Again?

Over Again?

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Even though I worked last Thursday and Friday, I did so at home, so tomorrow looms as the first real return day. In reflecting over the Christmas that was, I relive the lovely moments with family and friends, surely the highlight of this or any other holiday.

I also recall a day I’ll remember for its contentment, when I felt strangely happy. I say strangely because I was fighting a cold and still had a lot to do: all the cards to write, gifts to wrap and baking to do. But the tree was up and decorated and a marathon of biblical movies flickered on TV.

I addressed envelopes and curled ribbons to the soundtrack from “King of Kings” (I watched the film some too, but I listened more than looked). The majesty of that music seemed more fitting than any Christmas carol, and I went about my holiday tasks with a new sense of meaning and anticipation.

It was just a moment, but it was such a pleasant one that it seems to encapsulate all this holiday’s happy moments. Now I sit in front of that same tree, which must soon be taken down, and, well, I just wish I could do it all over again.

The Hawk Next Door

The Hawk Next Door

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This morning I saw in a neighbor’s tree the unmistakable silhouette of a hawk. A wild thing partially tamed, this bird, because the neighbors (who hunt with bow and arrow) leave hunks of deer meat about for it to chew on.

If it sounds like I live in the woods or up a mountain, be assured that this is indeed the suburbs. But such is the wide array of residents here that this hawk sits hunched in contemplation, looking as if he owns the place — because he thinks he does!

I love that he’s nearby, though I’m glad I have no small cats to tempt him. But the presence of this bird of prey, his cries in the morning fog, remind me of the wild world that waits just outside my door. A world I’m just about to walk in…


(Couldn’t find a photo of a hawk, so an owl will have to do.)