We have been a bit under the weather at my home this past week. It has created the space requiring that one hold still. However, this is not always a bad thing when the focus of energy while physically resting, can then be spent with time consuming yummy things such as this series:
I have developed a delightful crush on the powerful gentleness of Monty’s ability for observation past the surface and I suspected there was more to the story of the man than meets the eye. (Turns out I was right… one can feel a depth behind the words). It also doesn’t hurt that he reminds me of my father with his sensible shoes and his carrying of a mail satchel (both iconic trademarks of my Papa-san). What a lovely real man.
I also have been rereading and rewatching some of my all time favorites. With a revisit to the Pulitzer Prize for 1921, I have been remembering that some women are definitely Mays and others are Madame Olenskas. I myself, tried my best to be a May, but when I was finally ready to be honest, secretly I had always been an Ellen. Thus it is that I have taken my “bits of wreckage” and recreated beautiful rooms birthed directly from my imagination in an amazing life story. I have always “transgressed” the “rules” without really ever trying to, but from sitting on that red settee in my own version of a red dress, the view is divine
What he saw, meanwhile, with the help of the lamp, was the faded shadowy charm of a room unlike any room he had known. He knew that the Countess Olenska had brought some of her possessions with her –bits of wreckage, she called them– and these, he supposed, were represented by some small slender tables of dark wood, a delicate little Greek bronze on the chimney-piece, and a stretch of red damask nailed on the discoloured wallpaper behind a couple of Italian-looking pictures in old frames. -Newland Archer, Age of Innocence
And for the listening while being focused on wellness…
Somewhere within us all there is a secret garden. A garden in which we can seek refuge when times are rough, or retire to in joy or contemplation. For years I have visited my own secret garden in search of organic harmony and melody… Together we have tended the secret garden – and the crop is here for your picking. It is my sincere wish that by uncovering some of our secrets, you will pay a visit to your own garden. – Rolf Lovland of Secret Garden
Feeling ill can be a lovely way of remembering to spend time traveling the subtlety available on the roads that lead home. M’s secret garden holds for me many such small, healing joys and I am happy to share a few with you.
She who binds to herself a Joy
Does the winged life destroy;
She who kisses the Joy as it flies,
Lives in Eternity’s sunrise.