Trouvaille


Trouvaille (noun) Origin: French | A lucky find.

Perfect bubbles in a perfect sky.  I dreamt one time that I could live in a bubble.  Reflecting everything around me.  Rainbows, shadows, sun, and rain.  Floating in a fathomless world. Bubbles are enchanting and beautiful and so delicate.

Too delicate.

Once I grew up I realized that, for the most part, I was already living in a bubble.  Everyone was living in a bubble. As a matter of fact, most of us spend our entire life in a bubble. We spend our life in our cozy little bubbles, separated from other bubbles.  It’s a choice. Even if it’s a subconscious choice.  Your bubble is your norm.

Too, too delicate.

We get annoyed when our bubble is popped, or disturbed in any way. We label the things in our bubble so they are recognizable to us and our bubble friends.  It’s a comfortable place to live.

But so, so delicate. So, so fragile. So easy to burst.  That was a hard lesson but a necessary one.

My trouvaille was finding my bubble again.  Learning that I could come and go from my bubble and merge with other bubbles and leave again, undamaged. Realizing that no matter how far i strayed from the bubble, I would be able to return to it.  How lucky am I?

I enjoy the beauty of the bubble, they’re fluid and yet they have these geometric shapes so they do surprising things – two spheres become a single sphere – it’s what bubbles do. ~~Tom Noddy

Trouvaille: Ka; UtKarsh; strider; Dhanan; caholmes; Jess; viixiin

Sehnsucht


Sehnsucht (n.) – Origin: German – Definition: The inconsolable longing in the human heart for a far, familiar, non-earthly land one can identify as one’s home.

I spent 3 years teaching English in Korea.  My youngest daughter lived with me for the first year.  I homeschooled her and she would often come into my classroom and “assist” me in teaching the kids. My oldest daughter came and lived with me for a bit, and then off on her own for a bit teaching English herself.

During both of their times in Korea with me, we hiked, went to mask festivals, tea festivals, ate, ate, and ate more than you can imagine.  We volunteered at an orphanage and at a soup kitchen.  My kids volunteered on the set of a “movie” once and we participated in a variety of artist events.

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Sometimes I feel a bit of sehnsucht for this special country and often consider it my second home from home.  I will sometimes dream that when I am done doing what I am currently doing, I will go back there once again and resume my previous life.  I know they say you can never go home again. I hope that is not true.  I will forever hold Seoul in my heart as one of the most special times in my life.  My daughters both agree that if I were to go back, this is the one place they would follow me to if they could.

Korea – Rolling; avagal liz; corvec; zhenya; graeme; naomi; charlie; fugitive; sofie; joseph; hab; kaja; secretmoona; margaux; bamculture; stephanie;

Heimweh


Heimweh (noun) Origin: German | Homesickness.

“I felt a pang — a strange and inexplicable pang that I had never felt before.
It was homesickness.  Now, even more than I had earlier when I’d first glimpsed it, I longed to be transported into that quiet little landscape, to walk up the path, to take a key from my pocket and open the cottage door, to sit down by the fireplace, to wrap my arms around myself, and to stay there forever and ever.”
― Alan Bradley

As much as I love to travel.  As much as I love new experiences.  As much as I love a variety of food and drink.  As much as I love making new friends.  As much as I love the open road.  As much as I love flying.  As much as I love taking the train.  As much as I love new sceneries.  As much as I love the sounds of an unfamiliar culture.   As much as I love who I become in a new surrounding.  As much as I love the view of an unfamiliar landscape from an open hotel window.  As much as I love everything about every other place in the world….

There is nothing I love more than home.

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“Maybe you had to leave in order to really miss a place; maybe you had to travel to figure out how beloved your starting point was.” ― Jodi Picoult

Homesick: Nawazish; pianogirl; susi; rugby; sang; iqra; christy; gdutta; manoj; jonathan; dale; cassandra

~ Merry Christmas ~


 It doesn’t have to be big. There do not need to be gifts. You do not need to be surrounded by noise, people, or things. All of those are nice aspects of the holiday.  However, this year is different. If you’re reading this, just know that you should be thankful that you are here. Merry Christmas and a happy new year. 

Story from random Facebook post.

As the holiday season of 1938 came to Chicago, Bob May wasn’t feeling much comfort or joy. A 34-year-old ad writer for Montgomery Ward, May was exhausted and nearly broke. His wife, Evelyn, was bedridden, on the losing end of a two-year battle with cancer. This left Bob to look after their four-year old-daughter, Barbara.

One night, Barbara asked her father, “Why isn’t my mommy like everybody else’s mommy?” As he struggled to answer his daughter’s question, Bob remembered the pain of his own childhood. A small, sickly boy, he was constantly picked on and called names. But he wanted to give his daughter hope, and show her that being different was nothing to be ashamed of. More than that, he wanted her to know that he loved her and would always take care of her. So he began to spin a tale about a reindeer with a bright red nose who found a special place on Santa’s team. Barbara loved the story so much that she made her father tell it every night before bedtime. As he did, it grew more elaborate. Because he couldn’t afford to buy his daughter a gift for Christmas, Bob decided to turn the story into a homemade picture book.

In early December, Bob’s wife died. Though he was heartbroken, he kept working on the book for his daughter. A few days before Christmas, he reluctantly attended a company party at Montgomery Ward. His co-workers encouraged him to share the story he’d written. After he read it, there was a standing ovation. Everyone wanted copies of their own. Montgomery Ward bought the rights to the book from their debt-ridden employee. Over the next six years, at Christmas, they gave away six million copies of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer to shoppers. Every major publishing house in the country was making offers to obtain the book. In an incredible display of good will, the head of the department store returned all rights to Bob May. Four years later, Rudolph had made him into a millionaire.

Now remarried with a growing family, May felt blessed by his good fortune. But there was more to come. His brother-in-law, a successful songwriter named Johnny Marks, set the uplifting story to music. The song was pitched to artists from Bing Crosby on down. They all passed. Finally, Marks approached Gene Autry. The cowboy star had scored a holiday hit with “Here Comes Santa Claus” a few years before. Like the others, Autry wasn’t impressed with the song about the misfit reindeer. Marks begged him to give it a second listen. Autry played it for his wife, Ina. She was so touched by the line “They wouldn’t let poor Rudolph play in any reindeer games” that she insisted her husband record the tune.

Within a few years, it had become the second best-selling Christmas song ever, right behind “White Christmas.” Since then, Rudolph has come to life in TV specials, cartoons, movies, toys, games, coloring books, greeting cards and even a Ringling Bros. circus act. The little red-nosed reindeer dreamed up by Bob May and immortalized in song by Johnny Marks has come to symbolize Christmas as much as Santa Claus, evergreen trees and presents. As the last line of the song says, “He’ll go down in history.”

Day 26 ~ Who be They


I honestly do not have a whole lot to say today but I have committed to making it to Day 30 in a row.  So close.  Lucky for me I always have a random thought, or a multitude of random thoughts in my head that I often do not share.  Today’s first thought of the day was, “Who be they?” I’m not sure why I woke up with that thought but here it is.

So – to explain it, I would stay that it usually involves blame for your own life not working out as well as you thought it would.  Every time something goes wrong . . . it’s natural to assume that someone else is at fault or just had better luck than you did.

It’s easy to say things like, “If only they would have/would not have…” or “Why are they always trying to …”. “I can’t believe they…” Or what about, “They are so lucky!”

I will not say it’s never their fault, (whose fault?) But seriously, who be THEY?  Who are the magical they folks?  They are so lucky, they are so mean, they always get what they deserve. They always get what they want.  I try not to blame them (who?) but sometimes I can’t help it. Most of the time I don’t want to be anything other than what I’m trying to be lately (I told you I plagiarize but always give credit) But sometimes, I can’t help trying to be like them. (WHO!!! You know, THEM!!)  It never works out.  I do not have it in me to be anything but me.  It just never works out to try to match their style, their tone, their attitude. (I wish I knew who they were.)

If you know you are on the right track, if you have this inner knowledge, then nobody can turn you off… no matter what they say. ~ Barbara McClintock

I woke up this morning to Alicia Keys “Underdog” and just felt happy by the end of the song.  I read she wrote the song to inspire the overlooked and underestimated and I realized that she was talking about the theys.  I mean some of them.. in my opinion the majority of the theys are the underdogs.

I am a they.  I have always been a they and that’s ok.  Here’s to the theys.. to the yous.. to all of the ones who are the underdogs.  Who are the ones who are just trying to be what they are trying to be. Cups up and have a great day!

Alicia Keys “Underdog
Ooh, ooh, ooh
Ooh, ooh, ooh
She was walking in the street, looked up and noticed
He was nameless, he was homeless
She asked him his name and told him what hers was
He gave her a story ’bout a life
With a glint in his eye and a corner of a smile
One conversation, a simple moment
The things that change us if we notice
When we look up, sometimes
They said I would never make it
But I was built to break the mold
The only dream that I’ve been chasing is my own
So I sing a song for the hustlers trading at the bus stop
Single mothers waiting on a check to come
Young teachers, student doctors
Sons on the frontline knowing they don’t get to run
This goes out to the underdog
Keep on keeping at what you love
You’ll find that someday soon enough
You will rise up, rise up,…

Gavin DeGraw  ” I Don’t Want to Be

I don’t need to be anything other
Than a prison guard’s son
I don’t need to be anything other
Than a specialist’s son
I don’t have to be anyone other
Than the birth of two souls in one
Part of where I’m going, is knowing where I’m coming from
I don’t want to be
Anything other than what I’ve been trying to be lately
All I have to do
Is think of me and I have peace of mind
I’m tired of looking ’round rooms
Wondering what I’ve got to do
Or who I’m supposed to be
I don’t want to be anything other than me
I’m surrounded by liars
Everywhere I turn
I’m surrounded by imposters
Everywhere I turn
I’m surrounded by identity crisis
Everywhere I turn
Am I the only one who noticed? I can’t be the only one who’s learned
I don’t want to be
Anything other than what I’ve been trying to be lately
All I have to do
Is think of me and I have peace of mind
I’m tired of looking ’round rooms
Wondering what I’ve got to do
Or who I’m supposed to be
I don’t want to be anything other than me
Can I have everyone’s attention please?
If you’re not like this and that, you’re gonna have to leave
I came from the mountain
The crust of creation
My whole situation-made from clay to stone
And now I’m telling everybody
I don’t want to be
Anything other than what I’ve been trying to be lately
All I have to do
Is think of me and I have peace of mind
I’m tired of looking ’round rooms
Wondering what I’ve got to do
Or who I’m supposed to be
I don’t want to be anything other than me
I don’t want to be
I don’t want to be
I don’t want to be…