ol' folks

i have always liked old people. i am mesmorized their gruff but fragile voices, i like how they all know a little bit about everything and they will always tell you, but with voices that lull you to a stance so quiet that you can't help but sit in silence while listening. i especially like the way they smell. Older women always have the best perfume, it comes with the territory, but even the natural eau de vieux can be calming, they smell like people. Even the most crabby old person can be darn charming if i stare at them long enough until they start smiling at me, almost like a baby, and then they do the same in return. plus, like a baby they know the joy of living in the moment, at least that's is what i sense, but i am sure there is still that inner anxiety, stress, heartbreak. it is just not as apparent, except in the eyes. When i first moved to minneapolis my best friend was a 60 year old man from bike club named dave. there was never any judgement or competition in our friendship and everything i said seemed to make a lot more sense when i said it to him, and whenever i determine how i feel about a person it's not about that other person, but rather how i feel when i am around that person. dave and i moved apart, but i still remember his gigantic gray eyebrows. This past week i have spent lounging in the sun in scottsdale arizona. I have spent my afternoons at the pool with all the other snowbirds...mostly circa 1939 and older. i am loving it because of their happiness and lovey-ness, but mostly what i love is after an elder has been sitting or standing in a spot for a while and then leave, i go and sit or stand where they were and can still feel their energy and spirit, which has worked hard, been around, seen a lot, but is as well, ready to take it slow.

optimistic pile of books

during the next month i have to abandon my beloved condo for several weeks while my ceilings are dropped, aired out and replaced with new insulation, water-proofing and drywall. i will move out all my cherished knick-knacks, doodly-dads, what-nots and brick-a-brack, leaving most my furniture alone here to stand up for itself. it's been liberating to clean out everything and make multiple donation drop-offs at the salvation army...especially since to begin with i don't really have that much stuff. except i do have a lot of books. somehow they multiply. i think there has been book-love going on, which i totally support and encourage, but regardless of what is going on under the covers i don't know what to do with them all. i really do love some more than others, the funny, intelligent,witty ones are my favorites. The books that i open, read the first page and go "i could have written that" well, i. i have to draw the line, i can't keep you all, i am not going to read you unless i am forced to by book club...even then it's a toss up. so here they sit on my table. the hardest decision of this whole transitional moving process has been to keep them, hope they grow on me enough to read them. or is it another trip to the goodwill? this would be easier if they just didn't look so cute stacked on my table.

just because things are changing doesn't mean they haven't been this way before

yes, i agree, waiting nearly 2 months to post a new blog is far too long, especially to post something as mundane as a logo design, but i love it, and it is rare for me to love a corporate logo. I noticed it today on my way to work outside the target stadium in downtown minneapolis. They recently replaced the old Northwest airlines billboard and well...no love lost. plus it kinda, totally reminds me of another recent upgrade. the design is so simple and strong, and american. what great things will come out of this? will my flights be on time? more leg room? protection of the constitution? better snacks? time will tell, but until then...cheers to 2009!

skipping stones on ice

it is that time of year, here in minnesota, when the lakes begin to freeze over. This morning on my walk around the lake of the isles, with hot coffee and pup in tow, there are signs of impatient skaters throwing rocks on the lake-ice to judge the substantialness of their personal back-yard glaciers, hoping the ice is getting there.

At 40 degrees and sunny they may need another week.

Last year was my first time walking on a frozen lake, at the art shanty festival on medicine lake in plymouth. It took me a while to feel comfortable, but when i saw an ice fisherman's line cut through and it was 2 feet deep i felt more confident, i felt like gliding. being carried by something i don't even dare to question.

This year, i already have my new ice skates and skis and i can't wait. i threw a rock out on the lake this morning and it didn't go through. The city set out the warming house yesterday, with all the signs that say 'it's not safe yet'. it's not ready yet, but it's getting there!

patron saint of bauhaus

"Act as if you were going to live forever and cast your plans way ahead. By this I mean you must feel responsible without time limitation, and the consideration whether you may or may not be around to see the results should never enter your thoughts. If your contribution has been vital, there will always be somebody to pick up where you left off and that will be your claim to immortality." -Walter Gropius, founder of the Bauhaus school of Architecture and mentor and professor of Bruce Abrahamson.
Mr. Abrahamson began the architecture firm HGA in the 1950's and sadly passed away last week. His vital contributions to design and his innovative vision will continue. The words of Walter Gropius, his instructor at Harvard, constantly inspired him. We will miss you! to read more about him please click here.

belle & sebastian on the joanne fabrics in-store radio

i love when two of my tiny universes collide, like saturday night shopping for fabric at a major craft retailer and hearing my favorite little indy band playing in the background. okay, i guess after the juno soundtrack they could be stepping into more mainstream...but joanne fabrics?? it put a little sprite in my step, humming along i bought too much fabric. i guess they know what they're doing and i am not complaining. I figure it is like when payless shoes used the band pas/cal to promote 'buy two get one free'...after hearing it i went straight to the strip mall and bought three pair, only to support pas/cal. If me purchasing fabric helps to encourage good music, then let that be my call to duty.

free

Like millions of other Americans, I waited in a long line this morning to vote for my next president. I arrived a half hour before the polls opened on a chilly but beautiful Minnesota morning. By the time we arrive inside I was at my cold level, although hidden under my coat my candidates t-shirt kept me warm and motivated.

My ward’s polling station precinct is located in the inner city of Minneapolis, bordering highway 94, in one of the cities most colorful, diverse neighborhoods. We stood outside the community church, a 1960’s postmodern that has not been updated ever since. Inside the vestibule was a wall filled with hundreds of the original bibles in different states of disrepair with a handwritten sign saying “Free”.

And then the familiar smell of church-basement coffee hit our noses.

Absentee ballots are so convenient and probably the best way to go for efficiency, yet I can’t help but secretly wish that every voting experience could take place at a community church or school with volunteers, separate from the government, handing you coffee and homemade brownies at 7:00 AM, smiling at you, wishing you well...silently reminding yourself that you are doing the right thing.

burger bodhisattva

Sometimes you have more cause to meditate than others. Saturday at the lake, sun shining, warm fresh air, being here restores me and of course i am not alone. Ahead of me walking towards the lake with a trance look in his face and intention in his posture is a young man in his early twenties in full Mcdonald’s gear; maroon shirt, golf cap, golden arches, black pants faded from many washes. He walked with such meaning towards the lake that i thought for sure he was going to head right in! But he stopped at a bench, sat down, hands palm up on his knees and eyes closed...he was meditating.

These things occur when i leave my camera at home.

It is easy to remember to meditate when you work at McDonald’s, or if you don’t work at all, when things are perfectly not the way you have planned and you are in constant reminder that sometimes life stinks like a greasy french fry, but by staying focused you can see the light, even clearer than if things are going "your way"

My friend Nick just spent the last 8 weeks in India. He told a story of stopping at a McDonald’s in New Delhi after feeling homesick for America. Since they don’t eat cows in India they served him a McMahardra, i.e. a chicken big mac. The story didn’t end well as he became violently ill from food poisoning...or perhaps it was the burger bodhisattva striking again.

naming valleys

every two weeks or so i drive down to rochester for work to meet with clients. at first this was not my favorite thing to do and my body language told it all. i would rent a car, leave late, stop for coffee, ice cream, bathroom, anything to break up the two-hour drive and maybe if i were on a bus or a train, reading a book i would think it would not be so...long, but something changed recently to make me enjoy these drives, even look forward to the ride. i am not sure exactly what it is but i think it is simply familiarity and recognition, feeling at home with the scenery. as i head out past the cities, past the oil refinery, for the next two hours its. just. farmland.

oh and also the sogn valley.

i buy locally produced honey. i have read that when you ingest honey harvested by local bees it is supposed to have some sort of homeopathic effect on your allergies, increasing your immunity because you are essentially digesting the pollen. maybe this is not true, but i like believing in stuff like this.

my honey comes from the sogn valley. as does my local organic wine, arabian horse breeders, sunflowers, berries, rolling hills and cottage hobby farms. i pronounce it like phone but not sure if that is proper, but i like the way it feels coming out as it reverberates in your stomach and makes its way up through your nose as you say it out loud. sogn.

the valley lays half way between st. paul and rochester. now, when i drive through i turn off my radio, roll down my windows and breath deep. in these moments i forget about work or my drive and i just am. i have found that being alive in the moment is addictive as now i look forward to the next time and the next...although i still might stop for ice cream.

tous les beaux esprits se rencontrent

'all the beautiful spirits find themselves'

When William F. Buckley passed away earlier this year, Newsweek published an article about the man and his life. I was about to toss it aside as just another article on another old, white -haired republican, but something about his photo compelled me to read the article. After reading it, and several others since then, my perception on classic conservatism changed completely. I think Buckley's representation of it and his idealist view that when government lets men be, the human spirit triumphs. with the notion of smaller government, tight community involvement, putting education and culture first, freedom of speech, freedom of press...if this is the intent, then i would call myself a republican. But something got lost along the way. From a humble, kind, gentleman into a pistol packing hockey mom, i am not sure how to get it back again. Although there is hope, and hope is stronger than any political lines.

to read the entire article click here.

national security

even police in riot gear influence beauty and rhythm. although poetry in mutiny comes easier while riding horse-back. maybe it's a way to tame the uprising. one thing i noticed was that these officers had a quiet presence to them, and to watch them gallant through the parks of st. paul after the opposer, was enchanting. they were knights in shining armor, hero's of days gone past. while running through the streets and protesting of all things wrong with the country, one look at these gentle creatures and you remember that america is still great. and that horses are still great too.

ideal bench

had i been any more captivated by the falls and barges on the mississippi river, i may have missed these concrete benches. perfect in form; a solid rectangle. and function; ya sit on it and it won't blow away. with steel re-bar handles, which i think may be bike locks, perfect. but then again, this is minnesota so they could be personal space partitions. here in minnesota, it's all about the comfort zone.

what i love the most is that they are located in the mill ruins park, which, if you are not from minneapolis, is a park created to preserve architectural ruins. coming from Detroit, i totally appreciate this! amidst all the other random chunks of strewn concrete and steel, these benches look right at home, and i doubt they will be going anywhere soon.

addendum to original post: a co-worker thinks the re-bars are to keep skateboarders off. I think the mystery is solved.

leafless

i have walked past this tree twice a day everyday for the past two years and have never noticed the absence of leaves until yesterday when i looked up to find a bird singing and could see clearly through the branches it's shiny black feathers and royal red chest.

canoe dock

when you walk past a full canoe dock it can only mean two things; it's summer, and you are by a lake. what more could you ask for! oh, well maybe if one of those canoes was yours....

house guests

in oregon, my neighbor and friend susan taught japanese culture at the university. i would visit her and her home was filled with teaism; mats, bonsai, orchids, fortunes. in japan it is tradition to remove your shoes before entering someones home out of respect and also to not bring in dirt. this makes sense when considering eating on the floor. susan would say 'how else can you keep your house clean? but it also feels good. the warm radiant floor, walking in softness, in quietness. you are instantly at home.

my friend jeremiah once told me in france it is considered rude to use your host's washroom.

last weekend, a minnesotan family opened their home to several hundred musicians, film makers and all their fans including pedal bikers, campers, hippies, hipsters, children and me and missy. there would be dancing, singing, laughing and rivalry for a twelve hour long square lake music festival. it lasted till after midnight and since over half of their guests biked to their house, they allowed for camping and of course, gallons of free coffee. for the love of culture and community they let go of ownership and opened their home to complete strangers. no pretense, no judgement, no rules, but i still took off my shoes. except this time i wiggled my toes in the dirt.

baby grass

those who know me know my green thumb isn't green and my idea of landscaping equals why i own a condo. but i do really like grass, well, the watering part is a little silly except for when i am running and then i am grateful that sprinklers sometimes water sidewalks. and like every species, babies are irresistible, even though i cringe every time i see the sprayed on aqua foamy grass seeds, i can't help but root for the seedlings once they start to emerge. what, i ask, is more adorable than a brown plot of dirt with little hints of green popping up. it is the peach fuzz of the earth, it's grass coming of age, maybe that is going to far. i don't care, i adore it.

grow!

beautility

i am inspired to write this blog after reading an article about 'beautility' which is the concept that something utilitarian, any object or idea, can and should be beautiful. art should always be considered and form should always follow function, but function should also take your breath away. on a more personal note, i forget to see things. i become so wrapped up in my mind with my thoughts and busy-ness and personal anxieties that many many times i forget to pay attention. So this is my pursuit; to notice and take note of everyday stuff that either by accident, or deliberate effort, is also pretty.