What could be better? Well, maybe having a few books to read, and a bit of time to sit outside and read them. And that’s what I’ve been doing. Today I thought I’d share three recent reads – all different but somehow connected in my mind.

First up is a visual delight – the newest book from Tara Books, an independent publishing house located in India. Their tag line is: “Pushing the boundaries of the book form in an age that is busy writing its obituary.”  I’ve sung their praises many times on this blog – their handmade limited-edition books are simply fabulous, and they’re committed to publishing works representing the art and culture of various tribal groups in India.

This latest book, Birds Like Trees, is by Bhil artist Jambu Singad. It’s a small but lovely book, with each 2-page spread containing one of his paintings and a bit of text explaining his thoughts about the tree and birds depicted and why he painted them the way he did.  I find this kind of work utterly fascinating and very inspiring.

The next book up is another “picture” book marketed as a children’s book, but I think that’s a bit limited view.  Something about the Sky is a long-forgotten piece of work written by pioneering environmentalist Rachel Carson and published in its entirety for the first time in this little treasure.  It’s made all the more fabulous with the illustrations by Nikki McClure, who is a masterful paper-cut artist.

It’s a quiet, powerful piece, as I think all Carson’s work was, but wonderfully inspiring as well. One little fragment she wrote is magical to me: “Clouds are the writing of the wind on the sky.” I expect that will forever shift how I think about clouds now. 

The final pages of the book are a note from illustrator McClure, which is both a lovely tribute to Carson and her work as well as a peek at what the process of illustrating via paper cutting was like, and the experimentation she needed to do. I find it all very interesting.

And the final book, This Same Sky: A Collection of Poems from Around the World selected by Naomi Shihab Nye. Nye is a favorite of mine not only for her poetry, but also her efforts to make poetry more accessible and encourage connection to our fellow humans through promotion of poetry from other lands and cultures.

This particular collection contains 125 poems from sixty-eight countries, many translated into English for the first time. While the poems weren’t written for children, they were chosen to be accessible to younger readers, with the particular focus of offering glimpses of shared similarities between people of diverse cultures. We do, after all, share this same sky.

Reading Nye’s introduction guaranteed I’d pick the book up with her words: “Those of us living in the United States often suffer from a particular literacy provinciality, imagining ourselves to be the primary readers and writers of the planet.”  Given the current state of, in my mind, pathological nationalism and separation consciousness embraced by our government, I find any encouragement of welcoming diversity and connection to be desperately needed water for our parched souls.

I read through these poems sitting outside under a sky shared with all beings on this planet, surrounded by my own particular neighborhood trees and birds, and felt a genuine sense of connection to how we’re all held in the same container, no matter where in the world we are.  And I couldn’t help but think of Rabindranath Tagore’s words: “Trees are the earth’s endless effort to speak to the listening heaven.”

It has long been my practice to award book ratings based on floriography, the language of flowers, giving a hint at the plot as well as my appraisal. I’m switching things up a bit since I’ve talked about three books, so I’ll offer a combined bouquet of buttercups (you are radiant with charm), clematis (ingenuity, cleverness), and dogwood (love will overcome adversity).

What about you – what’s been delighting you in the realms of birds, trees, or the sky? What have you been reading lately? Do tell – you know I love to hear.

As has always proven true for me, I had a great time playing in the A-to-Z challenge. I’m crazy about abecedariums and any excuse to create them delights me. My theme was A Logophile’s Ludic Musings. As an unrepentant logophile (lover of words), I assembled a list of unusual, obscure, or simply charming-to-me words. Ludic is defined as “playful, in an aimless way,” and that was my plan – keeping my feet on the joy trail and meandering and musing wherever the daily word decided to take me.

These are the words I chose with links to each post:  aeolian, brume, crown shyness, dight, eudaimonia, foudroyant, gelasin, helioater, insperge, Janus-faced, klippy, labdanum, micacious, nidify, octamerous, pareomiography, quetch, republic of letters, sweven, terroir, unco, vesta, waldeinsamkeit, xaipe, ylem, zib.

Joining the challenge this year was a rather last-minute decision, so I didn’t, as I had promised myself I would next time, have my posts all written in advance and queued up for posting. I did, though, for the most part, manage to stay a day or two ahead, so the pressure wasn’t as intense as it usually is for me, someone who always insisted in the past on writing the-day-of posts. While it’s true daily writing adds to the hectic excitement of the challenge, and I like being in the creative flow of the moment – it’s my favorite place – I’m going to aim next year to have written at least most of my posts in advance. I enjoyed having a bit more spaciousness this year.

While I enjoy writing, I’m just as enthusiastic about the reading part of the challenge. As always, I was delighted with the assortment of intriguing things other participants chose to write about.  It amuses me to think of all the participating blogs as part of a wonderful Cabinet of Curiosities, offering all manner of interesting things to peek at and explore.  I loved scoping out posts of current friends, and I’ve found a number of new blogs and folks to follow – how fun! So very many good things.

I commented on 133 blogs at least once, and often multiple times. And I implemented a plan that didn’t work out quite as well as I had hoped. I held off visiting blogs that were doing serialized stories until the final days of the challenge, thinking that in that way I wouldn’t lose track of storylines. It certainly worked to some extent, but I also failed to take into consideration the you-won’t-convince-me-otherwise fact that during April the number of hours in each day decreases exponentially. Time ran out far more quickly than I expected. Sigh.

Somewhat surprisingly, I had less trouble commenting on blogs than I ever have in the past. I think there were only two blogs I visited that I literally could not figure out how to comment. While that doesn’t happen often, it drives me crazy as I teeter on the edge of declaring my total incompetence at what should be the simplest of tasks before finally giving up.

One thing I almost always forgot to do was visit the official A-to-Z blog daily. However, since I worked daily from the master participant list, my one suggestion for next year’s challenge would be to add the official blog link at the top of the master list, along with the team members’ blogs. That way I wouldn’t miss it.

I’m offering a shout-out of genuine gratitude to the members of the A-to-Z team – Lee, J, Csenge, John, Jayden, and Ronel – kudos for all your work! I liked that the challenge theme was gratitude. While I didn’t blog specifically about this, it felt nice to be held in that overarching container. I am truly grateful for this blogging community and this yearly challenge.

I’m grateful to everyone who stopped by during the challenge, whether once or faithfully, or any permutation between. It’s always a joy to connect.

I unabashedly love April and the challenge, and I appreciate everyone who decides to play. It’s a genuine delight to get to know repeat players a little more deeply each year. And I always feel as though I end the month a bit exhausted yet filled to the brim. My well of ideas and inspirations has multiplied, my reading and to-watch lists grow, my exposure to often-new-to-me music expands, and my brain has been filled with all manner of things I’ve never considered or possibly even knew about before. New-to-me rabbit holes are pointed out, and I know I’ll enthusiastically be falling down them. How does it get any better than that?

As an unrepentant logophile (lover of words), I’ve assembled a list of unusual, obscure, or simply charming-to-me words. Ludic is defined as “playful, in an aimless way,” and that’s my plan for approaching this a-to-z challenge—keeping my feet on the joy trail and meandering wherever the daily word takes me.

Z is for…

zib – (n) an eccentric person (obsolete U.S. slang, first know use: 1918). Cited in Green’s Dictionary of Slang

Some of my favorite people in the universe are those who are openly, wildly, and deliciously eccentric and totally at peace with themselves. It is a gift and a blessing to be in the presence of people who are comfortable in their skin, and because of this, can be open to experiencing the world more widely. They don’t feel the need to be so defended they are rigid; they can appreciate oddities in others and be curious about why those are the “cracks that let the light in.” They don’t feel the need to rush into judgment, and more likely than not, it is precisely because they have felt the sting of being judged themselves and know there’s a better way.

I’ve long been curious about eccentricities. I dare say there isn’t one amongst us who hasn’t felt different; hasn’t wondered if we belong. My experience with this was as a very young child, and I suspect that’s true for everyone, although perhaps not as clearly held in consciousness. But I wonder if there are two tracks available. Does one choose to become as similar to the perceived norm as possible and try to stomp out the oddness? Or does one innately understand both the ultimate futility of denying one’s uniqueness and come to embrace it? I imagine we can view everyone’s life path as one that periodically jumps back and forth on these two tracks. It’s my hope, though, that we all settle firmly on the I’m-eccentric-and-I-embrace-it track. And my greatest wish is that we do it early on, so we have years and years and years of enjoying ourselves.

I take great delight in thinking of myself – and every other human – as eccentric.

Years ago, I was introduced to a poem by George Ella Lyon called Where I’m From, and the beautiful practice it evolved into, inviting people to write their own poems based on the template she used. You can learn more about it here.

If you read any number of poems constructed from this format, you cannot help but see how different and how alike we all are.  Eccentric and ordinary, zibs every one of us.

So there you have it. A peek at some of what makes me me. I hope you embrace your eccentricities, and welcome those of others. I think E.E. Cummings had it right, and it’s possibly even more important now that ever:

“To be nobody-but-yourself — in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else — means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting.”

What about you? Ever write a Where I’m From poem? Think of yourself as eccentric? If nothing else, are you willing to accept the title zib as a blogger participator in the A-to-Z challenge? Do tell, you know I like to hear.

As an unrepentant logophile (lover of words), I’ve assembled a list of unusual, obscure, or simply charming-to-me words. Ludic is defined as “playful, in an aimless way,” and that’s my plan for approaching this a-to-z challenge—keeping my feet on the joy trail and meandering wherever the daily word takes me.

Y is for…

ylem – the primordial matter in some cosmological theories – comes from the ancient Greek word “hylē,” which means “matter,” “wood,” or “stuff.” The word “ylem” itself entered modern English through Middle English and Medieval Latin, with the modern scientific usage being adopted in the 1940s.

Ylem, in the context of the Big Bang theory, refers to the hypothetical initial substance from which all matter is believed to have been derived. It is often described as a primordial gas consisting primarily of neutrons, and from which the elements were formed.

I like to think of ylem as a more “modern” theoretical descriptor of the building-block material of creation.

And I like to think of prima materia as an older concept, known in the realm of philosophy and alchemy  – a formless, ubiquitous starting substance of raw, unformed potential, considered the original material of the universe.

No matter what our current ideas are, there’s no denying that I’m fascinated by creation/origin stories. So many cultures, so many wonderful tales! While I could undoubtedly write a billion words on the subject, I thought instead I’d share some books.

Inside Out: Revealing the Mysteries of Creation & the Wisdom to Live Your Life Consciously Connected by Karen Elkins.

This book is filled with pictures and page-long descriptions of both modern science and ancient wisdom on a myriad of topics from an equal number of sources. I find this kind of book interesting, not because it  goes into anything in particular depth, but rather it’s a like a tasting menu. I have no trouble paging through it and finding something captivating or compelling, and then I can head out on my own with something I want to research or explore more deeply.

Next up, something I consider a real gem – an oracle deck and guidebook from Uusi, Materia Prima: An Expression of Matter.

Uusi decks are always stunning in both appearance and concept, and this one is no exception with its sparkly gold and dramatic black. The deck is based on 84 elements from the periodic table, and the theme of unification of all life is woven throughout. This is definitely one of my favorite decks.

Creation by Bhajju Shyan, with Gita Wolf, is a fabulous production of Tara Books, one of my absolute favorite publishing houses. It’s a limited-edition treasure with handmade silkscreen art by a renowned Gond tribal artist printed on beautiful textured paper. According to their tale, creation begins with water, and then the unborn fish.

The Tree of Life by Roger Cook is part of the Art and Imagination series, published by Thames and Hudson.

The first part of the book is an essay about the Tree of Life appearing in the symbolism of so many cultures. The rest of the book is filled with artwork and commentary.

Sort of on the flip side of Tree of Life, is Some Folks Say: Stories of Life, Death and Beyond by Jane Hughes Gignoux, Illustrated by Stephan Daigle. While the stories are from various cultures exploring death, it really is also about the mystery of life. All part of the creation cycle. And I really love the illustrations by Gignoux.

Let me end with a couple of books by Stephen Ellcock. Elements: Chaos, Order and the Five Elemental Forces and The Cosmic Dance: Finding Patterns and Pathways in a Chaotic Universe.

I was introduced to Ellcock’s work by someone who said he was a writer/researcher basically curating a cabinet of curiosities and making his work available virtually so it reaches a wide audience. I was, of course, immediately ensnared at the mention of “cabinet of curiosities” and the rest is history.  The books are filled with images and commentary, and are very much my cup of tea.

What about you? A fan of creation tales? Love contemplating the mysteries of life? Have a favorite oracle/tarot deck? Do tell – you know I love to hear.

As an unrepentant logophile (lover of words), I’ve assembled a list of unusual, obscure, or simply charming-to-me words. Ludic is defined as “playful, in an aimless way,” and that’s my plan for approaching this a-to-z challenge—keeping my feet on the joy trail and meandering wherever the daily word takes me.

X is for…

“Xaipe” (χαῖρε in Greek) is an ancient Greek salutation that translates to “Rejoice!” or “Be Glad!” and is used as a greeting or farewell, similar to “hello” or “goodbye”. 

I think a lot about joy.  And today feels like a perfect day to greet you with Xaipe, and speak about joy.

So what is joy?  The dictionary defines it as “the emotion of great delight or happiness caused by something exceptionally good or satisfying; keen pleasure; elation.  Words actually seem sort of lame in trying to define joy, but we’ve all experienced joy and know what it is.  So maybe words aren’t really necessary.

One of my favorite quotes about joy is something Buffy Saint Marie said: “You have to sniff out joy.  Keep your nose to the joy trail.”  I love that image and it makes me laugh, which in itself is joyful; but that’s not how I understand joy.

This is what I believe about joy: joy is a spiritual path. The more you learn about joy, the more you discover the truth of who you really are, what is sacred, and what your life is really for.

It would be disingenuous (or worse) to pretend that these aren’t collectively challenging times. There are countless issues and people that need our attention, our action, our support.  But here’s the thing:  Joy doesn’t have to be a random thing, or an only-occasional peak experience thing.  The truth is that joy is always available to us.  Always. I believe that.

Joy is an energy stream.  I invite you to really take that in and consider it.  Joy is an energy stream – an ever-unfolding stream of energy.

What do I mean by that?  I mean it literally – a flow of energy that’s always here, always available to us, always available for us to enter in; a vibration we can attune to and entrain to.

Sometimes I like visuals with my thoughts, so I invite you to picture this.  Think of a big sun – and maybe you want to consider this Divine Source/All-That-Is, or maybe you don’t – it doesn’t matter at all.   Just think of the rays of this sun extending in all directions.  Let’s pick one ray – this is our joy ray.  Streaming down.  Pure vibration.  Pure energy.  Picture yourself standing in it – in the delicious vibration of joy – flowing over you, around you, through you.

We can choose to stand in this energy stream.  We can choose to allow it to flow through us.

Joy does not come and go – our awareness of it does. That’s a pretty exciting thought, isn’t it?!  Joy is always available to us!

Sometimes, when people start considering this, critical voices emerge with messages like, ‘Isn’t that kind of naïve or Pollyannaish to think we can dip into joy regularly? ‘  In fact, isn’t it kind of selfish for me to want more joy, have more joy, when it seems like so many around me are suffering and miserable?

I don’t think it’s helpful to ignore or pretend those kind of messages don’t exist, but right now I think we should begin to look at why joy is important, and then you can decide whether you should go all out for it or not.  And you should keep in mind that Joy is a bountiful limitless energy stream and there is more than enough for everyone.  No need to hold back. Allow yourself to receive as much as you can take in, and know that you can stretch to receive more.  And as with all things, when you are filled, you can spill your excess around you, adding to the stream for others to share in as well.

What are some of the reasons to consider why you might want more joy?

• It just feels good. Who doesn’t want to feel good?
• It positively affects our physiology. When we’re experiencing joy we release stress, our immune systems are strengthened, endorphins are released – all kinds of good things.
• Joy raises our vibration and that helps us shift.
• Everyone deserves joy. It’s a given.  You don’t earn it.  Or unearn it.   Being open to the flow of joy does not mean life is this unimaginable utopian dream.  We all live lives that bring us challenges, bring us sadnesses, bring us all manner of experiences.  But the thing is, when we allow ourselves to know joy is always available to us, joy is not hidden away, we have the capacity to face everything with greater ease and grace.
• And then, I believe, there’s the bigger picture from our Higher Self’s perspective. It’s my belief that each one of us chose to be present, here and now, in a physical body.  We chose embodiment so we could create, express and experience in the physical.  And definitely part of what we’re called to do is flow and anchor higher vibrational energies.  I like to think of us as vertical bridges – accepting higher vibrations from above, flowing them through our particular nuanced container and releasing them outward.   Each one of us adds our light, our gifts, our contributions to the collective whole so that energy can be drawn upon.  We are ever-evolving beings.
• I also believe tapping into joy and adding it to the collective is important because it is one of the easiest ways for us to access Unity Consciousness. Fear, judgment, and separation are what we need to release, and we certainly have exponentially huge amounts of those energies in our collective right now.

So there – if you don’t want to ramp up your joy quotient for yourself, perhaps you can consider immersing yourself in it for the good of the collective.  Doesn’t that sound like a wonderful assignment?

I’d love to hear your thoughts – do share. Are you a member of the joy tribe? What things bring you joy? Do you think Xaipe is a lovely way to greet someone, or leave them with a little blessing to color their day? 

As an unrepentant logophile (lover of words), I’ve assembled a list of unusual, obscure, or simply charming-to-me words. Ludic is defined as “playful, in an aimless way,” and that’s my plan for approaching this a-to-z challenge—keeping my feet on the joy trail and meandering wherever the daily word takes me.

W is for…

Waldeinsamkeit – a German word that refers to the feeling one has while being alone in the woods, usually a sublime or spiritual one.

I think I well understand the ecstatic words of Hafiz:

"The forest, letting me walk amongst its naked limbs,
had me on my knees again silently shouting --
yes, yes, my holy friend, let your splendor devour me."

I’m an unapologetic tree lover and hold as truth that they are beautiful and wise beings. And to be quietly in their presence can be a transcendent experience.

Yesterday (the last Friday in April) was National Arbor Day, and naturally, my thoughts turned to trees. There can never, in my opinion, be too much praise of trees, and it makes my heart happy to know there is a holiday that celebrates them and encourages planting more.

So, today, three tree-related things that delight me.

First is a book I read a number of years ago, but it’s one I return to and read again periodicaly. That’s almost never the case for me, but this one has a strange pull and I refuse to resist.

The Merro Tree by Katie Waitman is a fantasy novel published in 1992. It’s about the adventures of a Master Performance Artist and his experiences both training to be a master and touring across the galaxy. There are two prominent themes – same gender interspecies love and confronting censorship, both of which seem particularly relevant once again in these challenging times of codified governmental intolerance, discrimination, and bigotry.

Here’s a quote explaining the otherworldly Merro tree:

“The first merro tree was a latecomer to our world,” said the Dean, “and not immune to the Intoxication. As a result, its branches grew every which way, its leaves curled in fantastic shapes, and it bore no fruit. The First People believed that, late-comer that it was, even if it did adapt, it was unlikely to produce anything of value.”…

“One Blossom Season, after years on the edge of extinction, the merro tree suddenly produced a display of beautiful dark green leaves. It had finally adapted to the Intoxication. To the First People’s amazement, it also produced fruit, fruit of such rare and wonderful scent and flavor that the First People were ashamed.  They declared the merro tree sacred and its fruit a gift from Heaven, to be served with reverence and eaten in silence.”

I find this such an encouraging and hopeful message, much needed in a time when it often feels like our own world is unstable, with strange forces of intoxication and chaos.

I also see it as an invitation. When we do find those things of unexpected beauty, let’s not pass them by unnoticed.  Let’s celebrate them, honor them, and hold them with love in our hearts. These gifts are ours to receive – let’s not refuse them.

Second up in my tree-ish celebration recommendations is the Tree Wisdom Cards deck by Lisa McLoughlin. It’s a lovely deck, and if it inspires you, now might be the time to get it as she’s letting it fall out of print as she pursues new directions.

Finally, Treewhispers is an ongoing, evolving “international papermaking initiative celebrating the forest of stories and intimate connections that exist between people and trees: a traveling exhibit and workshop series where everyone’s invited to share their stories, poems, drawings, and artwork about their favorite arboreal relationships. Handmade paper rounds strung together form an immersive installation of creativity and conversation.”  I have been following and occasionally contributing to this project since its inception in 2000. Earlier this year, an exhibition traveled to Chicago, and it was a joy to see it. They have a website with info, gallery pictures, and a blog.

We may not all be able to get out in the woods today and experience Waldeinsamkeit, but perhaps we can agree with this beautiful expression from Rabindranath Tagore:

”Trees are the earth’s endless effort to speak to the listening heaven.” 

What do you think? Are you a card-carrying tree lover? Know the magic of an enchanted forest? Have a tree story to share? Do tell, you know I love to hear.

As an unrepentant logophile (lover of words), I’ve assembled a list of unusual, obscure, or simply charming-to-me words. Ludic is defined as “playful, in an aimless way,” and that’s my plan for approaching this a-to-z challenge—keeping my feet on the joy trail and meandering wherever the daily word takes me.

V is for…

vesta – a short wooden match. Etymology: after Vesta, the goddess of hearth and household in Roman mythology.  Earliest documented use: 1839

I couldn’t resist starting this musing with these tins printed with vintage matchbox labels. Aren’t they great? The matches are long gone, but I keep tiny treasures in them now.

Vesta is the Roman goddess of hearth, home, and domestic life, and in her Greek iteration she was known as Hestia. The fire of Vesta was considered sacred and kept lit in her temples, maintained by the priestesses of Vesta, known as Vestal Virgins.

The ancient Greeks, for whom Hestia was the precursor to the Roman’s Vesta, had an interesting belief about the source of her fire.

Myth tells us that Zeus declared Delphi to be the center of Earth – its navel. And that by 800 BCE Delphi had been dedicated as a major site of worship for Apollo.  We tend to know Delphi as the place where the Oracle was consulted. That’s certainly true, but there is also a deep connection to Hestia.

The source of Hestia’s sacred fire was believed to be the molten core at the center of the Earth, which was connected by an umbilical cord to the omphalos in Delphi.

The omphalos was a stone monument marking the sacred navel point, and it was shaped somewhat like a beehive, and carved with bees. The chief priestess at Delphi, Pythia, served as the Delphic Oracle and was also called the “Delphic Bee.”  It has been suggested that Pythia would fall into a trance, while sitting by the omphalos breathing in fumes from the center of Earth and thus be able to deliver her oracular wisdom.

The front columns of the temple were inscribed with 147 maxims said to be given by Apollo. The maxims are short, I think none more than five or six words, and offer guidance for conduct – a compendium of ethical and moral behavior.

One of the maxims is: Honor the hearth (or Hestia) Hestia was thought to reside in the center of all homes, providing the flames which gave light and warmth and allowed food to be cooked, thereby providing sustenance. She was honored as a sustainer of life, family, domesticity, and what turned a house into a home.

Recently I was talking with a friend about creative cycles, and how Spring is often one of my creative times. Ideas and projects multiply exponentially. She mentioned that she always thought of those times as when she was on fire, and asked if I felt that as well.

I had a bit of a wander around thinking about that.  There are, of course, times when I feel on fire, but I’m certainly not a fiery person. In the 9-Star Ki Chinese system of organizing principles I’m Yang Wood, Water, and Yin Metal.  In the Indian Ayurvedic system I am Kaffa.  As someone once told me, I’m “like the slow, clear, well-spaced tones of the sitar; unhurried and with the understanding there is enough time.”   I tend to think of myself as quite watery – intuitive and flowing. My astrological natal chart is filled with water – I’m a Cancer sun, and Scorpio moon for starters.  And while I might readily admit I have a heart that’s afire, there’s very little else about me I might give that description to.

But I do know what my friend meant when she asked. When I’m on fire I feel very focused and clear, almost riveted to what I’m doing.  I imagine every one of my cells is electrified, at attention, pouring its energy into the momentum, full-on in creation mode.

That reminded me once when I had a hand reading, I was told I had fire hands. While that term has everything to do with hand shape, it made me consider energetic possibilities as well. What might I create with hands of fire?

What about you? When are you on fire? Do you think of yourself as more fiery, watery, airy, or earthy? Are you a devotee of hearth and home? Do tell – you know I love to hear.

As an unrepentant logophile (lover of words), I’ve assembled a list of unusual, obscure, or simply charming-to-me words. Ludic is defined as “playful, in an aimless way,” and that’s my plan for approaching this a-to-z challenge—keeping my feet on the joy trail and meandering wherever the daily word takes me.

U is for…

unco  –  (adj) unusual, strange, unknown. First documented usage 1410.

Oh, how my heart is set aflutter by this. A little strangeness, a little oddity, some unusual is just what makes the world so wonderful.  Just thinking about it fills me with a bit of excitement, prickles my curiosity sensors, and invites me to put on my wondering cap.

There is strangeness everywhere.  Almost every morning I awake in that land, pondering the most recent dream which has sent its secret coded message for me to decipher.  For example, today I’m wondering about the me that’s filled with thousands of microscopic versions of me who apparently keep watch of things from various locations in my body.  I have windows in my feet, and viewing towers in the hair shafts on my head, and the pupils in my eyes are huge viewing portals. The miniature mes are constantly accessing things, consulting with one another, and deciding what responses to send out.  I woke up as they were announcing a verdict to be issued: “A hare can hear the rose is sore.”  Now tell me, is that strange or not?

If you think about anything, REALLY think about it, it’s easy to fall into the enchanted world of strange.  Look at a flower and taking in the beauty of the form and color and scent, move past it and start wondering at all those assorted parts that have evolved into that particular shade of loveliness. Isn’t pollination strange; aren’t those gorgeous big fat furry bumblebees truly creatures of oddness; why do apples have seeds inside formed in the shape of a star? Where did the expression “step on a crack, break your mother’s back” come from?

I remember very clearly the first time I saw a box created by artist Joseph Cornell and thought how perfectly wonderful it was in its oddness.  I remember how curious I was to both glimpse the world through the eyes that saw things that way, AND then the immediate accompanying thought that perhaps my eyes saw things in arrangements that no one else did as well.  And how exciting that was!

The unknown stirs curiosity for me. It engages me.  How lucky are we to live in a world filled with a vastness of strange and wonderful things? 

Here’s a little sampling of things I’ve learned that delight me:

The National Center for Atmospheric Research reports that the average cloud is the same weight as 100 elephants. Doesn’t that make you think about clouds differently?

Here’s something that came from the obituary of Berholt Wolpe: “One of his most treasured possessions was a miniature sweet pea with pole green leaves and tiny sky-blue flowers. The seed it came from was the grandchild of a seed that had been found in a tomb of one of the Pharaohs.” 

No doubt I’ve mentioned that I’m enthralled with both ancient Egypt and flowers, so this little factoid obviously delights me. However, knowing that this information was shared in an obituary is a remarkable discovery to me as well. It rather raises the bar for obituaries, in my opinion.

When long rows of cumulus clouds are oriented parallel to the direction of the wind, these are called cloud streets. Just thinking about this immediately transports me to cloudland. Who doesn’t want to travel this way?

Silk is usually made from cocoons spun by silkworms. But there is another, much rarer cloth known as sea silk or byssus, which is made from long silky filaments secreted by the gland in the foot of a certain type of clam. The clam uses these filaments to attach itself to the sea bed. But when spun and treated with lemon juice, the fiber turns a golden color that never fades. While there were never many people producing this kind of silk, as of several years ago, there was thought to be only one person remaining who could harvest it, spin it, and make it shine like gold.

As Mary Oliver wrote: “Truly, we live with mysteries too marvelous to be understood . . . Let me keep company always with those who say ‘Look!’ and laugh in astonishment, and bow their heads.”

I want to live in a world that appreciates the strange and unusual, and I want my love of oddity and strangeness to help keep wonder in my brain and delight in my heart.

What about you?  What strangeness has captured your attention lately? What odd word has been fascinating you?  Do tell – you know I love to hear.

As an unrepentant logophile (lover of words), I’ve assembled a list of unusual, obscure, or simply charming-to-me words. Ludic is defined as “playful, in an aimless way,” and that’s my plan for approaching this a-to-z challenge—keeping my feet on the joy trail and meandering wherever the daily word takes me.

T is for…

Terroir – the combination of environmental factors including soil, climate, and sunlight that gives crops their distinctive character.

The concept of terroir exists in many cultures, but it is most often associated with wine and the grapes from which it is made. To a lesser extent, it is discussed in relation to teas. However, it is equally important and interesting in the context of natural botanical perfumery.

Nearly all fragrances on the market are made with synthetic materials, primarily created with the use of petrochemicals. But that’s not true for the natural botanical perfumer, whose raw materials consist of essential oils, absolutes, and concretes – all from actual plant material, including flowers, leaves, stems, fruit, bark, roots, and resins. The location where a flower, plant, or tree is grown can make a significant difference in its scent. It’s extraordinary how different vetivers can smell, and lavenders, and frankincense, and countless other botanicals, depending on where they are grown. For the natural perfumer, it’s one of the most exciting parts of creation, choosing raw materials from different regions and exploring the results of various combinations. It’s magical!

The nose knows it’s the scenter of your face.

Humans can detect at least one trillion different smells. Amazing, isn’t it?!  It’s also true that our olfactory palettes are forged by many things, including particularities and peculiarities of our noses, personal preferences, and even early childhood memories. We all experience scents slightly differently, based on a combination of individual sensitivities.

As an aromatherapist and natural botanical perfumer, scent is very important to me. Maybe I’m saying that backwards. I suspect the truth is that I became an aromatherapist and perfumer BECAUSE I have such a great love of fragrance.

Fragrance can be complex both aromatically and, in the feelings, memories, and thoughts it evokes. It is my belief that the natural world has so much to teach us and we should listen carefully. What I really love about fragrance is its ability to transport; to delight; to deepen; to lighten.

The sense of smell is closely linked with memory, probably more so than any of our other senses.  As Lewis Thomas so cogently puts it:

“The act of smelling something, anything, is remarkably like the act of thinking. Immediately at the moment of perception, you can feel the mind going to work, sending the odor around from place to place, setting off complex repertories through the brain, polling one center after another for signs of recognition, for old memories and old connection.”    

I have a storehouse of childhood scent memories, including my grandmother’s flowers, my mother’s smoking, special packets of bath salts I begged for every birthday, scented with lily of the valley, gardenia, and honeysuckle. The scent of my brother’s well-worn leather baseball mitt, homemade cinnamon rolls, the pungent acrid smell of bleach. So many scents – and I have no doubt you have a million of your own to call up from your childhood.

I’m in love with this Rumi quote:

“The morning wind spreads its fresh smell.
We must get up and take that in,
that wind that lets us live.
Breathe before it’s gone.”

That’s the admonition I take to heart, and hope to live every day.

Often when I’m working with perfumes and oils, I muse about the concept of ineffability – that which is incapable of being expressed or described in words.  I think a lot about Rumi’s work and other mystics who sought to express the inexpressible.  Rumi often taught that poetic language was like scent that can only provide a hint of the Divine. I feel like I’m always reaching into that – poetry, scent, and the Divine are beautifully mixed together for me.

I also appreciate the charming Chinese proverb:

“A bit of fragrance always clings to the hand that gives roses.”

I certainly like the idea of that.  In the giving much is received as well.  As a reminder I have this little card up in my studio.  I scented the paper with a beautiful Bulgarian rose essential oil and the hieroglyphics are my name Deborah.

In my training both as an aromatherapist and a natural perfumer, keeping journals was (and still is) a critical, and fun, part of the work.   Here’s a peek at the page in one of my early journals where I was beginning my exploration of Helichrysum.

My favorite part of the page is the white strip under the name at the top right.   That’s a fragrance test strip.  They’re used to dip into the essential oil and you sniff the strip rather than from the bottle.  They’re particularly helpful when you’re evaluating blends because you want to be able to see how a fragrance develops over time.  The first top note isn’t the whole story.  Test strips are also a good way to simply train your nose as well, and I love keeping them on journal pages where I can see a photo and catch a hint of scent as well.

Another training tool, and fun continued practice, is to keep a scent diary, listing the scents of the day.  For a while I used a fabulous stash of vintage library card stock. You can see an example of the card near the top of this post.

Now what about you? What beauty are you allowing yourself to breathe in? Have a favorite natural fragrance? Familiar with the concept of terroir?  Do tell – you know I love to hear.

As an unrepentant logophile (lover of words), I’ve assembled a list of unusual, obscure, or simply charming-to-me words. Ludic is defined as “playful, in an aimless way,” and that’s my plan for approaching this a-to-z challenge—keeping my feet on the joy trail and meandering wherever the daily word takes me.

S is for…

sweven –  (n) vision seen in sleep; dream.  Obsolete, from Old English, first known usage 1150.

The Dreaming/Sleeping Goddess – isn’t she beautiful? I’ve had her for decades. The original two clay figures were found in Malta in the Hypogeum – one of the 9 remaining (of 40) goddess temples there.  The figures are dated between 3000-4000 BC.

I’ve been interested in dreams since I was a child. I have always been a prolific dreamer, fascinated by them and recording them since adolescence. My interest is so great that I actually considered doing my Master’s degree work on lucid dreaming, although eventually, I moved in another direction.

I take great delight in my sleeping mind’s theater, and since I record my dreams, I always make a point to title my nighttime adventures. Bonus points: I then have the added amusement of seeing what kind of Dada-esque poem is created when I list out the titles. For example, here are just a few of my recent nocturnal engagements:

• Not the Proper Place to Leave the Ladder
• What Crazy Thing Did I Ask For?
• Mailbox Haul includes Polish Man’s Suit
• Orange & Green Feathers on my Legs
• Hidden Room & Demanding Guests with Raisins on a String
• Busted as Incompetent Spies
• Strange Eggs
• Uniform Prototypes and Surgically Removed Eyebrows
• Awkward Nudist
• Outing the Bagel Eater

Now tell me, does that make you wish you had access to my brain, or are you ready to back away gingerly?

In case you’re undecided, let me share a recent dream snippet. I may have been overly influenced by thinking about parties and celebrations and reading Greek mythology but I had a perfectly marvelous fun time at:

Pandora’s Pinata Parade

As Empress, it was my job to create a parade in celebration of all things wonderful in the world. (Ah, I like a good dream wherein my Empress qualifications are recognized!) So I created my version of a Trojan Horse – a gigantic pinata filled with all manner of wonderful things that would come popping out at parade time. And as Pandora has been, in my mind, scapegoated for far too long with responsibility for releasing all the evils on Earth, I wanted to do my part to lift her spirits and change the story. Therefore, I put her in charge of opening the trap door on the pinata at the right moment and releasing all the wonderfulness amidst much delight and cheering from the crowd. I especially liked the shooting stars that erupted, leaving behind as they ascended, little trails of chocolate stars for us all to eat. And then there were the tiny seashells that you put in water and out popped gorgeous little flowers; library cards for everyone with unlimited privileges; and little knitted balls for tossing that turned out to be rolled-up socks in delightfully wild patterns. There was much singing and laughing, and when people danced, they found they had strings of bells on their ankles. The whole affair was quite a happy success.

I have always believed dreams are much more than random firing of brain synapses sorting through the waking day’s flotsam and jetsom, a belief many people hold. I genuinely delight in the endless array of gifts that arrive during sleep time. The messages, conundrums, puns, puzzles, wacky characters, visits from beloveds no longer in this world; the fantastic, the improbable, the mystical, the ordinary, the skewed, the recurring, the sublime. The lucid experiences, the flying adventures, the mutual dreams. I delight in my dream ability to sing and dance in ways I don’t seem to be able to replicate in my waking states; and dreams show me things that are luminescent. Dreams help me open to receive messages that my waking consciousness isn’t quite able to hold. They inspired me. They help me know myself more fully. They delight me with the joy of learning this soul language, and the fact that they’re always adding new words to the vocabulary and then demanding I write my own definitions because, after all, we both know the only dream dictionary worth using is the one we write ourselves. Dreams have given me a deep and sacred practice that I’ve been exploring since I was a child; given me fodder for countless journals; piqued my curiosity about countless things, and led me to deep connections with other dreams. They’ve given me laughter, and bizarre and astonishing images that I rush to capture sketches of so I won’t forget. Dreams are magical, and never stop sending me these secret messages; these nightly tickets to the best theater ever; treats I enjoy as they are unfolding and then again when I consider them upon wakening.  Dreams challenge us to know ourselves better. They invite us to learn a richly expressive, oh-so-beautiful private language. They invite us to remember, in the most simple way, that we are so much more than we often experience ourselves as in our often-limited vision of ourselves.

I believe there are private dreams, and there are dreams we dream for the collective, but no matter which, I love this quote by Marsha Norman:

“Dreams are illustrations…from the book your soul is writing about you.”

What about you? Are you as fascinated by dreams as I am? Look forward to closing your eyes and seeing what’s playing at your night theater? Do tell – you know I’d love to hear.