Things I Don’t Understand, Items 936 thru 938

936. High-waisted jeans
937. How certain fonts make things funnier
938. Circuses

Cooper Being Barbra Streisand in Yentl

gretaMoments before shooting the infamous hey!-we’re-both-dudes-so-let’s-take-off-our-clothes-and-jump-in-the-lake! scene, the actress prepares to pretend she’s not in love with Mandy Patinkin.

Sunday Secret

truetoAlways, always, it’s been about finding a way to be. I semi-hate the word authentic but that’s what it boils down to. What I like, who I am, how I speak, write, feel—the specific way I choose to engage with and be in the world. Moving forward in a graceful way even while I’m hampered by all the times I’ve failed to do this. My daily, hourly question has and will continue to be “does the way I am cultivate more or less of me?”

So often, I pander. I try to coerce through urging or encouragement or rage. When I am able to walk that fine line of wanting to push my own agenda with allowing and accepting Other just as it is—these are the times when I hit the jackpot. These are the times when I’m able to feel peace.

I’ll be gone or a hundred and twenty by the time I figure all of it out but that doesn’t deter me from trying. I cling to wonder like it’s the thing that will save my heart. Early on, I’ve had the compulsion to make a difference. On some level that desire to make a difference circles back around to saving myself. If I make the world a better place then I will be safer. If I can convince myself and you to be kind, unphony, well, then maybe both of us will experience grace.

The ongoing lesson for me is that there is no productivity in maintaining a preoccupied stance with an outward gaze. The only way around is through. The revolution I’m looking for is quiet. And it doesn’t have to do with anyone other than me.

Yours In Navel Gazing,
Ina Inward

Things I Don’t Understand, Items 933 thru 935

933. False eyelashes
934. When things taste like other things smell
935. Why cable ads for local restaurants are so depressing

Saturday SlobberLove

couchSometimes on Saturday, after a sudden downpour ruins our chances for a carefree bowel movement on our morning walk, we like to squish ourselves into the creases of the living room sofa while periodically making sure to open our eyes in order to keep track of our mother.

Yours In Constant Surveillance,
Oren the Observer