​

Because my mind was going a mile a minute when I sat down to meditate this morning, I plopped a vase of mums directly in the line of my meditative gaze. I'm not sure that this helped me step out of the thought stream but they sure were beautiful to look at. Before I stood up to move along with my day, I gathered them between my hands, buried my face in them and inhaled deeply. I love the smell of mums!

It is too, too easy to be sucked into the virtual world of (often) horror and mayhem. Make it a practice to focus on the beautiful objects in your space. After all, you put them there, didn't you? If you haven't filled your space with objects of beauty that the light can find, please, do yourself a favor and do so now.

The objects that the light finds and illuminates will illuminate your mind, whether you love them or not. Practice seeing what the light illuminates. Practice loving that.

Short post. I'm looking away now. Looking for the beautiful in my immediate vicinity.

Let's get our priorities straight.

Our government and much of the world seems to be in utter chaos if we take the major news outlets as our source of information.

But if I move away from the computer or radio and tv news and look around my rooms, there are so many more interesting and wonderful things to behold, to read, to make beautiful things with.

If I step out my door and bump into neighbors (and often, their dogs), happy transactions (and often, lickie licky? kisses) await.

A few steps more around the corner and I find my fabulous garden, exhausted from the heat but still bringing forth peppers, collards, leeks, herbs and, yes, tomatoes!

I just read an essay by Garrison Keillor and the line that jumped out at me was "What matters are tomatoes". Well, I thought, that's it.
​
And it's true.

I think it's hysterical that my intention was to write about the value of practice and instead, I am surrendering to a quick post on...surrender!
​
After almost two weeks of serious over-scheduling, my mind, body and soul are telling me, "break time!"

Anyway, it is very, very, very hot where I live and work and I must move to the drawing table and surrender to my pencils, brushes and colors, if only for my mental health. Well, spiritual health, too. Okay... for fun. Actually, I have already been working at the computer here for hours today and I must switch gears.

Sometimes, even when you feel (or are) obligated, even if only to yourself, it's good to say, "Sorry, Charlie!"

Must go scribble.

There's no such thing as multi-tasking 

The ocean waves do not try to reach shore at the same time. 

The leaves on a tree do not try to change color at once. 

Each wave, each leaf is a unique manifestation of an unfolding process of living experience. Human beings moving through space and time are also unfolding processes of living experiences. 

But the human mind? Especially with gazillions of distractions here in the early 21st century? We are so easily distracted that we miss much of the beautiful unfolding process of life. 

I make this claim with confidence because I am one of the most easily distracted people I know. 

I practice meditation briefly every day but nothing, no meditation I have come across, calms and focuses my attention like drawing or painting. It may not be for everyone but it sure works for me. 

In my experience, multitasking is a myth. Trying to multitask, or even expecting yourself to be able to multitask, can leave you dizzy, drained, overwhelmed, ungrounded. You may think that you are working on several projects simultaneously but, in fact, you can only take action on one thing or think one thought at a time (no matter how brief that time may be).

Expect yourself to do one thing at a time and plan for that. It's a sure way to sanity. ​

Summer rolls in on the 21st at 12:24 am. Do something special to mark the longest day of the year.

Any plans for the season? I'm preparing a set of new online drawing and watercolor courses that debut (to alums of my foundation courses) in September. Also, I am taking my first, actual, planned vacation in late August and truly looking forward to that. But on the other hand, I'm enjoying life immensely right now, so I can wait.

I am leaving behind the habits of checking the news more than once daily (if that often), and of streaming movies and tv shows online. I'm sick to death of both and am back to reading.

I've just discovered Andrew Garve (aka Paul Winterton, aka Roger Bax, aka Paul Somers), and finished his Hide And Go Seek this afternoon.  I discovered this book in a free basket (as I have several other fab reads over the years), opened to a random page, read a paragraph aloud, put it under my arm and am committed to three more of his. 

Here's what else I have stacked up for summer:

Alice Carter, The Red Rose Girls
Andrew Garvey, Murder in Moscow, Ashes of Loda, Cuckoo Line Affair
Umberto Eco, History of Beauty
M. J. Rose, The Book of Lost Fragrances
re-read, again, Landscape into Art 
Jacob Wenzel, Landscapes From Brueghel to Kandinsky 
Stephen Greenblatt, The Swerve
finish Jeffrey Archer's Be Careful What You Wish For √ and
next installment of The Clifton Chronicles, Mightier Than The Sword
Joyce Cary, Art and Reality
Alice Munro, Runaway
re-read Ram Dass, Still Here
and, if there's any time left, would like to re-read
Leonie Swann, Three Bags Full
Conrad Richter, The Light in the Forest and
Hansen & Davis, Boone

How are you celebrating the Solstice? What are your plans for the summer? Any good reading suggestions to share? Tell me everything! Leave a comment below.

Recently, I have been missing my Dad. A lot. I think of him now, especially while I am swimming laps, remembering the simple, loose, lined '60's Jantzen swim trunks he wore in olive green or khaki. 

Approaching Father's Day, rather than compose some sentimental essay, I am making a list of random facts about him, as they come to mind. The massively interesting, good stuff I remember. Okay, here goes.

He

• was once arrested on Atlantic City beach for bathing without a top on.
• had just come back from horseback riding on Atlantic City beach when he heard the news that Pearl Harbor had been bombed.
• taught Naval officers accounting at Penn during WWII.
• was one of the youngest lawyers to go before the Supreme Court of the United States in 1932 at the age of 24. 
• graduated third in his class, Order of the Coif, at University of Pennsylvania Law School in 1930.
• entered St. Joseph's College in 1927, at the age of 15.
• rowed single scull on the Schulykill River.
• was a master bridge player.
• regularly bought records from Sam Goody at his first record shop on 9th Avenue in NYC, relying on Sam for au courant recommendations.
• said, "Here. I understand that you should listen to this." while handing me a copy of Meet the Beatles.
• taught me how to work an amplifier and tone arm when I was about five years old and later, how to change a diamond stylus .
• built a woofer and tweeter into the playroom wall of our first house.
• learned the hard way about storing LPs above a tube amp.
• built two giant sound boxes on casters for speakers when stereo hit the market.
• taught me how to body surf.
• took me to see a matinee of Forbidden Planet and explained to me how it was based on Shakespeare's The Tempest. Best first date ever. Decades later, I went to a matinee of same and sat a few rows behind a father with his very little daughter. The three of us were almost the only ones in the theater. Yes, I cried.
• always said "Go into the ocean, it'll heal you up." when I hurt myself at the shore.
• read Donald Francis Tovey's Essays in Musical Analysis for fun.
• collected all of the Arthur Quiller Couch and John Dover Wilson editions of Shakespeare.
• knew Shakespeare's plays by heart and would turn to the act, scene and line to show me source of title when I'd come home from school with reading assignments like Brave New World, or The Sound and the Fury.
• loved to walk and took me jogging with him around our neighborhood park or up and down the beach at Longport when jogging became a thing.
• took me regularly to the Robin Hood Dell in the summer. One time, it started raining while Van Cliburn was in the middle of a concerto. Daddy pointed out to me all the umbrellas popping up in the "Friends of the Dell" section and as the Friends scurried out, we dashed up and watched the rest of the concert, a few feet from the stage, sitting on the concrete steps, in the rain. It was fantastic!
• ​loved convertibles filled with beautiful girls before he was married.
• drank a lot when he was young until, according to my late aunt, his doctor told him that he really had to stop.
• attended 6:30 am mass every morning, without ever saying a word about it, at St. John the Evangelist Catholic Church at 13th and Market Streets in Philadelphia. 
• collected every volume of Arnold Toynbee's A Study of History. When then master photographer, Mr. Okada asked Daddy to give me something to hold in one of my baby pictures, he handed over Toynbee's Greek Civilization and Character. I don't know for sure but this may have been with a sense of humor. At least I think it's funny.
• loved history and the idea, philosophy of history. 
• kept his possessions simple and elegant. This approach applied to his clothing, tools and memorabilia. He splurged on books, records, his wife and children.
• had two good coats (one camel hair, one black cashmere), a cream silk tuxedo scarf, a sports jacket, a couple of fine wool suits, a seersucker suit, Norm Thompson slippers, an Irish Tweed Walking Hat and a classic, Gregory Peck, fedora.
• was an early "health nut" and we always had plenty of wheat germ, black strap molasses, honey with the comb, protein bread.
• kept his treasures on and in the top drawer of his bureau. On top of his bureau, he kept two framed photos, one of his mother, the other of his father. (They were the only photos I ever saw of his parents.) In his top drawer, he kept a letter from Arnold J. Toynbee, a short story he once wrote, a sterling silver swizzle stick from his drinking days, a pair of gold and amber cufflinks, and his Order of the Coif medal. Later, after his brother, Charlie, passed, he added Charlie's eye glass frames. With these, he also kept a scrap of paper with quick notes about my maternal grandmother's origin after a surprise visit from an unknown cousin on my mother's side. But that's another story.
• bought a copy of The Beach Boy's Surfin' USA for my 2nd grade school Pollyanna. I, of course, went for the LP shaped gift and listened to that album as much as any. Over the years, I occasionally wondered who's parent had bought that gift until, decades later, it dawned on me. Of course, Sam Goody.
• rarely gave me advice but once told me, "Always work for yourself."
• was very excited to hand me a copy of the 1973 U.S. Court of Claims document for the Williams & Wilkins Company v. The United States decision, indicating to me now that he knew then that my work would primarily concern intellectual property. And it has.
• had a distinctive whistle: a long G# followed by a smooth ribbon of short G, G#, G, G#, G, repeated twice to call for my brother and/or me. 
• could play untold variations with impeccable skill and invention on the piano of "We are Collegiate" and that's about all I ever heard him play. 
• married late, had children in his late 40s and absolutely loved and adored my mother, my brother and me.
• compiled and published the multi-volume Modern Federal contract law: Modern digest of decisions of United States Court of Claims and of Supreme Court of the United States (U.S. Court of Claims cases) 1969
• specialized in the United States Court of Claims and wrote an article for the American Bar Association Journal, The Court of Claims: The Nation's Conscience. 
• ate half a grapefruit every morning. My Dad loved grapefruit.
• ate oranges over the sink.
• made sure that my brother and I found an orange at the bottom of our Christmas stockings every year.
• enjoyed reading authors' works in chronological order: Graham Greene, Ian Flemming, Erle Stanley Gardner, Joyce Cary.
• collected Modern Library books. 
• was excited by all new technology.
• took some exceptional photographs that demonstrated a sophisticated sense of composition during the 1940s through early 1950s.
• loved the TV show, Secret Agent Man, The Prisoner, and early Masterpiece Theater.
• would love to have gone to Ireland.
• was the son of Charles J. McDermott, originally a drayman, later a Teamster, finally a Motor Freighter. I think that his father owned one of the first trucking companies in Philadelphia. His mother's name was Margaret F. Murphy and I am very sorry to say that that is all I know about her except that she looked very sad in the photo of her young self atop my father's dresser and that my Aunt Peggy threw all photos and identifying information about her parents away after they died.
• used Gaby Suntan Lotion and Noskote.
• walked to the Overbrook, later the Wynnewood train station every morning during our life together and took the train into town at least five days per week.
• taught me to drive in our 1968 Grecian Green Camaro on Sunday mornings in the John Wanamaker Parking lot in Wynnewood, PA.

There's more, and I'll add to this later, but that's enough for now. He taught me to love music, learning and physical exercise, to think critically, and to be myself. I wish that I could have been more helpful to him at the end. Always my first love.

The garden is coming along.

I can't get the ever-expanding plots all in to one shot so the above photo is a detail of Russian kale that's been keeping me in greens all winter, flowering zucchini, dill, beets, leeks, tomatoes, vinca, lavender, anise hyssop, scabiosa and some native plant in violet bloom that a neighbor gave me last spring. There's more, much more... but you get the idea.

This time last year I started with discarded heirloom tomato seedlings in old recycling bins. I knew little about growing vegetables and still have a lot to learn but I can say that about almost anything. 

Along with the garden, I've been growing new drawing and watercolor studio classes in art history. These have evolved since January in dramatic and exciting ways. Dramatic because of the phenomenal results of student work. Exciting because, well, anytime we create brand new things there's always a learning curve, obstacles, the unexpected (no matter how well we prepare), and uncertainty. 

The entire series of three courses is not quite complete but I've jumped the main hurdles and they'll be ready in an online format by end of summer. I have to say that I have worked my butt off putting these together and yet have loved (not always enjoyed but loved) the process.

All the time I thought I'd have to write blog posts has been diverted to developing these courses. Which is fine! It's just that when I put down one discipline for the sake of another, it does take some time and serious effort to start up the disciplines I had to put aside for a while. 

Writing is the worst, I think. It's always been a challenge for me to chain myself to a seat and to focus on writing. By which I mean...actually writing. Fortunately, I know that I am not alone. The only way to write is to write and so, here I am. Writing. 

After procrastinating (not really, I had so many other important things to do today!), I decided that it was not at all important for this post to be perfect or about anything important. All I had to do was to write something. 

Something.

So here it is. It's a seed for getting me back into my regular blogging. I like the discipline. It's just a matter of doing it. 

That's the name of a book on the shelf in my bathroom.​ It's a bunch of good advice to humans from cats. 

I'm going to make this post quick because I'd like to get to sleep, oh, right about NOW. But I'll sleep better if I write this post and publish it first. I've missed my regular weekly posts because I've been profoundly exhausted from a sinus infection and have used every ounce of energy to do only what was necessary. Although that also happened to include outlining and partially designing three new courses (one of which I created while teaching the first iteration).

Have you ever been so tired that you cannot sleep? That's the way I've been feeling. Laying down a lot but not getting proper sleep. That, however, is changing. Right now. Tonight, in fact. Because, hey...

Today is the first day of the new astrological year. Last night was the new moon in Aries (the first sign of the Zodiac) and while every new moon is a good time to set intentions, this particular new moon is a perfect time to set intentions for the next twelve months. What kind of year do you want to have? 

Write down your intentions of what you want to consciously create in your life. Long hand. On paper. Just make a list. Tonight or tomorrow would be good because after that the moon moves into another sign. (Don't ask me which. Not an astrologer.)

I need more quality sleep. So that's big on my intention agenda. As I consider how to bring about more quality sleep, I know exactly what I need to change. 

1. Less to no coffee.
2. Less to no computer screen time before bed.
3. Less to no eating before bed.
4. No electronics in my bedroom (at least, none turned on in any way.)
5. Definitely no alcohol. 

on the plus side

6. More clean, pretty, good quality bed linens (well, I think I have plenty).
7. More reading at night.
8. More lavender and eucalyptus and calming, sacred essential oils diffusing and on the soles of my feet.
9. More intentional release of daytime worries and
10. more trust in the universe.

Yep. That's my list. Because...

Did you know that, with a good night's sleep, your brain is actually washed? I forget where I first heard that but don't take my word for it, read this NPR article.

I'll bet you've had that common experience of going to bed with a problem and waking up with the solution. Well, that's a perfect example of it all coming out in the wash. The brain wash! Just writing about it makes me want to conk out right now. But I am already doing one major thing that will keep me from quality sleep. Staring at a computer screen late at night. But on the other hand, I'm going to publish this post tonight and that will alleviate some anxiety, so... you know, six of one, half a dozen of another. (I wonder how many more pithy phrases I can include before wrapping this thing up.)

Well, 'nuff said. Time for you know what.

I'll say good night with an old song that I've just discovered is the traditional Brownie Closing Song. But I know that it's older than the Brownies because my mother would sing it to me at night and her older, German housekeeper sang it to her and her siblings around 1920. (The Brownies weren't formed till 1914 in the UK and were originally called "Rosebuds".)

Click here for the tune and the lyrics, as I learned them, are:

Now run along home and jump into bed.
Say your prayers and cover up your head.
The very same thing I say unto you,
You dream of me and I'll dream of you.
Good night! Good night! Good night! Good night! Good night! 

Wouldn't it be nice if the world worked perfectly to fit our own little ideas of our own little schedules?

Would it?

In a perfect world, I would be completely recovered from the bad head cold I came down with several weeks ago. I'd be free of the sinus infection that followed. My voice (that I lost last week) would be healed in full. My house would be free of clutter. I would have had enough energy after teaching all day yesterday to swim laps last night instead of collapsing into bed with a pizza and laptop streaming tv shows. I would have woken up between six and seven this morning, bright eyed and bushy tailed. I would have known when the painters and maintenance supervisor were scheduled. I would have left the house in time to arrive for my morning appointment on time. The download link I sent out to students this morning would have worked correctly. The electricity would not have gone out and my computer would not have shut down while I was trying to solve the download link problem. Just as I was sitting down to write, the leaf blowers would not have started up outside my windows. Um... and so forth.

It's 5 pm and I feel like I'm just getting started. Speaking of which, a few minutes ago, I started out writing about schedules and time and now find that I'm writing about a perfect world. 

The facts are that I did wake up this morning (I could end this sentence right there) in plenty of time for everything that needed to happen. (Although I have not yet done my morning Kundalini Yoga set.)  I was ten minutes late to my morning appointment (but I made it). I swam half a mile mid-day. The maintenance supervisor solved the mold problem. The painter has almost finished her work. I solved the download link problem. The "landscapers" are almost finished. And everything is probably going to be all right.

I don't deal well with chaos and clutter. That being said, like it or not, life tumbles along amidst chaos and clutter. You never know what's going to happen next. 

For example, last Saturday, I went out for a walk around the neighborhood in absolutely perfect weather. On my way back, about three blocks from home, a single storm cell flew in with serious horizontal lightning, the air turned orange and then green, I practically climbed the fence of the first neighbor I knew and begged for a lift home. Fortunately for me, he dropped everything and gave me a lift. By the time I'd run into the house and turned on the lights, I looked out to see that enough hail had fallen to mimic a snow storm. The roofs, cars, parking lot, lawn, everything was covered in white. You never know what's going to happen next. 

While I was thinking of writing this post two weeks ago, I was really struggling with the sinus infection, low energy and a hoarse throat while working pretty darn hard. I kept thinking of that Winston Churchill quote,

and while continuing to think about writing this post (instead of writing it!), this aphorism came to mind,

And so I am. Keeping on going. Putting one foot in front of another. I mean, I'm not in hell by any stretch of the imagination. It just feels like things are chaotic. And they are! At the last minute this morning, I pulled towels and toiletries and whatnot out of the bathroom, moved my kitchen table and grabbed my coats and bags off the wall rack then threw everything in miscellaneous piles in the living and bed rooms then ran out the door to my car. Now the painter has just left and, though she did the best cleanup she could, I have to go back in and mop up sanding dust. I'm going to do that, now, while the daylight is still with me.

I'm not sure what this post is about, exactly. It seems to be part venting about not very interesting or important stuff, and part just going with the flow. As it happens, as it happens.
​
I mean, I know all too well that what I've described is simply incidental living and nothing compared to true chaos and upheaval. Not to discount or minimize in any way my own traumas, but even those experiences pale compared to what others are experiencing or have experienced.

Life just is. What's that other adage? Life is what happens while you're making other plans?

It was actually a pretty good day. The weather was pleasant. Some problems were solved. I have a few more jobs to tackle.  Then I have the great fortune of laying down in my own bed with my furry little beast and drifting off to sleep, perchance to dream.

Right now, I'm going to mop up that drywall and paint dust.

One week ago, I came down with a serious head cold. Wow. While it may take me another week to fully regain my strength, the head cold is more or less gone.

I don't get colds often but when I do, they mess with my head by which I mean I think that I've always been ill and always will be ill. I have to remind myself of the best healing protocol and then insist that I follow it. Usually take me a day or two to get myself in line but the sooner I do, the better I feel and the faster I heal.

The thing about colds is that they seem pretty harmless. Mild illnesses. Until you're in the midst of one. Then you remember how miserable they make you feel. The "common" cold is any one of a range of viruses that can linger and prolong your misery and develop into far serious situations like sinus infections, bronchitis, pneumonia, and more.

I'm not a doctor but I'll tell you this much. Most people I know—including yours truly—will power through the first stages of a cold when it's probably the most important time to power down. I powered through last week. I taught a full day then went to a meeting the next morning then had a couple of friends over the following night. I can only hope that I did not infect anyone. 

Still, around all those absolute minimal activities, I followed some basic rules.

• Accept that you have a virus.
• Look at the cold as your body's way of saying, hey, let's have a rest, a little clean out and reset. 
• Rest. As much as possible.
• That being said, get some fresh air. Take an easy walk every day.
• Keep a stack of clean handkerchiefs. Don't bother ironing. Why irritate your skin with paper?
• If you must go out, put a hat on your head and bundle up your neck and chest.
• If you must be around people, don't breathe on or touch them.
• Wash your hands often.
• No alcohol, caffeine or cigarettes. Do I have to say that? (And I don't care about the age old whiskey recommendations.)
• Vitamin C. Try small doses (250 mg) throughout the day. I know the jury's out on this but I think it helps and that it matters what type and what brand. I'm loving Garden of Life Raw C these days.
• Drink lots of purified water. It's true--keep those liquids coming.
• Don't eat anything white. That includes sugar and dairy.
• Do have lots of warm tea and broth with garlic, onions, and a pinch of cayenne pepper.
• Sure, chicken soup is good. Add a bit of that red pepper and it's golden.
• Fresh lemons with ginger, peppermint and honey in hot water. Yum. If you don't have fresh lemons or ginger (or peppermint for that matter), use drops of those essential oils.
• Add essential oils of thyme, oregano, and peppermint to your water. They all have antiviral properties and I swear that the oregano oil helped me knock out last week's cold tout de suite. Peppermint helps with sinus congestion and headaches, too.
  
• Lavender essential oil will keep you calm and help you rest. 
• Don't take that over the counter crap. Really. Have you read those labels? They may subdue the symptoms and allow you to power through to work and travel but they're not addressing the underlying virus and the resulting lack of rest alone may actually prolong the cold. IMHO.

Along with everyone else, I don't like coming down with a cold but I do have to say that if I take good care of myself through the experience, I usually feel better coming out the other end than I did when I picked up the virus. Which makes sense, come to think of it, if we're more susceptible to viruses when our immune systems are down. How great can we really feel if our immune system is down?

I hope you don't need this but when and if you do, I think these are a pretty good set basic rules. 

​