Author Archives: beth

About beth

Ann Arbor-ite writes about enjoying life with all of its ironies and surprises.

Jan3

nondescript.

Posted on January 3, 2024 by beth

Standard

my favorite shirt

lived in

worn to softness

tissue paper thin

color gone

shapeless and frayed

always feels like home.

—

“there is a special blessing in old clothes;

that aside from their comfort,

for which especially they are to be cherished.

they confer a certain kind of anonymity on one who wears them gladly;

all their bright places rubbed in a uniform dullness,

they achieve an appearance so nearly nondescript

that only a close scrutiny could learn that ever they held shape at all.’

-maude meagher

Jan2

food for the soul.

Posted on January 2, 2024 by beth

Standard

when you’ve recently climbed way back up onto the healthy wagon

you have to choose between

the warm fudgy chocolate cake and creamy vanilla ice cream with a dark chocolate drizzle

the healthy fresh green juice

you make a deal with yourself

indulge in a bit of chocolate wonder right now

drink the magic green elixir

for your next meal

(which should offset all you’ve just eaten, call it even)

but somehow

the juice never makes it home

so the universe

has made the the decision for you.

—

“food for the body is not enough. there must be food for the soul.”

– dorothy day

Jan1

welcome.

Posted on January 1, 2024 by beth

Standard

welcome 2024, c’mon in!

—

“and now we welcome the new year. full of things that have never been.”

-rainer maria rilke

—

image credit: corrine la tour vintage cards, paris

Dec31

but now what?

Posted on December 31, 2023 by beth

Standard

good riddance, but now what?

come, children, gather round my knee;
something is about to be.
tonight’s december thirty-first,
something is about to burst.
the clock is crouching, dark and small,
like a time bomb in the hall.
hark! it’s midnight, children dear.
duck! here comes another year.

-ogden nash.

—

art credit: ed gorey, the house

Dec30

cast aside.

Posted on December 30, 2023 by beth

Standard

(not our real hands, but good for perspective)

mine is the tinkerbelle hand with a minor ‘injury’ and his, the paul bunyan hand with a major trauma.

waiting in the store checkout line

browsing through my phone

the man in front of me

laughing and chatting with the cashier

saying it was a challenge to sign the receipt

because of his hand

hearing this

turned to face him

beginning to take in the situation

(major cast on his arm and hand)

while i quickly blurted out:

“it’s the worst, isn’t it?!”

whining about having an injury too

he asked me what happened

explaining the battle with my car door

he had a young daughter with him

was so kind and gentle with her

laughing and chatting

just as he had done with the cashier

when i asked him what happened

wondering why he had such a big cast

he told me his story

it involved him trying to stop someone

from stealing his fiancee’s car

and

a dog attack

instant perspective shift

before i could say anything

he turned to go

saying,

“i’m sorry that happened to you and i hope you heal really soon.”

all i could say was, “you too..”

how fortunate the people in his life are

even the strangers he encounters in his day

lucky to cross paths with him

this gentle giant

walks softly

teaching huge lessons.

—

“look at you comforting others with the words you want to hear.”

-author unknown

Dec29

hope is a decision.

Posted on December 29, 2023 by beth

Standard

hope tree, karin zeller

———

buddhist philosopher daisaku ikeda wrote this insightful look at the nature of happiness in his essay collection, “Hope Is a Decision.” ikeda spent 50 years writing the essays in the book. they all relate in some form to the nature of hope, and how we can take it upon ourselves to maintain it, even during tumultuous times. consider it a self-fulfilling prophecy: if you choose to be hopeful, you will be. just like if you choose to try and make others happy, it will increase your own happiness. and, as ikeda also notes in his essay, those choices will “illuminate our final years with dignity.”