Happy summer Friday! It has been a wonderful, soul-nourishing week kicking off the next chapter of my career, and I'm thrilled. Here's to a sunny weekend of time spent outdoors, picnics, bare feet grounded to the earth, and fresh air vibrating through our bodies. Here are a few things that piqued my interest this week:
- Letting a little classic Afrobeat and Rock groove me into the weekend.
- Reading up on Esther Gokhale and the Gokhale Method of posture, and getting some tips on how to properly stand, as my new organization uses standing desks (!!!). Did you know just how much your posture affects your overall health? Learn more about standing tall with her book "8 Steps to a Pain-Free Back."
- After we spent one solid and restorative night of doing completely nothing this week (no television, no music, no lights, even! Just being together, as the soft breeze came through the windows and the sun set) I totally support this concept of "Slow Parenting" discussed in the Globe a few weeks ago. Even without children, there is strength in truly disconnecting, slowing down, and practicing the art of noticing with our partners and friends.
- And finally, a favorite romantic poem from Stanley Kunitz, "Route Six," that has me jonesing for a trip to the Cape this weekend. I can almost see the Orleans rotary now...
"The city squats on my back.
I am heart-sore, stiff-necked,
exasperated. That's why
I slammed the door,
that's why I tell you now,
in every house of marriage
there's room for an interpreter.
Let's jump into the car, honey,
and head straight for the Cape,
where the cock on our housetop crows
that the weather's fair,
and my garden waits for me
to coax it into bloom.
As for those passions left
that flare past understanding,
like bundles of dead letters
out of our previous lives
that amaze us with their fevers,
we can stow them in the rear
along with ziggurats of luggage
and Celia, our transcendental cat,
past-mistress of all languages,
including Hottentot and silence.
We'll drive non-stop till dawn,
and if I grow sleepy at the wheel,
you'll keep me awake by singing
in your bravura Chicago style
Ruth Etting's smoky song,
'Love Me or Leave Me,'
belting out the choices.
Light glazes the eastern sky.
Celia gyrates upward
like a performing seal,
her glistening nostrils aquiver
to sniff the brine-spiked air.
The last stretch toward home!
Twenty summers roll by."