Upside Down Kris

  The Art of Living The art of living is painting your words and actions the right color before your brush touches someone else. It's so hard to get the shade right: the one that the other person will like or at least understand. The truth is that everyone sees the world in different colors–some in gray tones, some in florescent lights, some with an impressionistic blending or muting, and others in loud, vivid scenes. Just like we don't agree on what is beautiful or what we want to look at, we also don't see (accept) the color of words in the same way. Art has as many nuances as our perception of it.  The same is true of our perception of other people, which are tainted by our own experiences, words, as well as other people's words. So, getting down to the nitty gritty of it, what is the Art of Living? I define it as learning how to slip slide through human interactions so they go as smoothly as possible. This doesn't mean avoiding confrontations or conversations. I

A Halloween Tale Joe, Harry, and Larry wiggled out a giggle. Actually, it was really only Larry who was leaning in for a laugh. Joe nervously chatted his two teeth while Larry guffawed at the chatter.   "Did you see their faces as they passed by?" Harry was sputtering. "Headless horseman! What an imagination kids have!"  Harry couldn't sit upright anymore and fell onto Joe. Larry guffawed even harder until his teeth became a jigsaw in his jaw. All of a sudden, he sucked in a breath. "But, if we're not someone's head, then what are we?" Larry asked. Harry's oval chin scrunched up for a second. "Larry...sometimes you think too much!" he concluded. "We're jack-o-lanterns, of course!" And they both fell into hysterics. Joe didn't join them. "Guys...It's getting dark. I don't want to be a party pooper, but..." "Well, then, don't!" Harry huffed. They all fell silent. It was so silent tha

Palms and Maples There is no wash of reds, yellows, and vibrant greens here. Nor is there the middle-ground-brown as they sit and wait  for a rake. There are no autumn trees at all...I mean the great oaks and the merry maples or even an elegant birch. These trees are not part of this landscape. So the magnificence of fall is missed here.  Or at least, I miss it. I am more convinced than ever that it is my favorite season, what with the colors and a kettle piping due to the whistling wind...not to mention the costumes and candy of Halloween. But does autumn really skip over the island? Does it only stop at islands northern bound? No. The air alighting from the sea brings change, brings that tinge of fall sassiness in its fresh mornings. The day can be hot, but oh how the earliness takes time to warm up to the afternoon! And how the night winds down so fast. I welcome it because it reminds me of how good it is just to go home at dark. So, the leaves that fall here are fans from palms. Th

Smile Pop quiz: How many muscles does it take to smile? There are 43 muscles in the face, most of which are controlled by the facial nerve. This nerve begins in the cerebral cortex (that mass of gray   filling the cap of your brain) and wraps around your cheek and chin. So, your smile is quite a brainy item!  Because the nerve is directly connected to the brain, it's no wonder a smile is such a no-brainer. What I mean is, I've heard you can "trick" your brain into thinking you're happy just by grinning, genuine or not. This makes total sense to me: all those muscles and nerves send signals to the brain which help it decide how you are feeling. So our facial expressions truly affect our well being. L iterally, t he more smiles, the merrier–for us and the people around us.  But I wonder...is a half-smile enough? Is your brain happy with half, or does it need the whole to be convinced? I've been at half-mast for so long that I wonder what a full smile will feel l

  The Significance of Cinnamon The air was pregnant with cinnamony goodness. The aroma wafted by as a vision of pregnant women holding space for children. The children delighted in the aroma and the all sensory experience of cookie making while the adults relived their carefree kitchen moments...all smiling as they came into the cinnamon cloud, a piece of peace among worlds...that space between adolescence and adulting. I have recounted more than once of a best childhood memories with my mother baking cookies, particularly chocolate chip. It was a time when I truly had her attention, when we were doing  something we both enjoyed, when my mom relaxed and I anticipated the glory of licking the spatula. Obviously, it was so much more than baking.  So, this cinnamon smell holds so much more than its earthy scent in the air as I bake oatmeal cookies for a picnic tomorrow. It's not just the expectation of sharing time and cookies: it's a space sifted through cinnamony memory...of oat

You do you   You do you–or, in this case, me be me. That being also means action resonates with me. Just "coming into being" is a miracle that puts into motion a whole slew of bodily processes that then become automatic. That's why babies are so fascinated with themselves (what's this? It's a hand! How grand! And I can even open and close it! Look at that!)  And they have every right to be excited.  We take our inner workings for granted until they stop working. Think about something as vital as breath for a moment. If you start paying attention to it, at first your breathing gets out of whack because you never actually do  anything–it does itself. Our lungs pump us with air and life without us being aware in the least, which is totally amazing. And if we concentrate on it and slow it down suddenly a lot of things start to make sense.  I've always been drawn to the "you do you" idea even if I don't always "do me". It has such a differen