My boss has helpfully provided us with an online subscription to a professional blog of some kind that furnishes us with “Daily Working Tips.”
I enjoy opening up my email each morning and reading the suggestions on how to work “smarter”.The whole concept takes me back to a less tech-y time when thoughts for the day were written in curvy, cursive letters that flowed from my teachers’ chalk onto cool ebony chalkboards.
Holding a thought is a very important thing. It’s a good way to begin a day.
Today’s helpful hint regarded the need to trust and believe in something outside of yourself. That’s sort of a “duh” for me.
Most of the time, I really don’t need to be reminded to believe, but sometimes, it can seem almost futile to wish, and that is why I remind myself every morning, and every night, to wish.
One must cherish a wish. A wish can be so wispy and ephemeral that it is almost not even a thought. Wishes are what fairy godmothers and green toads grant to woe begone princesses. Wishes are magical in nature. Just ask Jiminy Cricket. Or a child of eight or an old woman of eighty as she closes her eyes before blowing out the candles.
Unlike beliefs and convictions, wishes are products of the heart and the imagination.They are a symptom of our very being.
Much like the feather borne aloft by the breeze at the beginning and the end of the movie, “Forrest Gump”, our wishes are borne aloft by desires unencumbered by schemes or thought. A wish is ineffable.
Yes, one must believe in certain things. There are strong and compelling principles upon which you can and should base your life, pillars of morality and centeredness as steadfast and immutable as the Northern Star.
But it is also a fine thing to lift up our dreams, the thoughts we dare not share, and to make a wish upon a far away star that twinkles in the lavender dusk between today and tomorrow, or to search for and find a four leaf clover, and press its bright green lobes in the pages of a favorite book of poetry.
As a child in days of yore and black and white television, colors were left to ones imagination. Surely this must have created a flex in some portion of our little brains, and I would imagine that like most brain flexes, that would be a good thing.
The lack of color in our video diet meant that sparkle and glitter, also known as pixie dust, was of particular importance, since it was color neutral. Stardust declared in a sort of universal language that something magical was taking place. Walt Disney was masterfully fluent in sparkle. And Dinah Shore, who would smile warmly as she said goodbye, also understood the mysticism of sequins and their power to make magic.
At any rate, because we saw things in shades of gray inside of large wooden boxes, it was quite helpful when we were given aural cues. Like the Blue Fairy. No need to plumb the recesses of our little imaginations. She was blue. Although there was still the question, “What shade of blue?”, and I suppose the answer pretty much would depend on the size of your coloring box.
(Which is why I keep a Box of 64 Crayola Crayons on my desk at the office. That box with crayons literally standing at attention like the Mormon Tabernacle Choir on risers was the Rolls Royce of colors to me, and one of my greatest treasures under the tree on Christmas morning.)
I was much enamored with the Blue Fairy. For two reasons, first she was a fairy, and two, she was blue; and I believed in both. Really. But that is another entry. More about my personal fairy, Bonnie Bell later, but obviously my mom was aiding and abetting the fairy syndicate.
The trick about the Blue Fairy was her EMT modus operandi. She wasn’t just hanging out looking pretty. This gal was a do-er. When the going got rough, the Blue Fairy jumped in and offered instructive, tough-love wisdom. And she had the ultimate power-the gift of life.
Today I was not having long wooden nose issues, but the donkey concept was not too far off the mark. It was a day of slogging through this and then racing through that only to slog through something else, all in a race to the finish line. But we all made it across…at last…and it was a good race.
But I was so sad that our gig, scheduled for 7, hit some snags beforehand, and then, because it was so well-received, took more time to wrap up, so that I was left to stare rather crestfallen at the clock that read ten until nine. Too late to bother Mr. Wu.
My choice was to go by the grocery–not; go home and eat oatmeal and strawberries; or go by Elfo’s with our new magazine to show Alex–who is in it.
Right! I went to Elfo’s, hoping to find Kim there, too, and maybe even my friend Bobby who often has dinner there with the mayor. On the other hand, if Alex and Kim were out catering some big deal, and I didn’t know anyone there, how forlorn looking would THAT be. Ick!
I walked in, and found out Kim was not there. Uh oh. But Alex was in the kitchen. SO at least I had someone to show the magazine to…how about Bobby? “No,” the hostess said, he isn’t here.”
“Well, ” I asked, “Is anyone sitting on the red sofa?”
Now the red sofas are across from the doors to the kitchen, so there is a lot of activity to watch, and there are also frequent glimpses into the kitchen, where you can see Alex Grisanti and his staff preparing meals as if they are in grandma’s kitchen cooking for a family reunion. I’ve mentioned this to Kim. I’ve never seen such a happy group of folks in the kitchen, and I am convinced that the good will in that kitchen is transferred to the pasta and the sauces and everything that comes out of it and winds up on your table.
So there I am, approaching the red sofa–and suddenly, I had my Blue Fairy Moment, when my entire hectic, tired, and well, a little lonesome day, shape-shifted at the sight of my friend Bobby!
He had been to dinner with the Festival folk at Equestria, and had stopped by for a glass of wine. Lucky me! So we sat on the sofa, the waiter came by and asked if we’d like a drink, and Bobby took one look at me and said, “Bring her a martini!”
That’s what friends are for! Am I lucky or what?
We visited and before long I asked if Alex had a shrimp cocktail on the menu, figuring that would be an innocuous sin of omission rather than commission of the Wu Food Project. “Sort of,” was the clever response of the waiter, who brought me an incredibly gorgeous plate of shrimp curled up on a crispy bed of eggplant and covered with a chiffonade of fresh basil iced with a drizzle of lemony sauce. Oh my!
Bobby wisely suggested we move the party to a table, where I was able to better devote myself to my delightful task. Next to us were some folks who were hunter/ jumper horse show people in from Nashville and Franklin that Bobby knew.
It was all good–a true blue true Blue Fairy Moment next to a plush red sofa.
I’ve learned that life can change quickly, changing from black and white to color in an instant, and back again. But for sure there will always be stardust and magic. Not all the time. But when you need it.