Joy Times Three

Tis the season to remember that joy needs attention. It requires focus. Joy is a little like a butterfly - beautiful, fragile, but persistent and capable of astonishing feats. Held too tightly, it crumbles. It arrives when conditions have been cultivated to attract it - like planting milkweed in the garden attracts monarchs. You can also chase joy across continents and into dark jungles if finding the rarest kinds intrigues you. I am one of those people who needs to be reminded to allow myself to stop and let joy arrive. Three things help do that.

1. Cats. Living with little obligate carnivores who have massive outsized personalities is a delight. Each cat has his or her specific routines and every day, I'm gifted with a few minutes with each of them. Perceval wants to nap in my lap. Arya wants me to brush her and then throw her favorite toy. Peseshet wants me to come out to the lanai and pet her while she rolls on the bricks in the sun. Crow wants to lounge in my lap each evening. Raven needs a milk bottle cap slid along the floor for him to chase and fetch back to me. And Corvid needs a cuddle in one specific rocking chair in the house where he can flop over and pretend to nurse against my stomach. There's a lot of cute (and weird) but there's something warm and lovely and joyful about being a safe place for these creatures who share my home.

 

2. Boats. This one is cheating a little because it hits so many joy buttons for me. Nature. Stories. Freedom. Adventure. Getting to go new places and see/experience new things. Silence. Broad swathes of stillness and time. Sailing requires that you make room to simply stop and be. I love the sun on my skin and a good breeze filling my sails and the pull of water on my wheel or tiller. Feeling my way into the groove where wave and water and boat all work together. It isn't always possible. Conditions aren't always right for that. But the times it all aligns, challenging conditions turn into a sleigh ride that takes you from point A to point B in relative ease. It's a metaphor that extends well past taking the swells on the quarter and a 25 knot wind slightly aft of abeam.

3. Tea. Tea is a trip in a cup. It's a simple ritual that invites you to slow down, close your eyes, breathe in the fragrant steam rising from a set of wet leaves that grew half a world away. 

Unlimited

  Nitpicking…nitpicking. I’m sure I’ve got something to nitpick about, I mean—I can vent with the best of them. 

There’s—

Uhh…yesterday—

Well…maybe I can’t. I’m not much of a complainer because I’d rather focus on the what’s going good. So, what positives have I got going on right now? 

I’m in the editing cave which means:

• Coffee’s on tap
• I get to close the door (meaning the kiddos know they can only interrupt for really really important stuff…if they come in it’d better be for more than my brother took the last granola bar)
• I’m focused—zeroed in, end in sight, can’t distract—

Ullr pup just walked in! Aww, he misses me and needs some belly scratching. Never mind me, I’ll be over here getting some puppy kisses. 

Remember that sometimes not getting what you want is a wonderful stroke of luck ~Dalai Lama

Where the Writer Is

Anyone with a cat will tell you that if you sit still long enough, you are a cat bed. Trying to write with a cat on your arms is -- challenging. So whenever I write on the boat, I have my choice of spots so long as the first rule is observed: I may sit wherever I like so long as a cat is not occupying the space. I must also observe rule two: if a cat wants the space after I have occupied it, I am obligated to move or suffer being yelled at (at best) and at worst, being occupied myself by a feline indifferent to my deadlines. So it often follows that I remove myself from the household in order to write. Not only for the ergonomic benefits, but also because the distractions at home are legion. Dishes to be done. Wildlife to observe. Cats' whims to be catered to. So while I do write aboard the boat, my very favorite place to write is Miro Tea. It's in Old Ballard - which is (for the west coast) the historic district. Some of the buildings date from the late 1800s. This is an older building. If you look in the middle row of windows, you'll see an I beam running diagonally. Earthquake reinforcing to bring the structure up to code. All of the old buildings in this section of town have them. You get this semi-Victorian exterior and a post-modern industrial thing on the interior. See the two wooden chairs just outside? There's a table tucked right up against that window behind them. That's my spot. I can see the street and the passersby from there. If the sun is out at all, I catch the rays as the sun rises. All lovely reasons to camp that spot for hours at a time while getting words, unimpeded by feline 'helpers'. But the real reason to go there is that the staff are some of the greatest people I know. They've figured out how much I love tea and have started letting me in on the secrets of which teas I ought to be trying. This year's oolong crop has had a stunning array of really excellent teas, for example, and it seems like every time I go in, they have a new recommendation to make for a tea I just have to try. Once I've decided, I can sit down, start the word count, and sip a lovely tea in a warm, friendly environment that doesn't reek of stale coffee oil. Yeah. I know. I live in Seattle and hate coffee. There's probably a law. This is the tea shop that shows up in Damned If He Does and in Nightmare Ink and Bound By Ink (though in the Ink books, the tea shop is Isa's tattoo shop.) If you read Damned If He Does, there's a brief scene in the tea shop - the young woman behind the counter is real and she will make you the same tea latte she makes the hero in the book - a Fireside Hot Chocolate. Dark chocolate, steamed milk, vanilla syrup and Lapsang Souchong. It's velvety heaven. So the next time you're in Seattle, you know where to find me. And maybe what to order when you drop in at Miro.