i want to be a whale

a story that is making its rounds on the internet:

Recently, in a large French city, a poster featuring a young, very thin and tanned woman appeared in the window of a gym. It read:

“THIS SUMMER DO YOU WANT TO BE A MERMAID OR A WHALE?”

A middle aged woman, with children all grown, and a life well-lived, responded publicly to the question posed by the gym.

To Whom It May Concern:

Whales are always surrounded by friends (dolphins, sea lions, curious humans). They are powerful and wise. They have a fabulous social life, stuffing themselves with shrimp as they frolic the sunset hours away. Whales play and swim in the seas, visiting amazing places like Patagonia, the Barren Sea and the coral reefs of Polynesia. They speak and sing to each other in a language no one else has been able to master. Whales are wonderful musicians and are featured on many recorded CDs. They have an active sex life - both for pleasure and procreation - and birth adorable whale babies. Whales are incredible creatures and have virtually no predators other than humans. They are loved, protected and admired by almost everyone in the world.

Mermaids do not exist.

But if they did, they would be lining up outside the offices of Argentinean psychoanalysts due to identity crisis: Fish or human? They would the kill men who came too close, have no sex organs, and be unable to bear young. Yes, they would be lovely, but potentially lonely.

The choice is perfectly clear to me - I want to be a whale.

We are in an age when media instills in us that the only beautiful people are the skinny people. That those who carry around an extra ten pounds are lazy, dumb and unattractive. Yet, I prefer to enjoy an ice cream now and then with my kids. I love a good dinner with a partner who makes me shiver, and a drink out with my friends. With time, we gain weight because we accumulate so much wisdom - our heads cannot hold anymore and it simply must be distributed to the rest of our bodies. See, I am not heavy... I am enormously cultured, educated, and happy. I am fit. I am strong. I am healthy. But I will never be skinny.

And beginning today, when I see my curves in the mirror I will tell myself, "My goodness! Look at how amazing I am!"

found via here.

the only sesame street ramona bean has seen

lost and found

this poem by anne lamott was on my friend's blog.
certainly inspiring.

i would not have been a poet
except that i have been in love
alive in this mortal world,
or an essayist except that i
have been bewildered and afraid,
or a storyteller had i not heard
stories passing to me through the air,
or a writer at all except
i have been wakeful at night
and words have come to me
out of their deep caves
needing to be remembered.
but on the days i am lucky
or blessed, i am silent.
i go into the one body
that two make in making marriage
that for all our trying, all
our deaf-and-dumb of speech,
has no tongue. or i give myself
to gravity, light, and air
and am carried back
to solitary work in fields
and woods, where my hands
rest upon a world unnamed,
complete, unanswerable, and final
as our daily bread and meat.
the way of love leads all ways
to life beyond words, silent
and secret. to serve that triumph
i have done all the rest.

--wendell berry

this was a rather touching photodocumentary.

typography

this was, like, really wonderful and encouraging to receive in my email this morning, ya know?

Typography from Ronnie Bruce on Vimeo.

thanks, papa.

discipline of contentment

i do not know

when i have had happier times

in my soul

than when i have been sitting at work,

with nothing before me

but a candle and a white cloth,

and hearing no sound

but that of my own breath;

with God in my soul

and heaven in my eye.

i rejoice in being exactly what i am

--a creature capable of loving God,

and who, as long as God lives,

must be happy.

i get up

and look a while out the window.

i gaze at the moon and stars,

the work of an Almighty Hand.

i think of the grandeur of the universe

and then sit down

and think myself

one of the happiest

beings in it.

--A Poor Methodist Woman (18th century)

a maxim

to live each day as if it might be the last

is an injunction that marcus aurelius

inscribes in his journal to remind himself

that he, too, however privileged, is mortal,

that whatever bounty is destined to reach him

has reached him already, many times.

but if you take his maxim too literally

and devote your mornings to tinkering with your will,

your afternoons and evenings to saying farewell

to friends and family, you'll come to regret it.

soon your lawyer won't fit you into his schedule.

soon your dear ones will hide in a closet

when they hear your heavy step on the porch.

and then your house will slide into disrepair.

if this is my last day, you'll say to yourself,

why waste time sealing drafts in the window frames

or cleaning gutters or patching the driveway?

if you don't want your heirs to curse the day

you first opened marcus's journals,

take him simply to mean you should find an hour

each day to pay a debt or forgive one,

or write a letter of thanks or apology.

no shame in leaving behind some evidence

you were hoping to live beyond the moment.

no shame in a ticket to a concert seven months off,

or, better yet, two tickets, as if you were hoping

to meet by then someone who'd love to join you,

two seats near the front so you catch each note.

-carl dennis from the june 7, 2010 issue of the new yorker