The There There Letter: Nesting, Neighbors, and Not
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DAH is me, David Anthony Hance. "Take me or leave me; or, as is the usual order of things, both." (Dorothy Parker)
First up this week, Nesting …
If you read this weekly you're aware we moved. Painters, plumbers, electricians, carpet wranglers, concrete handlers, and handymen-and-sons have been busy at our place (still are at this writing). We're moving in next week. Nesting, making a house our home is well-underway. Nesting need not be expensive, although in our case it almost invariably is. We're suiting a building for us. Beyond the structure itself, selected possessions help define us: the art and furniture and fancies that have survived the culling of past moves will make a new nest ours. Stuff that holds memories. Stuff that inspires hope. Stuff that brings both comfort and inspiration. But most essential: My nest requires that those I love want to be there, at least now and then.
9 Truths About Making a Home That Are Worth Remembering
Second up this week, Neighbors …
When we move we have two postal practices. First, we mail change of address postcards to those with whom we pursue continued connection. Second, we mail "hello new neighbor" letters to the addresses surrounding our new place. We want to know our neighbors. So, we offer up our contact information and explain why we've moved next door. It's surprising (to me, anyway) how few people respond to either. There are more old friends who make a connection effort when we say we've left somewhere. There are few new neighbors who respond at all. Occasionally, if they see us in person, they'll wave or say hello. And a small percentage will respond with their own contact information. Generally, however, I think many neighbors are Nay-Bears: The tired bears come home seeking privacy and hibernation in their dens. They've a "just say no" feeling about outsiders bothering them. Hmmm. I see that I've just revealed myself as more bird than bear, nesting rather than denning.
20 Things Bears Like To Eat Most
Third up this week, Not …
I'm fascinated by things that are defined by what they are not. Fascinated because that requires that the thing they are not be well understood. And that the features that are not be usefully identifiable and clearly defined. It's no good defining a sheep as "not having leaves." But its quite effective to define certain Chardonnay wines as "not having oak." Apparently, enough wine drinkers understand that many Chardonnay wines have been oak fermented and/or aged, and that the oak imparts a flavor to the wine. I understand right away what Unwooded or Unoaked Chardonnay is. That's quite a particular example. Less specifically, I understand what is meant by "not your Daddy's" … well, anything. Part of me wants to appreciate and understand the world only through positives, but I can see the practicality of identifying things as not. For myself, I seek to be defined as "not an utter waste of space."
25 Words That Are Their Own Opposites
A Book I Likely Need to Study:
Creative Doing, by Herbert Lui
I generally avoid "prompt" books, but this one looks more interesting than most. "75 Practical Exercises to Unblock Your Creative Potential in Your Work, Hobby, or Next Career." Have I really a next career?
And a bit more:
Absence, by Elizabeth Jennings
I visited the place where we last met.
Nothing was changed, the gardens were well-tended,
The fountains sprayed their usual steady jet;
There was no sign that anything had ended
And nothing to instruct me to forget.
The thoughtless birds that shook out of the trees,
Singing an ecstasy I could not share,
Played cunning in my thoughts. Surely in these
Pleasures there could not be a pain to bear
Or any discord shake the level breeze.
It was because the place was just the same
That made your absence seem a savage force,
For under all the gentleness there came
An earthquake tremor: Fountain, birds and grass
Were shaken by my thinking of your name.
And that's all for this week.
From Mary Oliver’s poem Sometimes …
You can subscribe and browse past issues HERE
DAH is me, David Anthony Hance. "Take me or leave me; or, as is the usual order of things, both." (Dorothy Parker)
First up this week, Nesting …
If you read this weekly you're aware we moved. Painters, plumbers, electricians, carpet wranglers, concrete handlers, and handymen-and-sons have been busy at our place (still are at this writing). We're moving in next week. Nesting, making a house our home is well-underway. Nesting need not be expensive, although in our case it almost invariably is. We're suiting a building for us. Beyond the structure itself, selected possessions help define us: the art and furniture and fancies that have survived the culling of past moves will make a new nest ours. Stuff that holds memories. Stuff that inspires hope. Stuff that brings both comfort and inspiration. But most essential: My nest requires that those I love want to be there, at least now and then.
9 Truths About Making a Home That Are Worth Remembering
Second up this week, Neighbors …
When we move we have two postal practices. First, we mail change of address postcards to those with whom we pursue continued connection. Second, we mail "hello new neighbor" letters to the addresses surrounding our new place. We want to know our neighbors. So, we offer up our contact information and explain why we've moved next door. It's surprising (to me, anyway) how few people respond to either. There are more old friends who make a connection effort when we say we've left somewhere. There are few new neighbors who respond at all. Occasionally, if they see us in person, they'll wave or say hello. And a small percentage will respond with their own contact information. Generally, however, I think many neighbors are Nay-Bears: The tired bears come home seeking privacy and hibernation in their dens. They've a "just say no" feeling about outsiders bothering them. Hmmm. I see that I've just revealed myself as more bird than bear, nesting rather than denning.
20 Things Bears Like To Eat Most
Third up this week, Not …
I'm fascinated by things that are defined by what they are not. Fascinated because that requires that the thing they are not be well understood. And that the features that are not be usefully identifiable and clearly defined. It's no good defining a sheep as "not having leaves." But its quite effective to define certain Chardonnay wines as "not having oak." Apparently, enough wine drinkers understand that many Chardonnay wines have been oak fermented and/or aged, and that the oak imparts a flavor to the wine. I understand right away what Unwooded or Unoaked Chardonnay is. That's quite a particular example. Less specifically, I understand what is meant by "not your Daddy's" … well, anything. Part of me wants to appreciate and understand the world only through positives, but I can see the practicality of identifying things as not. For myself, I seek to be defined as "not an utter waste of space."
25 Words That Are Their Own Opposites
A Book I Likely Need to Study:
Creative Doing, by Herbert Lui
I generally avoid "prompt" books, but this one looks more interesting than most. "75 Practical Exercises to Unblock Your Creative Potential in Your Work, Hobby, or Next Career." Have I really a next career?
And a bit more:
Absence, by Elizabeth Jennings
I visited the place where we last met.
Nothing was changed, the gardens were well-tended,
The fountains sprayed their usual steady jet;
There was no sign that anything had ended
And nothing to instruct me to forget.
The thoughtless birds that shook out of the trees,
Singing an ecstasy I could not share,
Played cunning in my thoughts. Surely in these
Pleasures there could not be a pain to bear
Or any discord shake the level breeze.
It was because the place was just the same
That made your absence seem a savage force,
For under all the gentleness there came
An earthquake tremor: Fountain, birds and grass
Were shaken by my thinking of your name.
And that's all for this week.
From Mary Oliver’s poem Sometimes …
Instructions for living a life:
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.
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