I Have A Friend With Cancer

I met her at work and she is going through chemo right now. The radiation treatments are awful and she still manages to come into volunteer at the American Cancer Society Discovery Shop (it's a second hand (donation only) retail store in Corona Del Mar that donates 75% of revenue to ACS.) She came into today with a wristguard on because the radiation is now giving her carpal tunnel. 

Everyone is sensitive to her weak immune system and low energy, but she still wants to help out so we find her small jobs. I'm amazed and overwhelmed by her passion for life and activity. She is past pain. And I think just wants to be treated like a capable human being and not a sick person. She will live longer, or, even better, beat cancer because of this. A truly inspiring woman.

Learn how to volunteer for the American Cancer Society in your neighborhood:

http://www.cancer.org/docroot/EMP/EMP_0.asp

Small v. Big

Everything in Europe feels small. I could have told anyone this since my first trip overseas when I was 10, but living life "small" again differs drastically from the memory.

Being present in the small life awakens your senses and sends a shock to your quantitative comfort zones. Streets, and therefore cars, are small. Objectively, I think I'm a small female and I barely fit in the showers. A glass of wine is 25cl (or 4oz) poured to the line. A cafe americain is a double espresso you can choose to add water too if you desire more volume at the expense of concentration.

I love this.

It forces me to slow down and enjoy. I passionately do not want to waste. I'm exponentially more satisfied. And, in most cases, the quality is higher than the larger, less expensive version that's easily accessible in the US. I appreciate the luxury of this access and infrastructure, but I'm going to try to exercise more discipline in the quantity to quality ratio in my life. But it is nice to have this choice (and the reawakened awareness to choose to do so).

Stoned Immaculate

A favorite Jim Morrison track and the theme of this post.

I recently tasted the best wines of my life. Also the oldest. This ultrasensory and wildly potent encounter was elating and overwhelming.

After the moment in time to feel the joy from these wines passed, the memory summons peaceful content. I'm craving nothing. No Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc at the jacuzzi. Not even a splash of Dolcetto d'Alba while watching the sunset. 

In time, my appreciation for (and delight in) more simple, younger, primary wines will return. I just need to be patient. I'm sure most people who have an ultimate experience in their field of passion have a similar reaction.

Age

I don't care about age, just attitude. I'm always thrown off guard when another adult will say to me "I must be as old as your parents" or "I could be your grandfather." There's just not much to be gained from this quantitative comparison and I never know what to say back. My parents and grandparents are positive, hard-working, selfless, loving people. Yes, they're "family", but I want to be around anyone, any age, that lives life so passionately.