Gathering Moments

Life is a plot line.

We are born, time passes, stuff happens and then we die.

End of story.

(All photos by LBG.)

When we're growing up, many of us spend a lot of time focusing on the job, the salary, the house, and all the rest of it -- all the achievements that shore up the structure of our lives. The so-called "big stuff."

(London, 2010.)

But if we're lucky, there will come a day when we realize that the big stuff isn't what matters most. Sure, all the challenges and triumphs are important. But what lies in between them  -- in all those spaces and crevices brimming with small unheralded moments -- is where we are really given the chance to live meaningfully. 

Take your morning cup of coffee, for example. It's nothing special unless you invest it with significance. 

But how do you do that?

Maybe you suddenly appreciate the thick velvety silence that surrounds you while the rest of the world sleeps. Or maybe you listen to the birds outside and realize that no matter what happened yesterday, they always wake up optimistic for the future. Or maybe you are reminded of a photo you once saw of Elizabeth Taylor sipping coffee on a yacht in the Sardinian sea. Or maybe you just are grateful that the crick in your neck is gone. 

That's the crazy-simple secret of a satisfying life: appreciating as many of these teeny tiny little moments as you can.

Once you open your eyes and your heart to them, you will find them everywhere.

In a pair of unlikely friends.

(Ford and Paul. Photograph by Jeanne Tripplehorn.)

In the dwindling rays of sunlight falling across a vast plain of possibility.

(Sunset in the Moroccan desert, 2009.)

In the cheerful warmth of a favorite room.

(Home, 2012.)

In a sweaty handful of wildflowers.

(Normandy, France, 2007.)

In the promise of a blackberry cardamom almond cake fulfilled.

(Home, 2012. Recipe from Scandalicious, HERE.)

In the joy of being able to lose yourself in your work.

(detail, "On the Price of Beauty",  2010.)

In the late afternoon hike no one wanted to go on and everyone ended up glad they did.

(Hollywood Hills, 2011.)

In ten minutes of not moving a muscle.

(Home, 2012.)

In the private unveiling of one perfect flower.

(Home, 2012.)

All these things will melt into you and become part of you, if you let them.

Let them.

x/Lisa

Ten Simple Lovely Things

(Click HERE.)

Thank you to Joslyn over at Simple Lovely for her post on some of my most recent favorite things. It was an honor to answer her questions.  And I return the girl crush!

How To Be Happier

Happiness doesn't come to those who sit back and wait for it.

It comes to those who fight for it.

1. Unless you make make being happy a priority, it might pass you going in the other direction without you ever realizing it.

(Lake Pichola, India. 2007. All photos by LBG.)

So start small. Do something positive for yourself tomorrow morning, whether it's fixing yourself a healthier breakfast, talking to someone gently instead of grumpily, or just closing your eyes and thinking about nothing for ten minutes.

(Home, 2012.)

           

2. Try your best not to get caught up in the ridiculousness of life. 

It's easier than ever these days to get sidetracked by meaningless pageantry and unnecessary drama. All it does is surround you in a fog of confusion and obscure you from your goal. When this happens, step away from the mist and focus on what matters.

(Rishikesh, 2007.)

Think of the funny way your dog sighs when he's sleeping. Think of the delight on your friend's face when you gave her those wildflowers. Think of how few ingredients you really need to make a simple delicious meal. 

(Home, 2012.)

3. Remember that chaos is in the eye of the beholder. 

This is a photo of a peaceful morning in India.  

(New Delhi, 2007.)

And this is a photo of hardly any traffic to speak of.

(New Delhi, 2007.)

Chaos only becomes frustrating when you choose to look at it that way. Change your attitude and who knows what you might discover? (Penicillin, Post-Its, Velcro and chocolate chip cookies, for starters.)  

Even better, start collecting chaos. But limit it to the stuff that really speaks to your soul. You'll be surprised what you learn about yourself.  

(Home, 2012.)

4. Remember that a ray of light is easiest to spot when it's surrounded by complete darkness. 

Don't let tough times get the best of you. This is easier said than done, I know. But don't give up. Put your trust in something bigger than yourself, turn on some good music and keep looking for the light.

(Rishikesh, 2007.)

You can start by practicing at home.

             

(Home, 2012.)

5. Remember that even a palace garden is sown and nurtured one square inch at a time.

(Udaipur, 2007.)

Every dream starts out small and fragile and a tiny bit scared. That's why you're there -- to water it and feed it and encourage it and never lose sight of the ultimate vision. There will be a million steps along the way. Take pride in checking off each little one.

(Home, 2012.)

6. In India, they have a saying, "Everything will be all right in the end. So if it is not all right, it is not yet the end."*

(Jaipur, 2007.)

*Line stolen from "The Exotic Marigold Hotel" trailer, which I absolutely cannot wait to see.

The Five O'Clock Shadow

Despite the recent heat wave here in Los Angeles, autumn is still creeping in on dark furry haunches and settling over The Kenmore Arms.

No more endless summer. These days, when Luca does his homework after school, I call upon a solicitous halo of light to protect him from the encroaching shadows.

So engrossed is he in his math problems that he doesn't notice me watching him from the living room. He sits on his heel, scratches out answers with his pencil and interrupts the fitful silence with a high-pitched rendition of Lady Gaga's "Telephone." He knows every word.

Hello hello baby you called? I can't hear a thing

I have got no service in the club you see see.

Wha-wha-what did you say? You're breakin' up on me

Sorry I cannot hear you, I'm kinda busy.

K-kinda busy

K-kinda busy

* * * * *

I love this time of year. Houses love it too, I think. In contrast to summer which is all about communing with nature, autumn brings with it a reawakened sense of domesticity. Homes become hives of activity, don't you find? These days, I find myself in the kitchen more often, poring over recipes, tidying shelves, polishing silver and filling the pantry with tasty ingredients so that when the baking mood strikes, I'll have everything at hand.

This past Friday was my turn to host a bi-monthly dinner with four trusted friends that we call "Girls' Night In." It's a much-revered outlet for us; we check in with each other, discuss what's new and usually end up talking late into the night about issues near and dear to us all. All conversation is sub rosa; nothing leaves the table. It's group therapy with people I love; I couldn't live without it.

I had already decided on making butternut squash soup as an appetizer and wasn't going to let the heat deter me from making it. (Besides, it always cools down at night here.)

Originally taken from one of my favorite cookbooks "Great Food Fast", I've modified the recipe slightly (it stipulates 4 cups of water, but I use chicken stock; also, I omit the 1/4 cup of fresh orange juice) to give it a more satisfying depth of flavor. I serve it with a dollop of créme fraiche and a sprinkling of roasted pumpkin seeds.

Timesaver Tip: You do NOT have to peel the squash (quite a tricky task and one which makes some people avoid butternut squash entirely). Just wash the skin well and chop into pieces (see below). It completely dissolves into nothing when you purée it. Thanks to my husband for discovering this.

Pureed Butternut Squash Soup (adapted from Great Food Fast)

Serves 4; Prep Time: 25 minutes; Total time: 45 minutes

2 tablespoons butter

1 small onion, chopped

1 piece (2 inches) peeled fresh ginger, chopped

2 garlic cloves, chopped

2 3/4 pounds butternut squash, seeds removed, and flesh cut into 3/4-inch cubes

Coarse salt and pepper

Creme fraiche (optional)

Spicy Pumpkin Seeds (optional; recipe below)

1. Melt the butter in a large sauce pan over medium heat. Cook the onion until fragrant, about 2 minutes. Add the ginger, garlic, and squash; cook, stirring occasionally, until fragrant, 6 to 8 minutes. Stir in 4 cups chicken stock. Bring to a boil; reduce the heat. Simmer until the squash is tender, about 20 minutes.

2. Puree the soup in batches. Stir in 1 1/2 teaspoons salt. Serve hot, with creme fraiche, pepper and pumpkin seeds, if desired.

Spicy Pumpkin Seeds

1 cup raw green pumpkin seeds

1 teaspoon chili powder

1/8 to 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper

1/2 teaspoon coarse salt

2 teaspoons fresh lime juice

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. In a medium bowl, combine all the ingredients and toss to coat. Spread on a rimmed baking sheet; bake until puffed and browned, about 10 minutes.

I'm telling you, it is beyond delicious.

We sat around the table until almost 1am and then I cleaned up everything in a herculean burst of energy so I wouldn't have to face a pile of dirty dishes in the morning. Needless to say, Saturday was spent in a more slothful fashion. I draped myself upon every chair or sofa within striking distance and spent the day with a thick book and a cup of tea within reach at all times. Dusk couldn't arrive too soon for me. I was asleep by 8pm.

* * * * *

On Sunday, I finished "Wolf Hall", Hilary Mantel's spellbinding (and Booker Prize-winning) masterpiece about Thomas Cromwell and it was a bittersweet moment when I finally relinquished my grip on it. It's a compulsive read -- which may account for the lack of a post last week; blame Ms. Mantel, not me -- and my brain is now craving another hit of Tudor England and its brutal splendor. (Fortunately, there's a sequel in the works.)

"Wolf Hall" is the perfect novel to read as the days contract and the nights grow colder, packed as it is with images of frigid castles, late night feasts, sweating sickness, fog, terror and of course the ever-lurking evil of life under Henry VIII.

Each copy should come with a stipulation:

For an optimum experience, read this book at dusk when darkness begins to tarnish the horizon and a five o'clock shadow slowly seeps across your floors. Should you choose to read under different conditions (i.e. while suntanning and sipping a fruity cocktail), results may vary.

Remains of the Day

Have you ever noticed that if you enter your dining room after a party has just ended, the mood is still there? For a few enchanted moments, the room quivers with displaced energy. The seats are still warm, the wine stains on the tablecloth are still fresh and the chairs still lean into one another in a visual echo of recent conversations.

(After the meal, Scotland, August 2010)

As you clear the plates, brush away the crumbs and smooth out the creases on the linen, ghostly traces of laughter and conversation linger in the air. Let them seep into your soul as the last delicious aftertaste of a day well lived and gone too soon.

Don't you think sharing a meal with friends is one of life's great pleasures? And don't you think "now" becomes "then" way too quickly these days?

Slow Daze

In truth, the banal moments of the day are the most seductive to me. It is in the lighting of a fire on a cold morning, or in the pouring of wine and the pulling up of chairs to read together at the end of an afternoon of errands, that love really exerts its magic.

~ Dominique Browning, "Slow Love"

It's hot here. I've been slightly blog-neglectful and I apologize. After a very un-Hollywood-like May and June (fog, gloom, drizzle), the big fiery Klieg light in the sky is now on overdrive. Scorching days are supplanted by a mohair haze of heat in the evenings. The only thing I feel like doing is retreating into the shadows...and curling up with a book.

Thank God for "Slow Love."

You are all familiar with Dominique Browning as the glamorous editor-in-chief of the late lamented House & Garden magazine. In 2007, the magazine abruptly folded and she found herself suddenly out of a job and with no way to define herself -- after all, who was she without her high-powered career? Her memoir beautifully articulates the bumpy process of discovering a new purpose-driven life for herself. It's poignant, it's funny, it's honest, but most of all, it's inspiring:

Slow living, I have come to understand, opens up the prospect of slow love, the most sustaining sort of love I have ever known -- a love that comes of an unhurried and focused attention to the simplest things, available to all of us, at any time, should we choose to engage: family, friendship, food, music, art, books, our bodies, our minds our souls, and the life that blooms and buzzes all around us.

~ Dominique Browning, "Slow Love"

Last night Luca and I grabbed our books and sat in the cool of the dining room until the sun finally sank behind the trees. I would say that we read in silence, but as he kept bursting out with breathless blow-by-blow accounts of the last 10 pages of his Percy Jackson book, that description would not be quite accurate. I realized with a pang that one day I would miss those interruptions.

Slow love is about knowing what you've got before it's gone.

~ "Slow Love"

I've had huge hero worship for Dominique Browning for years and so when I was invited to her book signing recently in Santa Monica, I was beside myself at the prospect of meeting her. She spoke eloquently and passionately about her transformational journey and her struggles and fears along the way, and she inspired us all with her lessons of rediscovering grace and self-empowerment.

The biggest thrill, though, was that she knew of this blog. You could have knocked me over with a feather.

Lucky for us, she has started her own blog called "Slow Love Life." It's beautiful, elegant and impassioned, just like her. Go ahead, click over there now.

xx/lisa

Monday Miscellany

I am waiting for my breakfast and then to be driven to adventure camp...

...and I am waiting to be let outside so I can go lizard-hunting and bring back a trophy tail...

...and I am waiting to have my flowers gently collected and dried and made into lavender sachets (as you keep promising to do)...

...and I am waiting to be recovered in something fabulous and slightly unexpected...

...and I am waiting to be used in a way that enhances my flavor profile...

...and I am waiting to be devoured...

...oh and please please so are we...

...and I am waiting to be rehung so that I can gaze upon a more scenic vista...

...and I am waiting to be listened to...remember how happy I make you?

(Charlotte Gainsbourg CD, available HERE)

...and I am waiting patiently to support your future endeavors...

...and I am waiting to be noticed, right now, right this minute, in my very last explosion of beauty (when I'm gone, remember that I lived fully and fearlessly, won't you?)...

...and I am waiting to be tucked in because I have camp tomorrow.

What is waiting for you today?

The Darkening

The diffused magic of the hot sweet South had withdrawn into them -- the soft-pawed night and the ghostly wash of the Mediterranean far below -- the magic left these things and melted into the two Divers and became part of them.

~F. Scott Fitzgerald, "Tender is the Night"~

It's my favorite time of day, that half hour transition after the sun has made its lazy downward descent, when buildings become stenciled with leafy silhouettes and boisterous conversations are supplanted by hushed tete-a-tetes.

Calm reigns. The overwhelming feeling is that everything on earth is exhaling at the same time.

(Photo by Ivan Terestchenko)

Inside, rooms are illuminated with an ethereal glow. Get-togethers become more meaningful; with the constriction of daylight comes the sudden sense of being alone with each other in the universe.

(Photo by Ivan Terestchenko)

For me, the shadows give way to reflective thoughts. They make me want to light a candle (or ten) and curl up in a good reading chair.

(Photo by Ivan Terestchenko)

The darkening is license to let my thoughts take flight and lose themselves in fantastic mental murmurings, remembered dreamscapes and rococo fantasies.

(Photo by Ivan Terestchenko)

What does it mean to you?