Potted Pepper

Quaker agitator?
Like the pole/paddle in an old-fashioned washing machine.
No longer just an observer but an actor.
Or cleansing agent.
It’s been a hard lesson for me
Long ago, I was taught that it was wrong to assert what I want – to accept what was given instead. It’s embodied in a Christian concept of humility, for one thing, and reinforced by poverty, for another. Living in the yoga ashram underscored that as a spiritual lesson, differentiating between wants (or desires) and needs.
My first lover introduced me to the Asian concept of Tao, as taking a path of least resistance. In the long run, that didn’t help much. At least I still had ambitions and kept working toward them, albeit more as a team member or leader than as a social climber.
More recently, as part of some deep psychological work, I’ve instead learned the importance of being able to voice and engage those personal yearnings and preferences – to make them active in a way that’s not selfish, self-centered, but rather an embodiment of my very essence. You know, to give this life a direction rather than a passive reaction.
These days I find myself correcting a phrase from “I’d like” to “I WANT” … as in deciding to do or have such-and-such. It makes a huge difference.
In the jargon, I’m feeling empowered. In doing so, fewer things feel like duties or obligations, which in turn become weights and encumbering .
For instance, I’ll say “I want to mow the lawn today” rather than “I have to.” In this scenario, it becomes, “I want to get it now rather than later, when it’s harder to cut” or “I want the place to look better.” And I can even look closely at the wonder of how it all grows so quickly.
Well, Swami had tried to instill that kind of awareness in the mundane chores and labors we had to do in the ashram.
It comes round to faith, after all.
Prayer can be a time to choose and voice
WHAT I WANT!
As Jesus said, “You do not have because you do not ask.”
It doesn’t mean I can have everything, either. And that’s OK, too. In fact, I don’t want the burdens that so many things carry. And that, too, is liberating.
How about you?
The first and most learned
a pattern of fern shadows cast by candles playing into a snug culmination rented theaters where hillsides tottered in the unspoken gamble of her slightest motion, some indication if anyone commenced singing against the walls and ceiling of an unclothed expanse of potential a warm hand broaches, scratching its initials on frosted windows and then a lower back arched for precision a cappella with the choir we clocked a blizzard of treetop squirrels far below whatever our season and there you have it . tenderly
Ten favorite places
This round, I’m sticking close to home – places I return to.
- My studio and loft.
- Our Smoking Garden and adjacent fern beds, in season.
- Our 1768 Quaker meetinghouse.
- Dover’s indoor swimming pool downtown and its Olympic-size sister outdoors in Guppey Park, Portland Avenue. Gee, does that mean there’s actually a locker room or two as part of my favorites list? Let’s not slight the long, hot showers.
- Annunciation Greek-Orthodox church. Visually stunning interior, for starters, and some fine folks.
- Sander’s Theater at Harvard. Think of Shakespeare’s Globe and start adding on things like a ceiling.
- The Maine coast, from the Isles of Shoals on up. Could lead to its own Tendrils entry.
- The Community Trail running through town and out along the river.
- The waterfalls downtown. Always changing.
- Lickee’s and Chewy’s Candies & Creamery in the Cocheco Millworks.
~*~
Tell us something about one of your own favorites.
Characters reflect varied levels of involvement in the story
Unless you’re a hermit or a successful recluse, you’re bound to come across a host of humanity in your daily life. Just think of the spaces you inhabit — home, neighborhood, buses or subway cars, classroom, workplace and markets, church, a gym or swimming pool, dances, sports teams or choirs, coffee stop, and on and on — all filled with other people who cross your path.
Just mapping all the places you touch in a week can be a big challenge.

So faithfully following a character in a story presents an impossible task: how many of these intersecting individuals can an author include? Think, too, of the level of importance — whether you’re presenting a central figure whose influence runs through many of the pages; a major character who may be important at some point, even a single chapter; someone who provides peripheral color; an episodic figure, who flits in and out. And how many of these require names versus those who can be quickly sketched by a simple title or description?
I’d still love to do a tale having only two characters. Even holding it to six would be fun. But obviously, that wouldn’t do when the story touches up to five generations, as my novel What’s Left, does. Now you can share my perspective.
Consider, too, that we typically know others in one circle of activity or another. Sometimes they fit in several, but encountering a person out of context can be confusing. There are people I know at the indoor swimming pool, for instance, but we’re always startled when we run into each other on the street or at the supermarket, where our joke usually goes, “I didn’t recognize you with your clothes on!” (Yes, we do wear swimsuits — and often swim caps.)
How many people do you know by name? What’s your most important social space when it comes to being with your cohorts?
~*~
Don’t forget:
You better be good to toads!
Snuggle bunnies

Three guidelines in purging possessions and more
Does this lift my energy?
Do I love it?
Is it useful?
What I’m looking forward to in the new year
- A new administration! A new Senate!
- A coronavirus vaccine.
- Worshiping together again. Even face-to-face committees.
- Resuming daily lap swimming. As well as seeing the regulars and lifeguards.
- Singing together again.
- A Greek festival or two. Oh, yes, let’s not overlook dancing!
- Riding the Downeaster north or south.
- Visiting museums.
- The abolition of ICE.
- Dining out, indoors.
~*~
What do you have on your list?