the plated poet

Life is Magic: My Top 5 Tricks

Posted on August 2, 2017     4 Comments

I recently listened to Anne Lamott’s Ted Talk, “12 Truths I learned from life and writing”  Her message was clever and funny, thought-provoking and, well, true. Ann so inspired me that I decided to create my own list. Instead of truths, I’m going with magic.

As Harry Potter taught us, not all magic is good. In fact, some of it is so devastating that it takes our breath away. Caution ahead. Here are the top 5 tricks in no particular order.

(Oh, also, I’m sorry this is picture-less, but the only photos I have of late are ones of my dog sleeping. Sorry!)

Flying is Magic

I fly no less than a dozen times a year. Still, there is not a single time I get on a plane that I am not in complete reverence for the thing that’s about to happen. To be clear – I hate to fly. Hate every last bit of it. Doesn’t mean it isn’t magic though.

You pay a lot of money to place yourself into a massive metal tube which has been fitted with massive jet engines. After the jet engines turn on, you roll down a few feet on the runway, and somehow this metal tube starts hurling you into space. Up, up, up you go.

I can hardly jump 6 inches off the ground, but this 6-ton piece of scrap metal can get to 35,000 feet…and it has coke and wi-fi?!?! I’m supposed to enjoy my pretzels and soda while casually being catapulted through the air at 500 mph? Yeah, ok.

Flying is magic. Dark magic.

Learning is Magic

There was a time when you and I didn’t even know how to say hello. Now we know a gazillion words. Some really smart people even know a gazillion words is multiple languages!

Learning is magic! Our minds and bodies are capable of picking up new skills and perspectives, communication, and empathy. Growth is limitless! Never once was there a person who learned so much they could not learn more. We’ve got infinite power to collect new knowledge and ability. Think about that for a minute.

You guys – this is so awesome! We are all ever-expanding and growing! Maybe learn one new thing a day? Perhaps a new word, or fact, or dance move?

I am convinced that we’re all capable, through different methods, of absorbing new information that enhances our lives, and the lives of those around us. Also, don’t ever believe for one solitary second that you are bad at learning. Whoever told you that is a liar.

“Learning never exhausts the mind” – Leonardo da Vinci

Death is sad magic

Now you see me. Now you don’t. Forgive me, but the reason I even dare use the word in this context is because, just like a magic trick, death catches us by surprise and most of the time we’re baffled by the how and why.

When our people pass away, our minds can’t comprehend the finality of the disappearing act. They were just here…living, breathing, being, and now all of a sudden they are not? What do you mean my person is no longer with me to laugh and love?

The most tragic of magic is when the good die young. It’s a different, horrible kind of grief, isn’t it, when a young person dies? When our loved one had so much left to give, when we had so much more to give them…When being a good person, and having a young family has no pull to keep them here.

Dreaming is Magic

Dreams – the moments when sleepy magic takes you flying over the Grand Canyon, or maybe a fun weekend in Vegas with Brittany Spears (ahem). It’s bananas that after your body is so settled into sleep that your subconscious takes over and sends you into crazy dreamscapes. The things we dream about can be exhilarating, heartbreaking, terrifying, and supernatural. Was it something I ate that caused me to dream that I grew a crop of talking carrots? Weird, but also wildly original!  Even our little pups and kittens dream. Do their dreams run the spectrum of happy, sad, scary, and exciting, too?

Only in our wildest dreams do we get to experience flight, speaking with lost loved ones, and having dinner with Brad Pitt.

Just because you didn’t physically go to Nobu with Brad, doesn’t mean that the experience of living it in your dream didn’t happen. That’s what makes dreaming magic.

Feeding people is Magic

This type of saucery, I mean sorcery, is one of my favorites. The need for nourishment is so basic to our existence that when you feed someone, you are adding to their life. You are adding to their strength. You are adding to their potential.

A while back, I stopped by my friend Suzanne’s house after doing some shopping. It was late afternoon and I hadn’t eaten anything all day. I was starving. She sat me down at her counter and said, “I don’t have much more than stuff for grilled cheese. Is that ok?” It was the best grilled cheese sandwich I had ever eaten. Not because of any special ingredients, but because it was what she had and she offered it to me as a token of friendship and love. It was simple, nourishing, and perfect.

Whether you spend hours preparing a gourmet meal, or just a few minutes making toast, there is a little bit of magic that happens when you offer a little bit of what you have to someone in need.

There’s a lot of other magic out there. Marriage, travel, babies, space, just to name a few. It’s everywhere you look. But our focus is so often fixed, either on the big picture or the tiny minutia, that we forget to notice how enchanted we really are.

What’s the magic in your world?

Ten Years After the Altar

Posted on July 31, 2015     2 Comments

 10 years ago a wonderful man chose me as his wife. 10 years ago I chose a wonderful man to be my husband.

10 years ago, we barely had a clue as to what that choice meant.

Many people gave us their experiences and ideas about it, and of course we had our own, but it’s time that teaches the truth, isn’t it, and I’m glad we’ve given ourselves the chance to learn.

Learning isn’t always without adversity, but if the lesson teaches us to love and honor each other in bigger and better ways, It’s always worth it.

Sometimes I try to replay our ceremony in my mind so I can hear the words we spoke to each other on our wedding day, but the minutiae of the occasion has scattered the memory.

Though I wish I could still hear us making our promises to each other, I know that our day-to-day life is evidence of our vows.

I am proud of and thankful for the life we’ve forged together. We have flitted through deliriously dreamy days, and we have pressed on through days of work and misfortune, but never losing our love along the way.

You see, our life has been blessed, and our trajectory has been permanently set on greatness. If I had another chance to choose you I would do it in a heartbeat.

When I first met you, I chose you because you were the most strong and handsome man I had ever met.

When we decided to stay together despite the distance, I chose you because you were kind, intelligent, and headed for a bright future.

When we stood together at the altar, I chose you because I knew I loved you.

Today I choose you because I cannot possibly live without you.

Morning Light

Posted on July 14, 2015     Leave a Comment

The sun is not yet high enough to sit atop the clouds

He sprinkles daylight through the leaves of his trees

The changing of the guard from night to day offers peace and tranquility

This is the perfect moment in time to decide what today will bring

To decide who you will be today

To decide if it will be your best day

In Search for Love, as Written by my Teenage Self

Posted on June 3, 2015     2 Comments

I’ve lately found myself in a creative chasm. I hate being lost among a thousand half-baked ideas, but alas it’s where I am. I haven’t neglected my blog – in fact, I have about a dozen or so partially written masterpieces that will likely never see the light of day, or more appropriately, the backlight of your screens. They are nothing more than little thoughts here and there, saved as drafts until I can find a “better sense of clarity” to make them presentable to you.

There is too much creative power lost to perfectionism. Surely I’m not alone on this one, right?

So in an attempt to recapture my magic, I looked back at some of my earliest works for inspiration. What I found was an early teenaged April love-sick for her future soul mate. Amusing doesn’t even begin to describe the lovelorn, hormone-fueled mess that I was during those delicate years.

But looking beyond the rough edges of my teenage self, I’m proud that my hand was so honest about what my heart was telling me. It’s sweet in a way, how truthful I was about my desires for someone to love me.

So without further ado, and because I have nothing fresh to put on the plate today, I give you April circa 1999-2001.

And as a visual component to today’s post, I give you a picture of the April who wrote what lies below. Enjoy! 🙂

Take Me Away

Take me away to the place where I dream.

Be everything that I know you will be.

Be brave and courageous, but do not be proud.

Give me the whole world in the palm of your hand.

Give me the cool, still morning, with life on its breath.

Give me the strength of the wild, but be as gentle as a lamb.

Give me the mountains, and hold me ‘neath the stars.

In the cool of the evening, bring me atop a hillside, 

and tell me your love for me is the color of the purple sky above us.

Tell me your love for me stretches far beyond the sunset.

Hold me there.

Keep me there.

Love me there.

Tell me I have made your dreams come true.

And as an added bonus, my struggle as a 14-year-old to find the meaning of life.

Musings on Life and Love

I could not tell you in fifty years,

If life had turned out the way it should have.

There are too many questions yet to be asked.

There are too many answers yet to be revealed.

There is an ideal life that is just waiting to be caught,

but that ideal is by far unattainable.

Dreams and people tell me what to strive for,

but one goal reached, is another goal unreachable.

In life,

I am told,

to let love find me.

In that case,

I’ll be alone forever.

The road of life cannot be mapped.

There is not a single destination, certain, 

that I will arrive.

So, the future only knows the road ahead of me.

And until I meet up with the invisible, all-knowing,

I’ll just be here,

walking along,

wondering what comes next.

Ireland

Posted on March 17, 2015     7 Comments

In honor of St. Patrick’s Day, here are a few words I wrote on the day I dared the Cliffs of Moher, Ireland, May 2014.

Each day I think to myself that there could be nothing better in the next day – for 10 days I’ve been wrong. Everything about this emerald isle is beautiful, and rich, and ancient. There are moments walking to or from the village that I wonder if I haven’t been thrown back in time. The ancient stone fences, thousands year old farms untouched by time, and even the walls that hold up the roof under which I lay my head speak of centuries passed. The spirit of those who were first here thrive in the people who still inhabit the countryside today.

At every turn I experience profound beauty. I try to capture it with a picture, but I know the image will never come close to the unexplainable magnificence of it all. 

You must live Ireland, and breathe her in deeply, for she will not let you capture her in attempt to take her with you. She stands boldly and desperately alone. She takes no pity on those who are too weak to withstand her position, but for those who are strong with her, she rewards by offering rolling hills of green, brilliant sunsets, captivating vistas, and rest after a long day. She offers you fresh sea air, and a peace transcendent.  

Today she gave me the Cliffs of Moher, a frighteningly majestic glimpse of what “the ends of earth” would look like if there ever were such a thing. The sheer finality of the cliffs demand a great respect and humility from all who walk her edges. It’s quite the nearest thing to holding death’s hand whilst being in perfect health. I will never, in all my days, forget the perfect panic that gripped me as I gambled with Moher…

Any words I could write would never be able to capture these moments in Ireland fully. This is where God lives, and there is no sense in trying to describe heaven. You may only know it if you go there yourself. 

Whether it’s Ireland or some other place, I pray the ones I love will someday be able to live this kind of earthly magic. That the ones I love can know, in this way, God’s magnificent hand, his beautiful mind, and his desire to indulge the senses he so cleverly bestowed on us.

As Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, “Live in the sunshine, swim the sea, and drink the wild air.” Was he here when he penned such a clever prescription?

Since I cannot bring her home, I hope and pray that I’ll remember the serenity she gave me as I soaked in her sunshine, walked along her sea shores, and breathed in every last bit of her that I could hold. 

I will be back to visit the part of my heart that I will have left here when I must go.

Cliffs of Moher – 700 feet down and you’ll be swimming in the Atlantic. Liscannor, IE

Watch out!

Strong cuppa after a long day of travel – Adare Village, IE

Our sweeter-than-sugar innkeeper, Flossie. We only spent 2 nights in her Inn, but we left feeling like family. Love, love, love! Adare Village, IE

Our thatched roof cottage in Doolin, IE, with a castle tower and the Atlantic Ocean in the front yard.

Me discovering a “super magical fairy path into the enchanted forest”. But seriously, it was a gorgeous path that led us into the woods and to a lovely waterfall. Killarney Nat’l Park.

Killarney National Park, Killarney, IE. Drop dead gorgeous park that we spent several days exploring.

This is a real place, y’all. Killarney National Park.

Dingle, Ireland. The most beautiful place I have ever experienced. My time in Dingle was pure magic.

The PERFECT spot for afternoon tea

Me, Rio (the innkeeper’s pooch) and the Dingle Bay. This was our last day here and I was trying to soak up as much as I could before taking off.

Sleigh Head Drive, Dingle Peninsula

Sleigh Head Drive – just sitting on the edge of a cliff. No big deal.

Coumeenole Beach, Sleigh Head Drive. A nice old German man insisted that we stop for a smooch.

Dingle at dusk

Dingle Sea Salt ice cream for the win!!!

Till next time, Ireland. Hope to see you soon!

Otha Lee Sanderlin – A Memoir in the Making

Posted on January 27, 2015     2 Comments

In late February of 2010, my mother and I got in the car and raced down to Lake Placid, Florida to see my grandpa – Otha Lee Sanderlin – who was in the death grips of esophageal cancer. The family patriarch, our hero, who was once the strongest and sturdiest of all men, was now minimized by a poison which had grabbed him by the throat and refused to let go. Though he fought with the stubbornness of a hundred mule, endured torturous treatment, and let surgeons cut on him, in the end there was nothing we could do to keep Sandy with us.

Though his final days and eventual death were tragically painful, I was given an unexpected gift through his passing that has brought me a glimmer hope, and an understanding of who I truly am. Mere hours before his death he found a way to bring us joy, to bring us uncontainable laughter, and a dose of hope from heaven.

As a tribute to the one-of-a-kind man that we lost 5 years ago this March, and because I want to make my Otha proud, I want to write his story… his incredible, unfathomable, unforgettable story. From the beginning to the very end.

We all loved to hear him tell those stories. The room would go quiet as soon as he’d start in about that time when… We’d sit around him for hours and listen in rapt attention as he orated his incredible life. We all felt cheerful, more whole, and proud to be his family when he was near.

You always wanted me to be a hairdresser, grandpa, but I was born to be a writer, and I couldn’t be more honored to write your memoir as my first project. I wish you were still here so we could sit around the table and chat about your life. I wish you were still here so you could play the keyboard for us and sing Sinatra. I wish you were still here so you could be an amazing great-grandad to my future kids. I just wish you were still here. But since you’re not with us in flesh and blood, I’ll do the next best thing I can think to do. I’ll run after all of the memories that made you “you”, and I’ll place them safely between a front and back cover.

Honestly, I don’t know how long it will take – or what it will take – to put Otha’s life on paper. Whatever it ends up being, I’ll be sure to chronicle it here on The Plated Poet.

I really cannot wait to get started.

Otha is the cute blonde boy on the right

Otha as a “rugged” and very young marine

This is my version of Otha – this is the man I knew and loved as Grandpa.

The Land Without Trees

Posted on December 31, 2014     4 Comments

I miss trees.

I miss trees so much that I am experiencing a very real and visceral response to the lack thereof.

You see, where I live, up in the Northeast area of Colorado Springs, there aren’t many around. We have a few puny pines, but none of the big, older souls who have been around for decade upon decade.

This morning I found myself missing those stoic statues so much that I collapsed into meltdown. You guys it was a certified, cry-my-eyes-out, had to call my husband at work, meltdown. All because I looked out my window and there was nary a tree in sight.

I felt foolish when the good doctor actually answered his phone and I was forced into confessing that I was sad because there were no trees. I mean, how do you even explain that to someone?

Lord only knows how he puts up with me.

Anyway, I’ve thought a lot about that old saying, you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone. Mark that one as truth. Never once did I stop to consider how I would feel about living out-from-under my shroud of trees. Although I was aware, I was never truly thankful for living in the midst of such beautiful creation.

My early morning ritual of sitting in my chair next to the window and watching as the sun shot through each branch is now just a warm memory.

I don’t get to see the morning dew evaporate into silver mist as the light hits the leaves.

I miss hearing the movement as the breeze beckons each branch this way and that.

Sadly, where there are no trees, there are also no songbirds. How I miss those little birds.

The truth is this: living in the high desert leaves me feeling exposed. When I look around and see so much blank space, I want to crawl inside myself.  

Ironically, I was recently told that people who move from the West to the Southeast region often times feel the exact opposite of how I’m feeling right now. With so many trees surrounding them and obstructing their line of sight, they feel enclosed, captured, and claustrophobic. They find safety in being able to see miles and miles of wide open spaces.

Although this particular story is a little sad, it is truthful, and hopeful, too. You see, my highly sensitive soul has always responded loudly to the ebb and flow of life, to change, and to the unknown. Sometimes, but not always, that sensitivity looks like tears, and melt-downs, and phone calls to the good doctor for support. And that’s OK.

As it turns out, this blog post is more than me being sad over the loss of trees. It’s more like a dirge if you will; a song of mourning for what lies behind, and an acknowledgment that it’s time to reckon with this new life in front of me – this new blank space – my new blank space in which I get to compose my future.

I’ll probably always need strong and sturdy trees nearby, but they cannot be my shroud anymore. Maybe it’s time to step out and be a little exposed for a while. Maybe it’s time to dig my own deep roots so that I may grow tall and sturdy. Maybe it’s time to celebrate myself as a beautiful creation and perhaps, just perhaps, provide respite for another under my crown.

I jumped a fence with “No Trespassing” sign to get a picture in front of this beauty (Killarney, Ireland)

I went right in for the embrace as soon as we stumbled across this ancient Yew tree (Killarney, Ireland)

Forest Park 

Battery Park (Charleston, South Carolina)