(Not So) Anonymous Love

This morning, as I am wont to do, I cruised over to LOM to check out the scenery. Today, it was my favorite strand of lovely that dear Meg has such a gift for finding: Random Acts of Art. This particular brand of random gifting was executed by Lenka + Michael.

I read the letters, absorbing their kind and generous anonymity. It made me want to send all the people I love (and a few strangers) anonymous letters. So, I thought I'd start with a theoretical anonymous letter to my lover.

Good morning, my love,

I wish that I could write you an anonymous letter that would brighten your day. That would make you feel seen and happy.

http://www.mysteriousletters.blogspot.com/

What a lovely idea. I love random letters and random connections and small missives of kindness that don't mean much except as a blip of strange-goodness in an otherwise ordinary life.

If I sent you a random letter, I would compliment your awesome car (I would make a small mention of how the hubcaps and Budda really make the vehicle special) and the expressive nature of your face. I would admire your efficiency with yard and housework and would notice how you grasp life with both hands to live it fully. I would say that your outside activities indicate that your inside is full of depth and passion and interesting-ness. I would tell you that your subscription to the New Yorker and devotion to newspapers make me think that you are probably well-read and have a lot to say. I would say that your recycling bin tells me that you are concerned about the world around you, but not so much that you would be annoying. I would tell you I like that. I would also tell you that I like the fact you like good beer and wine, and I would probably assume that you like good food and drink in general. I would say that sometime we should get a good beer and follow it up with good wine and maybe some cheese and fruit. I would say that I think we are probably meant to be in one another's lives and it would be a shame not to meet and see if it were true. I would sign the letter with my phone number and then I would keep my phone in my pocket until you called. Because, I would never stop believing you would call me.

And, i would be right about all of it.

I adore you. Madly. Completely. With my whole soul.
You are beautiful.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
tricia

Such a gift to give. To express that another can be seen clearly and appreciatively by the world. To elaborate upon the connectedness of our shared humanity. What a lovely way to pass an hour, a day or a life! This reminds me of another quote that a friend had recently as his Facebook status:

"I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved all those people, that they were mine and I theirs, that we could not be alien to one another even though we were total strangers. It was like waking from a dream of separateness. . . ."
-Thomas Merton

Link Spree.

I visited a blog I found in LOM's follow-list, Color Me Katie, (who never fails to inspire me with her random acts of color) where I saw her High Five Escalator post, which took me to the Improv Everywhere site, where I relived my own Melbourne Fringe Festival memories of years ago, and thought of my friend Meg's project Display Purposes Only which I haven't forgotten that she sent me shirts for and I never, ever, ever did a damn thing with them. Oh, and I thought about being naked with 4.500 other people, which was still some of the most fun I have ever had. Thinking about Meg made me visit Land of Meg, which made me learn more about the blogger who made her think about Meg Later, Now. This made me curious about one of his twitters, which took me to this guy, whom I'm still confused about. Which also took me to Wunderings, which took me to Swiss Miss, who I spent quite a bit of time with, before she dropped me off at charity:water, which made me wonder what PJ thinks of this kind of water activism. Which made me look at their Twestival, which I forwarded to some people in the online marketing department at work, because I hadn't seen Twitter used quite that way before. Twitter always makes me think of Facebook statuses. Especially since I read this New York Times Magazine article about them last Sunday (which I found pretty unsatisfying for an interesting topic, but I still am thinking about the article, mostly the parts that were left unwritten).

Which made me check my friends' statuses - which made me notice that the quarterly journal that my poet-friend Mark edits has been updated, which made me read the work. Especially this work whose words and images were so powerful and made me think so deeply that I just didn't even know who to send them to... or why. Which made me think about the Newspaper Blackout poems of Austin Kleon, a link to which I posted for my poet-friend, and an image of one I sent to my newspaper man(see above). Oh, and I forwarded a link to another to a colleague as sound advice for a marriage.

All this linking managed to keep me in between productive thoughts for most of the day, in a zen-like state of surfer's bliss. Oh, and I changed my image on Skype, courtesy of wikipedia - Rocinante - Steinbeck's caravan. Delicious.

Reclaimed.

Today, Barack Obama was sworn in as the 44th President of the United States of America.

Lately, I have been thinking about sustainability and community. I think it is all the promise of change in the air - suddenly, buying organic isn't enough - I want to do it in a way that supports my community. Not purchasing new isn't enough, I want to create with my own hands. I want to make do, to patch the tire, to embrace things like canning and jarring and darning of socks.

I want to reclaim all the damaged things, used and thrown away.
Perhaps because I feel as though my country has finally been reclaimed.

Maybe my idealism could be usable with a little wood glue and a coat of varnish. Maybe my patriotism could be darned with a needle and thread, fixing the hole I left in the heel of America's sock. They will never be perfect again, these things, but there is nothing more beautiful than the hard-won character of something of value, glued and fixed.