Tag: Panasonic-Lumix

Debut Novel

Carolyn Kay Brancato greeting her guests prior to her reading.

I was 15-minutes early to an advertising and marketing function taking place elsewhere, when just down the road a ways stood The Bookstore & Get Lit Wine Bar . I love bookstores, especially these quaint shops containing new and pre-owned books. And here, it just so happened author, playwright and choreographer Carolyn Kay Brancato was on hand to talk about her first novel, “The Circus Pig and the Kaiser: A Novel Based on a Strange but True Event.”

When you walk into such functions wearing a suit, tie and smile, it’s easy to be taken as one of the guests. Perhaps acceptance was made easier because of the suit, even though I was the only person with one on. I wasn’t crashing the party per se; it was an open event. Besides, until I walked in, I just wanted to peruse the shelves to kill some time. Somehow being immersed in a bookstore accelerates the passage of time. Before I knew it, almost 20-minutes went by.

Ms. Brancato was attendant to familiar faces and a handful of new ones [like me]. She was a confident and comfortable raconteur equally adept in catching up with news of the comings and goings in The Berkshires. Friends and acquaintances arrived from near and far: Long Island, Boston, Hudson, NY, Manhattan in addition to other towns and hamlets here in the western most part of Massachusetts.

And of course there was a respectable spread of food, though what made it even more inviting was the “Lit Bar” which was part of the bookstore.  It was small and cozy, roughly the width of three folding chairs though it stretched from the front of the store to the very back it seemed.  Were it not for a standing room only crowd, I would’ve clicked a photo or two; besides I needed to make sure not to be late for the other event taking place.

Albeit short, I enjoyed the serendipity of stopping by. To listen to conversations about literature, books, life, travels and more, was refreshing. What this all means is I need to return with my better half to take a closer look at the books and to, of course, have a glass of wine with her…

However, I didn’t leave empty handed. I found a terrific book, “The Rain in Portugal” by Billy Collins. Yes, that is THE Billy Collins, a former U.S. Poet Laureate. It was his twelfth collection of poetry and judging from over a thousand reviews, it looks pretty inviting. Odd. It’s been decades since I picked up a book of poetry.

This is what happens when you walk into a really nice, cozy bookstore that has its own wine bar.

 

 

 

North

A few days ago, the cold felt punishing. Yes, I have preference for cold versus hot days, but when the air is already cold at zero degrees Fahrenheit, then enhanced with a windchill of -15, well, that may be enough to reconsider that preference.

I’m fortunate that I can retreat to places where the cold and wind don’t feel as threatening. From the safety of these retreats, I philosophize on the dual sides of nature, of how something that can appear simple and beautiful and minimal can deliver a reality check powerful enough to humble any aesthete caught up in winter’s vanity.

Do you get the feeling that winter provides a sense of calm? The calm I speak of provides a level of reassurance. This winter calm is a metaphorical blanket, one which acts like a shield from unwelcome and sometimes sudden vicissitudes. Such a blanket stops–albeit briefly–the weariness of having to deal with things that keep us from finding a particular quiet.

And when the quiet is welcoming, the alone time is curative…

Future tense within the present

In the past several months one expression seems to echo in my comings and goings and it goes something like, “…well, there’s 10-minutes I’ll never get back…”

Typically it has an air of regret, of time spent that could’ve been used in a different or better way.

Let me shift the lens or the perspective a bit and instead say, “….the next 10-minutes has got be better than the previous ten…”  

Solitude Found

However I feel and wherever I am, I try to find solitude. It’s a quiet that renews me because I can be myself.  Solitude encourages me not only to reflect, but to jettison the ill-feelings of comparisons and expectations.  The Rolling Stones, rock classic, Satisfaction, is so very telling:

“…When I’m watchin’ my TV and a man comes on and tells me
How white my shirts can be
But, he can’t be a man ’cause he doesn’t smoke
The same cigarettes as me…”

I’m not equating isolation with solitude, as the former suggests being devoid of sensory inputs.  No, this is about a mindfulness that keeps at bay the disquiet of our modern life.  Turn off the radio, the TV, the podcast, et al. Though it may be easier–if all too obvious–to find solitude when completely alone, that is unnecessary.  Solitude can manifest itself anywhere. Don’t you find solitude at a social event [even at work] when you can momentarily remove yourself to a space that doesn’t invade your thinking and feeling?  Step away, even for a moment, to find some quiet, some calm, some level of respite.

We’ve yielded to wanting impressions that don’t add genuine value to our sense of self: number of likes, tweets, comments, “friends”, postings and so forth.  Allow yourself to be your own best company.

Splashes of Light

Those who live close to the 66th circle of latitude have it tough. This is  the area of earth known as the Arctic Circle. Brutally low temperatures notwithstanding, the brevity of available daylight 6-7 months of the year would be the metaphorical stake-in-the-chest for me.

While light is essential to vision, perception, photosynthesis and so forth, on any given day light can also trigger a variety of feelings.

You can argue that what one sees in a photograph is more variants of shade and hue than actual light. Like 2 sides of a coin, you can defend one POV over another, but there’s no denying the fascination some of us have for how light can enlighten…