Gratitude Season

Oh, how I love seasons (exception being the recent haze apocalypse). I'm being redundant, but I am someone that needs change and rhythms to find her center. And right now, on the edge of the monsoons, I'm feeling that tiny turning of weather with enormous delight.

Knowing that a big rain might carry my afternoon away, I'm running again in the morning. Longer runs. Some of them have taken me back to parts of Singapore that I haven't visited for years, and a recent one took me past a mighty Kapok Tree.

As my new venture suggests, I love these dinosaurs---long brontosaurus limbs stretching their way through jungles and up into wide skies.

They represent the stretching is happening all over the place. Today, brave Kaye took me to the shop that is now carrying our products. I feel like I'm in Form School, learning to say good afternoon and smile politely at kind strangers and not reveal embarrassing details or hide behind a book or pretend I have to go to the bathroom to escape actual human contact. Kaye is long ago a graduate of all-things-socially-acceptable, and her delightful conversations are leading to such good things:

If only I'd had a PR partner my whole life.

With Thanksgiving on the horizon, t's a good season to be grateful for Kaye's ability to interact with humans, dark clouds slowing down our day, and trees growing. 

Every day

We haven't seen the sun around here for a long time. And it's not because of the monsoon. So this weekend when the haze lifted and blue skies beamed, it was riotous springtime. We lived on the patio and by the pool. Neighbors hosted impromptu happy hours and Oscar Gus ran shirtless with Minecraft sword in hand between our house, the park, the patch of grass behind our flat, and anywhere else he could get a sunny ray on his back. Good times.

Later, Oscar asked (as he daily does) when his birthday was, and I broke the (daily) news that it was still five months away. He sad-faced and wistfully dreamed out loud "what if every day could be my birthday?" I referred to the thick haze we've all been choking in and how special these last days of sunshine have felt. Things that come only once in awhile make even the most ordinary events like dinner outside and evening games of tag feel like a party. He stared at me, as he does, and he said what needed to be said. "That's ridiculous. Are you really saying clean air is like a birthday?"

Oops. Bad analogy, mom.  This pollution is not a birthday indeed, and it's made us all so stir crazy that I've apparently lost my sense of normal. So, today, to hold onto the hope of breathing deep on my morning walks, I doodled sunny circles. It's November and time for pumpkins and winter coats in many parts of the world, but here, one degree north of the Equator, we are hoping for the haze "season" to lift and the endless tropical normal of 30C sun and rain and sun and rain to return. Just as Oscar Gus wills a daily birthday.

Books

There are good books in this house.

Coloring books from Praha:

New-to-me children's books:

And lest you worry about my IQ (some books that actually have words in them):

It's all inspiration and fodder for The Kapok Tree that's growing. There were stacks of our alphabet book delivered this week:

And coloring cards:

Hm. So maybe we should worry about IQ. 

Teamwork

Oh good golly.
We've been up to this:

And this:

And that is why I need community. On my own, I'm a lady at a messy desk eating pretzels and googling whether or not penguins' feet freeze. With the luminous Kaye Bach by my side, I'm getting my first ISBN on the back of an illustrated book, meeting with printers and publishers and working into the wee hours of night on beyond-my-fathoming illustration projects. The boys are patient as I mutter only half sentences of reply while they shout about the wonders of Minecraft in my ear. They seem to understand the temporary neglect that reaches far beyond this blog. But stay tuned---The Kapok Tree launches the first week of November. Thanks only--and with all my heart--to my patient tribe and to the ridiculously awesome team that is the brains behind this operation. You're a dream, Kaye!

Back in the Chair

I have a quote on my desk by Junot Diaz that reminds me to keep good habits: "In my view a writer is a writer because even when there is no hope, even when nothing you do shows any sign of promise, you keep writing anyway."  William Stafford would write in the wee hours of every morning. Chuck Close said "Inspiration is for amateurs; the rest of us just show up and get to work." Stephen King has said something similar. The practice of just getting one's bum in the chair on a daily basis is what usually leads to the good stuff.

Well, my bum has been out of the chair.

And I'm not one to argue with the likes of Diaz or Close or Stafford, but I am one to enjoy a very good and very long and very delightful break. And break we did. The whole family took two delicious months and, well, stayed out of chairs.

But I'm back. Daily. And I've got an addendum to those artistic greats' wisdom. Yes, do what you do every day. Every day. But don't underestimate the sabbatical. Sometimes a planned absence can do a creative process good. In my case, it grew a tree.

I came back to a Singapore that is now the home of a dear friend, and she is savvy enough to map out the way to a business venture, and I am clueless enough to go along with it. So, she does the heavy lifting meeting with printers and potters and fabric makers, and I get to sit right here and enjoy this chair.

Making space

This morning's walk was bright with the scent of mango season and plumeria blossoms, but I'm making space in my heart for sagebrush and fresh cut grass. We're heading stateside. Watch Instagram for image updates, and in August I'll return to both Singapore and blogging with a fresh supply of good coffee beans, flip flops, and Micron pens. Happy summer from One Green Bee!

Religious experiences

It's a question asking kind of time.

First, the five year old is having a spiritual and scientific crisis. We've been reassuring (and talking completely out of our backsides) curious Oscar that Santa can defy the laws of physics. "Why?" Well, Santa was made special. "I am special too," he declares and tries to walk through a wall. Head bruises and confusion later, there are more questions. "Is the tooth fairy a winged princess or a tiny man elf?" "Why can you not cut water?" If he tries very hard can he "take a nap in fire?" If he jumps with his eyes closed, "will the landing not hurt?"

Possibly from the walking-through-wall attempts, he appears to share my middle-memory loss and cannot recall the word Bible. "Let's read one more story in that book...what's that book...you know that one book with all the stories...the book about that one guy Jesus and that other guy the Good Samurai?" Yes, I do happen to know that book.  And I think it's The Good Samaritan. Almost nightly, I hold up his children's version and ask if that's the one he's talking about, and he's always totally incredulous, "Yes! How did you know?"

I've been asking my own incredulous questions at a mystical place in Singapore: Haw Par Villa. It was started by the Tiger Balm brothers, Aw Boon HAW and Aw Boon PAR (imagine that), and it is a wonder devoted to Chinese folklore, mythology, and Confucianism. My comrades in tourist crime and I had quite the time marveling at things like this:

And this:

All I have to say about every photo I have is, "what the heck is happening here?" Of course, you might ask yourself that about this quiet moment I took pondering the magic with an alarmingly unwooly ram:

As one of the exhibits is titled the "Ten Tortures of Hell", I cannot with good sense post the rest of the photos, but you might do some Google Imaging and then make some time for a surreal walk-through. (leave the children at home)

Thus, this morning, post-Haw Par Villa-ing with questions, spirituality, and sightseeing on my mind, I listened to soul-filling inspiration and doodled a beloved site that is equally boggling but far more comforting. It sounds very expat posh/stupid/nauseating/embarrassing to say, "Angkor Wat is just one of our most favorite places!" But the truth is, it is. I'm cringing too, but we have big hearts for Siem Reap and for the clarity and serenity we've found temple touring and teaching there. So, I'm drawing a tremendous place and people love letters:

And then I'll gear up for what will be asked later about leprechauns, the Easter Bunny, and elves.