It’s good that I noticed that my first two photos from yesterday have good in them.
Do you see the good there, my good people? Do you see the good in other people? Do you see more good than bad?
I guess I see more good than bad: I’ve written 41 posts here with the word “Good” in the title (starting with Day 3: The Fear of Feeling Too Good) and I’ve written 14 posts with the word “Bad” in the title (starting with Day 263: Bad Day/Good Day, which has good in it, too).
Do you see the good in the other photos here?
A good friend texted me that good drawing, above, with this good caption: “Got your back.”
It’s always good to end with thanks. Thanks to all who help me create all my good posts, including this one, and to you — of course! — for being good enough to be here, now.
Yesterday, I found out that two people I love will be leaving earlier than I wish. I’m resolving to spend as much time as possible with them whenever we can.
I often think of this line from Stephen Sondheim’s Into the Woods:
Sometimes people leave you halfway through the wood
because that’s inevitable, isn’t it? Here are other lines from that song:
Let’s spend time with the photos I took yesterday.
Krystle Campbell left us too soon. Again, I resolve to spend time with people I love.
As always, I appreciate spending time with people I love on WordPress. Thanks to all who helped me create this post and to you — of course! — for visiting, here and now.
“Location, location, location” is something people say in the real estate biz.
“Location, location, location” is the answer to the question
What’s important to consider when you’re buying a property?
“Location, location, location” is something I said, yesterday, in the location of my office on what I call “the busiest street in America.”
“Location, location, location” was a topic in a therapy, therapy, therapy group, yesterday.
The location, location, location of these photos are (1) on my iPhone, (2) in my blog, and (3) now appearing on a screen near you.
The location, location, location for banana peels was that trash receptacle in the Tufts Medical Center garage.
The location, location, location for that sign was a wall of Tufts Medical Center, where I went to get my INR blood levels tested yesterday morning. In the location, location, location of the United States it’s been difficult, difficult, difficult lately to separate myth from fact, but the fact is that my INR levels were in the perfect location, location, location yesterday.
The location, location, location for defibrillators include (1) the wall of Tufts Medical Center, (2) many places where people might need to be resuscitated, and (3) my body.
The location, location, location of that snow, snow, snow is near Fenway Park, Boston, USA.
The location, location, location of that white board is in my office, where I do individual therapy, group therapy, and crisis intervention. Note all the location, location, locations on that board, including Ithaca, the woods, and the suburbs.
Those are two important location, location, locations for me — the ocean and the busiest street in America.
The location, location, location of that amazing St. Patrick’s Day hat is on Anthony’s head.
The location, location, location of that sign is in the fax room at work.
The location, location, location of those gel letters is outside the nurses, nurses, nurses office where I work.
The location, location, location of that helpful, helpful, helpful saying is the white board in my office.
The location, location, location of that caterpillar roll was on my plate, at Genki Ya, our favorite Sushi Restaurant.
The location, location, location for that St. Patrick’s Day cake was Whole Foods Market.
The location, location, location of that saying was on a Yogi tea bag, in my mug, at home.
Since one of the location, location, locations on my white board yesterday was the woods, here‘s my favorite, favorite, favorite song from Into the Woods.
Please, please, please leave a comment in the location, location, location below.
The location, location, location of my gratitude for you, you, and you is always, always, always at the bottom of my posts.
When I was a little kid, I spent a lot of time in hospitals, because of my unusual heart. Because hospitals didn’t have the heart they have now, they did not allow my parents to spend the night with me. As a result, I was frightened and alone, during a time I especially needed to feel connected and protected.
As I’ve grown, I’ve known, intellectually, that I am not alone. But the feelings from childhood persist.
As I’m typing this post now, alone, I’m realizing that I am probably less alone, here and now, than I’ve ever been in my life because of friends, family, doctors, and connections through WordPress.
And yet, it’s so easy for all those people to vanish from my consciousness, leaving behind that old childhood “knowledge” of being alone.
Whenever I experience a hospital stay — as I did last week — those feelings of aloneness get retriggered. Like many other people, when I feel vulnerable, sick, and in unfamiliar surroundings, I can be much more aware of my aloneness than of my connectedness with others. There is something about being alone in a hospital room, listening to the sounds of machines that measure your breathing and pulse, that can bring on a stark sense of isolation.
And yet, even in the hospital, there are always moments when I KNOW I am not alone. Those moments of connectedness include my time on WordPress, every day.
Thanks to my readers, for always reminding me that I am NOT alone.
Yesterday, I felt well enough to go for a walk alone.
When I took every picture yesterday, I felt connected, even when I was alone.
Is there one picture, alone, that stands out for you, as THE image for today’s post?
Two mornings ago, my GPS system, Waze, brought me to work in a different way.
For the first time in three years, I drove to work on the other side of the Charles River, so I saw this:
When I took that photo, the title for today’s post suddenly appeared, from another side of my mind. From then on, I’ve been noticing the theme of “The Other Side,” everywhere I go.
Something else, in a different side of my mind: on the other side of this weekend is September, which contains the beginning of autumn. On the other side of autumn? Winter.
While I can fear the lowered temperatures of winter, I dread something else even more, in New England — the lessening of color, all around.
However, I’m working on embracing all sides.
Here are some other sides I’ve been seeing:
I’ve taken a lot of photos, since that one from the other side of the Charles River. I could have shown you any — or all — of them, since everything has an other side.
Okay, you’ve gotten my side. Now it’s time for yours. What associations do you have with “The Other Side”?
I also want to invite another side to make an appearance. What images would Google choose, for “the other side”?
What’s missing for me, right now? Music, which is playing in my head. Here’s a Stephen Sondheim song from “Into The Woods” (which made a previous appearance, in Day 247: No one is alone, in another version).
This post started with an other side. What’s the other side of the start? The end.
Thanks to Stephen Sondheim, Rosie O’Donnell (for the video), savage chickens (and other creatures), to those who are open to other sides, and to you — of course — for visiting this side, today.
The Year(s) of Living Non-Judgmentally 