Castellaris, at home in Provence

I love Castellaris in Southern France because it is like going back in time not only in historic time because of the ancient roman walls and olive groves but back in time to the memory of my youth. I attended lycée Etats Unis, a high school in Cap d'Antibes when I was 16.  I was somehow fortunate enough to persuade my working class parents that I actually was a worldly Prince mistakenly sent to them in Long Island and that I should try to find my European roots with a 3 month travel across foreign lands with Mrs. Livingston, my 400 year old French teacher at the time. I'm sure she is now 440 years old and living in St Barts somewhere over looking Saline Beach but she doesn't recognize me when she sees me there. After 2 months of travel from the UK to Switerland, a month in Antibes was paradise. I ate tons of rabbit and nectarines, hung out with a very wealthy girl from Beverly Hills who wore caftans before caftans were chic and managed to actually go to class for French civilization and cooking (I can still make a mean quiche Lorraine-at least in my own mind.) I lived for a few weeks with a French Family who's Patriach was a tour guide to Timbuktu. I remember their good looking son was an avid surfer and bring some years older, wasn't really interested in a little house guest. I'm so sorry I lost them, they were so kind and generous, but my contacts all were lost along with my photos so it's like I have no proof other than my memory of that sweet time. I did once find a photo of a chandelier at Versailles, I remember that it was nearly impossible to capture the grandeur of that palace. In contrast to the little house of my family, which was just as grand with love and generosity, I remember the tiny white tiled kitchen. I loved that kitchen and what I loved most was that is was a suggestion of a place where one might cook, not actually a significant room where much was actually done.  How unlike today's idea where we put so much priority on cooking and surfaces, what a mean joke.  Grasse, Antibes, Juan Les Pins, July 14, the magnificent man, black as tar that had been hired from a hotel by the Austrian owners of a magnificent yacht that sailed  back and forth, in the white pants and purple shirt he sailed a yacht with the motorcycles parked on the dock, the wicker table and chairs on deck with a few dozen roses in it, the sun setting into the op of a palm tree each evening as I stared out the window, knowing even then never to forget that moment and that I would be back. When I return this October, with my friends, K and S, who are generous and lucky enough to hold this deluxe home,  I will look for my shadow or ghost at the Matisse Chapel or in Vence or past the gated Picasso studio.

Waiting for the water to boil..

There are times in our lives that are non- times, like sitting in an airport lounge waiting for a flight, finally giving in to a salad or nuts or glass of wine because it's there.  The time spent (wasted?) is a life in a waiting pattern. Yet the times we spend waiting for the water to boil or at red lights or airport lounges are some of my most comforting. It seems that it's the precious seconds before the crash or the storm that are best appreciated. Yes, when I grind my coffee beans and hear the slight bubbling of the water kettle before its final and automatic click off, I'm safe, warm and dry, I'm at peace actually more than in a holding pattern. It's a precious time where I'm lost in the process of something. There is no time spent on observances or judgements or things to do.  I am absolutely free of mind clutter, and it's wonderful.  It's seems no matter what, these seconds are my own. There is no drama, no crisis, no disease, no thought of good or bad hot or cold, time, cal wanders, appointments or schedules. It's pure bliss, I have nothing and everything at the same time. I exist and that's all I need to do.
They say we are creatures of habit, and I guess waking up is the best one to have each day until the last.  But what I remember isn't all the big moments or travels or life experiences, it's this time that I'll file as the ultimate freedom in time and space, that time of waiting for the water to boil.

Moving but not going forward.

Oh, B.     , this really pains me and I'm sorry that all those situations were not handled right and that they are the cause of a lot of pain in your life currently. 

You sound like you're holding it together as much as you can everyday and I understand how the hours and the shadows move about. I alter from deep loneliness to decadent sanctuary. When I'm alone, I want to be with people and when I'm with people I'm utterly bored and think that eventually I'll be free in my aloneness eventually. 

To quote a Sylvia Plath Poem-" the fountains are dry and the roses are over".  We are at a time and place where all we ever were is crashing into the lineage of where we are now and dissecting future thoughts. 

One small step at a time is all we have to do, each breath in the right frame will bring us to the place we need to be. Meditating and being with, near, in or even close to nature are great comforts. That is what I wish for you, great comfort.  

Peace my brother, better days and joys are ahead, in fact it's just over the hill or around the corner. I'm certain of this. 

E-

I hope this email finds you well...

My empathy on the loss of your uncle, I've lost all my aunts and uncles over the past thirty years.  (If you were close, it hits home hard!)

As I get older, I'm having fewer and fewer family members and friends around with many left behind a long time ago (1994), creature of habit? (I moved as a child: 1968, 1970, 1972, 1977, 1980, and 1986; never got over the moves in '77 '80 nor '86.)  When my parents divorced and sold their home (2003); and, I got divorced and sold my homestead (2007), it got worse!!! 

Over time, I've kept sporadic contact with various people however poor and homeless makes it more difficult to face them!  (So no contact is held and I've gotten a smaller circle around me; only those at a homeless shelter, treatment team, or TCC?!)

After my parents (mom, CT, and dad, NH) pass, I'll plan to move back home, Syracuse (biological origin), but doubtful I'll ever connect with anyone?  My brother's family (niece and nepenthe) are local, Norwalk, however the great distance from damage caused throughout my life...

Well, Peace and Love
B

Meditation with Laundry and Letters

Today I'm folding laundry and ironing napkins, this isn't the most exciting thing I've done in my week but I'm doing it with such dexterity and care and slowed, deliberate pace that it's almost a Buddhist meditation. What I find interesting about this process is how time seems to just pass by both slowly and quickly. Maybe that is where the meditation lies in that fine line between the actual ticking of the clock the moment passing, gone, yet the moment being on hold, stuck there like the hand of the clock during those timeless seconds. The seconds are so precious they don't even need air or breath, they are completely submerged in the moment.  There's  something really interesting about owning those seconds, of turning the hem, ironing it flat,  stretching the square folding the napkin into quarters and then stacking them into a squared pile.

This energy given will be taken when I pull them out of a drawer and place each by a plate. Later each invited guest will flap them and unfurl them on their lap or knee and the meditation continues.

Imagine my surprise when I got not one but 2 letters from you.  The carefully measured cursive lettering on each so closely duplicated. The poems you sent were arms out reached and I felt a warm and loving hug with each one. I especially liked the Frederick Buechner one "when you remember.."

- When you remember me it means that you have carried something of who I am with you. That I have left some mark of who I am I knew who you are. It means that you can summon me back to your mind even though countless years and Myles me stand between us. It means that if we meet again, you will know me. It means that even after I die, you can still see my face, hear my voice and speak to me in your heart.-

That is such a beautiful thought. But not only is this something I carry and conjure but I am also touched by how influenced and changed I am. Isn't the sorcerer as good as his spells? And I isn't he or she changed by these, as well?
I remember you often. And I can't help remembering me too and who I was at the time. there are so many memories squeezed into that trunk. The locks don't work and at this point it's almost so stuffed the top won't fully close. But yet magically, each day allows all the space that's needed.

Farmhouse Pottery; the rebirth of pottery. 

There is the way we live today and the way we live in our homes that's pivotal to every brand on the market today. Sometimes something wonderful happens when a new brand arises from the hearts and minds of talented, experienced and passionate craftspeople. That brand Is Farmhouse Pottery. The first thing you sense at Farmhouse Pottery is a refreshing new inspiration in the aesthetic of pottery.

This isn't your grandparents worn down farm house in the woods either. No, by all means this ceramic ware would be just at home in an industrial Manhattan loft as it would a seaside Nantucket style home on Martha's Vineyard. This inspiration is really the direct result from its creators James and Zoe Zillian. They live in a renovated farmhouse in Woodstock, Vermont that reflects their clean style which blends rustic chic with contemporary style that fits anywhere in the country. 

James is a master potter with a unique combination of not just a potters technical design and craft aesthetic but has an open eyed passion for how we live today. You feel his hand in each piece and see how seamlessly it fits into today's lifestyle. These are truly products to live with everyday. Zoe has a natural beauty that could launch products in a thousand markets. Her smart style, marketing passion and engaging personality is so refreshing because it's not hyped or forced. It's effortless. Just watching her in their shop in Woodstock, Vermont you soon realize she's a cult leader in authentic goodness, kindness and thoughtfulness. Then you realize further that they are on to something very attractive and you want in! James and Zoe aren't only the creators of a brand, they are the brand. You desire to live like them because they have something very special, passion, confidence, and authenticity.

 Lucky for us that a new and carefully curated brand like this - and the array of artisan quality products they produce- come along to offer us a new breath of gorgeous things that make us live better and our homes an ever better place to be. 

- Ed Lent 

Farmhouse Pottery

1837 West Woodstock Road

Woodstock, Vermont 05097

Farmhouse Pottery in Woodstock Vermont

FARMHOUSE POTTERY; The Rebirth of Pottery 




There is the way we live today and the way we live in our homes that's pivotal to every brand on the market today. Sometimes something wonderful happens when a new brand arises from the hearts and minds of talented, experienced and passionate craftspeople. That brand Is Farmhouse Pottery. The first thing you sense at Farmhouse Pottery is a refreshing new inspiration in the aesthetic of pottery.

This isn't your grandparents worn down farm house in the woods either. No, by all means this ceramic ware would be just at home in an industrial Manhattan loft as it would a seaside Nantucket style home on Martha's Vineyard. This inspiration is really the direct result from its creators James and Zoe Zillian. They live in a renovated farmhouse in Woodstock, Vermont that reflects their clean style which blends rustic chic with contemporary style that fits anywhere in the country. 


James is a master potter with a unique combination of not just a potters technical design and craft aesthetic but has an open eyed passion for how we live today. You feel his hand in each piece and see how seamlessly it fits into today's lifestyle. These are truly products to live with everyday. Zoe has a natural beauty that could launch products in a thousand markets. Her smart style, marketing passion and engaging personality is so refreshing because it's not hyped or forced. It's effortless. Just watching her in their shop in Woodstock, Vermont you soon realize she's a cult leader in authentic goodness, kindness and thoughtfulness. Then you realize further that they are on to something very attractive and you want in! James and Zoe aren't only the creators of a brand, they are the brand. You desire to live like them because they have something very special, passion, confidence, and authenticity.


Lucky for us that a new and carefully curated brand like this - and the array of artisan quality products they produce- come along to offer us a new breath of gorgeous things that make us live better and our homes an ever better place to be. 

- Ed Lent 


Farmhouse Pottery
1837 West Woodstock Road
Woodstock, Vermont 05097

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TGNTS ROBERT ( too good not to share)

Robert I LOVE your letters, you need to write, or at least write me more often. 

This stirs a lot of creativity. There is great trauma  in everyday life. But it's what we do with it that counts. 

I have a wonderful prayer/meditation that has helped me tremendously.  I will give it to you or send when I get home. 

I prob won't be at pride on Sunday as my uncle passed away and I feel I need to honor him at his wake down on L.I. 

But hopefully next Tuesday. Know that you are important, loved and abundance is easily and constantly flowing to you. 

Truly, Ed

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On Jun 3, 2016, at 10:10 AM, Robert Martin, Jr <rm44842utexas@gmail.com> wrote:

Ed, Nameste and a BIG HUG too!

(Due to an incident in Texas, I shy away from hugs however I will reciprocate when the other asks for one.  Big step from a year ago, when I refused to hug anyone from dreaded fear, prison!  Not that I'm afraid of going there, just that I've got family issues to take care of first.)  I hope, this message finds you well; and, your parents too!
I've been on yogurt due to an upcoming procedure; yes, I works better.  (I'm out of sorts and no longer flexible either.)  In my mindless state, I am not focused on helping others as they help me to recovery...  I've not been on a nature retreat since high school, thirty years ago, and look forward to vacations often in hospitals, not much fun either.  Enjoy the connection to those around you and nature during this event! Taking it in stride, I am employable or have income; this helps me to move out of the shelters, not the most holistic and health of places, although some like Fairfield and Westport are not too shabby!

The bigger picture looks fuzzy to me due to my myopic condition; but, I try to adjust with meditation, prayer, and mindfulness (new techniques, for a healthier and happier life).  Ah yes, the three of seven deadly offenses: sleep (slouth), mindless pleasures (lust) or drinking (gluttony); I know these well too.  

Good to be thought of and yes, good texting, and hope to see you at the June event(s): Coffee Time, This Ability or Pride?

Truly,

Robert

Yogurt might work better actually.  I'm sort of losing my mind too. I enjoy helping people but I can get so down lately that I am not sure how to help myself. Not sure how we really help ourselves. 

I guess it's best to take it in stride, look at the bigger picture and not what you could have done better but what you tried to do pretty good. I'm sort of in a similar state and either seek sleep, mindless pleasures or drinking.  

I'm going to a weekend retreat and hope I find some insight. If I do I'll try to offer it up. 

Love yourself, be good to yourself and be with nature. These usually help me. Don't worry about your mind, everything falls into place and we are usually in our own way. 

Always good to talk to you! Big hug. Ed

Ed,

I've been looking at the old TCC newsletters and ran into two interesting programs: wellness and meditation and yoga!  I read them as  willingness and mindfulness; and, yogurt.  That's where my mind is...