I stood alone, gazing out the window of a specialty shop, with my purse on one arm and a small package of fortune cookies in my opposite hand…  I guess you could say I had drifted off a moment, thinking about you, Orso.  Until a heavy-set woman accidentally bumped me on her way out the door and the bell at the top that began to ring caught my eye.  It was an antique with a most beautiful, joyful sound – the sound one remembers hearing, each time one enters a candy store as a child.  I smiled; purchased the cookies and opened them right then and there, at the counter.  That’s when the clerk counted out my change, into my hand; when our eyes met and I felt naturally compelled to offer her a cookie, too.  We opened them together.  I have no idea what hers read, because I found myself in an absolute state of shock, upon reading my own…

To be continued.

© 2012 Aliza Wiseman, All Rights Reserved.

I thought I would break the pattern of posts on the blog today, and share a bit about the true meaning behind Places We Never Went.

In November, 2010, I wrote a note to myself that marked what I now know as the precursor to the beginning of a journey I am now fully on; a journey that isn’t always so easy as it may look from the “outside.”

While, one day, I hope to know this journey as something far more easy-going, for now, I’m still putting down one foot in front of another; silently walking with G-d, friends, family and faith.  And, the amazing thing that hits me, at some of the most unexpected of times, is just how very grateful I am, for every blessing along the way, no matter how tough things get, on any given day.

While my focus is consciously and routinely, heavily placed on G-d – on mindfulness – on paying attention to beauty, joy, kindness, love and living, as much as possible, in the moment – not all moments make such a focus so easy.  And, for those particularly tough times, I am humbled and reduced to nothing but gratitude – being grateful to G-d, friends, family and faith for carrying me through.  Because, in the end, peace, kindness, love and joy are the only things that have any true value in life.

As simple as it sounds, I think the Beatles were absolutely right – love IS all there is. Which is why I wrote Places We Never Went.  Ironically, this simple book is not so much at all about me as it is a thank you to G-d for sending it through my fingertips, so that I could focus on the only things in life of any consequence at all.  And a thank you to those who remind me, daily, of why we are here – to grow more intimate in connection, more full in love, more rich in kindness, more runneth-over in joy, more contagious in humor, more pervasive in our inspiration and, well…more of all good things we each have to offer our fellow human beings, in the only life we have been blessed with, to share.  In fact, it is my most genuine attempt at practicing tikkun olam.

Certainly, I do not know what the meaning of life is for others.  But, for me, life is to be lived; celebrated to the fullest, at every opportunity (not just the easy ones).  Which is why I like Churchill’s advice… “if you’re going through hell, keep going.”  Yes – life requires us to do precisely this.  And, the wonderful thing is, if we do it with positive intent and a loving focus, we may aspire to achieve something beautiful – to add to the world, something it needs more of, not less.

© 2012 Aliza Wiseman, All Rights Reserved.

Weightless.  Weightless is how I’m feeling now, as I find myself tripping joyfully down the most cheerful little street in a simple, ivory, shin-length, chiffon dress with beaded circles on it.

I can smell the early morning scent of half-open freesias, as I turn the corner, in my silver heels, each with a sparkle so tiny, even Cinderella’s mice would have blinked and missed them catching the light.  And,  OH – yes!  How much light there is for my soul to gather up, as a hungry little child, and carry along, to where I’m going this morning!

“How beautiful the sunshine and it’s full reflection off city windows!” I think.

My spirit soars at what I imagine as sunshine now falling upon me; covering me over in a veil of very fine mist; gathering me up into its sparkle dust so that I may carry it off and put it over the shoulders of someone I love – someone I’m going to see in only a very short while now.

To be continued…

© 2012 Aliza Wiseman, All Rights Reserved.

Something about the massive, marble column made me suddenly want to cling to it in the cool, air-conditioned space of the hotel lobby.  I didn’t care that it may have looked ridiculous – it felt wonderful; wonderful to embrace the smooth stone surface, while listening to the low, blues tones of a small band that was playing, just a step or two below and around the corner from where I was now…leaning in, almost to the point of melting into the column, I felt.

As I began to cool down, I happened to look up and notice a series of soap bubbles drifting by, gently, just overhead.  I do not know why, but they seemed, to me, as a kind of writing in the sky…and from what I could recognize, they were loosely spelling out an invitation for me to release myself from this gorgeous pillar and follow their lead… through a dimly lit lounge and, then, out… beyond the open patio doors…into a garden bathed in moonlight and fragranced with the delightful twin scents of Jasmine and late night coffee…until I happened upon…

To be cont.

© 2012 Aliza Wiseman, All Rights Reserved.

It was one of those cold, dark sky moments where the rain just never seems like it’s ever going to let up; where I lay in bed just that little bit extra; where the coffee I thought might get me through to the afternoon barely gets me out the door.

Until I saw you, Orso, unexpectedly there, as I turned the key in the lock and spun around, with only the most ordinary thought of making it to the car without getting entirely soaked.

(to be cont.)

© 2012 Aliza Wiseman, All Rights Reserved.

Lately, I’ve taken to the habit of taking walks purely for the joy of greeting others.  I find some block that looks somewhat busy with working types, on a Monday morning (meaning, some you might expect to find in a state of grumpy disengagement) and grab a coffee and start walking.

Tomorrow, I decided to walk down such a street.  Yes, I said tomorrow – my happenings, imaginary as they are, happen at all times, even in the future, Orso.

So, I walk down this really busy, city street and encounter this old man I’ve seen before –

(to be cont.)

© 2012 Aliza Wiseman, All Rights Reserved.

“Orso,” I teased, reaching over to pin a flower on your lapel, “most men put handkerchiefs, not the Ace of Spades, into their front pockets.”

I looked up and into your eyes that suddenly did that thing they sometimes do – that coming-alive-in-a-flash-of-sparkle-and-dance that brings me such great joy.  Then, of course, I couldn’t help but notice a slight smile moving across your face and, without your once looking away, your handing me the card.  “HAH!” I laughed, as I also noticed how…

(to be cont.)

© 2012 Aliza Wiseman, All Rights Reserved.

I had no desire to be alone tonight. Yet, no particular place to go. No plan. Just put on my patent leather stilettos, long black skirt, stretchy, black, Spanish-looking top with white stitching; grabbed my keys, Cosmopolitan Clutch bag and locked the door behind me, with a quick click.

It was deathly quiet – the walk to the car – as I moved under the motion-sensor lighting that turned bitter dark, as soon as my feet hit the asphalt, along the street, beyond the carport.  But for the tic-tic-tic of my heel tips, touching down, carefully, in a delicate beeline (the kind fashioned only by very special bees, of course – the kind with hips) and for the fact my keys had the typical habit of jingling, no matter how hard I gripped them in hand, I could have snuck up on my very own self and never even noticed!

”Where would I go?” I wondered, as my delicate frame suddenly got lost in the darkness of the cold “behemoth” and similarly overpowered by the engine that roared as soon as the key turned in the ignition.

It did not matter.
I was not sitting at home.
I was not remaining alone…

(to be cont.)

© 2012 Aliza Wiseman, All Rights Reserved.

I know you don’t have time to take the whole afternoon off today, Orso.  But, trust me when I say, five minutes is always better than no minutes at all…

“Come with me, right now, this instant, Orso” I bubbled over, reaching down and clutching at the lever, located alongside your recliner; leaning over you briefly, such that the front ruffle on my blouse fluttered, tickling your nose, ever so slightly.

As I returned to standing – lingering over you, a moment – I couldn’t help but simultaneously gather why you were smiling.  Just as I couldn’t help, in that very same breath, but burst out laughing.  Yes, it’s true, I did mean to do that.  Bad, I know.  But, here’s the thing, Orso…

(to be cont.)

© 2012 Aliza Wiseman, All Rights Reserved.