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Cultivating a Sense of Sufficiency In this Mortal Moment

June 9, 2025 //
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I drove to the office this morning, watching the sun rise, and happily singing a fairly dreadful rendition of Three Dog Night “One is the Loneliest Number“, not for any particular reason, it was just in my head. I felt merry and at ease, and traffic was light. Lovely morning for a drive. Mt Hood was a soft mauve silhouetted against the pastel peaches and pinks of the dawn sky as the sun peaked over the horizon, a vivid firey orange. It feels like another hot day, and the forecast agrees.

Yesterday was lovely. I didn’t do much in the way of activities or chores or errand running, I just relaxed at home, watched a couple videos, and read the new cookbook my beloved Traveling Partner had given me as an early birthday gift some days ago. My Traveling Partner is correct when he observes that I rarely manage to sit through and enjoy an entire video I’ve selected, due to hopping up to help him out or handle some needful detail immediately when mentioned (otherwise I may forget all about it), and it is sometimes an impediment to really getting to relax and recharge. Yesterday, I even indulged a favorite personal preference in the world of online video content; a real-time walk someone took video of, through a place I’ll likely never visit. It was a walk through a famous buddhist site in Japan – no music, no chatter, no ads, just the walk through a beautiful space. Restful and inspiring, it was a relaxed and peaceful interlude to spend with myself (and for a little while, until he got bored with it, shared with my Traveling Partner; he definitely prefers a somewhat faster “pace” to life, and wandered off to do his own thing before the (long) walk ended). I enjoyed it enough for the time to be memorable.

Yesterday was “enough”. Most days are, actually. That nagging sense of striving and seeking and trying and struggling and working to reach some seemingly unreachable goal for some vaguely defined purpose that seems so unrelenting and commonplace is largely self-imposed. Meaning to say it’s something we willfully put ourselves through. I can let that go. (So can you.) Just because I don’t have something, or haven’t lived some particular experience, or achieved some point of success envied by others doesn’t mean I need that for myself. Like… not at all. I may not even want that thing for me, myself, if I take a moment to think it over. Sure, a new car might be nice… but I don’t actually need one. A bigger house on more land? Sure, there’d be more room to spread out, more room for storage, more room for this or that feature in life, more room for shop space, maybe more land for gardening, and even for chickens… that all sounds delightful, and I certainly would not mind. Hell, I’d embrace it (it would be ever so much less effort than managing things in this smaller space). It would be nice. But… It’s not necessary for most values of necessary. New clothes? Nice to have, but not necessary. Another rose bush? Another raised garden bed? Luxuries. Quiet days solo on the coast in some lovely beachfront hotel? We’re definitely talking pleasantly unnecessary now, aren’t we? It’s sometimes hard to discern the difference between “nice to have” and “necessary”. (Sometimes it’s pretty easy given adequate honest self-reflection.) How hard are you willing to drive yourself for the things you think you have to have in life? How much easier could life be if you only put that much pressure on yourself for things that are truly earnestly urgently actually necessary for your healthy survival, and leaving the rest mostly to chance, reliant on your wise decision-making generally, and skillful use of personal resources day-to-day and good planning?

What does “enough” look like?

I’m just saying, I guess, greed isn’t a good look, and it’s not a healthy character quality. I work a lot to let that shit go, and to cultivate a sense of sufficiency and contentment in my life. (Not past tense, I actively work on it.) I have what I need, generally. There are things I’d like to have or achieve, but when I’m being very honest with myself, they’re nearly all lavish extras that I don’t actually require to live a good life. It’s human to want more, better, and extra. It’s human to want to go and do and be. Ambition and aspiration are part of what we are, as human primates and thinking reasoning beings. On the other hand, discontent and dissatisfaction and greed are also part of our very human struggle to be and become, and these tend to foster a lot of unpleasantness, anxiety, frustration, sorrow, and struggle. I try to balance any yearnings for things I don’t have or have not achieved with frank reflection on (and gratitude for) those things I do have, that I have achieved, and that I am fortunate to enjoy day-to-day. The result of this practice is that I’m generally contented much of the time now, and comfortably able to enjoy my life as it is, and appreciate how good it does tend to be. It’s human to want, it’s human to struggle – it’s a better experience to find a sense of sufficiency to rest in. It’s a practice, and there are verbs involved. (And no one can do this work for you; you’ve got to walk your own path.) No overnight results, but it has been very much worth the effort. I’m able to say I’m happier for it.

…It’d still be nice to have a bigger house, with a larger bit of land under it (I do truly love my little house and I am happy here)…

I enjoy the roses blooming in my garden – there are still weeds to pull and work to be done, no getting around it.

I sip my coffee and smile quietly to myself. I am grateful to be in such a good place in life that seeking and cultivating a sense of sufficiency is something I have time for; this too is a bit of a luxury. (When we’re mired in struggle perspective can feel quite out of reach and seeking it may feel like a drain on our resources we can’t easily afford.) What is “enough”? Is it different for everyone? Is there some definition of sufficiency that is reliably true for every individual everywhere? What would that look like? Would it be a reasonable practical goal to ensure every human being has that minimum quality of life? What would that look like? Would I be content with the same “enough” that everyone else around me has, or would I find myself yearning for more? What about you? Do you “have enough” in life? What necessities are missing? If you do have “everything you need”, what are you still yearning for? Are you on the path that takes you there? Are you even willing to walk that path? Just thoughts I’m thinking over my morning coffee as the golden summer sun shines through the trees beyond the window of this office.

…If I were to change jobs, the view would change – would my thoughts on sufficiency change with my point of view, or my income?

Time spent in the garden isn’t always about labor.

I smile and think about my garden. I got way less done than I’d hoped to this past weekend. Turned out I needed something different in the way of self-care. I needed relaxed lazy time reading books and napping, and laughing with my partner. I needed healthy rest and easy-going companionship. I needed icy delicious strawberry granita made on a whim. I needed take out on a hot night instead of cooking in a hot kitchen. I needed to put my feet up, even though I also needed to get laundry done. I mostly did just those tasks that were required, and the rest of my time I spent on comfort and leisure, a rare treat in a busy life. I’m grateful I have that choice.

Life’s Strange Diner has a big menu, but it isn’t really possible to sample everything on it, however rich or fortunate any one person happens to be. We’re human, and live finite human lives. The clock is ticking, and there are choices and verbs involved. We can only do or carry so much. We can begin again, if we find we’ve fallen, or feel we’re on the wrong path, but we’ve got to do that work for ourselves, and each one of us has our own limits and limitations to deal with. It is an interestingly varied experience, this human journey. I imagine the menu in any diner, on any summer morning, and wonder what I might choose differently in this moment, given time to reflect on where this path leads, and what I really need in life? We can’t choose differently then, but we can choose differently now – what gets us “there”? Where does this path lead? The clock is ticking. What will I choose? Isn’t it time to begin again?

(Do you know where you’re going? It’s your path, after all – choose wisely.)

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, Roses, Summer, The Art of Being, War and News of War

An Eye on the Horizon

June 5, 2025 //
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I’m sipping my coffee as the day begins. My walk this morning was pleasant, uneventful, and frankly rather ordinary. The day is cloudy, and looks like rain. I’m in a thoroughly manageable amount of pain (for now), and I make a point of appreciating how (relatively) comfortable I am. In a life where chronic pain is a day-to-day experience, it is critical to really pause and be aware of it when pain is not a characteristic of the moment. Most of us don’t actually experience “chronic pain” as 100% of always every moment of every day all the time – it does come and go, and the severity varies. Our implicit memory and sense of “how things are” is notably affected by what we hold on to as “how we always feel” – so making room to be mindful and aware of a lack of pain becomes incredibly important for managing the whole experience of pain over time. Perspective matters. So, I sip my coffee, noticing how (relatively) little pain I am in right now, and make room for gratitude; it could be so much worse (and often is).

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I think about sunrises and sunsets, and views of distant horizons. I think about miles I have not yet walked, and contemplate trails I’ve yet to try. I think about camping, and I wonder when I might next spend a couple days on the coast, painting. I sip my coffee, and let my diffuse feeling of general contentment grow larger in my awareness. My eye falls on a small Hue Forge “painting” my Traveling Partner did from a photograph I’d taken. I feel loved and visible and appreciated as a person, as an artist, and as a partner.

Hue Forge rendering of a sunrise, Mt Hood silhoutted on the horizon.

That distant horizon is a good metaphor for goals and progress and walking my own path; there it is, just out of reach, that thing I think I want to get to. A goal, a vision, a destination – it could be any of those things, or just a place to camp that happens to be within view, but quite far away. What’s on the horizon? I never actually know, I only imagine, based on what I think I see. I have an idea, and a limited view. The closer that thing seems to get, the more detailed and real it may become – but it changes as it comes into closer view, more subject to scrutiny. Is it what I imagined? Is it actually what I want? Am I actually going to get “there” – or is that “there” quite different than I expected it might be? Am I being true to myself, and staying on my path, or has something fantastical on that distant horizon distracted me from my sense of purpose? Is it even real, or only something I thought I saw?

I sip my coffee feeling surprisingly content with “now”. Nice moment for it. Sure, the work day is ahead, but I don’t find that I mind. I’m fortunate to have a job I enjoy, working with a team of people I appreciate and respect (and even like), I feel appreciated in return. We get shit done. I’m working from home, which has the lovely quality of taking my breaks in my garden, or being able to run a quick errand during the day, and not finding myself quite so exhausted when the day finally ends. Nice “now” – I feel fortunate, and pause for gratitude; this too could be so much worse. Most of us do have to work to keep the bills paid and the pantry stocked, and it’s a difficult world. It’s not uncommon to have to endure a terrible work environment in servitude to a company whose values one can’t respect, simply to keep the lights on and the gas tank filled. It’s a lucky few who do jobs they love for companies they appreciate in an environment of mutual respect while being paid a good wage. If you’ve got it, be sure you appreciate it. Change is. Be kind to those who struggle with shit jobs for terrible bosses – it could be you at some point.

…Good cup of coffee…

My Traveling Partner gave me an early birthday gift last night. A new cookbook, and one that I’d spotted thinking “oooh, I’d like to have this one!” quite recently. I thought I’d added it to my wishlist, and was delighted that he had selected it. More delighted still – and a little amazed – when I discovered that I had not added it to my list at all. He knows me so well. I feel loved. This morning when my mind wanders, it is often to the kitchen, and thinking about what new adventures I may find there, between the pages of a new cookbook. 😀

Life can be experienced as a journey. I find it a useful metaphor. No map, lots of choices, and the path is mine to choose for myself. The horizon never really gets any closer – but it’s out there in the distance, tempting me onward. It’s a worthy journey – each step down the path has the potential to reveal some new delight, or to teach me a lesson I probably need to learn. We are mortal creatures – at some point, this journey will come to an end. Hopefully, I’ve learned all I could, experienced much worth sharing, and made a point to jot down some notes for anyone who may follow me down the trail (or simply wonders where I wandered off to).

I glance at the time. The clock is always ticking, and there are things to be done. It’s time, again, to begin.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, Spring, The Art of Being

Character Study

June 2, 2025 //
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I’m sipping my coffee and thinking about favorite characters in books, movies, and anime, and what it takes to write a good character, and how the “story arc” of a truly great character pulls me in and gets me invested in the character. I’m thinking about why a good character matters so much. I’m reviewing my own life through the lens of character development, and this journey that is life itself. I’m just one woman, living one mortal lifetime, and honestly I see myself (now) as relatively ordinary in nearly every way. That wasn’t always the case. Dunning and Kruger will have their way with us all. lol When I was young, lacking in life experience, and prone to very poor decision-making, I thought I was the absolute center of my universe, the Big Bad, the main character in every story, and the best choice of human voice to say “all the things”… I was quite mistaken. I grew out of it. lol Reality does not care what I believe.

…Ordinary is okay, nothing wrong with it. “On the average, things are average.” – I’d attribute the quote, but I don’t know who said that (it wasn’t me). I’m not dismissing or discouraging aspirational goals or pursuing one’s ambitions, I’m just saying human primates have a tendency toward grandiosity (whether private or explicitly stated), and we’re mostly just… primates. Fancy fucking big-brain-having apes, that have chosen to build and to make, and have learned to wear clothing and how to set themselves up for elaborate failures. Hell, I’m not even saying so to provoke any sort of change – I’m just pointing out this thing I am observing, while character and character development are on my mind (for no particular reason). I’m not meaning to be at all discouraging of whatever you may be seeking to do or to change, just saying generally we can expect most things, most of the time, to be completely… insignificant and ordinary… in most regards. Our individual epiphanies and fantastic ideas are often pretty illuminations of ideas someone else has already put forth elsewhere, before it came to us. Our triumphs are often held in common with the triumphs of others rather like us. Few of us as mortal human primates stand out in any particular way, good or evil. A small handful do – often in the worst possible ways – but seriously, most of us just don’t, and that’s actually just fine.

Do you earnestly truly need to change the world and need to be known for some special something? I can tell you how! Be remembered. Sounds easy, and surely there are a number of ways to go about it, if you’ve just got to have it. If you are more particular than that, and want most to be known and celebrated for actually helping make the world a better place for humanity, this one is more difficult, but built on the same principles – you simply have to be much more selective about what you do that comes to define you and what you are known for. What do you want to be known for? How do you want to be remembered? If you were reading your life as a story, a novel, or a screenplay, what would be the pinnacle achievement that shows you have grown, and how you have successfully made the world a better place? Can you get there, realistically? Authentically? Ethically? What would your path need to be? What experiences would you have to seek and submit to? What would you change about who you are? You can get started any time…

…Where does your path lead?..

…We become what (and who) we practice.

I sip my coffee and think about my journey over the past 62 years, but more specifically how far I’ve come over the past 15 years. It still astonishes me that I had made so little progress toward bettering myself in my first 47 years – that’s a long damned time to fuck about being a rather terrible person lacking in goals or firm ethical grounding, mostly mired in chaos and damage, and definitely struggling just to survive. I did an unfortunately adequate job of masking a lot of that, and giving a decent appearance of being… decent. I mostly just stepped very carefully around the wreckage within, and did what I could to protect those I cared about from my madness and my inner demons. I lacked trust in anyone’s affection for me, most especially my own. I needed help – a lot of it – and some lucky breaks – and I definitely did not know how to get there from where I stood then. “Here” wasn’t even a place I could envision, then.

One of my luckiest breaks was developing a friendship with the man who would eventually become my beloved Traveling Partner. Life changed enough in some small way that my sense of self was changed, too. That mattered more than I could know at the time, and it took me a long way on a new path. My perspective on life changed. It wasn’t “everything”, but it was a good beginning. A new beginning, and the start of a willingness to consider change with greater comfort, and even to embrace it and to seek it. I began asking new questions. I began considering myself as something other than my own worst enemy. I stopped treating myself as though I somehow deserved the lifetime of trauma I had endured. I still needed help, and I sought it out. I began looking at myself in a new mirror, “changing my dictionary”, and using a new map – one I was creating myself. I stopped allowing the world to tell me who I was, and began working to become the woman I most wanted to be – for love. Now I pursue these things because they are the path I choose. (It helped to have profound inspiration to inspire a new beginning though, not gonna lie.)

Note: it doesn’t require a great and inspiring love affair to embrace change, to experience epiphany or enlightenment, or to choose to walk your own path, just happens to be what got me there.

Another perspective on love – and character building.

I’m not certain why these things are on my mind this morning. Maybe because my birthday is getting closer, and I’m often self-reflective and introspective around this time? Maybe because things have been so good with my Traveling Partner, lately, that I drove in to the office feeling pangs of “separation anxiety” in a way that I tend to associate with “new love”? I smile at the new Hue Forge image he made for me over the weekend – an early birthday gift – a favorite anime character, Dandy, from the anime Space Dandy. My Traveling Partner also 3D printed me another hydroponic tower garden, which I assembled on the deck (this one is mostly filled with strawberry seedlings). I feel very loved. I smile and sip my coffee, sitting with my contentment and joy, and reflecting on how far I’ve come in 15 years. It’s been a sometimes slow-feeling journey – incremental change over time often feels very slow – but it’s my own, and I’m okay with where I am this morning, compared to where I was on any Monday morning 15+ years ago. 😀

Love blooming in my garden; “Rainbow Happy Trails” and “Whimsy”.

I sigh and smile. I feel pretty good this morning, and I’m eager to face the day, and return home to my beloved. We plan to cook dinner together this evening – an experience we’ve been enjoying together. I feel fortunate and grateful, and I sit with those feelings awhile, watching the sun rise beyond the window of the office, and sipping my coffee. It’s not fancy, this experience. It’s not extraordinary – it is, in most regards, quite ordinary. That’s okay – better than okay – it’s the experience I’ve chosen, and a moment in a life I am enjoying, on a path I’ve chosen to walk. Am I changing the world? Not in any particularly obvious way, but I’m changing my wee corner of it in small ways, every day, working to become the woman I most want to be, living a life I can look back on with a measure of satisfaction, and a sense that I am doing better today, than I did yesterday, by every measure that counts for me, personally. I have a sense of who I am, and who I want to be – and that counts for so much more than I understood it could, 15 years ago.

What does it take to become the person you most want to be? A commitment to character building over time, perhaps? A willingness to begin again, many times, over years, definitely. Some frankness when facing the mirror certainly helps. The clock is ticking. Embrace change. Become the person you most want to be! You can begin again, any time.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, Despair, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gardening, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Roses, Spring, The Art of Being, turning 60, Words

Like the Weather

June 1, 2025 //
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Change is. Like the weather, moments are ever-changing, evolving, not static things the way our recollections sometimes make them seem. They are not that snapshot in our memory, somehow more lasting than the moment itself could ever be. This morning the weather reminds me that change is, and that moments are brief, and impermanent. After yesterday’s warm sunny day, this morning’s chill feels unexpected. The mist clinging to the meadow and the edges of the marsh is a surprise. The morning begins with sunshine, but already it looks like it may rain – quite soon.

Sunshine as my walk begins. It doesn’t last.

I have no particular concerns over the weather, although I didn’t think I’d need my rain gear and didn’t grab it for the walk. I may come to regret that decision. For now, sitting at a favorite spot along the trail watching the sky turning dark and stormy, I’m content to watch and wonder and just be. Moments are what they are, and like rain showers, they will pass on by. I can wait them out, walk on, or find joy in them. Choices. One choice I just don’t have is a choice to halt change or stop the flow of time. Moments will come and go, without regard to the sort of moments they happen to be.

I sigh to myself. I am fine with this moment just as it is. I am rested and my pain is well-managed. The trail is not crowded, and it feels like I have it to myself although the parking lot had several cars in it when I arrived. I sit with my thoughts.

The day ahead is housework and laundry, and a bit of gardening, a pretty typical Sunday. I have a short grocery list – ingredients for dinner. My Traveling Partner is making dinner tonight, and I am eager to be helpful not only because I’m happy to see this positive milestone in his continuing recovery from injury,  but also because he’s an excellent cook and I enjoy what he brings to the table any time he’s in the kitchen.

I think about the housekeeping that really needs doing and remind myself that working from home reliably a couple days a week now also means some tasks can be put off to those days quite easily without adverse outcomes. Maybe do the laundry Tuesday? It’s a relief to be as focused on not exhausting myself as I am on getting things done. That six months of intense, sometimes round the clock, caregiving following my beloved’s surgery wasn’t just exhausting, it was emotionally trying and I often felt completely inadequate. I still find myself coping with that experience, even though it’s behind me, and hasn’t been a thing for months. I still feel the treadmill of endless tasks and too little capability under my feet, emotionally, and it’s taking practice and will and mindful presence to let that go. That moment has passed. I sigh again, feeling the intensity of my relief wash over me.

I hear footsteps coming up the trail slowly. I look up and see deer stepping along gently. They pause, watching me. A trio. A young buck and two does. I wonder if they have new fawns? I don’t see any. I consider taking their picture as they slowly approach me on the path, but when I move ever so slightly, they stop, stiff, alert, and wary. I relax and just watch them. When they get closer, I turn my head away, hoping to communicate that they’re no concern of mine, and that I am not a threat. The larger doe approaches very near me. There’s something tasty growing near my feet apparently, and she’s willing to take a chance on approaching quite closely. I could reach out and touch her, but don’t want to risk starting her. I let her breakfast in peace, and just sit quite still.

Voices coming up the trail get my attention. I look up, as the deer do. The deer bolt, and trot off into the trees. I sit where I am, and when people emerge around the bend in the trail I wave and nod. They are no concern of mine, and they walk on past.

Moments don’t last. Sunny afternoons may be followed by rainy mornings. Threats may emerge in one moment, and disappear in the next. Tears dry. Trauma heals. The clock ticks on.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I get to my feet and look up the trail. The future is ahead of me, and this path won’t walk itself. It’s a good moment to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being

Chicken Soup and Play-Doh

May 29, 2025 //
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My walk this morning was short, local, and drizzly. It is a drizzly morning. I walked with my thoughts, and headed home to begin the day. The drive back to the house felt peculiarly nostalgic – something about the drizzle, and the way the sheen of water on the road reflected the light of the gray skies over head – and I found myself thinking about sick days on rainy Spring mornings as a kid. How is it that all my recollections of missing school due to being sick seem to be rainy days? I guess with the average number of rainy days where I grew up being about 111 days per year, falling primarily in the months between March and November, it would be better than a 1 in 3 chance of any given sick day being a rainy one. Maybe they really all were? lol

When I started down the trail, it wasn’t raining. Change is.

I arrived home to find my Traveling Partner awake, and it was lovely to see him. I made coffee for us both, and headed to my office to begin the day. All so very ordinary, so routine that the days sometimes seem to blur together except that the precious loving moments we share stand out, each unique and worth appreciating. It’s strange that when I look back on my childhood, there are really only a small handful of recollections I can count on as “my own”, and many of those are rather archetypical – conflations of many similar events becoming just one “memory”. When I look back on the past 15 years with my Traveling Partner, it’s not that way. There are many many memories, each built on small details that linger in my recollection. I don’t know whether this is a sort of before/after contrasting what remains of my memory after my head injury with how my memory works now, but there it is; I have relatively few childhood memories, and some of those are rather suspiciously recalled “in the third person”, as though I am remembering something I was told, not really remembering something I experienced.

I think about memory awhile, and rainy sick days. I remember those almost fondly. The rainy gray drive to the doctor’s office. Bundled up at home with chicken soup, saltine crackers, and a book to read. Sitting at the dining room table playing with Play-Doh, or coloring in a favorite coloring book. Napping. Waking. Reading. Before my head injury, my sick-day recollections are mostly to do with headcolds or the flu. After my head injury they are more often about headaches. I missed quite a bit of school, even through high school, over headaches. I don’t miss much work over headaches as an adult; I’ve learned to live with them. It’s an uneasy truce, some days, and I’d for sure prefer not to have a headache at all, but since I generally do (of one sort or another), it’s probably best that I don’t just give in and quit, eh?

You’re not alone with your pain. Not really. We’ve all got some kind of pain – well, most of us, I feel fairly certain. There are no doubt those rare few individuals with charmed lives of such good fortune that pain hasn’t become a thing to endure day after day after day after day after… You know? I’m not even sure those people are to be envied; they may lack some useful perspective on endurance, and what they are truly capable of, perhaps. (I don’t know; I’ve never lived that life.) I sip my coffee and notice that my mind has wandered on to other things. The garden. The roses. Pain management. Nutrition, diet, and exercise. The shit I’ve got to get done today. The things I’m eager to do for myself once the needful tasks of the day are behind me. My garden. Work. Life. Love. I let my mind wander on for a few minutes of self-reflection before I get started on work in earnest. Sometimes self-reflection feels a little self-indulgent, but it is actually an important bit of self-care (at least for me); it tends to keep me “on my path”.

…What are you doing to care for yourself? What are you practicing?

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The clock ticks on. The rain continues to fall. I notice that it is time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, Brain Injury, breathe, gardening, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Practices, Spring, The Art of Being
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