Artist, designer and illustrator Will Bryant channels the exuberance and spirit of the very best pop inspirations to earn this Dazzler of the Day post. With a Masters of Fine Arts from Portland State University, Bryant uses his talent and skill to embody the dreams of his clients, while honing his own drawing, printmaking, painting and sculpture work. Visit his enchanting website here.
The kitchen day started in decidedly inauspicious fashion. After loosely reading of some online hoax of hard-boiling an egg in the microwave, I decided to try it, figuring that it couldn’t explode in thirty or forty seconds, the prescribed length to make it happen. And for that first attempt, it did not explode. In fact, as I peeled it open, it hadn’t even cooked anything other than the shell, and the raw egg spilled into the garbage, where it belonged. Undaunted – an attitude that I made a promise to hold throughout whatever happened in the kitchen that day – I tried again, popping another egg into a bowl and covering it with a paper towel. Yes, a paper towel. And just a paper towel. Since thirty seconds didn’t do anything the first time, I let it whirl for a full minute.
And in the event that anyone was contemplating this, don’t: an egg will explode in the microwave in less than sixty seconds. Somewhere around the 45 second mark, a muted explosion startled me from my motions by the oven. I knew what had happened instantly and was afraid to look. Andy, somehow, hadn’t been signaled by the noise, as I peeked in to see him watching television, unaffected. Once I got most of the mess cleaned up, I yelled in to him that it wasn’t possible to hardball an egg in the microwave, just so he knew.
“You’re kidding me, right?” he asked.
“No, you really can’t. It doesn’t work. It exploded.”
And then Andy exploded in laughter.
Luckily, I didn’t need a hard-boiled egg for the ensaymada recipe I had planned on making. While Suzie has been nudging me to try baking some buns, such as the exquisite lemon cardamom buns she made for a brunch many moons ago, I’ve usually shied away from it (except in this one surprisingly successful instance). The idea of dough – and the rising and cutting and rolling out of said dough – frightened me. That was it – I was afraid. While Suzie didn’t trust the yeast part of the process, afraid it wouldn’t rise, I was afraid of the consistency and stickiness and stubbornness of the dough. When I can’t get something off my hands, I get easily annoyed.
On this day, however, Suzie and I texted our new mantra when it came to being afraid: fuck it. (I think it was something we said in relation to something completely different, but it has become a catch-phrase we use for everything, including the hesitation of a yeast-based dough.) I went into the kitchen with an open mind and the intention to enjoy the process of making dough, no matter how challenging or disappointing it might be. Considering the planned recipe, I’m rather surprised I was able to keep that mindset.
Ever since visiting the Philippines in 1997, I’ve been a fan of ensaymada. It was what I had for breakfast most days there – a seemingly simple light and flaky roll, topped with a sweet butter topping and a layer of shredded cheese. Yes, cheese, which sounds weird, but ends up working better than I ever believed it could. When I returned home, I’d occasionally pick up some plastic-wrapped ensaymada rolls every few months to get my fix, and then they stopped being available at the local Asian markets. Looking online, I found a couple of recipes for how to make it, and with some brioche baking forms, a new packet of yeast, and an emboldened spirit of adventure and fun in the kitchen, I got to work with Suzie’s encouragement.
For that first attempt, I used the recipe found here from Foxy Folksy. I liked the way the dough worked, but in my haste and enjoyment of the process, I was less careful than I usually am, forgetting the salt (oops!) and then neglecting the second rise (double oops!) and it turns out the second rise is key to the light and fluffy consistency that is essential to ensaymada. Those first rolls went into the oven uprisen and dense, and when they didn’t puff up to triple their size, I felt a tinge of disappointment, but went on undaunted. That was, after all, the theme of the day. And since I’d only put in half of the dough, I inadvertently gave time for the second half to rise a bit. When that batch went in, they were serviceable. Not great, but decent enough, and Suzie came by to try it out. The flavor was there, even if the consistency was not. We sat on the attic floor, surrounded by candles and light, and had a moment of hygge with this first try at ensaymada. Denmark and the Philippines were colliding in Loudonville, New York, while old friends met for a new experience 46 years into this life.
The next day, fortified by a new confidence in dough, I tried a different ensaymada recipe from Riverten Kitchen. This time I added the salt, and did the second rise properly, and they turned out much better. I’m still going to experiment a bit more to get that chewy yet flakey consistency, but these are pretty good, and the fear of dough has been conquered.
A beautiful new practice to see us through the winter.
Over the years, I’ve had many moments of being misunderstood. It’s never bothered me much, as many of those misunderstandings lent an armor of protection to the way I was perceived. As such, I let them accumulate and become part of the person I wanted the world to see. Yet there were times when I was genuinely perceived as mean, either in my delivery, or in what I was actually saying and feeling, and I can’t pretend it was always a misunderstanding. Most of us have times when we let ourselves down, when we allow a bit of meanness and pettiness to creep into the best of intentions, when we wish we’d conveyed a thought or feeling in a kinder or less blunt manner, when we simply could have and should have been better but, whether from hurt or pain or sadness or exasperation, we chose a way that was less. I thought of those moments as I read this passage from ‘The Book of Hygge’ by Louisa Thomsen Brits:
“Like growing up with love, if we are fortunate enough to be exposed to hygge for long enough, it changes life. The spirit of hygge is spread by warm-heartedness and generosity. We can light a thousand candles, but the flame of hygge is easily extinguished by a mean spirit. If the concept of hygge exists outside the realm of our experience, that doesn’t mean it will always be unavailable. It only takes one match or a single kind gesture to illuminate the dark.” ~ Louisa Thomsen Brits
While most books slip in and out of my head these days without making much of an impression, this sentence struck me and has haunted me ever since reading it for the first time: We can light a thousand candles, but the flame of hygge is easily extinguished by a mean spirit.
The idea that I could have ever been that mean spirit, whether intended or unintended, is a deeply disturbing realization, but one that I need to confront, and one that will prove helpful in confronting. It reminds me of the humility and open-mindedness needed to continue on this journey. It reminds me that I’m still just a beginner when it comes to mindfulness and meditation. Mostly, it reminds me to forgive and to be kind – not only to others but to myself.
And so, last Saturday night, I lit a tray of candles and read a bit more on meditation and mindfulness. I reached out to a few friends and make loose and tentative plans for the future, something we don’t do much anymore in the world of COVID, but something that feels good to do, with the caveat that anything can happen. Things to look forward to, even if some never come to fruition. It is a healthier frame of mind, and an indication that everything we have learned in the last two years has not been for naught.
“The salient feature of hygge is the atmosphere of warm and relaxed enjoyment of the moment which it allows. While it is nurtured by thoughtfulness and mutual involvement, hygge is informal and unrestrained.” ~ Judith Friedman Hansen
The whistle of a tea kettle.
The scampering footfalls of a squirrel on the roof.
The moan of a winter wind rattling the rafters.
These are the sounds of the season, and the sounds of this weekend. A storm brushes by, who can tell how close or how far until it happens, and Mercury is in retrograde motion until next week. A few more days of heightened vigilance and extra-careful movements.
My friend Sherri gave me a calendar of when Mercury would be in retrograde for the next year, and this first stretch of madness has been a trying one, mostly at work. As soon as the workday was done, I’d arrive home and immediately settle into a daily meditation, sitting lotus-style beside a smoking stick of Palo Santo and decompressing from whatever the day had delivered. It was a necessary demarcation between the stresses of the world and the comfort of home, and a reminder of how helpful meditation can be, especially in the last days of January – the last days of Mercury wreaking its havoc for this cycle.
Outside the window of the attic, a squirrel calls to me from the pine tree. I open the window for a brief moment to listen to its chatter, to hear the winter and take it in, because I know it’s important – as important as the same scene in summer, when the land is green and lush and soft. And we will love it more then because of now.
“This is the real secret of life – to be completely engaged with what you are doing in the here and now. And instead of calling it work, realize it is play.” ~ Alan Watts
Any Alan who spells their name the right way is a good Alan as far as I’m concerned, so Alan Watts gets due homage with this quote, which dovetails neatly with the meditation and mindfulness practices that inform my life right now. Re-framing one’s life takes time and effort, but it’s a way of rectifying the past while making peace with it, honoring its place while moving onward. It is sometimes a huge lift – re-shifting things that have settled over forty plus years is no quick or easy task usually, but when the mind is ready, it is happily possible, and the rest of the world seems to aid in every step along the way.
Seeing the work of a day as a form of play recalls the simple lessons of Mary Poppins, long and sadly forgotten by those of us well into our adulthood. “In every job that must be done there is an element of fun. You find the fun and – SNAP! – the job’s a game!”
Even better, every task you undertake becomes a piece of cake, and in these parts cake is almighty.
On that note, ‘A Spoonful of Sugar‘ gets the full-on and proper Lawrence Welk treatment. Feel free to clap along. (I absolutely adore a clap-audience moment as Suzie well knows.)
‘Comparison is the thief of joy.’
Sometimes I would do best to heed my own words of advice, in this case an ancient adage of how comparing yourself to others robs you of joy and happiness. This has been proven true numerous times, and is in fact one of the tenets of ‘The Science of Well-Being’ course so popular at Yale University. The idea is that whenever we compare ourselves to others, we lose a bit of happiness and joy. There is always going to be somewhere who has more, who is prettier, who is smarter, who is richer, who is luckier, who is fill-in-the-blankier. I forgot that when I posted one of my first Wordle results the other day. I had guess it on the second try, after only getting one correct letter on the first attempt. (If you don’t know Wordle and you like words, look into it – it’s fun, and it only happens once a day so it’s not a huge time hog.) I’d seen others post similar things, and a guess on a second try is always impressive. Yet, what purpose did my posting it serve? The app itself makes it easy, and actually encourages sharing of results. It’s right there when you finish – one simple button to share to FaceBook or Twitter or whatever outlet you deem worthy. And so many of us do share, not always in an effort to impress, but sometimes simply to share. Always, though, it invites comparison, and here’s where I failed.
My intent was to impress, to wow my friends with what was essentially a lucky guess. Taking credit for luck is risky business at best, shady and deceptive at worst. And comparison is, indeed, the thief of joy. That’s a hard practice to overcome as it’s so deeply entrenched in the social media world. It’s why I don’t favor Instagram and FaceBook as much anymore – they are constantly inviting us to compare ourselves with other people and other accounts – accounts with professional people posting professional photos and an advertising agenda that will always make the rest of us commoners feel inadequate or less-than someone else.
I’m good at feeling happiness and joy for people I know well – my friends and family who post their vacations or celebrations or 2/6 Wordles – but it’s all the ‘recommended’ strangers and accounts that portray a perfection of life that is unattainable and unrealistic that get me vexed and bothered. Fortunately, that vexation and annoyance is entirely at my control as I can simply ignore and not scroll down. Such discipline is easier said than done, and often the best way to deal with any envy that results is to remind myself of that introductory mantra: comparison is the thief of joy.
And so I’m working to navigate the online world with better intents and a reminder to enjoy without comparing, to feel inspired without feeling envious, and mostly to get off the damn phone and simply enjoy my own rich and wonderful life.
My current love-fest for Heather Small may have been sparked by the lovingly way she is celebrated throughout the BBS series ‘Miranda’, but my appreciation for her powerhouse vocals goes way back to the 90’s, when I was young gay guy coming of age just as her work in M People left such indelible anthems as ‘Moving On Up’ and ‘Open Your Heart’. They formed the backdrop to a few heady retail years in Boston – which I still remember fondly. Her hit song ‘Proud’ took her further into world domination, and is always worth a listen. She earns her first Dazzler of the Day honor with this post.
“A happy life must be to a great extent a quiet life, for it is only in an atmosphere of quiet that true joy can live.” ~ Bertrand Russell
The universe will tell you whether or not you’re on the right path, but it doesn’t always signal loudly or blatantly. It requires stillness and quiet and, though it seems counterintuitive, a condition of not being hyper-focused or aware. A lighter touch, if you will, sprinkled with the nonchalance to be able to exist without forcing anything. I’ve always been able to follow those signs, however, even if my heart was so often and otherwise a turbulent riot, as Fitzgerald once put it. Though the signs may not be as glaring or blaring as we might like for easy notice, they are there if we know how to look for them, if we allow ourselves to pay attention to the little things that make all the difference. A case of this is my recent foray and obsession with the notion of hygge, which dovetails in ideal alignment with the idea of mindfulness.
“It must be emphasized that hygge entails commitment to the present moment and a readiness to set distractions aside.” ~ Judith Friedman Hansen
In the above quote, hygge is posited to have the very same requirements for mindfulness. It’s about committing to the present moment, putting distractions to the side, and focusing on the immediate here and now.
The flickering candle flames that dance and wave like little oceans of light.
The curling trails of water vapor rising from a cup of hot tea.
The sound of your own breathing as you wait for the tea to cool, and the way you can deepen and lengthen it, more fully inhabiting the moment and pushing other worries and concern into the distance.
It’s the sense of stillness and quiet when you shut out the rest of the world, silencing phones and notifications and computer screens. It’s the initial thoughts of what you need to remember for work the next day, or what you need to pick up from the market that night, or what you need to check on once you finish this cup of tea. And it’s letting them go so you can sip and come back to yourself so you can be better and calmer and kinder when you eventually end up getting to all of those responsibilities.
This is the winter where hygge and mindfulness meet in cozy and calm connection, and it’s a meeting that will go on in magnificence the year round.
Returning to Warner Brothers, Madonna seems to be making a dance retrospective her first project if we are to piece together her otherwise nonsensical Instagram and social media posts of late. She’s been hinting at a non-stop mix of her 50 #1 Dance Hits, which sounds more like a throwaway promo track for some greatest hits album. Ho-hum, but I’ll take it as we haven’t had any music from her since 2019’s ‘Madame X’ opus. In the meantime, let’s look back at some classic Madonna moments to remind us of the power and say she once held.
‘Like A Prayer‘ – the majesty and might… she took us there.
‘Vogue‘ – strike a pose, there’s nothing to it.
‘Express Yourself’ – come on girls, do you believe in love?
‘Live to Tell’ – will I ever have the chance again?
‘Deeper and Deeper’ – think with your heart not with your head.
‘Ray of Light‘ – someone else will be there through the endless years.
‘Music‘ – do you like to boogie woogie?
Growing up and having an old soul made me lean into the aging process, and I couldn’t wait to get older when I was a kid. To this day, I remember the anger and frustration I felt when I saw the sign at the Boston Copley Marriott’s second floor lounge area – a raised section that was the epitome of sophistication to a kid like me – that said in no uncertain terms, ‘No one under the age of 14 allowed after 8 PM.’ I think I was twelve or thirteen when I saw it, just out of reach, and from that moment forward all I wanted was to be older.
Things have changed over the years, and I figured there would come a day when I wished I was younger, but for the most part I don’t mind getting older. My friend Kevin remarked on FaceBook that I was one of the people he worried most about as far as the aging process went, and on social media and this blog it makes some sense. Visuals and superficial stuff has always been very important to the online version I present to the world. Reality, thankfully, is much different from that, however, and I’ve happily grown into the latter half of my 40’s without much chagrin or angst.
Here’s a song sung by the incomparable Catherine Russell that would have been perfectly at home in the elegant lounge that didn’t permit anyone under fourteen (and let’s face it, I’d be more than happy to see that sign today). Things do change…
As for myself, and currently ensconced well within middle-age, with gray and silver hair streaming out of my head, wrinkles crinkling up the corners of my eyes, and rings like the inside of a tree trunk lining my neck, I find myself more amused and interested by the way the body ages than dismayed or resistant to it.
Might this be wishful thinking on my part, and an effort to will myself into easy acceptance? Perhaps there’s some of that. I miss the way youth allowed the body so much more forgiveness and room for errors. I miss not having to take blood pressure pills and being able to eat anything and everything in sight and not going up a size in pants the next month. I miss not seeing the world without bifocals and contacts and reading glasses. But in other ways I’m a bit healthier and better. I don’t miss being hungover or blurry from a night of too much drinking. I don’t miss the mental uncertainty of being young and dumb. I don’t miss the lactose intolerance of childhood or the debilitating allergies of my teens. The body learns and grows and progresses in ways good and bad.
It may be the coldest week of the year (and the universe doesn’t have to keep breaking the record to prove me wrong) but inside the windows of our cozy home, there were the first signs of the spring to come, and the longer days already moving in the right direction. These are photos of our ZZ plant and a fern – both of which are sending out new shoots to indicate that their growing season is back in effect.
While the real thing is still a long way off, we are well over a month into winter, meaning we’ve already finished a third of it up. ‘Well begun is half done,’ or some such nonsense, and when you’re in the midst of winter, you’ll hang onto the lamest catchphrases if they give the slightest bit of hope, even if you have no idea how to use them correctly.
“It isn’t easy in our complicated world to enjoy the pleasures of ordinary living – children, family, neighborhood, nature, walking, gathering, eating together. I imagine life not as an ambitious quest, but as an anti-quest, a search for the ordinary and a cultivation of the unexceptional.” ~ Thomas Moore
The happiest people often lead the simplest lives, and such a state is what I strive to achieve. One of the common components in the many studies of how to find happiness is the thread of meditation and mindfulness that runs through the practices of so many who seem to have found a sense of peace and calm in their lives. Part of that is in finding the enjoyment in the misunderstood-as-mundane moments of life.
Take, for instance, the reading glasses pictured here. A whimsical lark of a purchase – is there anything more dreadfully dull as having to buy and wear reading glasses? – I made the most of it and found something in a fun color and pattern. More than that, however, is the appreciation for what they do for me. When I slip them on, the words on the page are suddenly easy to see again, and reading becomes the joy that was slipping away from me in my stubbornness not to be bothered with glasses anymore. There, in that one simple and mundane act of putting on reading glasses, I cherished and gave gratitude for the sight and pleasure it gave me. It’s a small ritual that will now trigger a frisson of joy every time it happens.
“The true secret of happiness lies in taking a genuine interest in all the details of daily life.” ~ William Morris
Take also this book I just finished, ‘The Book of Hygge’ by Louisa Thomsen Brits. A couple of years ago I’d never even heard of hygge. Suzie kept its charms to herself without sharing such a wonderful concept with the rest of us, but like the ideas of the floating world, it called to me from a deeper level, and I began my investigative journey. That’s led me to all sorts of literature and writing on the subject of hygge, and it turns out much of it aligns with the principles of meditation and mindfulness – an embracing of the present moment, a savoring of the hour and pleasures at hand, and a way of pushing distractions out of the forefront of the mind in service of clarity and calm.
“Every repast can have soul and can be enchanting; it only asks for a small degree of mindfulness and a habit of doing things with care and imagination.” ~ Thomas Moore
Another frigid work-week began this morning, but I switched things up and had a moment of calm and peace before posting this recap. It’s a trick to ease more gently into the weekday drudge. But now we can’t postpone a moment longer, so let’s get to the weekly recap.
It began with a celebration for Mom’s birthday, to the extent that anyone celebrates anything these days.
Karel Barnoski came out with a new song and video, ‘November Moon’, that was simply exquisite.
To keep you warm: some cozy reading.
This website is now nineteen years old. Holy shit.
The saddest thing about therapy is this…
A shitty start to the day, courtesy of Mercury in retrograde.
Some of us are fragile blooms.
Monday morning matcha to ease into the work-week.
Dazzlers of the Day included Karel Barnoski, Summer Shapiro, Gabriella Papadakis and Guillaume Cizeron, and Tom Holland.
We begin the work week not with a busy recap of all that came before, but with this simple bit of music and a few morning images of matcha to gradually and gratefully ease into the Monday morning at hand. We will return to our traditional recap a little later if you want to revisit some pretty marvelous posts, but this feels right for now. With Mercury in retrograde, it may be wise to go gentle on ourselves in the next couple of weeks, being mindful and present and forgiving with whatever foibles wait around the corner.
The music here is tranquil and calming, and it lasts for an hour, which provides ample time to simply exist – breathing in and out, slowly deepening and elongating the breath where it’s still comfortable, but perhaps a little calmer. It need not be a formal, full-fledged meditation – it’s just a method of managing a Monday morning.
A cup of matcha, warm and prepared with careful consideration, is another way to enter the week with quiet assurance and deliberate grace. When the day begins in contemplative form, when we start any endeavor coming from a place of peace and calm, such intention informs whatever may follow. We won’t always have control over it – most days we don’t have much control over anything – and the freedom in that realization lightens every burden.
For now, it is enough to put a kettle on the stove and sit in stillness while the water takes its time to boil. It will not be rushed, and it will take as long as its going to take. Some days when the kettle is full and the water begins at an icy temperature, it may take longer than usual. Other days, when there is just a small amount of water left, when it may be warm from someone boiling it not an hour before, it may take less.
Sit with your cup of tea or coffee. Sit with your thoughts, whatever they may be.
It is the hardest thing to do in an age where constant stimulation and the bombardment of all our senses is thrust upon us the minute we start scrolling through our phone or turning on the computer. Pause and reflect before that happens. Begin in the place where you want to end up.
Here there is peace, and you may embrace it. At the very start of the day, before anyone else is up, before the world has had a chance to impart its madness, take this moment to set your daily intention.
My childhood home in Amsterdam, NY has always felt like a safe haven when the rest of the world roiled with the ravages of winter. Its stalwart white brick foundation held strong against rushing wind and swirling snow, and when the days turned sunnier and kinder, the windows let in the light to make its daily journey through the rooms. On a recent day with Dad, giving my Mom a break in which to run errands and enjoy a meditative bath, I took in the spirit of hygge that presented itself – the very essence of the concept – built on the warmth and connection of love between family.
“To be in a situation characterized by hygge is to be in a state of pleasant well-being and security, with a relaxed frame of mind and an open enjoyment of the immediate situation in all its small pleasures. It is a state one achieves most often with close members of one’s social network–with one’s family, extended family, and friends.” ~ Judith Friedman Hansen
Though the day was frigid outside, inside the rooms felt warmed by memories old and new, by the mere approximation of my parents, by all that we’d shared in this space. Dad may not be as engaged as he once was, but there were still moments of connection, glimmers of recognition, and remembered photos of loved ones from the past.
“Home is an emotional state, a place in the imagination where feelings of security, belonging, placement, family, protection, memory, and personal history abide.” ~ Thomas Moore
Dad looked through some photo books I’d made, and then we had some lunch and he took a nap. While he slept, I delved back into ‘The Book of Hygge’ by Louisa Thomsen Brits.
“Hygge is a theme that can be lived in the middle of all the other elements of an engaged life. It’s not the absence of challenge or discomfort but a way of dealing with them. When we hygger we are not ignoring difficulty but putting it down for a while. Pain and shadow still exist on the periphery of an experience of hygge. We acknowledge their presence and prepare ourselves to address them by committing ourselves to the pleasures of the present moment, in order to regain momentum and cope with life with equanimity in the future.” ~ Louisa Thomsen Brits
It was pleasant being there with him. It reminded me that the greatest gift we can give each other is not found in expensive material possessions or grand, dramatic gestures – it is in our company. Simply being with a loved one, inhabiting the same place and time, is a gift. I did not take that for granted, and I leaned into the day forging a new memory to go with all the other happy ones we’d already made over the years.
“It must be emphasized that hygge entails commitment to the present moment and a readiness to set distractions aside.” ~ Judith Friedman Hansen
Outside, in the brutal cold, a small opening in the little koi pond outside the window remained unfrozen for the fish below. It was difficult to imagine summer at such a point, but we knew it was waiting there – waiting for the winter to relent, waiting for the spring to lead the way. And rather than worry or rush the day away in the hope of bringing warmer weather sooner, I slowed down enough to breathe and be present. Taking it all in, I felt the profound gratitude of being there with Dad.
“Hygge is evoked in situations where there is nothing to accomplish but letting go to the present moment in a way that’s more aligned to simple pleasure than deep reflection. Experiencing a sense of presence and belonging is challenging when we’re stressed or distracted. Hygge isn’t the complete absence of the usual demands of a fully engaged human life, but it is facilitated by a willingness to put down our problems and abandon our cares for a while.” ~ Louisa Thomsen Brits
The warmth and coziness I felt on one of the coldest days of the year wasn’t because of the candles or the heavy sweater or the blankets on hand in every room. It wasn’t found in a cup of tea or a comforting book. It came from a deeper place of hygge, a place of love and goodness and the unbreakable bond of family. On this quiet day that took its gentle meandering journey from morning to afternoon, my Dad and I moved through winter together.
“At the heart of hygge is a willingness to set aside time for simply being with people and, ideally, having all the time in the world for them. Hygge is a vehicle for showing that we care. It’s a way of paying attention to our children or partners and friends in the messy reality of the here and now, and putting down the distractions that pull us in different directions. So many of us are drawn to a virtual world of connectivity. Hygge isn’t about a life without technology, but it asks us to balance our commitments and remember the value of human interaction, conversation, and physical intimacy. It liberates us to fully inhabit the moment without feeling compelled to record it.” ~ Louisa Thomsen Brits
