This hit me instantly, which is how the best intuition does. "Connection". My mantra for last year was "expression", as I needed to get the creative ideas out of my head and into the light of day. For this year, I think Connection hit because the only way I can share all that Divinity inspires, is to connect more with people. I've co-created 365 Being with Cat for this purpose. Now we need to connect the beauty of this with the people who will enjoy it, learn from it, and be inspired by it to share their own creativity with the world.
In case you are wondering if you will connect with the content and syle of our publication, here's a sample page from this issue, with the type re-posted below it, for easier reading. Re-sizing the photos to open on the blog kinda kills the legibility.
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| One of the collaged pages from our winter issue. |
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What gift do you still remember from childhood? I can list a bunch, from the coveted roller skates, to the hand carved (by my brother) ballerina ornament/necklace. But the first to come to mind wasn’t nearly as costly as the skates, nor nearly so time consuming as the tiny dancer, though I still wear her often. It was just a completely unexpected, decadently abundant, sugar loaded childhood fantasy of a gift. It was a whole box of popcorn balls, just for me (there might have been a second box given to the family), from a neighbor who probably took more than the occasional turn as Santa in the Christmas parade, or at the Vet’s Club (we didn’t have a mall).
His name was Mr. Hacker, and he was a master of the delight of abundance, as well as a master at baking and candy making. When I was tiny, he gifted me two big old-fashioned tricycles, even though I had a little red one. This way, I had plenty to share with friends, he said.
When I was a little older, about six, I showed him the little china figures I had collected from Red Rose Tea. They weren’t as fancy as the beauties in his wife’s china cabinet, but I loved them. On my next birthday, his gift was a whole box of old china figurines, including the prettiest Japanese woman from Mrs. Hacker’s collection of several. In hindsight, I bet that one came home in a soldier’s luggage.
One time, he emptied two boxes of balls, collected during a stint as a street sweeper, over the fence, into the yard where several of us neighborhood kids were playing. We thought we were the luckiest kids on earth! I can still see him laughing at our astonished delight.
And then my family moved across town, and I rarely saw my old friend. That first year, however, he arrived on Christmas Eve with a boxful of handcrafted abundant love, cleverly disguised as popcorn balls. Yes, I got my elf training from the magical master himself, and that’s a gift I’ll never forget!
The recipe for Mr. Hacker's popcorn balls is in the bookazine, which is available at 365being.com .
Happy Solstice!
Dawn-Marie
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