Ms. Wonder

I saw her standing there in the lobby on my first day working at 1020 NASA Road 1 in Houston, and the way she looked was way beyond compare. She looked my way and our eyes meet for just one moment. That's all it took. I knew that before too long I'd fall in love with her and she'd become Ms. Wonder.

Paris of Troy must have felt the same when he first saw Helen.

Before I got the nerve to ask her out, I spent several lonely nights behind the wheel of my automobile, cruising around town and listening to the radio with no particular place to go.

The day came when I walked into her office and walked across the room to ask her for a date. My heart went BOOM when she said yes. After that first dinner, I was anxious to tell her how I felt and my heart went BOOM again when she told me she felt the same way. 

Cleopatra must have felt the same when Marc Antony first came calling.

Eventually, we drove past the metroplex and realized that Moonstruck was playing on the big screen. We parked with a few minutes to spare before the movie began and it was then that I stole a kiss. At that moment I knew that my lonely nights were in the past and that I'd never dance with anyone else again.

Napoleon must have felt the same when Josephine first smiled at him.

The night was still young and the moon was gold so we decided to take a stroll before the show began. Imagine my surprise when I couldn't unfasten my safety belt. And so we spent that first evening together, she sitting next to me at the wheel, cruising around town and listening to the radio with no particular place to go. 

We've been to many places together and made many happy memories. I wouldn't have it any other way. Tomorrow we will visit the districts of Wilmington, cruising around and listening to the radio with no particular place to go. 

Life is good, especially with Wonder in it.

Just Whistle!

I found Ms. Wonder sitting at a table outside Port City Cafe and I noticed right away that she'd made a pleasing choice. The table was shaded from the heat of the already high morning sun and a cooling sea breeze seemed intent on proving that the Universe was looking out for our best interests. All things considered, every prospect was pleasing.

I'd hoped to surprise her because she'd said goodbye to me only a few minutes before and had expected me to be on my way to Crystal Cove. But I'd changed my mind about that. The spirit was willing but the flesh was weak.

"Of all the coffee joints in all the towns in all the world and you have to walk into mine," she said. 

"Is it yours?" I said. "I didn't know you'd invested in the globally grown and Carolina roasted."

"Not mine in the sense that I own it, goofball; mine in the sense that it's the one I chose for the new blue wave smoothie. Delicious," she said, "Try it."

"Maybe later," I said. "Right now I need 16 ounces of steaming God's mercy."

"I see that you failed to leave for the Cove like you planned. Getting a late start?"

"Not going," I said.

She gave me one of her looks. It was the look she reserves for occasions when she's with someone who's just announced they've taken up raising Cocker Spaniels.

"Talking it out usually helps," she said. "Want to talk about it?"

"Thank you for the generous offer," I said, "but you've heard it before girlfriend; I feel that when I stopped to smell the roses, the number 14 bus moved on and left me behind. Now I'm living in the past and I feel that I don't belong here in this decade. Don't get me wrong; it's a beautiful world with all prospects pleasing--except man, of course. Humanity, Poopsie, that's one bad apple for you."

"I may be able to help with all that," she said. "May I offer a suggestion?"

"Please," Wonder, "that's why I sought you out. I knew you'd have something to make it all better. But if you're thinking of saying something along the lines of, don't worry be happy, just give it a miss for my sake."

 "The secret to living in the world you desire," she said, "is to give up fighting everything. Stop the negative criticism and sarcasm, and accept everything exactly as it comes to you."

"This I take it is the live life on life's terms strategy," I said and I meant for her to understand that I'd heard all this before and had no room left for more of it.

"Not exactly," she said. "It's like this: The organizing principle of the Universe is cause and effect. Your world, as it exists now is the result of your thoughts and beliefs. There's no point in trying to change the world or the people or the circumstances around you. The secret is to change your point of view and see the world differently. As soon as you do that, the world will automatically change. In quantum physics, it's called the observer effect."

"I know about the observer effect in q physics," I said, "and I'm sure that it doesn't apply to the principle of visualizing the world you want, and voila, there it is."

"Why not give it chance anyway? Many happy people use this technique every day. You've been struggling to change your life for quite a while now. It seems that Princess Amy has taken up long-term residence in your head even though she arrived without invitation."

She paused here and gave me a kind, encouraging look. That look worked wonders. The sunlight pierced the heavy fog inside my head and brightened up my outlook for the day. This is an example of those wonders that she mysteriously performs.

With the mood soaring somewhere above the clouds, I remembered something I'd read somewhere--something about people living in darkness. It went something like this, 'on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned.' Probably Shakespeare or Billy Joel maybe.

I must have been lost in thought because I remember the feeling that I was floating to the surface and realized that Ms. Wonder was still speaking.

 "You have nothing to lose if it doesn't work for you. Try a little experiment and see what happens."

"A little experiment, hunh?" I said. "Why not? Like you say, I have nothing to lose. Alright, Wonder, I'll give it my best effort; six weeks sounds like a fair amount of time. Yes, I feel good about it. I'll do it. Thanks for the suggestion."

"I'm happy to bring satisfaction," she said. "If I can be of further help, just whistle and I'll be there."

She turned as if to leave me and I expected her to blow away like the breeze but it didn't happen. As if in afterthought, she turned back to me and I noticed a twinkle in her eye that wasn't there a moment before. She looked into my eyes and a smile played across her face as she said, 

"You do know how to whistle, don't you?"

Well, we Genomes are quick to spot an opportunity to impress and entertain, and it was with me the work of an instant to put my two pinkies in my mouth and blow. I've learned that this maneuver is guaranteed to impress all bystanders.

It was a whistle that impressed the heck out of me but she was unmoved and perhaps a little disappointed.

"No," she said, "that's not the whistle I'm expecting. What will make me happy will be for you to simply put your lips together and blow."

Having said that she demonstrated the technique and produced the sweetest, most exquisite little note I've ever heard. She then made her exit and left me feeling that I was sitting on top of the world with a bluebird on my shoulder. I don't suppose that I'd ever come closer to singing "Zip a Dee Do Dah!"

The Invitation

The door to the sal de bains opened and she emerged like Venus rising from the sea. 

"Is it morning already?" I said. 

"It's afternoon," she said. "You were napping, remember?"

"Oh, yes, of course," I said. "But why is it so gray outside?"

"There was a brief shower," she said, "but it's hot outside and there's a heavy mist. Summertime at the coast is a season of sultry mistiness."

"A season of what?"

"Sultry mistiness," she said.

"Well, we are at the coast, of course," I said, "and I'm not yet attuned to the weather patterns, which are much different from that of the steppes of the Carolina Triangle. But I'll have to take your word for the sultry mistiness."

She shrugged but made not a peep.

"I'm moving slowly this afternoon, Poopsie. Sagi kept me up 'till all hours last night."

I referred to the cat; the caramel-colored tabby who is addicted to rolls of paper and sometimes finds dispensers of paper towels or toilet tissue to be so tempting as to overpower his will. He backslid last night. Not the first time.

"Let me get you one of my pick-me-ups," she said. "I have one prepared in the fridge."

After tossing the concoction down the hatch and recovering from the momentary feeling that the head was going to explode, I felt much better and ready for whatever the day might bring.

"Any recent developments to attend to?" I said.

"Lupe texted to say that you're needed in the Cove. She didn't offer any details as to why."

"They never do, Poopsie. They know I avoid the place due to my allergic reaction to it."

"You're allergic to Crystal Cove? she said.

"I am," I said. "The air there seems to be filled with some dark matter or other that clings to me until reaching critical mass when there's a loud pop and bits of the fabric of reality fill the air like confetti. And somehow, everyone points the finger at me."

The remark earned me another of her patented looks but I chose to ignore it. I felt a strong need for a seltzer to equalize the effect of that elixir of hers. These things lift one's spirits to the sticking point making an impression on the willpower that suggests anything is possible. But they also suggest that one has experienced the impossible. I prefer to dilute them as soon as they've worked their wonders.

When Reason was restored to her throne, I realized that as much as I wanted to ignore the summons, it came from my favorite denizen of Crystal Cove, Lupe, my god-niece. She sent the request and you know as well as I that I have no choice but to comply.

I'll leave tonight and contact you tomorrow when I learn the reason for the invitation. Something to set hell's foundations shaking I imagine.

Princess Amy's Sea Horse

"Have a nice morning?" she said to me as I entered the front door.

"Hardly," I said.

"Too bad," she said, "I thought you'd be cheered by a walk on this beautiful morning. Did something go wrong to spoil it?"

"Just Mabd up to her old tricks," I said.

"Mabd?" she said."

"One of the Morrigan sisters," I said. Immediately her twin eyebrows lifted and wrinkles appeared on her forehead. It was the look I'd expect if I'd told her I was giving up qigong. I thought it best to add some context. "Celtic goddess," I said. "A triune, in fact; Mabd, Macha, and Nemain. You probably haven't been introduced."

"No, I haven't," she said, and the way she said it didn't convince me that I'd clarified anything. But I thought it best to move on or risk losing control in the loose gravel and ending up a spoiler in the ditch.

"Perhaps an example will help," I said.

"Yes, let's have one," she said.

"Yesterday, as I drove down Ocean Highway to the post office listening to the radio station that plays 60's music..."

"You mean 60's on 6, the SiriusXM station."

"You're behind the times, Poopsie. It is, as you say, the SXM station, but it's Channel 73 now."

"Why did they change the channel?"

"Never mind," I said. "Let's stay on topic or I'll never get this story told. The problem is that after the recent change in the program schedule, the only song they play by Sonny and Cher is Baby Don't Go. I've heard it every day now for several days in a row and I can't over-stress that I don't like it."

"Oh, too bad," she said.

"You'd go that far, would you? No, that doesn't come close. Princess Amy was spot on when she said that with all the hit songs that fantastic duo had in the 60s, surely SXM could find room for some of the more popular hits."

"Princess Amy is in your head," she said.

"Right," I said, "she sits atop my medulla oblongata, next door to the hippocampus."

As I gave voice to those words, I couldn't help but wonder what that little glob of gray cells in my brain has in common with the hippo, which I'm told is a member of the horse family.

"My point is that we're talking about your limbic system, not some spoiled little princess, which is how you often refer to her," she said.

"But what's it have to do with horses?" I said.

"Spoiled little princess, my ass," said Amy. "I'll make her think spoiled princess."

"Calm down, Amy," I said.

"I am calm," said the Wonder, "and don't call me Amy and what the hell do you mean when you say horses? You're getting distracted."

Well, now I was distracted. I hadn't meant to speak to Amy aloud and I didn't want Wonder to know that I carry on conversations with the defendent, especially since it seems important to her, meaning Ms. Wonder not Amy, that I disavow any knowledge of the princess. It was clear that my next remarks should be carefully choosen. But Ms. Wonder spoke before I could get the words out.

"Amy is nothing more than a cute name for your limbic system," Wonder said. "It's fun, just like your lagoon creatures are fun, but they're pure fiction." 

"Drivel!," Amy said." I may be obliged to listen to drivel now and again but I'll be damned if I'm going to listen to pure bilge. Tell her to put a sock in it!"

I bit my tongue because the urge to calm Amy down combined with the urge to correct Ms. Wonder on the subject of lagoon creatures was great. I'm sure you understand. And yet, I knew that if I allowed myself to speak, I couldn't be sure who I'd address first and, well, read the paragraphs above one more time.

"Don't have anything to say? Does that mean that we're in agreement?"

Well, this was a fine kettle of fish, as Stan Lorell said. The Wonder was waiting for me to speak and had even gone so far as to prod a response from me. The problem with that, as I saw it, was that no matter what I might say, one of three different outcomes could result and two of those three outcomes were bad outcomes. Not good odds as outcomes go.

"Back to the subject," I said, "it's a sad song and I don't want to listen to sad songs. When I get a little sad, Amy...I mean my limbic system finds more sad stuff to pile on until my cup overfloweth."

"Oh, I know," she said, and I'm sorry you have to deal with that."

Did you notice that the atmosphere changed with her last remark? Sympathetic it seemed to me. This was my opportunity to get out of the ditch and back on the asphalt. I decided to press ahead.

"Yeah," I said, "and to get back to the subject at hand, this morning as I drove down Ocean Highway to the post office listening to the 60's station, guess what happened?

Sonny and Cher singing Baby Don't Go?

No, I said. It was Sonny and Cher singing Baby Come Back.

You see? Not only does the Universe mess with me, but she rubs my face in it. Baby Don't Go and then Baby Come Back. That's not a coincidence, Wonder, that's a cruel joke.

And you think it's proof that the Universe...

That's Mabd at work. She knows my whangee is warped and she wants to exploit it.

And Mabd is one of the Morgan Sisters?

Not Morgan Sisters, Poopsie. The Morgan Sisters are gospel singers and I'm told devote themselves solely to doing good in the world. No, it's not Morgan, it's The Morrigan Sisters, Nemain, Macha, and Mabd; sewer harpies, the lot of them!

What are sewer harpies?

Wonder! I said. Sewer harpies are loathsome, predatory women that dwell in the darkest, vilest depths of the human mind. At least that's my definition. You'll find something a little bit different in Greek mythology.

"Wait," she said, "are we discussing creatures of Greek mythology or Celtic? You're confusing me, but it doesn't matter because it's all nonsense. Mabd, or whoever, isn't actually hanging out in sewers waiting to mess up your day."

She took a deep breath and I hardly breathed. What happened next, I realized, would set the course for the rest of the day. Eventually, she began speaking again.

"There's a much better explanation for all this," she said. "Would you like to hear my thoughts?"

"Absolutely," I said, "but before you speak let me make you aware of the last bit of my story. Just so you have all the facts."

"By all means," she said. "Let's hear it."

"When I left the post office, I entered the turning lane on Ocean Highway and there was a small sign at the side of the road. That sign read...and you aren't going to believe it, but the sign read, Crawl Space Ninja. How can you argue with that?"

She gave me a look that wasn't one of her familiar patented looks. It might have been the look she would reserve for me if I'd told her that I was a crawl space ninja. It might have been one that I'd see if I told her I'd decided to raise cocker spaniels.

I waited for her to speak and I waited what surely was no more than a few seconds but seemed like several embarrassing minutes.

"Well," she said, "I suppose there's no arguing with that."

Without any further argument, she went upstairs and began her day's work listening to her personal playlist on Spotify. Amy and I continued our discussion of the SiriusXM program schedule. 

Later on I Googled hippocampus and learned that the original comes from Greek mythology and is described as the upper body of a horse with a lower body of a fish. Someone given the job of naming parts of the brain thought that that little globule was shaped like the mythological "sea horse."

That's right, sea horse. All of us have a sea horse in our brains. And I get sideways glances just because I have Princess Amy riding mine.

Are You Happy?

Ms. Wonder came downstairs for coffee after her early morning workout, as is her usual weekday practice. She gave me a look as she moved gracefully toward the aroma of espresso. I've seen that look before. It told me that she was aware of my need for human interaction but it would have to wait until she was caffeinated enough to endure it.

When she was finally seated at the table she took a deep relaxing breath and spoke. "You don't look very happy," she said. Not exactly the kind of remark I was hoping for but we take life as it comes.

"Why should I look happy?" I said. "It's early and I haven't yet walked under the pines of Brunswick."

"I know," she said, "but you'll be there very soon and that's something to look forward to, right?"

"Wonder," I said, "weekday mornings, I Walk. It's capitalized because it's a ritual. It's not a spiritual practice because my spirit deflated a long time ago and it lies in a heap on the floor of a closet at the back of my mind. But let's don't go there."

"Please," she said, and when she saw the look on my map in response to her 'please', she tried to correct her course, "Yes, let's don't," she said.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean by that," I said.

It was a lie, of course. You know as much as I, that the little whangee in my brain is bent and I often ramble on about anything and nothing. I'm sure this better half of mine considers it to be, less than the idle wind, which she respects not, to quote the Bard if it was the Bard. 

You probably share the feeling with her. Perfectly understandable, of course, and let me tell you that I appreciate you taking the time to visit this blog more than you can possibly imagine. I realize that you expect to hear a lot of rambling bilge and yet you visit anyway. I probably don't tell you often enough that I appreciate you being here with me.

"Around 9:00 am each morning," I realized that I'd gotten the advantage in the conversation and decided to capitalize on it, "I head to Brunswick Forest for my walk in the pines."

"Shinrin-yoku," she said and I was profoundly impressed!

"Poopsie!" I said, reverting to her pet name because I was so taken aback that she remembered the Japanese meditation technique that I teach in my classes at Straw Valley.

"Poopsie, I'm profoundly impressed! Is that the right word? I mean the adverb, 'profoundly.' Does it mean deeply, greatly impressed because that's what I am? And possibly a little bit flattered that you remembered."

"Well," she said and I knew right away, don't ask me how I knew, it's a gift possibly or a curse probably, but I knew that she was going to respond in the negative, and I felt that in the present situation, I sorely needed fewer and better negatives.

"Well," she said just as I mentioned above, "impressed is used as a present participle and that means..."

"Wup," I said, "thank you Poopsie for offering me the very best participle, whatever that is, in answer to my question but we're getting dangerously close to sentence conjugation, something that I got my fill of in Mr. Kier's advanced English class back in the day. What I should have said was, 'very impressed.'

She didn't say anything but performed a cute little shrug and a moue. Look it up. Those who know me best are aware that when faced with silence the Genome begins repeating whatever it is that Princess Amy is saying in his head. I did so now.

"My morning outing is more than a stroll, of course. Anytime I find myself underneath a leafy canopy, I qigong, and I qigong like the dickens if you want my opinion."

"I know," she said. "You do Fierce Qigong, the style you developed at the Qigong Wellness studio in Raleigh."

"Wonder!" I said, and I'm sure that I approached hypo-mania when I said, "I'm profoundly impressed!"

"Again?" she said.

I nodded vigorously and said, "I sometimes refer to my early morning practice as 'lost in let's remember' because I'm usually thinking about the good ole days--the way things used to be. 

Actually, it isn't so much the way things used to be as the people that used to be. I miss so many of the people I knew here on the planet who now sleep with the stars--and when I say people, I mean dogs and cats too." 

She chose not to reply once more and sipped her cappuccino instead. I interpreted this to mean that she'd granted me clearance for take0ff. 

"When the weather is clement my regalia includes my kung fu fighting cane, Qigong Wellness t-shirt, my taiji competition shoes, and a golf glove to keep the cane from slipping out of my hand and beaning someone who is in the park simply to air out the dog."

"Mmmm," she said. 

"Although I pretend to have some other purpose for being there, I'm actually there to spend a few minutes in meditation and to watch the dogs that are out for airing with their humans. The dogs always make me smile; the humans rarely."

"Are you happy when you're there, surrounded by the natural world and meditating on dogs?'

"I do not meditate on dogs, Poopsie. Meditation is not contemplation or rumination. Meditation is about nothing. But, the answer to your question is, Yes, watching the dogs cheers me up." 

"So you're happy there?" she said.

"That's a difficult question to answer," I said.

"No, it isn't," she said. "You're either happy or you're not."

I mused for a moment while contemplating her question. I was aware of a feeling of bright contentment as I thought about those dogs.

"Poopsie," I said. "My friend Doyle was there this morning walking his two dogs, Jake and Lily.  Lily found a stick somewhere on their outing and she carried it in her mouth as she moved with a step that was high, wide, and handsome if you get my meaning."

I paused once more in deep contemplation. It wasn't a planned pause. I suppose it's best described as being 'lost in let's remember.'

"Yes?" she said bringing me back to the surface.

"Lily looked so happy carrying that stick around. Poopsie, I don't think I've ever been that happy in my life."

"Maybe we should strive to be more like dogs," she said.

"Yes," I said, "I think we probably should. We could do much worse than being like dogs. And cats, of course. We mustn't forget the cats. Most of what I know I've learned from dogs and cats."

"Dogs and cats to be sure," she said.