Beginner's Heart

Beginner's Heart


the guy in the airport: a lesson in lagniappe ~

YouTube Preview Image

I travel to the  Portland, Oregon airport a lot. My older son & his wife live in Portland, my younger son in  Lake Oswego , and my best friend in Tillamook. It’s one of the nicer American airports I’ve been in: clean, full of light (even in the grey rain of Oregon). Great bookstores (Powell’s, of course), great coffee (Coffee People), nice people. And sometimes, a little bit of lagniappe.

Like the time I saw the Portland Gay Men’s Chorus. Waiting at my Southwest gate. And humming! Or the time I ran into a colleague from long ago & far away — more than 20 years ago, 1/2 way across the continent.

But my favourite is walking in to the Portland terminal, from check-in, to see a young man playing cello. Cello! Not a guitar, or even fiddle. But cello ~ warm breath of an instrument, dark honey in the ear.

I stood mesmerised for minutes, just listening. These days air travel is a royal pain, but the Portland airport is better than most. You can even do real shopping at either Powell’s or The Real Mother Goose. But that day, I just sat in a happy haze, slightly drunk on cello music. I think I even called someone, to share the serendipity.

The whole city is like that — full of happy accidents that you have to be there for. A new experiment (always successful) at the Farmer’s Market, in one of the bakery stalls. Beer flights in the hotel lobby, for free. Free hot chocolate samples at the chocolatier down the street from the hotel.  And always, music.

Lagniappe – that little bit extra you don’t expect. I’m taking that as today’s lesson in beginner’s heart. Give more than folks expect, and do it with a grin. Like the guy in the airport, playing his heart out. So gifted ~ and unexpected ~ that the old man also watching began to ghost-fret his own cello, eventually engaging the younger man in an animated conversation about technique, composers, and serendipity. And lagniappe.

 

 



Previous Posts

ritual and being our own best friends
So yes, I am the person who will make Việtnamese coffee w/ a stainless steel straw, bought specifically for the occasion. Because ritual rocks. Seriously: it offers us structure and space, time to sip a cold drink and pamper ourselves, as we would a loved one. A dear friend. Someone who needs a

posted 1:09:23pm Jul. 23, 2014 | read full post »

friendship, memory, and love
My mother-in-law has a friend! This may not sound like a big deal to many of you, but those of us w/ family in elder care KNOW it's bigger than it may sound. Nursing homes -- even good ones -- aren't conducive to happiness, sadly. My beloved mother-in-law was used to her own place, her own schedule

posted 1:18:07pm Jul. 22, 2014 | read full post »

time travel
Today over lunch, my husband & I went back in time. We don't do that very often -- it's boring for other folks, and it's just not really us. At least, not most of the time... But today for some reason, it jus

posted 9:07:23pm Jul. 20, 2014 | read full post »

where memories live
This is the tag on my father's blanket. The blanket he had long before I was born, probably bought before my mother reunited with him in the Phillipines, 13 months after they married. It's a softly worn (once scratchy) wool, something like the old Pendleton three-stripe blankets (and it has three

posted 4:02:09pm Jul. 19, 2014 | read full post »

wildflowers, watermelon, and summer negligence
This is part of what I did today. Certainly the better part. After an early morning -- spent w/ a lawyer, not every my favourite thing to do -- my sister called and needed help. She'd been left holding the bag (actually, 6 bags) for her HS reunion gig tonight, and hoped her big sis would help out

posted 7:43:37pm Jul. 18, 2014 | read full post »




Report as Inappropriate

You are reporting this content because it violates the Terms of Service.

All reported content is logged for investigation.