Tag Archives: inspiration

Everyday People: Sonia

Last week at work, a lady at one of the tables I was serving ordered a black cup of coffee. She introduced herself, said her name was Sonia. I noticed her prior to that when she walked into the restaurant. She was wearing an old fashioned cape-coat with a sparkly brooch affixed to the front of it — a woman of my own style. She appreciated my style as well, as she complimented my makeup and ruffle skirt. I walked away from the table delighted, because I love serving nice people. It turns a burger slingin’ day job into more than, well, a damn burger slingin’ day job. Anyways, when I arrived back at her table with the coffee after semi-rushing through the routine (saucer, napkin, spoon, cup, pour, serve), Sonia became overjoyed (bright eyes. grabby hands. child like.) at the sight of it:

“A cup and a saucer! A cup and a saucer!”

At first I almost brushed off what she was saying; it was busy and I was trying to attend to several other tables. But my better judgement told me to stop and smell the roses (coffee). She continued,

“I’m tired of these other places, all mug and no saucer! 

A good cup of coffee should be nurtured, not gulped…

A saucer …these things should be celebrated.”

Hell yeah, Sonia. Hell yeah. I am so with you right now.

In that moment, I don’t think I’d ever heard something so remarkable.

I get stressed out (a.lot.) because I know that what I’m doing in life right now — serving burgers at a local Portland restaurant– can’t be my definitive “purpose” on this planet, right? (That really wasn’t a question.) Sonia gave my personal meaning of “purpose” a fresh perspective…(Disclaimer: This may not be news to you, but it’s news to me, so let me have this moment.)

Purpose isn’t black and white. Purpose is universal. We are already contributing our “purpose” — in each moment. It’s who we IS. In that moment, Sonia’s purpose was speaking everyday wisdom. She may or may not have cared about the right person listening to or nurturing what she was saying. My purpose was/is being open to what that moment was/is offering. Slow down and listen to the words. Can this moment/experience nurture me right now, or in the future? It most certainly did. It renewed my faith in meaningful interactions with other people — everyday people.  This day job is just a day job slinging burgers only if I let it be. Genuine dialogue and experiences exist between perfect strangers all damn day. I want more.

Henceforth I shall be known (unto myself) as…..a servant of each moment.

Moments’ mistress? Mistress of the moment. (You cringed hard, din’cha?)

One or the other. And so it is.

I hope to see Sonia again, so I can thank her. And buy her a cup of coffee (with a saucer).

ImageCocoa & marshmallows: Celebrating the small things, for Sonia.

(The saucer was on the counter.)

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Notable Quotable


“There are no accidents. If it’s appeared on your life radar, this is why: to teach you that dreams come true; to reveal that you have the power to fix what’s broken and heal what hurts; to catapult you beyond seeing with just your physical senses; and to lift the veils that have kept you from seeing that you’re already the person you dreamed you’d become.”




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Note To Self

Danielle LaPorte, you so good.

If you aren’t privy to what this woman has to say, and/or you fancy yourself a fire lit under your ass from time to time, please read her blog. Or book. Or both. Seriously soul inspiring stuff. Easily digestible, always relatable.

Here are some of my favorite pieces that she’s penned. For you, for me, for today or whenever…

The Manifesto of Encouragement : “Someone is in profound pain, and a few months from now, they’ll be thriving like never before. They just can’t see it from where they’re at.”

This is Your Guarantee of Failure. Proceed Anyway. : “Shift your energy from protecting yourself from failure to squeezing the life out of life.”

In Honour of the Fact That Life is Short : “Do not wait for special occasions…make a point to be as encouraging as possible, as much as possible, to everyone possible”

15 Tips For Public Speaking : “Gratitude Is Always The Best Place To Begin”

The Grand Pep Talk: Decide To Rise : “Tell fear to fuck right the fuck off.”

Other tidbits that are easy on the ears:

“There’s nothing to lose when you fully show up.”

“Say thank you before tomorrow comes.”

“Sometimes, the most direct route to appreciation is through the darkness – even if it’s merely imagined. Facts, faced: even in our struggles, most of us are privileged. We have so many rights, must we exercise the right to complain?”

“Pretend that your neuroses are charming.”

word. up. 

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Bedtime Pastime : Inspirational Excerpts

An excerpt of Jazz by Toni Morrison
It’s nice when grown people whisper to each other under the covers.
Their ecstasy is more leaf-sigh than bray and the body is the vehicle, not the point.
They reach, grown people, for something beyond, way beyond and way, way down underneath tissue.
They are remembering while they whisper the carnival dolls they won and the Baltimore boats they never sailed on.
The pears they let hang on the limb because if they plucked them, they would be gone from there and who else would see that ripeness if they took it away for themselves?
How could anybody passing by see them and imagine for themselves what the flavor would be like?
Breathing and murmuring under covers both of them have washed and hung out on the line, in a bed they chose together and kept together nevermind one leg was propped on a 1916 dictionary, and the mattress, curved like a preacher’s palm asking for witnesses in His name’s sake, enclosed them each and every night and muffled their whispering, old-time love.
They are under the covers because they don’t have to look at themselves anymore; there is no stud’s eye, no chippie glance to undo them.
They are inward toward the other, bound and joined by carnival dolls and the steamers that sailed from ports they never saw.
That is what is beneath their undercover whispers.
From Gift From The Sea by Anne Morrow Lindbergh

When you love someone, you do not love them all the time, in exactly the same way, from moment to moment.

It is an impossibility. It is even a lie to pretend to. And yet this is exactly what most of us demand.

We have so little faith in the ebb and flow of life, of love, of relationships.

We leap at the flow of the tide and resist in terror its ebb. We are afraid it will never return. We insist on permanency, on duration, on continuity; when the only continuity possible, in life as in love, is in growth, in fluidity – in freedom, in the sense that the dancers are free, barely touching as they pass, but partners in the same pattern.

The only real security is not in owning or possessing, not in demanding or expecting, not in hoping, even. Security in a relationship lies neither in looking back to what was in nostalgia, nor forward to what it might be in dread or anticipation, but living in the present relationship and accepting it as it is now.

Relationships must be like islands, one must accept them for what they are here and now, within their limits – islands, surrounded and interrupted by the sea, and continually visited and abandoned by the tides.
That is so beautiful. I don’t know how this inspiration found me tonight, but I’ll take it.
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Small Victory Sunday

Being a perfectionist in every sense of the sick word, I often times find no greater joy than crossing items off a list. There doesn’t even have to be an actual list persay; even taking a mental inventory of completed tasks makes me feel satisfied. And when I’m finished, it feels like being rewarded with a little trophy for making the most of my day. (Whatever helps, right?!)

Cleaning is cathartic.  The idea for Small Victory Sunday came earlier this afternoon as I noticed the amount of  things I had accomplished around the house. While they were simple everyday chores like scrubbing sinks and sorting dry-cleaning, I relished in the fact that I had gotten so much done and that even though these accomplishments were not grand by any means, in sum they were something.

Inspiration comes from the very back of my brain, and as more things occupy that space, I feel further away from creative potential. When I sat down to write this, I reflected on how similar my mind felt to the corners in the house: Clean and ready for a fresh start. Clearing out the physical clutter had totally compartmentalized the mental debris that had been accumulating like a cobweb in my noggin.  

It feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. The house is spotless, my mind is clear. I feel ready for the coming week. And because of that, I found myself swimming in a wealth of inspiration that allowed these thoughts to pour effortlessly through my fingers — and that is the small victory worth celebrating.

The Perfect Day

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