Daily Archives: August 19, 2009

Combine Elements


disparate |ˈdispərit; diˈsparit|


essentially different in kind; not allowing comparison : they inhabit disparate worlds of thought.

• containing elements very different from one another : a culturally disparate country.

connection |kəˈnek sh ən| ( Brit. also connexion)


1 a relationship in which a person, thing, or idea is linked or associated with something else

I have begun noticing how characters connect, how things in this life connect, how in fact, we are all connected in some small way.  You know that theory of six degrees of separation, the one that supposes that we are all connected to each other, by at the most, six degrees?  We can choose to believe that we are all connected or that we are all disconnected. I choose to believe the former.  There have been too many instances of serendipity in my life lately, messages in the form of positive email reminders that the universe is basically there to support us if we let it.  We often wonder why things happen the way that they do, not always for our ease or comfort, but perhaps for the better in the long run, perhaps there is guidance, or intervention or some bigger plan that we are only able to become aware of as we travel down our path.

My greatest joy is connecting.  Connecting to family, friends, my students, their parents, and my community.  Through these connections I have had some amazing experiences, the latest being my introduction and immersion into the art world, which has in turn, inspired my writing.  Today was a visit to the LA Family Housing family shelter for the monthly tile painting class taught and chaperoned by my friend Karen and facilitated by her husband Barry.  I planned fun activities for the children of the participants and was assisted by my adoptive moms Helen and Libby while my husband Gary engaged the block builders and took photos of their creations.  We talked with the children, read stories, played with blocks, made sticker pictures and guided coloring, but the most important part was the talking, the connecting.  Looking into the eyes of a child who might not have many opportunities to have one-to-one contact with a grown up who is there simply to listen without judgment and without expectation.  An adult who can chuckle at the cuteness of a 3-year-old building with blocks, or admire the scribbling a child imagines to be a picture and takes pleasure in serving juice, pretzels and bananas, because we really connect through our senses, through our smiles and with the realization that we all really have more to share and more in common than our differences.


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