Friluftsliv, a Norwegian word meaning “free air life” or “open air living”, expresses the idea that extended time spent outdoors is healthy for both body and mind  – especially in the cold.
Friluftsliv is not about suffering; it is about bundling up to celebrate the beauties of nature in spite of, or even because of, inclement weather.
Two things are needed for Friluftsliv:
1. proper protective clothing… Norwegians say: “There is no bad weather, just bad clothing”* (in Norwegian it rhymes),
and
2. a positive attitude.
It can mean joyfully hiking for miles through the snow, but it can also mean a pleasant stroll through a city park or a winter picnic.
There is even a word, utepils, for drinking a beer outdoors.
Psychologists rank the Norwegians among the happiest people on Earth.
Maybe they’re on to something.

*Det finnes ikke dårlig vær, bare dårlig klær.

At age 70 I carry a number of scars.
They are not blemishes; they are proof that I have lived and worked and played hard.
Too often we hide our scars, thinking that they are ugly.
Consider the ancient Japanese art of kintsugi which is repairing broken ceramics, not with glue, but with lacquer mixed with gold.
Cracks are not concealed but highlighted by the bright metal.
Kintsugi expresses an acceptance of breakage and repair as natural parts of the history of an object… or a person.

“There is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in…” — Leonard Cohen, Anthem

January 30 in Brazil marks the Dia da Saudade, a day for indulging in the painful sweetness of remembered joys now lost forever.
The Portuguese word “saudade” names the bittersweet sadness of longing for people and places that live only in our memory.
Writer Manuel de Melo describes saudade as “a pleasure you suffer, an ailment you enjoy.”
Think: thumbing through photos of loved ones who have died, that feeling of loss that becomes more sweet than bitter as time passes.
We see so much loss lately: loss of life, loss of “normal” life, loss of any sense of stability… so much grief needing to be expressed.
Recent research reveals that those who embrace grief report a higher level of happiness than those who fight or bury their grief.
It may seem contradictory that exploring the depths of sadness can bring higher levels of happiness… but it would truly be sad if you never find out because you never try it.
Happiness does not just happen!

This is a fruit that can’t make up its mind.
It’s sweet and it’s sour at the very same time.
The kumquat may teach us, in one tasty bite,
The savor of knowing both darkness and light.

After hearing that I have behaved very differently at different times of my life, a friend asked: “So, what DO you call yourself?”
Disliking labels, I replied: “I call myself Julie Ford.”
Upon further reflection, I have decided that there is one label I do like.
I am a swimmer of springs.
Because I am able and willing to swim out over springheads with a mask and snorkel, I have seen sights that very few people will ever see.
One could do worse than to be a swimmer of springs.

Poe Spring, a Gilchrist county park near High Springs FL, is open again!
Some years ago a hurricane blew big trees down which smashed the boardwalk to the spring, but the repairs are finally done.
Poe is a secluded spring, reachable by a boardwalk through the cypress wetlands, and is about half a mile from the parking area
There is a bath house with showers near the spring pool, and lots of picnic tables scattered among the trees.
At the end of a short spring run the Santa Fe River flows by peacefully.
Kudos to Gilchrist county for restoring access to this beautiful natural wonder!

SOS = Save Our Springs

Florida’s springs are miraculous places, liminal spaces, where the depths of the Earth open wide and water gushes forth from the rock.
Clean.
Clear.
72 degrees Fahrenheit… 24/7, 365.
A miracle of consistency in a changing world.

What is “Very Valdosta”?
Contrary to what the billboards would have you believe “Very Valdosta” is NOT going wild at a remotely managed amusement park, nor is it tempting your taste buds at dozens of eateries most of which are owned by global corporations
As far as I am concerned “Very Valdosta” is spending an afternoon downtown at a locally owned coffee shop, listening to live music played by local musicians.
Congratulations to GÜD Coffee in their new space on the corner of Central & Patterson (formerly Hildegard’s)… and my thanks for hosting two of my favorite musicians, Dabbit Nabbit (David Rodock) and Murray the K (Murray Rivette).
Dabbit Nabbit has played with various combinations of local musicians, always with self-effacing excellence. His guitar skills and mellow voice are well suited to the coffee shop ambience.
Murray the K knows his way around a harmonica and has a perfect voice for the blues.
Local musicians and a local business downtown… that’s what I call Very Valdosta.

Today at St. James’ Episcopal Church in Quitman, Georgia, I witnessed a miracle.
When I arrived at church I was told there had been another burglary (there have been several) and this time the crucifix which hangs behind the altar was gone.
We went ahead with our service, and just as the priest and I were standing behind the altar beginning the Eucharist – the Great Thanksgiving – we both glanced down… and there under the altar was the missing crucifix.
A miracle!
We had given that crucifix up for lost; we had let it go… yet here it was again!
The key to miracles is knowing one when you see it.

Sipping coffee on a city sidewalk to the sounds of downtown traffic, I spotted a single tree sprouting from the cracked brick cornice of a nearby building.

Just a bush, really, perhaps even a weed, sustained only by wind and rain and what nourishment may be found in brick dust.

Yet it thives and draws the eyes of anyone who looks upward.

A single weed.

A single person.

A single light in the darkness.

*¤*