You never know what the day will bring…

A friend of mine often ends one of our discussions with the phrase above.

You never know what the day will bring. It’s similar to punctuation used as a bow tied around a gift.

While a death was its original context for my friend and me, it serves well in many other circumstances.

It came to mind today as I pondered the life story of Grandma Moses, who first applied paint to canvas in her seventies. A link below provides a brief look at her life, which ended at age 101.

One hundred one. Just think about that for a moment. The day she picked up a brush, I expect many people were skeptical. Hopefully they kept that negative thought to themselves. Many, I am sure, smiled politely, perhaps daring to offer the ofttimes dismissive, “Well,bless her heart.”

Bless her heart, indeed. At her death, she had generated more than 2,000 paintings. One of the favorites, The Old Checkered House, donned the cover of Time magazine on December 28, 1953.

If you like art. If you’re certain you aren’t good at it. If you’re the one who says you don’t have an artistic bone in your body. Well, here several things to consider:

You never know what the day will bring.

Grandma Moses began her art career at age 78.

Listen to today’s podcast, featuring Tucson artist Jeanine Colini, who loves to help adults uncover the artist within.

Jeanine Colini Podcast

Bringing the outdoors in
Ernesto Rodriguez had a brilliant idea. Actually, several of them.
Combining his various vocations, he proposed the brilliant idea to school folks of bringing the outdoors inside.
(Ernie is featured in The Wonder Files podcast today. Link below.)
From his work as a school counselor, as a photographer, and as a park ranger, Ernie proposed the idea of placing ceiling murals of outdoor spaces. It has worked to bring a type of calm into classrooms.
In another setting—a youth detention program with no windows—notable evidence exists to verify improved behaviors. And emotional states.
It’s a well known concept, a walk in the woods is calming.
Now, with Ernie’s leadership, the calming effects have moved indoors.
ernie@ernestorodriguez.com
natureintheclassoom.org

Listing to the Podcast

https://www.podomatic.com/podcasts/wonderfiles01podcast/episodes/2025-11-18T12_15_26-08_00

“Whatever you do, don’t let them play Amazing Grace…”
Deaths, including our own, are to be expected. We who have a few years on us have
lost grandparents, parents, siblings, friends. There are more losses to come, including our own.
There’s an old country song that captures the essence pf our views about death: Everybody wants to go to heaven, but nobody wants to die. Dying is an unavoidable journey each of us will make. But we balk at the idea of exploring its parameters and, I
believe, that we miss some of the richest conversations we might otherwise have.
As a neophyte reporter on a small daily newspaper in California, I was assigned to write obituaries. It always struck me odd that the editor assigned obituaries to the rank beginner. Like me. 
Insofar as the obituary often contains the last words about someone’s life, being assigned to write them always felt like a privilege. After all, obituaries and letters to the editor were always vying for first- and second-place in readership popularity. For both readership and respect, I took special care to honor the decedent.
Some people live big lives, others barely stir a ripple. Even so, I believe every human being deserves a proper send-off, with words of love, and respect, and honor.
It’s my opinion that we don’t talk enough about such things. When ignored, death and its attendant responsibilities pile on to the grief loved ones are feeling—and we can’t remember whether Mama said to play Amazing Grace at her service—or, “whatever you do, don’t let them play Amazing Grace. That old song needs a rest.”
Too often we put off talking about our wishes, or their wishes. “Too gloomy,” someone says. Someone else diverts attention with a “please pass the potatoes.” And good-natured chatter again fills the room. No talk of death today.
But I believe death is the greatest curiosity of life. If you agree, I think today’s podcast may be helpful to you. I pray that you will listen to Rosemary Thornton’s experience of “temporary death.” Here’s the YouTube link.

Note to reader: The following is offered to supplement The Wonder Files podcast today that touches upon the significance of Halloween, All Saints Day, All Souls Day, and Dia de Los Muertos. See link at the end. MPT

In So Many Words
The following was published in Columban Mission Magazine, written by Sr. Rebecca Conlon

A “thin place,” according to the late Irish philosopher and poet John O’Donohue, is about a place or time where heaven and earth meet and we have access to “light” or the beyond in a different way. It is a threshold experience where time and eternity embrace.

John O’Donohue was steeped in the Celtic tradition and opened up for us the Celtic world, inviting us to enter and take note of times and places where the “veil” between the seen and unseen world is thinner than at other times. During this liminal time, we
experience a greater sense of sacredness or presence of the Other in a deeper way as the distance between heaven and earth, darkness and light, past and future becomes
porous momentarily.

November is such a liminal time within our liturgical calendar. The mood of this season is set as nature seemingly rests and sleeps having shed all its autumnal beauty, and the sky sports a bleak dark grey tone in the northern hemisphere. It captures the Celtic idea of November as a “thin place.” The month of November/Samhain in the Celtic calendar is thought to have represented the Celtic New Year.

A “thin place” according to the late Irish philosopher and poet John O’Donohue is about a place or time where heaven and earth meet and we have access to “light” or the beyond in a different way.
All Saints, All Souls and Halloween invite us beyond our present reality into reaching out in love as we remember those who have gone before us whether saint or sinner. In some countries on All Souls Day, transport is hired to take people to the places where
the remains of their loved ones rest, food is shared as the family gathers, with some offered especially for the dead. Prayers are said for the repose of their souls, Masses are offered and it becomes a family outing and a celebration of life.

The liturgy of these days tells us that life is changed not ended, the “thin place” becomes a place of bonding in love. Our loved ones have “only gone to God and God is very near.”

The Bible too speaks of thin places. We see where Moses (Exodus 3) met God in the burning bush and God spoke, and also Elijah (1Kings 19) met God on top of a mountain and heard Him in the still small voice. One needs to be truly present to listen and hear. Jesus had similar experiences, for example in His Transfiguration we see where the veil was lifted temporarily and the voice of the Father spoke saying: “This is my Beloved Son, listen to Him.” The ultimate thin place for Jesus was Calvary when the veil was torn, and He surrendered His all for our sake.

Thin places are not primarily geographical but a way of being present and listening deeply which enables the veil to fall even for a moment, and we experience a touch of heaven. Those who have gone before us have made it beyond the veil and may the
Lord accompany us so that we too may participate in “what no one has ever seen, no one has ever heard, no one has ever. imagined what God has prepared for those who love Him.” (1 Cor. 2:9).
LINK TO PODCAST HERE

Watchlist: Why watch Orwell: 2 + 2 = 5
George Orwell wrote the book 1984 in 1948, and it was published the following year. Genre-wise, it’s been branded as science fiction (earlier in its life), dystopian future fiction, political fiction, social science fiction.

Sitting here in 2025—some seventy-seven years after publishing—I venture to say that it has never been more relevant a story than now.

And the new documentary presents that story well. (There’s a link to the trailer at the end of this article.)

Okay, so documentaries aren’t always the first thing you reach for on movie night. But trust me: Raoul Peck’s Orwell: 2 + 2 = 5 is different. It’s smart, stylish, and a little bit chilling in the best way. Here’s why you’ll want to check it out:

1. It Feels Weirdly Now
   This isn’t dusty history. Orwell’s worries about truth, lies, and power line up almost too well with the world we’re living in. You’ll catch yourself thinking, “Wait… are we already in 1984?”
2. It Actually Looks Cool
   No endless talking heads here. The movie mixes Orwell’s own words (voiced by Damian Lewis) with sharp visuals, real-world clips, and a moody vibe that keeps you hooked.
3. It Leaves You Thinking
   This isn’t popcorn entertainment, but it is the kind of film that makes you want to text a friend afterward and say, “Wow, we need to talk about this.”

⭐ Bottom line: If you’re in the mood for something thought-provoking and a little haunting, Orwell: 2 + 2 = 5 is 100% worth the watch.
Watch the trailer here:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FGMEOdPxpWs

You can’t always get what you want

I arrived late to the fan club that adores The Rolling Stones.

Country music was my genre of choice in the 1950s,1960s, and 1970s. Americana, traditional values (meaning, “how I grew up,”) and a genre in which women finally could become stars, not just backup singers.

Have you ever realized you missed out on what the general populace identifies as your group?

Well, I do. I completely missed the 1960s. I never marched. No drugs except nicotine and alcohol.

I was editor of the college newspaper when one day someone burst into the offices to report that someone lowered the flag to half-staff.

My most radical act was to grab a camera, race downstairs, out the front door, to the flagpole, where I used up my entire roll of film. Thirty-six frames of a flag at half-staff. I took a lot of ribbing for that.

So, cool I was not. Then, or today. Only now I hold a different world view. A view that treasures honor, truth (facts,) justice for all. A world where love reigns, where everybody always has enough. 

That includes the creatures around us, and the eco systems that make life sustainable. I believe in God, though many believe otherwise.

I’m also prone to ear worms, those little bits of a song that you just cannot stop singing. So, while visiting family in Milwaukee this past week, I subjected them to two ear worms.

First was, “Here comes Peter Cottontail” sung relentlessly to acknowledge the rabbit we witnessed ravaging the still-green tomatoes at season’s end.

The second ear worm was the title of today’s blog: “You can’t always get what you want,” from Mick Jagger’s and Keith Richards’ 1969 all- time rock hit.

At its most basic level, the line is kind of a “no-duh” statement. I could amend it to read, “You almost never ever get what you want.” This would be closer to being accurate, but the meter’s off, and the message more dreary than the original.

For me, the saving hope  of this song and of life itself are its closing words:

But if you try sometimes
Well, you just might find
You get what you need.

MPT+

Who did you tell?

Instructions for living a life.
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.

These wise words come to us from the late poet Mary Oliver.

They’re as good a place as any I know of to lead the way to an appreciation of wonder.

Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.

A shooting star. Remember when you first saw one of those? Who did you tell?

A magnifying glass transports sunlight to dry leaves and, voila, creates fire.
Who did you tell?

A mated pair of birds can interlace their wings and offer their fallen offspring a ride to freedom.
Who did you tell?

Wonder awaits us at nearly every turn.
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.

EDITOR’S NOTE: Wonder and philosophy. Christopher Campbell explores their relationship today in a new podcast episode of The Wonder Files.

“Thin places” are recognized by most world religions as “real.” While the name and concept are often known to us through ancient Celtic Christianity, the idea is not singularly Christian. Most of the world religions acknowledge that there are places and moments where humanity’s now and God’s now intersect.

In my podcast today, The Wonder Files, I talk about thin places, going into some depth regarding what they are, and how we may find them. I then share a personal thin place from my life.

Please check out The Wonder Files on your favorite podcast link. It also is available on podomatic.com. At the upper right on the pages, click “Listen to Podcasts,” then search for The Wonder Files. It’s free! You can also find a link on my website, livingthesedays.me

Also, here is a link to how other faith and spiritual community’s align with this.

In the Judeo-Christian tradition there are a number of scriptural references to the “reality” of God being with us. Here are a few such references:

Surely the Lord is in this place, and I did not know it. Genesis 28:16.

God called to him from within the bush… “take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground.” Exodus 3:4-5

I saw the Lord, high and exalted… Holy, holy, holy is the Lord Almighty; the whole earth is full of his glory. Isaiah 6:1-3

The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son. John 1:14

There He was transfigured before them… A voice from the cloud said, “This is my Son, whom I love; with Him I am well pleased. Listen to Him!’ Matthew 17:2-5

Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? … your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.’ Psalm 139:7-10

Revelation 21:3 – Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them… God Himself will be with them and be their God.

Twinkle, twinkle, little star
How I wonder what you are
Up above the world so high
Like a diamond in the sky
Twinkle, twinkle, little star
How I wonder what you are…

This lovely nursery rhyme is likely familiar to most of us. A charming relic of our own childhoods, or perhaps recycled through grandchildren, and great-grands.

For me it’s also a bonafide ear worm, a catchy piece of music or melody that gets stuck in our heads and repeats involuntarily. I find myself humming the tune even as I write
this.

I grew up in the idyllic 1950s America. Summers in the suburbs offered lots of bike riding and playing with neighbors. Just be home by dark, parents would say. We thought we were astonishingly free. Little did we realize we had a whole network of parents watching over us.

It was a childhood filled with fairytales and wonder. We were free to imagine.

I shall always be grateful to my parents for the bedroom ceiling they painted. Odd, you may think, but I am very serious.
Against a backdrop of light, almost imperceptible, yellow, my parents adapted the stippling paint technique. They wadded up newspaper, dipped a piece in red, green, or blue paint, then pressed the wad to the ceiling.

When done, we had a ceiling full of unique and irregular shapes. We stared at them to wind down toward sleep. Pointing excitedly, “Do you see the green rhinoceros? Right there!” “That’s not a rhino, that’s a buffalo.”

We lived in a fantasy world where we both could be right, when buffalos and rhinos both roamed the US. And they could be green, blue, or red. The next night, the same splotch might become Lassie or Rin Tin Tin.

It was all possible in the wonderland that was our childhood ceiling.

My podcast, which debuts today, is all about recognizing and celebrating the wonder in our lives.

I’ll bet you that, once you start looking, you’ll see that it’s everywhere!

Check out the podcast at livingthesedays.me