Acting Our Age

As I move forwards, I am trying to embrace certain aspects of my personality. I have given much thought to some of my seniors, some of whom are now dearly departed, that I have deep respect for. One of the most influential people in my life was Maggie Root. I debated whether to write her name on this blog given my penchant for anonymity, but I think that everyone should have the pleasure to know her. She had been an actress on Broadway, where she'd met her husband, John, a wonderful man and esteemed set designer. They lived in a house which he'd designed and built part of; it had a balcony from the second floor beginning just at the end of the stone-walled living room, which had, what was to me as a child, a sky-high ceiling.
I remember the hours I spent in that living room, reading books Maggie would give me to read - everything from Are You There God, It's Me, Margaret, to volumes of hand-pressed poems, written by her friends. Those poems were character shaping for me, in that they were very simple poems about lessons taken from life, and often accompanied by child-like drawings.
I miss Maggie so much. She was my only refuge from a boarding school that I didn't understand and that didn't understand me, and I remember staying with her one weekend as she was getting on in years, and her marvelling at how patient I was with her in the supermarket, and me marvelling at how graciously she went about such a quotidian activity.
Her family made a bookmark in her memory when she passed, with a collection of phrases she often said, such as "I have a passion for oatmeal!" and "Say YES to life!" She would often exclaim, "Marvelous!" and would tell children, quoting Pablo Cassals, "You are a marvel." When she received good news or a visit from a loved one, she would say, "I am up borne."
She was full of love, for life and for all people. One of her favourite verses was the second to last in E.B. White's Queen Bee.
I found her to be a very wise woman, and feel blessed to say that I have known several people in my life who I would call role models. But what I wish to focus on here is the child like capacity to marvel at life. One of the lasting lessons I have taken from The Little Prince is that if one loses this ability, one becomes quite blind and useless, even though one may think they are "important".
But I would say that maintaining this youthfulness takes conscious work later in life, and now I understand my presentiment as a child that the young can be wiser than adults. Social pressure and worries can change a person. Of course, this isn't a problem for the childish, which is a whole other jar of beans.
In recent times, I have come across two blog posts that have meant something to me on this account: Grace at d*s in her revelry of origami wall paper (the smallest details), and a most inspiring interview with Victoria Smith. Who wishes, like me, to "rise and soar and take the blue"?

Elements: sequins, cabochons, glitter: pugly pixel;
frame: fuzzimo; paper: the pretty blog;
retro meal: velma's.