The Morning, Brilliant Blue

The Holiday Issue 2024

In this issue, scroll on down to:

• Welcome Letter

• The Christmas Pooch

• Christmas Soldier At The Post Office

• Gemma

• Winter Ride (with video)

• How To Have A Beautiful Mind

• Breathing Into Your Life

• Frosty and The Wise Men (with video)

• A Mom And Her Son

• The Wine Taster

• Auld Lang Syne (with video)

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MY FRIENDS, I wanted to send you a selection of stories and music close to Christmas. I know you’re probably busy, but over the next week or two, maybe you’ll have some time that you’d enjoy spending quietly reading — and blowing coffee out your nose because you didn’t know it was going to be a funny story. Ha!

There ARE a couple of these that are very funny and fun to read. Last night at a dinner with friends in a nearby town, I had brought a print out of my Wine Tasting story — which really happened by the way — and I read it aloud at our round table as we were enjoying appetizers. Let’s just say, people started grabbing napkins in a hurry. They didn’t know it would be that funny.

What I wanted to do mostly, was remind you of wonder. Of love and hope and joy in the world. The world over we are going through change like humanity has never seen before. I deeply believe we are capable of navigating this time on earth with love and kindness. We just keep reminding each other of who we truly are and that we were born deserving love and kindness in all its forms.

You probably know that I have been talking about Breath for decades. More than ever I see it in my daily life, that remembering to breathe and gaining a gradual awareness of the living breath within me, saves me again and again. I’m astonished often about the solutions that will come to me when I suddenly have a problem. Breathing consciously and meditating has brought that back to me. It’s so important that you realize that it’s not a religion or a philosophy and that simple breathing can be enough.

You don’t need to believe that Breath is filled with life and information and healing qualities and the forces of Love. But it can help immensely if you just allow wonder to be present in you. I often suggest that people hold a question mark at the front of their minds. You don’t have to KNOW something, but can you wonder if it’s possible? That simple difference will open endless doors in your life. And my hope is that you have a peaceful, loving and hopeful life. Breath will help you in limitless ways.

One last thing I’d like to express: Writing is perhaps the closest thing I know to meditating. You cannot multitask writing. But what you can do is become more and more focused and present as you write. That is what has happened to me. Just as you’ve heard in my songs for many years, there are many things to discover in them and sometimes you listen and have a new revelation even after years of listening. That is because YOU are evolving, growing, and a phrase may now mean more than it meant twenty years ago.

In my stories, if you give them your full attention; sparks will go off. Movement and change and insights will spark just because you read with your full attention. I don’t know how it works, but I’m seeing this in human interaction every day. One person’s openness and love, who maybe you pass and nod to as you walk by, will often automatically interact with those new openings in YOU. And sometimes that will bring about profound gratitude in you — simply for being alive. It happens to me often.

I hope you enjoy this Christmas/Solstice/Holy Day issue of The Morning, Brilliant Blue. Thank you for reading.

Your friend in the winter wind, Michael Tomlinson

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THE CHRISTMAS POOCH

This little fuzzy nubbin of a dog made a better man of me. Because of her, I actually witnessed myself bursting open with tenderness and kindness in ways I never had. Little Bungee belonged to my girlfriend MaryBeth, though we shared her pretty evenly. MaryBeth would go to work at The Bon Marché and I’d walk the few blocks to her house and walk back with Bungee every day. When she was a tiny pup, she was determined to never let my big boot get away from her. I’m not entirely sure she knew a man was attached to it. I’d laugh walking home as she kept her nose as close to my heel as possible. Man, that little dog gave me joy and purpose.

Bungee was a Maltese Terrier and before my relationship with MaryBeth, I’m pretty sure I had not had occasion to notice such a breed existed. This was in 1996 and I’ll admit that I felt a little self-conscious when MaryBeth moved across the country for a job and gave me Bungee to have all on my own. I was so very happy to have her, but also, I felt that having Bungee with me made me appear (backward whistling of air through teeth) a little more feminine than a rugged fella like myself would ideally like to feel. I became a six-foot ex-Texan with a fluffy little purse of a dog as my constant companion. She was a character builder.

However, Bungee did not live the life of a typical Maltese. For many years we hiked mountain trails, we kayaked, we camped. And mostly, we would walk miles and miles around Seattle. I’ll bet to this day if you were to ask someone in Wedgwood, Ravenna, Laurelhurst, Bryant, Walnut Hills, or the Magnuson Park area, “Hey, do you ever remember seeing a big guy walking all over this area with a little white pup on his forearm, talking to her and laughing the whole time?” (I carried her up steep hills is all, dammit) You’d undoubtedly hear by hundreds; “Hell YES! I remember them! What was WITH that guy, anyway?” (the correct answer would be, “a whole lotta love.”)

We swam icy rivers together too, but that was mostly by accident. I would be swimming in the icy current of the Snoqualmie River with my friend Rick and his two big dogs. I always planted Bungee near us in a sunny spot on the shore saying, “Stay here, Bungee.” Usually that worked. But then Rick started throwing sticks for the big dogs and with all of us laughing out there in the strong cold current, staying put was just too much to ask of a little six pound pooch. I looked over and there was little Bungee, bravely parting the waters, swimming that icy current to me. Sidenote: She was the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, such a small creature determinedly swimming through the water. I wanted to just watch her and marvel. But of course, cold water and little dogs have a time window to pay attention to.

The river flowed around rocks and boulders and was treating her more like a leaf, so I swim to her. Girls just want to have fun too! When I reached her, there was only one problem, she wanted to be held. Gee, thanks Bungee. It’s fun to tread icy water with one arm while you hold onto a shivering little soggy dog who wants to chase sticks with the big dogs.

One of the greatest events of my life happened with her on her last Christmas Day. Bungee had been very sick for over a year. She was almost fifteen years old then. She’d been misdiagnosed by several different veterinarians and she paid a terrible price for it before one finally noticed all the others’ errors. She had a terrible staph infection. Then one day she went blind. Overnight. I woke in the morning and my little black-eyed dog had milky-white eyes.

It was heartbreaking to watch her in confusion about what had happened to her. She’d lean her head this way and that, seeking to see something again. I just held her and cried that first day. I found a “specialist” who made me so angry I told him off in his own office. He’d said her blindness had nothing to do with the staph infection which had affected her whole body. I just snapped instantly; “You don’t KNOW that, but you say it as if you DO. That is bullshit. She’s six pounds and her body is ravaged with an infection and you separate it as if it’s completely disconnected?”

I knew about something called zeolites, which I myself had been taking to rid the body of toxins. Zeolites are these tiny cellular bits of volcanic ash, when suspended in water and a few drops drank daily, they pull toxins and bacteria and even fungus out of your body if you know how to use them. I had known people who had dissolved cataracts with them, by drinking drops of the zeolites every day in water. I also knew of cats, horses and dogs who’d regained their vision and vitality after going nearly blind by their owners giving them zeolites. I decided to try the zeolites on Bungee.

I began to give her three drops on her tongue every night at bedtime. They are very salty and she didn’t like them. But if you put them in her water bowl, you never know how much she’s going to get. So I stuck with the three drops every evening. About three weeks had passed with me carrying Bungee on our long walks. At six pounds she could straddle my forearm as she’d done for years, but now her head moved side to side, trying to see what were probably only light and dark shapes. I kept talking to her, loving her, trying to give her the best life I could give her.

That Christmas Day in 2010, I drove out to Rick’s family’s house in Snoqualmie and pulled up in front of their house. When I stopped my truck, I reached across to the passenger floorboard for my bag. I was startled at what I thought I’d seen happen. Bungee’s eyes seemed to have followed the path of my hand. I got chills and tried it again, moving my hand around and watching her face. With each action, her eyes and face moved with me. I burst into grateful tears. “Bungee, can you see this?” She followed. I started hollering in joy. It felt like a miracle to me. Her eyes were clearing!

I went inside and told Rick and the family and we all cried. And Bungee’s eyes were way less milky. That shiny blackness was returning. Everyone loved Bungee and had been depressed over her illness. The joy around us was so wonderful. I knew her vision wasn’t fully returned but this new movement, following shapes, was the first hope I’d had in a long while.

That evening I drove back into Seattle and met my friend Carson in the International District in Seattle. He’d spent Christmas working at Safeway and wanted to have dinner in a Chinese restaurant. Neither of us had known until that year that Jewish people and others celebrated in Chinatown for Christmas dinner. The streets were alive and so friendly and busy with people walking the sidewalks and filling up the various restaurants. I parked right out front by the curb and left Bungee wrapped in three sweaters in the front seat and a filled water bowl.

When we came out, I could hear her barking merrily like she loved to do when I wasn’t around. As I approached on the sidewalk, from twenty feet away I saw her eyes meet mine! It almost stopped my heart. That, my friends, was the greatest Christmas present of my entire life. My precious little friend was looking into my eyes again, from twenty feet away! My joy overflowed, my heart leapt, tears flowed. Seeing how joyful she was that Christmas night in Chinatown, I will never forget.

In this photo you see the two us on a December day near Christmas, her in one of her Christmas sweaters, the two of us checking the bird feeders under the great walnut tree we lived beneath for, well, me for thirteen years. She made it about seven in her body. Then some more in pure light. Losing my little soul mate was one of the hardest parts of my life. We got one more winter, spring and summer before she drifted into What Comes Next. I would sit in that hanging chair under my tree and miss her like crazy.

She was fifteen when she passed, fifteen years ago now. She turned invisible, is how I put it, because she still comes to me in dreams often — and she’s so alive in me still. I’ve never heard of anyone’s pet coming into their dreams so regularly for so many years. But it keeps happening and I’m never surprised in the dream that my little Bungee Girl is with me.

I saw this photo this Christmas Eve and thought of that glorious Christmas Day when my sweet little friend regained her vision and the two of us were as happy as a big man and a little dog could ever be. Here we are in falling snow. I thought you might like to see a couple o’ happy beings who got lucky and fell in love and just never did stop. Merry Christmas to you, my friends. ~ Michael Tomlinson

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CHRISTMAS SOLDIER AT THE POST OFFICE

GETTING TO THE POST OFFICE THIS TIME OF YEAR requires walking through the Christmas tree lot next door, which is a really enjoyable and merrily chaotic thing to do. The scents of firs and pines are just so rich and invigorating. And the voices of children wanting mom to come and check out everything all at once, just bring memories and smiles to my face.

As I emerged from the lot and was walking toward the door of the post office, from quite a distance I could see a fairly large young man standing near the post office door with a sign, asking for money. They never allow anyone to stand right next to the door, but ask them to stand nearer the main sidewalk along 35th NE.

As I got closer I heard some of what he was saying at a fairly loud volume. “I served our country dammit! I deserve respect!” I don’t think anyone disagreed with him, but still he was about to cry. I could see that he was heated and emotional and flustered. Some people were passing without looking at him, in part because he was quite intimidating in size and position, standing so close that as you opened the door outward to go in, it felt like you were pushing it in his face.

I walked past but slowed to look into his eyes and say, “You DO deserve respect,” and it seemed to surprise and calm him at least a little, almost instantly. When I came back out, he was still at it. Not at quite the volume he’d been so emotionally raising his voice before, but he was still flushed and upset. I had a twenty dollar bill in my hand, but he didn’t see that yet. I walked outside and stood face to face with him. Not in a threatening way, in a very calm and present way but just slightly closer than before. He was probably no more than 30 years old. I said, “Brother, you are right that you deserve respect. I can see that you are going through a difficult time — and I’m going to help you.” He said, “Yes I am," before I’d even finished, his face swollen and reddish with childlike emotion.

“I’m sorry you’re going through such a tough time,” I continued. “You deserve some help and I will do that, but I want to tell you first that you need to change how you’re doing this. You’re scaring people. You’re threatening and frightening to people because you are hollering and practically blocking them as they pass.” I could see that he was receptive to what I was saying. I said, “You cannot be up in people’s faces, forcing them to pass you so closely, and be yelling at the same time.” “Yes sir,” he said quietly. Which totally surprised me. I could see that he was reachable.

“People will help you,” I said. “I can see some of them stopping to do that now.” A man reached over my shoulder and handed him a five. I smiled and said, “I would just like you to back off a little and try to be more respectful of them too. Okay?” “Yes sir.”

I handed him a twenty and I could tell that it surprised him a little. “I wish you well, my friend. Take some deep breaths now and then and you’re going to be okay.”

You have never seen an upset person shift energy so quickly. I rarely have myself. He had felt invisible, I think. And he did not have the skills necessary to ask people for help in a way that gave them options. Now he seemed more open and willing. That is rare, seeing a genuine shift like that. I think that was partly because instead of walking past in fear or harsh judgment, as some were understandably doing, I had walked up to him and looked into his eyes, human to human. We need to really see each other. Sometimes that alone transmutes a desperate situation.

He moved back a little bit as I stood there and suggested that he move just a few feet away from the door. Everyone would still see and hear him, but he was no longer the upset gate keeper.

“I wish you well, Brother,” I said. I nodded with my eyes in his and smiled as I turned and walked away. I never heard him raise his voice again. This was just a moment shared, but it was real and hopeful. I didn’t have a plan, I didn’t know what I would say. I just knew I had to say something and I met him heart to heart and that gave me a way to reach him. So many times in life we do not know the power granted us when we calmly seek to be present with someone struggling in crisis. We don’t always have to have the perfect words. Just an open heart.

As I walked back through the Christmas tree lot, I walked along a few aisles of trees, enjoying the feeling that there was maybe a little more peace and calmness in the world. And hopefully, a little less pain. ~ Michael Tomlinson

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I asked my friend Les Lewis in Texas, if he had anything involving his rescued horses that he might want to share in my Christmas Issue of The Morning, Brilliant Blue. He sent me this fantastic photo right away, with the below message. Thank you, Les.

GEMMA

“I took my Christmas wreath off the front door & put it on Gemma for a picture & she liked it so much I couldn’t take it back . She must think she won the Kentucky Derby.” ~ Les

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WINTER RIDE

Winter Ride was one of my most pleasurable songs to write. One winter day I was wanting to put up a little winter video footage on Facebook and wishing I had a Christmas song. Then, being brilliant some days, I had this revelation; “Hey wait just a dang minute! I’m a songwriter!” I wrote this song in a day. That is very, very rare for me. I have songs that have taken three years!

That very evening I went to the studio and recorded this. It was beyond magic, leaving the studio with this finished song to listen to? Unfathomable to me even as I listened. I will never, ever get over the joy, the gift, the wonder of being able to write a song that I’m completely in love with. Here is a little slide show/video I created for it a few years back. I hope you enjoy. ~ M

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HOW TO HAVE A BEAUTIFUL MIND

HOW TO HAVE A BEAUTIFUL MIND. Well, that sounds presumptive, doesn’t it? But I mean this sincerely and humbly. You can have a beautiful mind by deciding where you will place your attention. Again, how ludicrous. But still possible, at least to a much greater degree than almost any of us know.

What are some of the traits, the qualities of what you might consider a Beautiful Mind? I can only give some that come to me. Wouldn’t a beautiful mind see beauty in all directions? Wouldn’t a beautiful mind lead with wonder instead of doubt? Again, that is just a decision. Here are some of the ways to get there; Close your eyes and breathe a few minutes. Imagine that at the forefront of your actual brain there is a delightful question mark. ? Radiant and vital. And that by placing it there, it doesn’t mean that you question everything, it means that you are willing to hold up everything in wonder. It means that you love, love, love the words, “I don’t really know . . .” And that you are capable of seeing the sweet wonder of those words. They instantly bring up your kinder nature because you have regained the ability to look upon something without always judging it good or bad, this or that.

Now, what if you start to notice the wonderful traits in people — and you TELL THEM YOU NOTICE THEM! I mean anyone, anywhere, any time. Maybe at first that seems odd or not like you. But what you more likely will find is that doing this reveals who YOU really are, who you have lost or covered up somehow. When you were three years old you probably did this incessantly. “Those are pretty shoes!” “How did you jump so high?” “I love when you sing!” “Your yard is my favorite! There are so many places to hide!”

I never ever have to pretend to be this way, because it all is reawakening in me constantly. And I think much of it never fully went away in the first place. When you hear your own voice, with the joy and wonder of a child, tell someone what you admire about them, even someone you hardly know, you’re going to like this part of you. Which is one of the key features of a Beautiful Mind.

These Breathing/Meditating gatherings I do every week for 90 minutes contain these practices. They just naturally are there. And by becoming more present in yourself, wherever you are, that Beautiful Mind of yours starts to surprise you. “Did I just say that? Wow!” Somehow I have discovered something that has really stayed with me. We talk about loving yourself. But how about really LIKING yourself? It’s a huge pleasure and joy. Walking around liking YOU is what every human being was born with the ability to do. And when you do that, you are not criticizing yourself constantly. You are not harsh with yourself any more. You have let go of those thoughts. And what that will always, always lead to is being kinder to everyone and every living thing.

So please, just hold the idea for now, that your mind which was trained to go to harsh thoughts and judgments, that has been addicted to drama and conflict at times, and which has not always thought very highly of YOU, well, that can be over with my friend. Fill your mind with beauty. Pause when you see anything wonderful or beautiful or tender or loving. Inhale it. Breathe it in and pause with it a few moments. In a short time you will notice that you do indeed have a Beautiful Mind. And in any areas where you think you still fall short? Your own Beautiful Mind notices and will take care of it. ~ Michael Tomlinson

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BREATHING INTO YOUR LIFE

Almost every Thursday evening, all year round, small groups of us meet up on Zoom. We breathe together. I sing a song. We visit — if anyone has something to share. And we meditate together. Lives have improved, in some ways, great change has come which was needed. I hope you’ll join us. ~ M

Read more and register on my Website www.michaeltomlinson.com

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FROSTY AND THE WISE MEN

WHOA! WHO KNEW FROSTY & THE THREE WISE MEN WERE IN CAHOOTS! Most Christmas seasons my friends Joie and Jeffrey and I drive around the quaint merry burg of “no place to park” Rainy Ballard in Seattle, viewing sparkliness and pronouncing brutal judgment upon various Christmas Lighting schemes. I drive of course, as my friends are usually a little “Christmas drunk” if it’s beyond the lunch hour. HA! “Drunks doan fren much drinkin’ drives!” is how I recall their motto.

Before my charming pals become too slurry to be understood, we all merrily participate in the high art of Scathing Christmas Light Criticism, as “Jesus would have wanted,” insists Joie. We remain perky and generally in a light mood as we fiercely condemn. It is not personal when we shout our curse-punctuated disappointments and spray paint our vehement remarks upon each family’s car. Overall, we are sternly joyous, as we take our official mission seriously. There is no reason to take on a dour countenance when harshly condemning others, we do it with a merry smile and a sparkly flourish of metallic spray paint.

With bold Xs and exclamation marks we detail an extensive list of what could have been done better, using paint rollers upon the lawn for the worst — and scrawling a helpful “How it could have been better” message on the curb in permanent epoxy black (It wears off over the years if parkers are untalented).

“Keep it festive and non-violent!” is our most common cheery mantra — which we hope saves lives (ours). Some years we DO find a number of volunteer-softball-ref-dads grouping up and following us with bats. On rare festive occasions we are chased and tackled and someone starts heating up tar and chasing chickens. Still, we are honest. Our most common curb message every year is, “Bozo has NOTHING to do with Christmas! Sooooo Read a Book!”

Usually, after leaving our kind-but-firm judgements, we sing “Have a Holly Jolly Christmas” as we flee. We choose that particular song because it’s easy to run to. Try jogging to Silent Night sometime. No way. It’s too risky and lethargic. They will gain on us, drag us down and get way rougher than the situation deserves. It’s only life-time paint!

They have never caught ME because I’m the driver and not averse to fence bustin’ or shrub and garden off-roading. Also, on foot I’m just a tiny bit faster than Joie - Jeffrey is faster than both of us, but I’m fine with that. We will jog around the block to check on Joie a few times before we leave the neighborhood. Most years, she eventually joins the mob and leads in the chase.

I recall nostalgically the night featured in this particular video. There was some concern about the overlapping of cultures, religions and time-lines represented in various scenarios. This is in poor taste, decorators! Though not illegal per se, the mixing of animated and human characters seems forced, troublesome and cheap. For instance, Woody Woodpecker is not a natural companion for Mother Mary. Nor would Wily Coyote roam naturally with Rudolph. And Mister Magoo has NO business in any manger!

In recent years, it’s gotten way, way worse. A.I. has not been good for cheery holiday sparkle. Never before had any of us seen a Giant Salmon rising out of the lawn to eat Santa Claus’ head. Nor had my sloshy friends seen the Angel Gabriel with a menorah or Alvin the Chipmunk riding a polar bear. I had dreamt them both once as a child, and awakened screaming “The Chipmunks Has Rabies!” A cold garden hose and some brisk cheek slappin’ by Gramma brought me out of it, though I still have difficulties getting to sleep in The Happiest Season of All.

This particular night there was a minor physical scuffle in my truck when Jeff insisted that the angel Gabriel DID have a menorah and always had, but Joie snarled “No! That was just a regular, run-of-the-mill candelabra like Liberace’s!” I suggested they settle it seasonally, by lying down in the street to Leg Wrassle while I remained warm in my idling truck. If any head-butting occurred, I wanted to be wearing my seat belt. Ultimately, I was unable to decide the winner in the sweaty, grunting mess they eventually became. Since they are married, well, I tried to look away. When they heard me rev the engine and put ‘er in gear, they rapidly uncoupled and hopped back in, with Joie gasping something about “Wise Men my ass! Us Gals is sooper-dooper smartly!” The merriment is of a style you’d have to gradually get used to.

No surprise — as they have since the 1960s, Snoopy and Charlie Brown ruled the night. No matter what historic era or epoch they are included in, a surprising number of people still include the original Snoop Dog in their religious holiday decorating. To my horror though, I discovered that Frosty and the Three Wise Men have become juxtaposed in time and are now a posse with low slung britches (and britches is a word they use a LOT in their rhymes!).

Anyway, in order to view this short documentary properly, please light yourself up a Blueberry Kush Candy Cane, sit back and enjoy our festivities. Sorry if we didn’t get to YOUR sadly tangled mess of lights this year. We plan to bring plenty o’ indelible markers when we tour your block next year. And to ALL a Good Night! ~ Designated Driver, Michael Tomlinson

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A MOM AND HER SON

I WAS WALKING THROUGH A GROCERY STORE PARKING LOT just before dark, when a young mom and her son appeared in my path and asked me if I would buy something. They looked so unlike people who would be doing that in a parking lot. Thinking they must be with an organization, I asked what this was.

"We are selling Christmas gifts . . . to help needy families,” she said, a little haltingly. Her 7-year old son looked shyly at me and held out several Christmas mugs in little cardboard cartons. His mom held up Christmas ornaments to give me a choice. I was pretty sure they’d bought them down the street at the dollar store. I didn’t want or need anything, but I said, “Is five bucks for one of the mugs okay?” She beamed and her warmth radiated purely from her heart.

I thanked them and looked at them both and said “Thank you, I wish y’all a Merry Christmas,” and went back to leave the mug in my truck. On my way back to the store I saw them gently approach a woman who did her best to act like she didn’t see them, but she must have heard them ask her something, because she said gruffly, “I’m not interested,” and walked on. I imagined that was what they had faced much of the time they were out there.

On the way in I passed a Salvation Army lady ringing a bell for Christmas donations and I decided I’d give her five bucks on my way out. If there is any organization on earth that actually does more with their money and volunteering, I’ve never heard of them. My mother and lots of other people lived in their very safe and pleasant apartment housing in Texas the last three years of her life and I’ll be grateful to them the rest of my life for that.

Inside the store I couldn’t stop thinking about the young mom and her son and I decided to give them some more money if I could find them when I was on my way back out. As I was exiting I paused and looked in my wallet and had a five and a twenty. I gave one to the Salvation Army lady and told her about my mom. Then I turned out to cross the parking lot and see if I could find the mom and her son.

I looked up and saw them in the lot. Our eyes met and I swear, it seemed like they were waiting for me. She didn’t wait, we walked toward each other and she smiled so warmly it just melted me. I handed her my twenty and said, “I just wanted to give y’all some more money.” In that instant there was a gushing flood of love and kindness and gratitude flowing between us. I looked down at her son and was surprised that my voice trembled a little with emotion as I said, “I just wanted your little son to see that there is good will in the world, but now I realize that you show him that every day of his life.” It was the words, “your little son” that almost made a grown man blurt out a sob and fall apart. My voice was shaky.

She completely surprised me by suddenly reaching out to embrace me, her arms wrapped completely around me. It was such an immediate gesture of love and gratitude that both our eyes were shining with tears. As we were close she said, “I’m so glad you came back. I had wanted to tell you that . . . that. . . the needy family you are helping . . . is us.” Well, her voice was shaky now and I felt tears in my eyes too. That just about crumpled me completely.

“I felt that,” I said, my voice so shaky I was barely able to get the words out. I could see that she had known that I knew and had wanted to speak the full truth to me in front of her son. I looked at them both and said, “Bless you both.” And we shared a moment of deep, human kindness in our eyes.

I walked back to my truck with every light stretched and blended in my blurred vision. As sad as it made me too, I was SO grateful for that beautiful experience. I sat there in my truck a while, giving thanks aloud for allowing me that beautiful experience. It seemed inexplicable that such a precious exchange would be given to me just when I so very much needed it. It was no accident that they were there for me, to give me the precious gift of their presence and love. We might think we’re the ones giving something, but so many times I find that it’s the people so very vulnerable and needing help that are giving me the gift. ~ Michael Tomlinson

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THE WINE TASTER

I ACCIDENTALLY WENT TO A JOLLY CHRISTMAS WINE TASTING. I know, that sounds ridiculous, but it happened like this: I was paying for my cucumbers, bananas and pumpkin seeds at Sno-Isle Food Co-op, our local health food store in nearby Everett, when a fellow walked directly up to me as if he had been looking all over for someone like me. Apparently, I looked to him like the ideal wine enthusiast.

“Sir, would you like to join us for a small wine tasting next door?” he asked. “Sir” is always a surprise, I looked over my shoulder briefly. He repeated his invitation.

I tried to take it in, as I could not ever recall being in a checkout line where I was invited to drink wine. I tried to be open minded but, first of all, the location was suspicious. Where was “next door?” I had always heard, “never go with a kidnapper to a second location.” He probably noticed my lips going through the unlimited potential outcomes to myself. I thought of all the times I’d been on that street and had wondered about the dank, dark, seemingly empty floors of offices at that end of the building. Being invited to abandoned offices didn’t seem Christmassy to me. At least not happy Christmassy. Would I ever make it back out? Was wine even to be involved? But the multistory private condos on the other side seemed even less likely. I didn’t really know which next door he was inviting me to. I wasn’t full on dizzy, but everything was a little unclear.

But still, it’s nice to be invited to stuff, so I nodded my forehead toward what I’d always thought were the dark empty spaces, and asked, “Is that what you mean by next door?” He smiled and explained that yes it was, “Down that hall to the room where the Co-op hosts cooking classes.” Whew! Okay then! I was going to an actual wine tasting — and not one of those fake ones where you have to gnaw through rope and find a way to hack your way through a solid wall to escape.

I had been almost heading home, but a wine tasting sounded so much better. Hearty conversation and a tiny buzz? Heck yes! My concern now was that — as in all modern Co-ops — it could be a mine-field of pronouns. Never having had kids, I am not fully reprimanded in this area. But I do already say “y’all“ a lot, so I figured I’d prolly be fine.

I finished my checkout and followed his directions through a door and down a hall. I don’t drink often, but I’m told that people really like me when I do. I turned out of the hallway and there were three servers and me at the wine tasting. Wow. Just me. I looked around for knotted rope. Well hey, servers are people too. And don’t you say they’re not! I was joking around with them immediately.

Then a male and female couple on a date appeared and I thought that might be the start of something jovial. I chose a chair over by a couch and coffee table, envisioning the couch soon to be full of people and all of us laughing as I said y’all a lot. But then the apparently newly wed couple chose a private table far across the room. One of the servers came over and set five tiny tastings before me. Hardly more than a tablespoon of wine in each one. The Health Food Co-op certainly didn’t intend to be sending people out onto the street stumbling and falling down.

The mat laid under the tiny glasses was numbered and a sheet of wine descriptions was laid next to it, but for some reason (hillbilly?) I didn’t get the whole deal about the corresponding numbers at first. I thought it just a list, but no particular order. See, I am inexperienced at wine tastings that involve ratings. I mean, I’ve had people open a new bottle and pour some and swirl it around and ask me to, “Here, see what you think.” But that’s about it.

The lady went back over with the other servers as I lifted one sample, looked through the glass and tried to remember if it is “legs” or “feet” that wine has. I took a sip and it was pleasant. When you hardly ever drink, even a tiny sip can remind you of wonder. For something to do, I glanced down at the words on the accompanying list. Ha! “Dry but not mean!” I got a big kick out of that one. I like clever descriptions. Another description; “A Darkly Brooding, Almost Murderous Wine” was less helpful to me. I couldn’t imagine wanting to drink that kind of beverage. I thought up one myself, “a sultry brooding wine, like a beautiful woman in a bad mood who insults your shoes with a disgusted look.” I was just writing what I know. Anyway, I still had not caught on to the relationship between samples and paper list.

I continued semi-hollering my friendly dialogue with the servers as three more couples came in. I pulled my legs in close to allow people room to enter the couch area. Apparently, they were all newly weds too, and naturally wanted their own tables. My invisible friends on the couch were all I had, but I was fully into merry conversation by that time. I turned to my wine samples for another surprise. With those small samples, if you wanted the taste to last long enough to give an impression, you had to take the tiniest sip possible. “Be like a goldfish, Mike,” I whispered to me, “Open your mouth in tiny O’s.” I took my time, which is unlike me. I drink everything like it’s iced tea on a hot day.

I continually lofted comments toward the servers, ten feet away, who seemed at times to all at once experience a slightly dark cloud over their faces — followed by meaningful quick darts to each other’s eyes. Like a class clown in fifth grade, I had been loudly — and now I realized, humiliatingly, reporting my responses to NOT THE WINE IN MY HAND — but the wine two samples back! Please just sit with that and imagine me critiquing what I think is the wine in my hand. But no, the wine I spoke of was long gone.

So when I’d said about the Prosecco, which is a type of champagne, but cannot legally be called that, I said, “Wow! I love this even though I usually can’t stand champagne! Champagne’s too sugary sweet and will give me a headache while I’m drinking it. But this is super dry!” I was shocking fluent with my information. Even the newlyweds turned to see if I was a safe person to be in the same tasting room with. I now realize they were measuring their pathway to the door in relationship to my location. When I uttered that last brilliance about sweetness, I was NOT drinking the super sweet Prosecco. Nope. Not at all. I was sipping a very dry white wine. “Dry but not mean!” That one. They really should have used a magic marker on the goblets.

I’m not sure how I got things all wrong. I guess I had thought of wine tasting as a friendly sport, like playing Bally Ball without keeping score — and not so much a critical rating competition. By now the servers realized that Happy ol’ Doofus over by the couch had almost no working taste buds. And might also have some concussion history. For another fifteen minutes I kept hollering out gibberish about the notes of licorice and berry and chocolate as I sipped the wrong wines. I mean, I was just trying to correct my poor impressions and leave with at least some dignity. I knew by that point it would have been useless to walk over and whisper to them my mistake. It would take more than an explanation to convince them that I was not asylum-ready.

I cannot imagine that the servers were not greatly relieved when I left — and the grooms less at physical alert. Surely, at some point everyone had wondered when the man in the magnificent winter scarf with irreparably damaged taste buds was going to go full-on haywire. Despite my embarrassment, I must say that I enjoyed being there. While it’s not ideal, one can certainly enjoy a sip of wine at a tasting without making any coherent conversational sense. Finally, my five tablespoon-sized samples empty, I nodded in a gentlemanly way to the room at large and tried to leave them with the impression that doofus though I may be, I was a “Sincere with robust finish, best served among winos” type of taster. ~ Michael Tomlinson

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AULD LANG SYNE

Some Songs have moved throughout the world and been sung by so many that they have become a sacred part of our humanity. The version of Auld Lang Syne I sang was focused on gratitude for our friendships. Since I was a teenager I loved the word Friend. It was such a relief to have friends. And so much of my creativity was born in those early friendships.

I feel the spirit of friendship with all of you who listen to my songs and read my stories. There is something so deep there that I can’t imagine my life without such bonds and connections. You have made my life so much more meaningful and filled with gratitude.

I hope you enjoy this version of this Scottish folk song which had been sung around and round the world for so many lifetimes. We’ll share a cup of Kindness yet, for Auld Lang Syne.

Happy Holy Days, my friends.

Your friend, Michael