Articles by Colleen

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Latest Film Picks

A Ghost Story – a beautiful meditation on grief and our deep connection to people and places. A bit magical, too.

Sweet Bean – Oh, gosh, gosh, gosh. A fil-um about really recognizing what is important. Kindness. Small joys. Connection to others. Making food that speaks of love and caring.

Lean on Pete – Written and filmed in and around Portland and the great state of Oregon, which always sparks a light in me. A boy whose had more knocks than a person of his age ought takes some more. Also about doing right by those we LOVE. A stunner.

First Man – A brief glimpse into the life of Neil Armstrong: dedicated, earnest, humble, daring, and a little bit sad. Also a lesson in early rocket science – holy guacamole, it’s a wonder any of them lived.

Faces Places – A delightful film about honoring tucked away communities and the people who live and work in them.

American Ultra – a stoner learns he is actually an assassin with some pretty badass skills. Mayhem ensues. Funny and wild and NOT for the faint of heart. There’s a whole lotta blood, peeps.

Maniac – A pharmaceutical trial with questionable ethics brings two broken strangers together. A computer suffers from depression. Sally Field in fabulous glasses. A whole lotta weird. Truly wonderful, too.

The Hero – My guy (remember we had a moment? Scroll ALL the way down…) with the velvet voice! An actor proud of and most fondly remembered for a single role learns he has terminal cancer. With the time that remains, he hopes to make more of his life and amends for past mistakes.

Hearts Beat Loud – A father and daughter create a magical bit of music and do NOT form a band before she leaves for college.  My favorite bit: the daughter is gay, and it is a complete non-issue. How I wish that could be true for everyone.

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Highest

The highest art is the art of living an ordinary life in an extraordinary manner.

Tibetan proverb

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Blessing

Having somewhere to go is home. Having someone to love is family. Having both is a blessing.

Unknown

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Lighting it up in Manitou Springs. I know I have mentioned it before, but I must reiterate my delight at this tiny town. How it takes me right back to my eight-year-old self off on a jaunt with my family. A time when gift shops were filled with rock candy and honey-colored plaques and boxes of cedar construction. Names like Carlsbad and White Sands and Kansas burned onto them, sometimes with nifty pictures of their namesakes. There were also the cool Viewmaster wheels of tourist photos, often taken by some yahoo, who didn’t know squat about photography, slightly blurry or askew, but still a Viewmaster and therefore coveted. And I, with little money and no Viewmaster (sad face), would wander seriously for as long as my parents would allow, contemplating my most meaningful purchase. Usually a photo book or small piece of art in a plastic frame.

In this regard, I have changed only slightly. For this trip, I scored a delightfully small (4×12) painting of Garden of the Gods and Pikes Peak, after perusing every other offering. How lovely it looks in our little niche shelf, posing handsomely next to the Colorado State flag. I’ll show it to you sometime.

For now, I hope you enjoy the light and wonder of this magical season…

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Individual

And when he died, I suddenly realized I wasn’t crying for him at all, but for the things he did. I cried because he would never do them again, he would never carve another piece of wood or help us raise doves and pigeons in the backyard or play the violin the way he did, or tell us jokes the way he did. He was part of us and when he died, all the actions stopped dead and there was no one to do them the way he did. He was individual. He was an important man. I’ve never gotten over his death. Often I think what wonderful carvings never came to birth because he died. How many jokes are missing from the world, and how many homing pigeons untouched by his hands? He shaped the world. He did things to the world. The world was bankrupted of ten million fine actions the night he passed on.

Ray Bradbury

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Thinking of you, Grandpa.

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