The word grabbed me awake in the wee hours of the morning. Was it something I dreamt? Or did it dream me?
Admirabilia.
That word flashes relentlessly on the inside of my eyelids. I turn to look at the clock. It’s 4:08.
A few minutes pass and I give into the urge to get up and pee.
What does it mean, I wonder?
Is it a real word?
Back in bed and snug under the covers, I turn it round and round in my head.
Little bits of admiration?
Intangible moments of gratitude we collect like memorabilia?
How does one collect the intangible?
I roll over onto my other side.
Isn’t admiration about big things?
Her bravery in the face of that cancer diagnosis.
His ability to create and build a thriving multinational business.
Their courage to leave Syria and cross the ocean to Greece.
At 5:30, I reluctantly give up hope of going back to sleep. Deep snores rumble at me from Ira’s side of the bed and he won’t be up for at least another hour.
I slip on on my fleece robe and climb the stairs to the kitchen in slow motion.
If being admirable means we’ve done something worthy of recognition, who decides what’s worthy?
I stand at the sink and stare out the window into the inky dark morning. I can’t see the rain, but I can hear it.
The ritual begins.
Turn on the water. Fill the pot half way. Swirl it around. Pour it into the sink. Repeat the process twice more.
And what if there’s no one around to witness the wonderful thing done?
‘To admire’ implies both an observer and an observed.
You and me, right?
The proverbial tree-falling-in-the-forest question.
Open the coffee maker lid and pull out yesterday’s filter full of grounds.
On Facebook we have a never-ending supply of potential observers. Lurkers, yes. But also ‘friends’ willing to spend a millisecond to click the thumbs-up or maybe the heart button.
If we share — if we post the thing — then technically we’re asking to be admired, right?
Look at my beautiful baby (who I created with my very own body). Isn’t she delightful?
Look at this puppy I rescued. Isn’t he adorable?
Look at this poem I wrote. This meal I cooked. These flowers that grow in my yard.
I’ve seen them, but you need to see them, too. Your admiration is the true validation of my worth.
Admirabilia :: Smallish things to be praised with affection.
Open the grinder and fill it with beans. Push the button and listen to the high-pitched whir of the blades.
The wonders of modern living. Electricity. Running water. Central heating. How often do we stop to admire these things? Or the folks who made them happen for us.
The designers, the builders, the inspectors. The ones who sourced the materials and manufactured all the tiny moving parts. The ones who boxed them up and shipped them to where they needed to go. The ones who sold them to me. And to you.
All efforts of daily work and rituals of service.
When I turn the ignition and my car starts without a hitch, do I stop to honor the many MANY humans who contributed to that particular moment?
“Everything in life has brought us to this moment.” (Something my son likes to say at random for an easy laugh.)
Do I post pictures of those little everyday miracles on Facebook?
Mmm. Not so much.
A deep breath while I empty the freshly ground beans into the brown paper filter. Tap, tap, tap. Must. Get. Every. Last bit.
Next, cold (Clean! Thank you, municipal water guys!) water goes into the machine and I push the little red ‘brew’ button.
The water begins to heat and then it’s pumped and through to the grounds. The familiar clicks and sighs of our beloved appliance signal there will soon be coffee.
The elixir of life. A truly marvelous ritual if there ever was one.
But only because I’m here to experience and witness it?
On its own (without me), it’s simply just a blob of atoms shaped like a coffee maker.
I walk to the couch, sit down, and wait for the magic to materialize.
My son’s bedroom door opens and out bounces Max, his little dog. He’s up and on my lap quicker than anything should move before 6 a.m.
It’s like he hasn’t seen me in weeks.
I stare into his chocolate eyes and tousle his big floppy ears.
This moment. Something he and I share almost every morning.
I close my eyes and catalog the feeling for my ‘collection.’ Fully awake now to a practice of meaning and presence.
About the Author: Téa Silvestre Godfrey
Téa Silvestre Godfrey is passionate about community and loves to cook (and eat) with friends. She’s the author of “Attract and Feed a Hungry Crowd,” the editor of “30 Ways to Bloom Your Online Relationships,” and works as a writing coach and freelance editor. Find her at StoryBistro.com
demanding! My life is overflowing with obligations. Slips of paper with reminders scribbled on them and to-do lists are literally busting out of every book, calendar, and bag I own. Yes, I desperately want to turn away from all of it, but sometimes I wonder: What will happen if I do?
overwhelmed, tired, and fearful that I had made a big mistake in investing this time and money in a retreat, of all things. It seemed impractical, indulgent even. I felt unworthy. Simultaneously, I was exploring new territory in my life at that time. I was healing old wounds and growing into a new way of living my life. I suspected there was a whole other way of moving through my days, but I couldn’t seem to access it. A retreat seemed like a great way to, at the very least, try something new.
from my everyday life, I could see that what once seemed impossible was quite possible. Rather than causing my life to fall apart, attending that retreat helped my pull my life together in a new, more meaningful way by creating space for me to experience something new, different, and wildly inspiring.
Anna Oginsky is the founder of Heart Connected, LLC, a small Michigan-based workshop and retreat business that creates opportunities for guests to tune in to their hearts and connect with the truth, wisdom, and power held there. Her work is inspired by connections made between spirituality, creativity, and community. Anna’s first book, My New Friend, Grief, came as a result of years of learning to tune in to her own heart after the sudden loss of her father. In addition to writing, Anna uses healing tools like yoga, meditation, and making art in her offerings and in her own personal practice. She lives in Brighton, Michigan with her husband, their three children, and Johnny, the big yellow dog. Connect with her on her 
and hug on them as much as I wanted to. Often times even asking me, “Please stay” or the obvious nightly question, “Mom, can we sleep with you?”
Kolleen Harrison is a creative living in the beautiful Central Coast of California. She is the Founder of LOVEwild and Founder/Maker of Mahabba Beads. Her passions lie in nurturing her relationship with God, loving on her happily dysfunctional family, flinging paint in her studio, dancing barefoot, making jewelry (that is so much more than “just jewelry”), and spreading love and kindness wherever and whenever she can. You can find her popping in and out at 
Melissa is a writer, voice actor, podcaster, itinerant musician, voracious reader, and collector of hats and rescue dogs. She is the author of 
Patricia Wellingham-Jones is a widely published former psychology researcher and writer/editor. She has a special interest in healing writing, with poems recently in The Widow’s Handbook (Kent State University Press). Chapbooks include Don’t Turn Away: poems about breast cancer, End-Cycle: poems about caregiving, Apple Blossoms at Eye Level, Voices on the Land and Hormone Stew.
Becca Rowan lives in Northville, Michigan with her husband and their two dogs. She is the author of 
Restless. Sleepless. Book-lover. Wordsmith. Deep roots. Prodigal heart. Teacher. Guide. Wanderer. Witch. Tea, tarot, hot baths, stitchcraft. Curator of narrative relics, remnants, & curiosities.
Christine Mason Miller is an author and artist who has been inspiring others to create a meaningful life since 1995. Signed copies of her memoir, Moving Water, are now available at