Who knows?

This glass basket vase filled with roses and jasmine and orchids (are those orchids?) fresh from somebody's yard was left on my doorstep. I don't know who left it. There's neither card nor note. This surprise produced a two-fold blessing: First of all, a basket of roses, jasmine and maybe-orchids is something to inspire Patrick Süskind. The second blessing was the fact that while I was playing the guessing game of who this thoughtful person might be, I realized the anonymous gifter could have been a number of different people. It made me realize how many good and gracious people I know: Neighbors, parents or friends or all three. Thank you, dear flower-basket-leaver-behinder, and thank you, dear neighbors, parents and friends, for my happy suspicions.

That brings me to my next idea. Some weeks ago, I was thinking about the people, with whom I had lost contact. I asked Duke and Karen what they thought of a certain idea and -- shazam! -- no more had I said what I thought about doing, than they made these pieces of metal art: Hearts with butterfly wings.

My plan is this: I am going to mail these to long lost friends, perhaps anonymously. I will include a note saying, that my life has been enriched by having known that person and I will always be grateful for having had his/her friendship. The recipient may keep the item or, if the recipient so chooses, he or she may pass on this piece of metal art on to someone else, with whom they lost contact. I'd like to set up an email and maybe a flickr, where the recipients may leave a message or post a picture of where these pieces travel.

This is one of those things, that may land on it's face. I know that. What would I do if I received such a thing in the mail? I'm not sure, really. My hope is that it would have some of the same effect as the flowers on my doorstep yesterday. Agape and random kindness/senseless acts of beauty: That is what I am shooting for. Walk the walk, not just stick the bumper sticker. Agape is a word I came across in the Jamba Juice, you know, waiting for my smoothie order in a book on the Shelves of Should. The Shelves of Should is the display in the Jamba Juice of books on the Pilates you Should do and the marathon-for-the-cure you Should run and the vegetarianism you Should ascribe to and the path to spiritual Enlightenment you Should follow. I usually skip over the yoga and Pilates stuff and go straight to the Kharma for Idiots books with the great ideas, quotations and ways to put yourself in the moment--without being double jointed.

I'm hesitant, sure, to do this (Is this something for which I could be sued?). So far, these pieces of metal art were made out of unconditional friendship for me. The theory goes that love knows no end. So, sure, I'm willing to land flat on my face with this. I'm trying. Maybe the idea will soar. Maybe something good will happen.

Feel free to consider yourself "tagged" to do something similar.