Sun Light

Whew. This morning's sunrise on my bedroom wall. In awe of the beauty of this world. Tomorrow I want to capture the Olympics. Keepin' my fingers crossed.

NeoCube

ok. I think I NEED one of these!!

In Spite of Ourselves

She don't like her eggs all runny
She thinks crossin' her legs is funny
She looks down her nose at money
She gets it on like the Easter Bunny
She's my baby I'm her honey
I'm never gonna let her go

He ain't got laid in a month of Sundays
I caught him once and he was sniffin' my undies
He ain't too sharp but he gets things done
Drinks his beer like it's oxygen
He's my baby and I'm his honey
Never gonna let him go

In spite of ourselves, we'll end up a'sittin' on a rainbow
Against all odds, honey, we're the big door prize
We're gonna spite our noses, right off of our faces
There won't be nothin', but big old hearts, dancin' in our eyes

She thinks all my jokes are corny
Convict movies make her horny
She likes ketchup on her scrambled eggs
Swears like a sailor when shaves her legs
She takes a lickin' and keeps on tickin'
I'm never gonna let her go

He's got more balls than a big brass monkey
He's a wacked out weirdo and a love bug junkie
Sly as a fox and crazy as a loon
Payday comes and he's howlin' at the moon
He's my baby I don't mean maybe
Never gonna let him go

In spite of ourselves, we'll end up a'sittin' on a rainbow
Against all odds, honey, we're the big door prize
We're gonna spite our noses, right off of our faces
There won't be nothin', but big old hearts, dancin' in our eyes

In spite of ourselves, we'll end up a'sittin' on a rainbow
Against all odds, honey, we're the big door prize
We're gonna spite our noses, right off of our faces
There won't be nothin', but big old hearts, dancin' in our eyes
There won't be nothin' but big old hearts, dancin' in our eyes
Inspite of ourselves

T'was

T'was the day after Christmas

And all through the house

All the creatures were stirring

"oh look! there's that blouse!"

The laundry has not been done recently see

Hell there wasn't enough time for even a tree

There were a few dishes that made it to clean

But mostly they sat in the sink like a dream.

Creating of presents, the working, the love,

Made all the moments like gifts from above.

And today all the chores that are still here to do

Were made so much sweeter with memories of you.

The bundles of laundry were ready to go

The half full Goodwill bag got filled and I know

You'll love all the space the basement now has

As well as the swept floor and all of that jazz.

So welcome home baby I missed you of course

But mostly I realized that you are my source

Of good will and cheer and serious blisses

With laughter and beauty and wonderful kisses.

Comin' Home

She's been gone for a week and time has been surreal from one moment to the next. Like the thing that it is, a construct for our senses to exist within, it varies. And within it I've moved through so many perceptions and emotions and understandings and prayers and confusions and wisdoms. Tonight I'll be able to look into her eyes and my heart will become even more vast to hold everything that exists within them. Welcome home, my love.

Everything 1

I am Everything. I am the tattered edges of prayer flags. I am the wind that blows them clean. I am childhood memories and I am the dreams of the dying. I am the oceans between us. I am the shore that pulls you closer. I am wisdom. I am foolishness. I am craving. I am contentment. I am the sky above all things. I am one grain of sand. I am everything that is and is not. I am streams and rivers and tides. I am the call of birds in flight.

Hang Son Doong Cave

A half-mile block of 40-story buildings could fit inside this lit stretch of Hang Son Doong, which may be the world's biggest subterranean passage. If you click on it it should get bigger for you to see the magnificence. It's in Viet Nam.

Mysterious (click to see more of her art work)

I had forgotten about the click click click of the kiln as it raises the temperature inside at a certain rate. When it reaches it's prescribed heat it's held, and then begins to climb again. This way the glass heats and expands safely. No breaking, hopefully. There's a serenity in the clicks, the letting go of the reins, allowing the heat to just be heat and do what it will do. And then there is this thing that's almost like an emotion, perhaps it is an emotion, this feeling that mystery exists and within the sensation of this existence, freedom, a contentment. Of course, in awhile, when the glass is so hot that it glows, I'll have to peer in, witness the molten fusions. Can't look too long, though, 'cause it's like looking at the sun. The hardest part is the hours of cooling. I always have such a craving to touch the pieces, see them after each piece of glass has become one, hold them and feel the smoothness under my fingertips, turn them over and over and over, still warm. I'm so grateful for the Muse-ition of my lover. Miracles.

Right in Time

Half Moon

Clear sky enough to see this reflected light of the moon. Rain comes and goes and last night lightning rattled dreams with it's thunder. Stunning culmination of a day filled with hours of boredom, providing me with ample opportunity to be mindful and challenge myself to find joy in the present. Not easy. I have cashier elbow. Light duty is beyond light. It's inane. Empty. Pointless. But it's the way to a healed elbow, apparently, so I dive into the shallows of Light Duty letting my mind wonder where it will while dusting wine bottles, replacing labels on old bulk spice jars, and randomly facing (pulling product to the front of each shelf) the store. Ah, but I did find one very worthwhile task... researching yummy vegan recipes to surprise my darlin'. Here's one. It won't be a surprise but it'll still be fun.
  
Baked Ginger Pears

• 6 large organic Bosc, Comice or D’Anjou pears
• 1 1/2- to 3-inch piece of ginger root
• 4 to 6 cups organic apple cider

Preparation

Wash pears, do not peel and do not remove stems. Cut lengthwise. With a teaspoon, scoop out just the pith and seeds — or leave as-is for a more rustic appearance. If preferred, the 12 halves can be sliced again lengthwise, for 24 quartered pieces.

Arrange pears, cut sides up in a baking dish. Grate unpeeled ginger root onto a plate.

Gather grated ginger, squeeze over pears and then scatter. Pour cider over pears, until they are nearly covered. Bake in a pre-heated 350° F oven for one hour. Remove and let cool. Serve at room temperature or chilled.

Recipe by Goldie Caughlan, PCC Nutrition Education Manager

Source: Sound Consumer November 2007

Serious Look

She said, what's up? You look so serious. And I realized she'd never seen me serious. I was worried about being late to work, already missing her even though she is standing in front of me kissing me, tired from not enough sleep, and she was smiling and so fucking present. I watched myself inside out. In comparison to my whole life I kept seeing me in this moment. This moment right before she turns to walk away and I have to find where I am. Future mind missing her, now mind loving her, past mind resting on glorious laurels. I stepped into the car after watching her disappear into the reflections on the sliding doors of Virgin Air. Sacred breath heaved from my chest and I closed my eyes for just a moment. Aries volcano music. That's my mind. That's the song that sometimes spins me around and drops me into atmosphere and longing and distraction. These are the notes that whirlwind me through my life in a revolution of creating and remembering who I am and am not. The Woman I Am Becoming smiles into my eyes with complete unconditional love and the Serious melts away and what is left is Being. Sweet. Work will survive beautifully if I'm a bit late. I can sleep, eventually. And the love that is, is big and miraculous and eternal. What's left is gratitude, looking forward to her return, and walking the dog before I get to work, late, but not too much.

Hermit vs. Not Hermit

Damn. Being a hermit is way different than having a lover. There's logistics and long conversations and waking up to poetry and going to sleep to poetry and having dinner at friends homes and laughing 'til your belly hurts and not having a whole lotta time to write in your blog and stoopid grins all the time and love shining over the whole planet, universe, every moment. I had more time. Now there's not enough time. Forever is just not long enough.

One More

My love is back. I probably should be cleaning something before she gets here but these little music thingys are falling through me like stones dropped by deviant crows through skyscraper skylights. So be it. Each moment has it's own way. I think the heart whispers things into their ears.

Mom

Today would have been her 85th birthday and in April it will have been 10 years since I helped birth her into non-embodiment. My sister and I talked today. I had never told her about mom's last moments. I don't know why. When I did, she cried and I wished that I could have been there to hold her. Our personal connections with mom were different. We learned different things, but learn we did. I will always be grateful for everything she taught me.... always.

Happy Birthday, Mom

Obsessed

I love making these music thingys.
Sometimes GrooveShark goes down.
So there won't be anything here.
Or it takes a few minutes. Poop.


Lyrics for Just What I Meant by Chris Delmhorst

You find me clenched and crumpled like a letter I wrote but never sent
You pull me up and shake me out
And now I can stand here and say just what I meant
This is just what I meant, this is just

September rolling like a hurricane and I'm leaning over the rail
I dance a turn with a thunder cloud and I'm surprised when I find I'm still
Alive and telling the tale
I am telling the tale

I am telling you like I always do
I am telling you

June bugs bump into the ceiling and the headlights are sweeping the wall
You take my breath so far away that I have to say that I don't miss it at all
I don't miss it at all
I don't miss it at all

Songs

Waitin' for my baby to come home.
Listenin' to music, thinkin' bout her.
Her hopeless romantic.

Madly

"Power without guilt. Love without doubt."
From the movie Wolf

So in this love I seem to have lost my ability to reframe particular situations to my emotional advantage. She's gone, you see. It's only 6 days and it doesn't matter. One day is bullshit. She would laugh to hear me say it. She'll laugh when she reads it. And it makes me smile to realize that. I've tried the spiritual reframing. I've tried philosophy. I've even tried drowning myself in too much food and t.v. and nada. And so it goes. And so this is how it will be because my longing for her eyes, her touch, her light, her grace, cannot be assuaged. ok. I get it. This longing thing thrives no matter what anyway, even if she's across the room. ok. I get it.

Jean-Michel Basquiat

Just watched a movie on this beautiful man. This painting was one he did for his last show. Prophetic. He was 28 and the movie is called Radiant Child. Inspiration is an understatement. We all have our moments, I think. Some are more public than others, as they are meant to be. I love his work. I watched it "instantly" on Netflix.
Click HE RE if you'd like to go there.

Ah Choo

:::sniffle, aaaah choooo, sniffle, blow, sniffle, drip, blow::: 

Really?

What the heck is a baby possum doing on a lawn in a neighborhood in the cold harsh days of almost winter?? Out on a walk and this little toothy cherub was spotted by my usually eat first ask questions later big dog but this time he sniffed the trying to look vicious thing and walked away. I'm like wtf? So we moved it off the lawn and onto a plant close to the opening to under the porch and wished it well hoping it's traveling "hang on baby cakes mom is gonna take you for a litte ride" mother will show up soon and take him/her to safety. Good luck little one.

Flowers of Kiss

"Flowers and Hat: Patchen Place, c. 1950, ee cummings"

in the rain-

darkness,     the sunset

being sheathed i sit and 

think of you

the holy

city which is your face

your little cheeks the streets

of smiles

your eyes half-thrush

half-angel and your drowsy

lips where float flowers of kiss

and there is the sweet shy pirouette

your hair

and then

your dancesong

soul.     rarely-beloved 

a single star is uttered, and i

think

              of you

Mad Love

We are the mirror as well as the face in it.
We are tasting the taste this minute
of eternity. We are pain
and what cures pain, both. We are
the sweet, cold water and the jar that pours.


Rumi


And the snow poured down in a Seattle
blizzard. Imagine that. But the phone lines
didn't go down so there was connection
aplenty that trickled across the line from ocean
to ocean, word to word, heart to heart, body 
to longing body. Now to sleep with the voice of
mad love ringing in my ears with the perpetual 
sweetness of it's song.

Laughter

Last night I heard the most beautiful laughter. The kind of laughter that lights up the entire Universe and makes it smile from ear to ear. The sound of dew coming to rest on a rose petal, the barking of happy greeting dogs, the sweet melody of lovers meeting anywhere. Now that I've heard it, I have no doubt that I'll ever be able to live without it's possibility. Reminds me of one of the stories in Wind in the Willows. The baby animals were lost in the forest and Pan came to help them. First he played his pan pipe so that each one would feel peaceful and content, then fall asleep. Then he brought the animals looking for them to where they were safe and sound. But before he left, he put a spell on the children to forget the music of the pipes, for if they remembered it, they would spend the rest of their days searching for it. At least that's how I remember the story. And that's how I know, there will be no forgetting that laughter, ever.

Progress

And again my inmost life rushes louder,

as if it moved now between steeper banks.
Objects become ever more related to me,
and all pictures ever more perused.
I feel myself more trusting in the nameless:
with my senses, as with birds, I reach
into the windy heavens from the oak,
and into the small ponds' broken-off day
my feeling sinks, as if it stood on fishes.

Rainier Maria Rilke

Misty Morning

Path. Turn a corner and what will you see? Last night was a spectrum. At one end of the grid, a terror. A nail biting, make you spin crazy, stupefying, insidious, monster terror. At the other end, love. Well, of course. So it's like taking the grid and making the ends meet. Introduce the fear to the love and watch what happens. I think it's peace, which naturally, is the same as love, only different.                        ( Courage.  "of the heart". )                                And then the opening. And then the awareness of the crevices where the pain once lived. The pain that I didn't even really know existed, like a splinter that I got used to and would just occasionally administer some kind of unconscious first aid. And then the breath that reached into them and quietly, sweetly, filled them up with love, and hope, and tranquility.

I wonder where the next steps on this beautiful journey will take me. What will happen next? ok. I'm outta here to go find out.

Lies

LIES 1:   There is only the present and nothing to remember.

LIES 2:   Time is a straight line.

LIES 3:   The difference between the past and the future is that one has happened while the other has not.

LIES 4:   We can only be in one place at a time.

LIES 5:   Any proposition that contains the word 'finite' (the world, the universe, experience, ourselves...)

LIES 6:   Reality as something which can be agreed upon.

LIES 7:   Reality as truth.

Jeanette Winterson - Sexing the Cherry

My Guy

I love it when I get to spend time with my guy. We hung out and talked a bit, watched Dexter (wrapping duct tape around my head in the vicinity of my mouth to not give it away to those that lag behind a bit), then went and looked at web ready cell phones with cheap internet access. I was gung ho, he was pragmatic, and chilled my impulsiveness. When did he get so grown up???? But he's always been beautiful. Such love. We're gonna go again soon, when the right phone is here. Yay!!

Snow Geese

I didn't see these this morning, but I wanted to. I remembered you telling me about the sound overhead and I could feel you feeling it. But what I did see was my sweatshirt being polka dotted by the tiniest rain. What I felt was Autumn chill brushing up against each droplet on my face, on my smile, on my eyelids because my eyes were closed to bring in closer the sweetness of the moments. I am so grateful.

Within

See through beauty. Arms that can wrap around and hold and let go. Eyes alert and focused and haunting. Today I am that. Pulsing through this sea, searching and content and alive. The sound in my ears is that sound I imagine, embrionically, as the swoosh of heartbeat, the sensation of nurture passed cell to cell, the cradled joy of floating in some kind of watery world of  love and joy. And yes, there is an "I could stay here forever" smile across my lips. But my divine knows that birth will follow, again and again. So with great anticipation and courage and desire, I welcome the next... and the next.

Light

This morning there is so much light. Even the shadows have smiles and the air tastes alive and a little bit like some kind of knowing that has been sprinkled with cinnamon. Deep breathing of this is in order, I'm thinkin'.

Rain

Ah, walk to the Lighthouse. Then back, americano in hand, wet happy dog on the leash ahead, stacked stones repaired, stared at with tenderness, marveling at the colors and textures beneath the tears of the sky. Today I'm imagining them tears of joy, although, I'm sure there's some salty sadness in a few. The world here on earth can do that to anything, probably even the sky.

A day off. Methinks it's a day for a fire in the fireplace. Warmed by it. Taught by the contemplations on the flames. Rememberings, forgettings, imaginings. And just plain resting. There's been Catalystic Alchemy, Cataclysmic Journeying, and Profound Catechism. Today is a day of playing the tongue drum intermittently, doing the laundry and the dishes, brushing the dog, sitting quietly and listening to the sound of my own breath.

Because

Clicking on this will probably make it bigger.

More readable that way, most likely.

Ocean Shores

Huge waves crashing up against the shore and churning up the stones in the sand. Surfers!!! We watched them run to the jetty with little boards and then disappear into the foam appearing much later far out on the water, rising and falling with the building up and letting go of the ocean. And that ocean. A world. Immense. And the picnic with the couch and tables of driftwood, the wind in our faces, the joy of being so alive. What a sweet day.

Free Chart

Wonderful astrology site.

Chaos Astrology

Baobab

At first I thought it was a Daliesque painting, 

but on National Geographic? Giant goddess 

beings, I think.

http://photography.nationalgeographic.com/photography/photo-of-the-day

Babies

Baby of Mongolia from the movie, Babies. Wonderful baby talk experience. And damn, the idea of learning to crawl in that openness, under that sky. wow.

Open

somewhere
in my mind
sensing the existence

of outcome and opening 

reaching and letting go

simultaneously

grounded

somewhere in mind

somewhere within

i am the vessel

holding me

The Day After

Post full moon in Aries. Luminosity is less, the memory of it vivid. My heart is full and it feels huge, dreamy. Feet taking steps one after the other but, sometimes, I just have to sit in the middle of a room until I can tell what direction comes next. Today I remembered there are more than 4. East, west, north, south, above, below, and within. I feel cradled by this reminder.

The storm today was passionately changeable. I loved it.

Balance Practice

There are sky blue spaces between each molecule of me. The expansiveness of these moments is delicious. Breathtaking. Everyone and everything I look at is luminous. So I am behind the check stand, making little ding sounds as I add up the totals for these shining lights. One foot in the Bliss River. The other digging my toes into the earth, mother of us all.

First Day of My Life

Precious. The Miracle of Connection and Hope and Love.

Twenty Four

I was blond then. In the moment of this photograph, diffuse. She had been brushing my hair over the edge of the mattress. With each stroke I was more enthralled. There were whispers and some of that soft kind of laughter. I think that was the day she named me Moon. We were going to France and she was practicing the language. Dandelion is how it began. Then "mon Dandelion", into Moon Danda, and then simply... Moon. And I stayed Moon for years. Maybe 10. Not sure anyone ever knew the story of it's beginnings.

On a Thing Called Art

Full Moon in Aries

Magnolia seeds. The evergreen kind. Hard, furry, shells,

clumps of fullness carrying baby magnolias safe and sound.

In the warmth they open revealing the infant trees.

They even have umbilicals.

I know I am a fool.

Went to the bookshelf, zoned in on a book, opened to a page. A kind of tarot, seems childish, pure. Kinda pure. Maybe there was a wee bit of educated soulful guessing. After all, it is the words of Jeanette. Right? Wonderin' what will I make of what's there on this published Ouija board.

"Walk with me, hand in hand through the neon and styrofoam. Walk the razor blades and the broken hearts. Walk the fortune and the fortune hunted. Walk the chop suey bars and the tract of stars.

I know I am a fool, hoping dirt and glory are both a kind of luminous paint; the humiliation and exaltations that light us up. I see like a bug, everything too large, the pressure of infinity hammering at my head. But how else to live, vertical that I am, pressed down and pressing up simultaneously? I cannot assume you will understand me. It is just as likely that as I invent what I want to say, you will invent what you want to hear. Some story we must have. Stray words on crumpled paper. A weak signal into the outer space of each other.

The probability of separate worlds meeting is very small. The lure of it is immense. We send starships. We fall in love."

Jeannette Winterson, Gut Symmetries

Sheltering Sky

Brutal and human and cinematic genius. Peter Gabriel music. Love flails against bonds and freedom. Life and Death glaring back at you in the heat of the desert sun. Deborah Winger becomes a prisoner and the lover of her jailer as her whole world continues to unravel. I can't help but try and imagine where her mind is going, where it will wind up. Traveler vs. tourist. Artistic mind vs. the conventional or mundane or normal. Some of my friends wonder why I love it. I wonder why they wonder. There is just so much sensuality to witness. Everywhere.

Tunner: Do you and Port ever... share the same room?
Kit Moresby: Tunner, when you travel for months on end, you have to set it up this way. But if you're talking about sex, the first rule of marriage is never to confuse it with sleep.

Beauty and Truth

So much discovery of beauty and truth. At least that's what it feels like somewhere under my skin. I think these gorgeous souls are gifts of my angels. I can see their footprints everywhere. Oh rain on me, Universe, these sweet surprises. I love surprises. I love the momentum that swings me up in the air on such a happy swing in the park.

And so now there's a discussion on the floor. Dating. What the fuck is it really? Is it a mating system or is it a step farther with someone who has been chosen as someone that might be mateable? And if it's a system to get to know someone to choose for a partner, do I really need to get out of the way in order to really know them so that my ideas about what I think I want don't pollute the reality of the person? :::laughing::: o.k. I'm over thinking this. I'll just let my heart be happy about the crispness of the incoming Fall and the fact that flannel shirts are going to be worn regularly soon! Make memories and drink it all in, I say. Life is amazing!

Another thing is, I think that stones ask to be balanced, by me. "here i am. down here. by your left foot a little to the right. choose me. choose me!" They're so sweet. And there are words that I learned from my heart. Don't know if it would work for anyone. It's barah instilde. (bah ra in still day) When I say it the stones balance easier.

Wordmindfunnyboneheartbirthsmith Discovery!

There are people you meet that just crawl inside of you and whisper against the blood rushing in your veins and you can almost see them seeing even if you've never seen them. B and S are like that. I've been reading B's blog and listening to her heart and memory and believing. Makes the day aware of it's own dreams and the dream it comes from and the dreams it is becoming. http://becoy.blogspot.com/

Morning of Dexter with Simon and laughter. He came over to help me reformat the PC and left to go help his grandma in the garden. He does all this with such grace. Some say I should take credit for his beauty but I think he was born with it. I take credit for some of the twinkle in his eyes.

Inspired. Today. I love inspiration.

A Day of Connection

The sun came out today. Maybe it's because a friend I haven't talked to for 9 years reached out to me and we spoke. I sat there with this huge grin on my face, sometimes tiny trickles of emotion would slide slowly down my cheek. Just like the sun it was warm, just like the air it was clear and fresh, just like the moment(s) it was a beginning. :::long slow breath::: Life is amazing.

And then there are the transitions. While I'm writing this there is a knock at the door. Three years ago I was the doula for the mom and dad of Willow. Today, her dad came to drop off a sweatshirt that my son had left in his van, months ago. Today he tells me he's moving down the street. Today he tells me that the separation is for 6 months and then they'll see. They've lived next door to me for what seems like always. Change has come. And of course many moments in between Then and Now. :::watching the moments slip through my hands like the fluidity of water:::

Do you listen to the stories of Lake Woebegone? At the end he always says this one thing and today it reminds me of my own home and wilderness. "where the women are strong, the men are good looking, and the children... are above average."

Namaste'