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