Fragility and hardiness with a hint of lace.
My kind of flower.
Wild. true.
With a bit of beige thrown in for good measure.
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Paring down.
Simplicity.
Untangling, unraveling, smoothing out, breathe.
Living with some ruffles. Eh.
For the love of animals. Please!!
Volunteer.
What stirs my soul? Solitude.
Unhurried hours of reading.
Day dreaming. Streams of it.
Living in my head with stories. I miss that.
Go back to reading voraciously.
Set your own goals, for Pete’s sake! Whoever Pete might be.
Painting is intense joy but words come first.
Where does writing fall?
Writing is expressing what you have read. Feel.
All that has seeped into my own story. Or day dreams.
Romance, baby.
Romance is being in love with living. Madly.
Everything falls under that umbrella. The umbrella of Living.
Capital L. Yeah. Not kidding around here.
Instinct. But take a moment first.
Laugh, cry, be weird and gauche, but be real.
Be you. It’s okay. Not everyone is blessed with social graces.
I was probably slurping down smoothies when they were handing that out.
Have I mentioned kindness yet? Kindness all around?
Especially to your self though.
Your gut is raw from all the guilt you hurl at it.
Over the most extraordinarily silliest of things no less!
So you forgot to soak the beans! Get a can for Pete’s sake and call it a day.
There is that Pete again. Strange. Stranger.
Do you ever read or write a word, a regular word, and feel as though you are using it for the first time? As though you have never seen or heard it before?
Just happened to me with ‘strange’. So strange.
Speaking of strange, I like being a stranger in my own city.
Looking at everything with ‘new’ eyes. Re-discovering.
Re-reading, re-starting, re-inventing, you get the idea.
Kinda like what I am doing with this new year, re-aligning and all that jazz.
Oh I say!
Cheers to that!
It is dried out now, a mere husk.
But once, it was a living,
breathing thing. A flame of the earth.
A keeper of the bees.
Just as thrilled at the touch of the sun
as you,
& I.
Just as hardy,
& just
as fragile.
Woke up to ice one day last week.
The honeysuckle hung down in loops. So many broke away because they could not take the weight. We carried them away by the armfuls. Time will do it's trick and accept their bodies into the soil to be turned into new saplings come spring. Though nature must do it's thing, I will miss the sweep of it's arch over the driveway.
The trees looked old, grizzled, bearded, frosty.
The branches and the leaves, as though immortalized, as though they could live forever and ever under this icy glass.
It was cold, it was beautiful, it was magical.
P.S. Trying out a new format. Stay with me while I figure it out?
An unexpected gift from a friend!
Plants, books that are beloved, a plate of home made cookies, a slice or two of home baked bread, or cake, a wee bit of curry because the spices were exactly right and you HAD to share the joy of that creation, these are such infinitely precious gifts! Sweet and straight from the heart, the joy they give is unbound and timeless!
I remember receiving a tiny little money plant eons ago! I still remember that bubble of joy I felt on receiving it. So sweet and unexpected! Now that tiny plant has turned into 5 beautifully flourishing plants. And the jasmine, a parting gift from a dear neighbour! It flowers every summer and the scent is exquisite! It also reminds me of home where jasmine grows in abundance.
These little ones will be cherished for a long time to come!
What are some of the sweetest gifts you have received?
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It is bleaker than bleak. And so quiet. Not a peep from the birds, the squirrels are quiet, too. Sleeping in most likely. I would, too, if I didn’t have a gazillion things to do.
There are carpets to be vacuumed, table tops to be dusted, dinner to be cooked.
But before all that, a quiet cup of tea, a pine scented candle for light, and a heart grateful for another beginning, another day.
Wrinkles, grey hair, they are all inevitable. Beautiful for the stories they can tell. It is the natural flow of life.
But how my thoughts age, and my heart, how I spend the rest of my days, those are the things that I wrestle with every day.
And those days when I ask my heart how did you do today and it says pas mal, pas mal, are happy days. More so because they are so few and far between.
There is so much to learn. And isn’t that one of life’s true purposes?
To live fully, inquisitively, and everyday through enquiry move closer to our true self?
“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy”.
– Hamlet
Came across these gorgeous mushrooms on our walk yesterday and this quote fleeted through my mind.
No, I do not walk around nimbly quoting Shakespeare everyday, but this one has stayed with me ever since I came across it many many years ago. Perhaps because it applies to so many things. Even ‘ordinary’ everyday things. Add yeast and sugar, and the dough rises like magic, and then there is this quote, and you feel the world expand into a gazillion magnificent mysteries and at the same time narrow down to the risen dough under your gently kneading fingers.
So many things in heaven and earth, Horatio…so many magical things.
