The Raindrop

Photo: SPBM

It's A Foggy Friday

Somehow my mind and soul just cannot except that it is Christmas time. Where did the year go? Oh well, time doesn't stand still or slow down just because I think it should. :)

I am totally freezing my buns off, just not up for this cold feeling anymore. I turned the furnace up a couple of notches today, sure was painful to do it. I could hear the meter clicking and see dollar signs flashing before my eyes. But seriously, I just want to thaw out for a few hours.

I've been listening to Shane Koyczan for awhile now and I can't get enough of him. I adore this one with Hannah Epperson...you've probably seen it, but if not, do check it out. He and she are both amazing talents.


Thoughts about life and stuff...

And this morning, I was craving avocado, so made a great breakfast for myself and David.

Photos by spbm

Sauteed onions, garlic and tomatoes, scrambled eggs, topped with avocado on toast.

Spring Azures

    Photo by SPBM - Kansas City Contemporary Art Museum

Sometimes the great bones of my life feel so heavy,

and all the tricks my body knows—

the opposable thumbs, the kneecaps,

and the mind clicking and clicking—

don’t seem enough to carry me through the world

and I think: how I would like

to have wings—

blue ones—

ribbons of flame.

How I would like to open them, and rise

from the black rain water.

Spring Azures by Mary Oliver

What If ?

Photo by SPBM

“Here you sit on your high-backed chair

Wonder how the view is from there

I wouldn't know 'cause I like to sit

Upon the floor, yeah upon the floor

If you like we could play a game

Let's pretend that we are the same

But you will have to look much closer

Than you do, closer than you do

And I'm far too tired to stay here anymore

And I don't care what you think anyway

'Cause I think you were wrong about me

Yeah what if you were, what if you were

And what if I'm a snowstorm burning

What if I'm a world unturning

What if I'm an ocean, far too shallow, much too deep

What if I'm the kindest demon

Something you may not believe in

What if I'm a siren singing gentlemen to sleep

I know you've got it figured out

Tell me what I am all about

And I just might learn a thing or two

Hundred about you, maybe about you

I'm the end of your telescope

I don't change just to suit your vision

'Cause I am bound by a fraying rope

Around my hands, tied around my hands

And you close your eyes when I say I'm breaking free

And put your hands over both your ears

Because you cannot stand to believe I'm not

The perfect girl you thought

Well what have I got to lose

And what if I'm a weeping willow

Laughing tears upon my pillow

What if I'm a socialite who wants to be alone

What if I'm a toothless leopard

What if I'm a sheepless shepherd

What if I'm an angel without wings to take me home

You don't know me

Never will, never will

I'm outside your picture frame

And the glass is breaking now

You can't see me

Never will, never will

If you're never gonna see

What if I'm a crowded desert

Too much pain with little pleasure

What if I'm the nicest place you never want to go

What if I don't know who I am

Will that keep us both from trying

To find out and when you have

Be sure to let me know

What if I'm a snowstorm burning

What if I'm a world unturning

What if I'm an ocean, far too shallow, much too deep

What if I'm the kindest demon

Something you may not believe in

What if I'm a siren singing gentlemen to sleep

Sleep...

Sleep...”

― Emilie Autumn

 

WHAT IF

YOU WOKE UP TODAY AND

BELIEVED ?

Inspiration

Do you ever have days when everything feels and looks square but the world is round and nothing fits? Today I found this beautiful poem by Maya Stein on Patti Digh's blog, and if you are not familiar with her or her writing, check her out. I have one of her books and I find myself picking it up several times a week, finding much needed inspiration.

I want the water to fill your glass the moment
it sees your thirst.
I want the staircase to meet your footfalls.
I want the line to the freeway to move like breath.
I want the wind flattering your hairline, the rainshower
a welcome refreshment. I want the parking space to fit your car.
I want the birds on your back deck to warble in the exact way
they did during your childhood. I want the photographs
of all your holiday dinners buzzing with a certain unnamable
happiness. I want the dry cleaners to understand
your outrageous requests.
I want the man calling your house to survey
your thoughts on phone companies to remember
the evening is precious as silk. I want your new jeans to not
come undone in the wash. I want snow to land on your eyelashes
like it does in the movies, an etheric, slow-moving kiss.
I want a letter to arrive the moment
you feel most unwelcome of your own company.
I want the scent of lemons in the air. I want the power lines
overshadowed by the view your neighborhood offers at twilight.
I want the downtown ice rink to keep your fantasies aloft.
I want the moon to articulate your most punishing silence.
I want the willow tree revived and teeming, the broken daisies
resurrected and obstinate with brightness.
I want the labyrinth of what ifs narrowed
to a single, poignant sentence.
I want the tulips to be wild as clover, as fog, as good intentions.
I want your heart to cut through its own brutality,
for your body to see everything about you that’s beautiful.
I want love to come at you in thick pats of butter,
in strands of spun sugar, heavy and light as cream.
I want it to bathe your skin until you are nothing
but forgiveness, until your shadows have disappeared,
until all of your perfect right angles have collapsed,
until you are a curve of a curve,
and your hands slide forward and open
and are able, at last, to feel everything.
-Maya Stein

Beauty

“You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain

are moving across the landscapes,

over the prairies and the deep trees,

the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

call to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting –

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things.”

― Mary Oliver

i carry your heart...

To all the people I love...

“I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart)I am never without it (anywhere


I go you go,my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing,my darling)

I fear no fate (for you are my fate,my sweet)I want no world (for beautiful you are my world,my true)

and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you


here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows

higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart


I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart)”

― e.e. cummings

Moon Ghost

I took a photo of the beautiful moon last night, I laughed when I saw the photo. Do you see the "ghost" in the photo? (I swear, all I did was lighten the photo a tiny bit.) :)

O wild and wondrous midnight,

There is a might in thee

To make the charmed body
Almost like spirit be,
And give it some faint glimpses
Of immortality.
~James Russell Lowell, Midnight

Rumi - One Whisper of the Beloved

Something like...BEAUTIFUL!
 

lift not the painted veil

Some movies, like some people, without your consent, without invitation, without understanding, seep through the cracks and the intangible parts of your soul, finding a way under your skin and into your heart and mind... and there they remain, permanently. Maybe the story, the storm, maybe the person was there all along... but suddenly for whatever unknown reasons, your inner soul awakens to this mysterious presence...


The Painted Veil ~ A great story of love found, lost, and found...

Lift not the painted veil which those who live
Call Life: though unreal shapes be pictured there,
And it but mimic all we would believe
With colours idly spread,--behind, lurk Fear
And Hope, twin Destinies; who ever weave
Their shadows, o'er the chasm, sightless and drear.
I knew one who had lifted it--he sought,
For his lost heart was tender, things to love,
But found them not, alas! nor was there aught
The world contains, the which he could approve.
Through the unheeding many he did move,
A splendour among shadows, a bright blot
Upon this gloomy scene, a Spirit that strove
For truth, and like the Preacher found it not.

~Percy B. Shelley

abou ben adhem

Abou Ben Adhem James H. L. Hunt 1784-1859

Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw, within the moonlight in his room,
Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,
An Angel writing in a book of gold;
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,
And to the Presence in the room he said,
“What writest thou?” The vision raised its head,
And with a look made of all sweet accord
Answered, “The names of those who love the Lord.”
“And is mine one?” said Abou. “Nay, not so,”
Replied the Angel. Abou spoke more low,
But cheerly still; and said, “I pray thee, then,
Write me as one that loves his fellow-men.”

The Angel wrote, and vanished. The next night
It came again with a great wakening light,
And showed the names whom love of God had blessed,
And, lo! Ben Adhem’s name led all the rest!

My father made me learn this poem at a very young age. Even today, I can recite this poem word for word.

mirror mirror

It's been one of those freakin' weeks, when I want to catch the next magic carpet and fly far far away. I swear, it's been one of those weeks! This poem gives me hope, I think. Hope you all have a great weekend!

The time will come

when, with elation,

you will greet yourself arriving

at your own door, in your own mirror,

and each will smile at each other's welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.

You will love again the stranger who was your self.

Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart

to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored

for another, who knows you by heart.

Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,

peel your own image from the mirror.

Sit. Feast on your life.

~ Derek Walcott

places in the future

Pablo Neruda is one of my so very favorite poets. How I wish I could have known this man, spent time sitting at a table across from him and listen to him tell his story and read his poetry. Wow!


Pablo Neruda

“and that’s why i have to go back
to so many places in the future,
there to find myself
and constantly examine myself
with no witness but the moon
and then whistle with joy,
ambling over rocks and clods of earth,
with no task but to live,
with no family but the road.”
-pablo neruda


Pablo Neruda's Home