Tuesday, November 27, 2012

evening desire

The moon's music wafts on wind
waking me from sickly sleep,
yet shadowy waters deepen
when love's longings move me most.

We, as tiny creatures all crooked,
linger in the moonlight
that spills from each others' eyes
and our arms ache while reaching
in the holy night.

Thursday, November 22, 2012

love a forest, kiss a leaf

This afternoon I walked with my family along a leaf-soaked pathway in the forest.  On the way back I fell behind on purpose because, as any mother can probably tell you, a reprieve from the children is necessary even if it's only for a minute.

All became still.

Except... to my left was one leaf at the end of a thin twig waving violently, as if calling for help.  Why was this one so desperate for my attention?  I plucked it gently and noticed a brown trail, perhaps from some insect or caterpillar, winding through its damp material, over and across the veins and off its zigzag edge.

When I brushed it against my lips, the cruel voices rolled and thrashed—voices that were really just myself.

You're kissing a leaf?!
You nerd.
Stop daydreaming.
Do it this way.
Hurry up.
Quit smiling to yourself.
 
But as a bird sang I closed my eyes to shut them out.  It was a very important leaf.

  

Thursday, November 15, 2012

pins and needles

left hand goes
open, close, open, close
prick and pin

prick, prick, prick

blood flow to elbow
getting slow

mind clenched
tears stuck
inside my skull

i call bull
though i don't know
why
or where
... or how


Tuesday, November 13, 2012

coffee! wooooo!

Ages ago, before I even realized Tim Hortons existed, I was tagging along with a group of peers and I remember them discussing what to do for the evening.  The restaurant was suggested several times and I thought, who is this Tim Horton guy and what’s so great about him?

I was a proud non-coffee drinker.  I didn’t need it to "get me going" in the morning and, anyway, it was bitter.  I was content with tea and secretly enjoyed saying, “I don’t drink coffee,” whenever it was offered to me.

Someone kind and generous, as well as ignorant regarding my non-coffee status, surprised me with a Tim Hortons’ iced cappuccino two summers ago.  We were watching our children at a playground and it tipped over leaving me with only a few sips, a taste sufficient for me to see it was good.

A few weeks later I was enduring one of my many lethargic mornings when I thought, there’s no harm in sampling a small iced capp.  I consumed the entire thing, got a major buzz, then said, “WooOOOoooo!  So this is why people drink coffee!”

In the course of two years I graduated from periodical iced capps to english toffee cappuccinos to french vanilla ones, and by the beginning of this month I was ordering an extra small at the drive thru about three times per week.

Then it happened.  On Friday after a slow and rough morning with two children (Tamara’s day off from school), I really wanted my extra small french vanilla cappuccino.  But I really didn’t want to herd the cats (er, I mean children) into my golden chariot.

So, here is my big news:
I brewed my very own regular coffee with our shiny black Cuisinart.  It smelled divine.  And it wasn’t too bitter for me, seeing as though I added a gigantic dollop of honey.

Evidently, becoming a coffee drinker means becoming a coffee spiller, but I’m okay with that.  While I was writing frantically in my notebook this morning, I accidentally sloshed some onto the page.  Now it appears as if I painted it there with great purpose and I’m rather fond of it.

Sunday, November 4, 2012

now is the time

I have something to tell you.

I'm an addict.

And addiction isn't good for me so I've decided to take a break from the computer for the purposes of self-care.  At first I thought I'd only cut out social media yet continue blogging, but I think ANY type of computer activity will intensify the temptation to click into facebook.

Social media is a breeding ground for slander, bullying, and narcissism but it's also a helpful tool that can be used to influence change in a positive way and I enjoy communicating with it.

I've come to rely on it a little too much, though, and when I do that it takes away from real relationships, opportunities and experiences.

I'm doing this based on a suggestion from Julia Cameron in The Artist's Way.  She recommends depriving myself of reading for a week in order to nourish the artist within.

I'll be back next Sunday.


Saturday, November 3, 2012

nest


delicate is the day
as is a woman,
heavenly threads woven in skin of sky
the small nest of her body
wailing under heavy feathers
wondering why



barbed






Friday, November 2, 2012

which one went home justified?

An affluent business man walked home from the office, mumbling to himself, "Thank God I'm not like those corrupt East Indians.  I go to church every Sunday and tithe ten percent.  And all they do is cause problems for everyone.  They should just go back to India."

Meanwhile, a brown-faced janitor hailed a taxi to get home.  He buckled his seat belt and silently prayed, "Lord, have mercy on me.  I can't stop messing things up."


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