Sunday, August 27, 2006

Anam Cara

The title is Gaelic for soul friend. Those who surpass the boundries of time to be together. I'm blessed to have several; MJ, Terri, and Dori as the core. (TerryM you're one too).

MJ, Terri and I went kayaking Saturday morning. I was browbeat into it and had NO way out. With the love and understanding of true friends I thoroughly enjoyed it. Man I want a kayak, and paddle now! It was sooo peaceful. I actually saw the beauty in saw palmettos and palm trees. To me it looked like a Thomas Cole (Hudson Valley School of art in the turn of the last century) painting. It wasn't hard to do either. Well, despite fighting current on the way back was a bit trickier but so worth it.

While we were out there MJ commented on how some people are just dazed and amazed how we've been close friends for such a long time when she brings us up in conversation. Not to mention that not one of us is from this area but we all moved here (still one missing TerryM), to be close to each other. We've become our 'chosen families'. Terri, said quite plainly 'it was fate'.

Thank you girls for shoving me through another door. I look forward to more adventures.

Thursday, August 24, 2006

Baby Taylor's Photos

Is this a sweet little baby girl or what?! Look at those baby blues and auburn hair. Wonder where she gets those?! Oh I could kiss her fingers, toes, chin, elbows and that sweet little nose.

These are great photos my daughter put on her blog, for which I'm grateful.

Oh Taylor you're so loved.

All my love,


Wednesday, August 23, 2006

Mada's freedom flight

Upon this day at 8:05pm 3 years ago Mada left this world as we know it. Today I still weep, though the tears aren't as fat,I still miss her. Selfish? Maybe. Though I can now celebrate as I smile between the tears as I imagine her running as she never had, talking as she never could and giggle as I used to think that I bet she wouldn't shut up for weeks. I'm sure my mother got an earful.

What were your memories dear one? Do you still dance with Ashley in the field of flowers in your pretty dresses? I know you look around I found your gifts of feathers. Though there was more then a time or two I had to look for the cat with a smile on it's face. Never saw it. Cher's songs have seemed to become the 'code', for I can now smile and turn up the song as her songs come on. They just don't play as often. I still get weepy when I hear Evanesence's song "My Immortal", but not like last year when it tore me to the soul.

I started a poetry journal I've titled "Lucid Moments" as they seemed to be. Quite a few are written for you little girl. Here are a few of my favorites:

Death whispers its song
Upon my daughters sweet soul
And the desert blooms

I mourn so deeply
I'd rather lay with your bones
And sleep for all time

On gossamer wings
My heart breaks a thousand times
As she flies away

Among the living
I find I can laugh again
With a different slant

Her smile is so sweet
The most beautiful blue eyes
She is now a dream

Will you paint the stars at night?
Of my summers evn' sky
As your spirit soars
So does my heart mourn
I look to find you all around
Right before my eyes
Shining brightly
As stars against a midnight sky
So before we say good night
Will you paint my stars at night?

Well my darling daughter good night. I love you so much. But you already know that don't you?


Tuesday, August 22, 2006


The most resonate
Sound I heard in the stillness
Was Spirit waking

Summer's Waning

Oh Summer has slipped her guard down
And Fall
Kissed the day with his brilliant hues
But only for a moment
When Summer's attention came back around
Her vanities praised in the cadence summer song
As she ever so faintly releases her grip on the world
And we can breathe a little more each day

Monday, August 21, 2006


Here it is, the window. A picture of a wave. What do you think?

Saturday, August 12, 2006


As I travelled the internet highway I came across this excerpt titled“The Big Story” from The Feeling Buddha by David Brazier. The author begins this way: “What story are you living? What kind of story is it? Is it a story you’ll feel glad to have lived? Will you, when old, look back over the years without regret? Many people feel as though their lives haven’t really begun yet. They are waiting for the right conditions to begin. Others feel as though it is all over already. Some feel a sense of purpose, but many feel that their lives are disjointed, inconsequential or seriously compromised.”
Brazier goes on to say that in each life there is a big story and a little story. The little story is the story of the ego, what we call in our “Self-Mastery” class the small “s” self. I think of it as the self that knows itself in terms of limitations, strivings, attachments, appearances, gains, losses, and wounds—the facts of our life rather than the truth. The big story is about the capital “S” Self and our divine identity, innate wholeness, sense of purpose, meaning, and contribution to life.
The little story of Jesus, Brazier offers, is that he was a carpenter’s son who never managed to get himself either a [supposed] wife or a proper job and finished up by being executed for a minor offense. The big story of Jesus is, as we know, entirely something else. Notice how the little story diminishes and dismisses while the big story expands and acknowledges.
The question for us to answer is which story are we personally living? Which one do we tell about ourselves? Do we think our lives are not so great? That’s how we sell out. We can each put our lives in the service of a big story that is wholesome and good.

I'm currently working on a piece or representation of myself. The 'canvas' is a printers box. Rather large with little squares. A couple are broken off, but that's part of the 'character' (as so many of you know that's what I see when I see dents and dings). In each box are pieces of me. Memories collected throughout my life, some good some not, but it is what it is. We all have them; the little sides to us. The facets. Those are what create the diamond. I was going over this with my nearest and dearest friend and she said how I'm like a chameleon, constantly changing. I can only imagine it would be for the better. As the past is what it is and no one can undo or redo it.
With that statement I am brought to mind of my children. It is wonderful that my grand daughter is 2 months old today. Unfortunately the lastest picture I have is of 2 weeks, and no communication hence. I walked through the Dollar store today and listened to country music remembering VIVIDLY a time when I moved to be near them. With absolutely nothing but faith. I accepted the conditional relations that were offered thinking those were the best that could be given or that was deserved. Later I woke up. I love my children no matter what. Will always do so. In the meantime I've learned to love myself because how can I expect pure love to be in my life if I can't reflect it? The story continues...

Friday, August 11, 2006

Creative Stirrings

A friend of mine told me not too long ago I was in a 'well'. Her advice was to come up for air now and again, and share the findings. Those of you who know me, know the silences are my soul stirring. Sometimes restlessness surfaces but it's a time for creation to evolve.

It's my mind chatter
It needs focus and purpose
Now it's up to me

In that haiku the meaning falls between the words in its essence.

Saturday, August 05, 2006

It was a really good shoe

Good morning ya'll. Yesterday, as most of you know, I had a showing of my photographs at a new used bookstore in town. It was the opening of the place. There were great crowds for a summer night, thank you all who was able to make it. Those who couldn't I felt your loving spirit.

I still consider it a success though I didn't sell anything. Got a lot of good feedback and I think there'll be future sales and if not well pick out your favorites you MAY get them for Christmas. lol. Either way it was great. OH! and my name was in the paper. No, not on the police blog, and not in the obits (thank God), but in the Compass section under the art walk area. That was worth the price of a sell out even if my wallet would argue.

Until we meet again.

Thursday, August 03, 2006

Being...inspired (an afterthought)

It was with trepidation and fear of the unknown that I wrote. I thought deeply of Picasso in what has been portrayed of his angst and life. To never have broken the boundries of his own fears but never getting out because of his vision. It is a reminder that time waits for no one; whether they have the vision of the future in their heads or their hands. As I learn more I lean on another strong person; Frieda, for explanation of grace into the art. She fell, but authenticly, richly, and truely.