8.31.2013

a miracle that threatened ordinary

An old, thin, darkly-tanned man with striking blue eyes was playing the guitar at the bus stop today. I was holding groceries, hot and tired, with earbuds in. A small decision to stop my music so I could listen to his opened a beautiful, brief moment in time that now I am eternally grateful for.

He finished his song, and I cheered. He said he plays for people who haven't stopped to listen to the deep meanings of Johnny Cash's songs. Then he said, with eyes wide and passionate, "Now I'm going to play one that his mother-in-law wrote. It will change your life. Every person on the face of this earth needs to hear this song...just once." 'Keep On the Sunny Side' was the tune, optimistic and lion-hearted.

As he finished the song, he stood and gave a small bow before walking toward the street. I thanked him warmly and he responded: "Take those words with you. God bless you." He crossed the road, slung his instrument to the side, mounted his motorcycle, and puttered off in an easterly direction.

Happy holiday weekend, everyone.

8.28.2013

newport: a brief introduction

brightest green sea moss.
claiming coves like lost boys. 
deep kisses to the rhythm of waves. 
empire tea & coffee.
horchata chai.
scaling cliffs. 
tearing up.
history. 
wine. 
beer. 
silence. 
salt air.
spice.
gulls.
miles and miles.

full heart and braided hair this morning over an espresso breakfast. back to work today. loving life’s richness. overwhelmed by Love.



8.12.2013

on being dirty

insects in my hair. little jagged impressions on my calves from a good long sit in the grass. pink/red/white/beige/golden/brown skin, all at once. scrapes to the shins and arms from thorns climbed through in patches on steep creek ravines, a necessary sacrifice.

feet hardened and dark after so much barefooted glory, trekking through various territories. i never had those angelic-looking feet in the lotion commercials. if i have to wear summer shoes, it's sandals. that's a lot of exposure to the elements, which i'm cool with.

i hate this confinement to finery and polished appearance. why can't i sweat without being scornfully judged? why must i apologize when my body responds to the weather? this is oklahoma, for heavens' sake. if you don't know by now that our summers will get hot and humid, usually both at the same time, then i have nothing to say to you.

and what about that moon? what about her glory? she is a great conversationalist, you know...if you don't fear the night.

/ / / 

this raving and howling you're hearing, it's a craving for the wild. for my roots. we did not come from cement and plastic and chemical hair products. we came from the ground.

i miss when being a human was acceptable...beautiful, even. 

maybe it's just the culture i live in. there are other places that aren't so concerned with façades.

maybe this is what i was named for, where i was named for. it's all so clear now. 'eden' means more than just paradise. 'eden' means home.

René Magritte (1898-1967). The Blank Page, 1967.
(source unknown)

8.07.2013

gratefulness tonight

Rainer Maria Rilke.

Yoga with a lover.

Rainforest cadences.

Twig tea.

A late-night meal of homegrown cucumbers and 6-month aged white cheddar with adriatic fig spread.

//

These are 5 little things I find myself grateful for tonight.


Welcome August in all her wordly and sumptuous splendour, with all the courage to live that you can muster.

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