christmas morning walks

woke up this morning and brushed my teeth, put on some clothes and went for a walk along the boardwalk with views of manhattan. the sky was big and blue, i thought what a nice thing on christmas day.

now i know folks like to have a white christmas, and i must admit there is something nice about seeing the cute little snow flakes falling on christmas eve. but in new york, lots of snow, and heavy snow storms are not unusual. so i know there will be plenty of time for snow with january vying for its turn in the winter months. for now, for me, it's nice that it's not too cold yet, and the sky is big and blue, with nice views.

i just thought it would be a nice way to start the day, it was. sweethearts and families and children up and out taking advantage of the morning. strangers smiling at one another, wishing merry christmas. why can't christmas be everyday?

while walking i noticed a number of folks with coffee in tow. i envy coffee drinkers, it really does seem like a pleasureable experience. coffee gives me the shakes, so i can't drink it, but for those who do, they seem to enjoy it so. such a sweet indulgence, no? a moment between you and your coffee... and new yorkers do like their coffee to go. something about it, having a boost while on the way to the next 'thing to do.' but this morning, walking along the boardwalk, there was no rush. folks were almost still, taking their time. couples holding hands, mommies and daddies pushing baby carriages, children testing out their new bicycles that 'santa' delivered only hours ago. hope all is good for you and yours this christmas.

merry christmas

s. is coming to visit from madrid, just a few days after christmas. funny the preparations i'm making. it's funny because i'm not a domestic person in the least. and in general i haven't had many guests so i ask myself how does one prepare for a guest? strange i know, i should know this by now.

but i figure, it's pretty basic right? the sheets and towels are already cleaned. the house is clean already as well. i learned to clean because my grandmother worked as a cleaning lady. when i was a little one, maybe 8 or 9 years old, she would take me with her in the summertime to work. we took long train rides out to the suburbs to the homes of the wealthy, or rather well off. i remember how i loved those train rides. looking back now i wonder if it is because i love to travel, no matter how short the distance. traveling to places and enviorns, the newness of it all, i love it! anyway, we would arrive, divide the rooms to be cleaned amongst us, and get to it. i learned to clean, and i had a chance to be in spaces and places with lovely furniture in beautifully decorated homes, in gorgeous neighborhoods with lots of space and greenery. i think it some how fed my desire for loveliness, at least in the physical.

so with the cleaning done, when s. and i are together (m. completes our trio, but i have to wait until april to see her; more sweetness on the horizon), we like having our wine, and cheese, and olives of course (we lived in spain), and we sit and chat for hours and listen to music. oh, and he likes candle lit spaces. so i've bought more candles, some wine, olives.... i think i only need to buy a few groceries, and with that some nice cheeses. wish me luck...

it's nice right? holidays, a break from the hustle and bustle of the everyday, moments with friends... christmas love to you all...

christmas wanderings

i must confess, yesterday while doodling about the house for far too long, i talked myself into getting out and roaming around the city. i thought i would have a look at the holiday windows since they tend to be quite yummy, so good to look at. i had the idea to get myself to 5th ave, but when i did get there, just off central park, i remembered that the action of christmas is not along the park on the east side of town. in fact, it is quite quiet and elegant where the serious moneyed of new york reside. the upper east side is tranquil and posh. it was almost deserted, except for alec baldwin (i kid you not) walking along with his lady companion, i and another wanderer. after strolling along for about 20 minutes i decided to venture off the quiet and tranquil and oh so pretty residential area in search of fun christmas windows...

i found myself on madison avenue and all the shop windows were all but glowing with christmas liveliness. the shop windows are a true pleasure to see, just to savor the creativity of christmas expression.

i do hope that the joy...

of this christmas season, falls on you abundantly in the coming year...

eye candy

'i am legend,' what can i say? the film starts off intriguing, as will smith is thought to be the sole survivor on earth. it's great that as an actor, alone, he can carry the film. it's interesting watching him move about on screen as he does his daily doings. plus he's eye candy, just delicious to look at. but in the end the film doesn't hold up.

More eye candy... 'Atonement.'

it's a pretty film to watch. i read the book a few summers ago, which is wonderful, well written and intriguing. but during the film my mind kept drifting and matching the images with the story i had read. i wasn't as focused as i could have been. or does that say something about the film, that it does not keep me in the moment... could be a totally different experience for someone who has not read the book. but in the end, it is a beautiful film to watch, a pleasant space to be in for a moment.

what comes first?

i like to have my desert before my meal. for example, sweet chocolate as the first taste is divine. indulgent! and as i have said, there is something sweet about doing some of the things we are not supposed to do. i suppose like being a bit of a rebel, ...without a cause. not writing within the lines, colouring girl's hair pink in my colouring book as a wee one, having desert first. shaking up the order of things.

one thing that came to me in these moments that i could never do is... well, someone once said to me that she always reads the ending of a book first to see how it ends. to see if it's a story that she wants to spend her time reading. i could never. sacrilege! reading the ending of a story first. i like the intrigue and wonder of not knowing, of slowly coming to what will be. ... then why is it so hard for us in life to wait and wonder to see what will be, ...the surprise and mystery of it all? there. i've done it, mentioned the complex. no desire for the complicated right now. chocolate cake first!

beautiful dawn

where have i been? just
alone. time to think.
growing to do.
am i the only one,
or is it that everyone else is so much better at it?
where am i now?
examining,
a life worth living.
kinda like a symphony;
in blue,
moving and moody,
vulnerable,
a hypnotic meditation on
who i’ve been,
who will i be?
thought i was alone,
but you remembered me, knew where to find me.
you found me here,
in this place where
the dawning of a new day
mingles with a lifting night.
a hue of ecstasy, a hint
of a surprise, lights
the sky again,
pouring in through baby’s
blue skylight,
filling the crib with a lullaby like presence,
while painting me anew…space,
fashioning in a bridge to tomorrow,
adorned with lavender lilacs and baby’s breath,
a fusion of a past and present,
only this time, a kind of
flowering for the future,
a flourish of inspiration,
a prospering in prettiness,
all festive like! a party,
…and new birth brass band
has been invited, on the music box.
hope you can come by again,
step in for some wine and goodies,
some philosophical musings,
barefoot dancing beneath
the blue crystal mobile,
it’s just the beginning again,
only better…
once more with love.

© audrey paradis

the starbucks appeal

i've often wondered what is the appeal of starbucks cafes, and i think i am beginning to get an idea why. i don't visit starbucks often. i don't know the politics of the 'situation,' and i think there are many from the mumblings about towns that i have heard. i'm not a coffee drinker, and for me their tea is tasteless. that said, no one can deny they are successful.

yesterday while waiting to meet s in front of starbucks, simply a meeting place, it being cold, i snuck inside to get warm, and thought why not have a nice warm cup of tea while at it. the christmas carols were piping through the sound system filling the cafe with christmas spirit. the lines were long with groups of families and friends getting their tonic of choice, from little boys getting hot chocolate with swirls and swirls of whip cream, to mom's grande mocha something or other.

i sat down with my green tea chai latte (with soy)... it does get pleasingly complicated doesn't it? ... and waited for s. taking off my jacket, pleased at the warm woolen sweater i had chosen for this chilly day, i wrapped my paws around my warm beverage. swarms of folks made their way in with the lines almost out the door. i wondered what is the appeal. less expensive and probably better coffee can be had elsewhere.

while i sat there getting toasty, singing along to the christmas carols quietly and looking forward to chatting with my friend, it dawned on me. starbucks isn't just a cup of coffee, it's an experience. a place where you meet with friends and family and indulge yourself in sinful pleasures like chocolate and whip cream and coffee and tea done up in a way grandma never has. not that it is better, it's just different...

little girl prayers

my mom is a 'single mom.' when we were kids she worked nights, getting home around 11pm. she's retired now and i hope she is enjoying her retirement. she worked in a bank. my friends used to tease me, saying what kind of bank is open until all times of the night? i tried to explain in my little girl 'business lingo' that she worked in the part of the bank that clears checks. when people are doing their banking during the day, someone or someones have to process the bank stuff over night. my mom was the manager of this division, and to give her credit 'her employees' loved her. she was able to get the job done with a helpful and kind demeanor.

thing is, she had to return home late at night, riding the subway and walking through new york streets alone. we had to be in bed before she returned home; trained in how to prepare for school the next day, as well as be in bed by 9pm. before going to bed i used to pray and in my prayers i asked God to walk with mom and help her to get home safe. she always did.

when folks ask me if i believe in God, i'm hesitant to answer. i believe, but i'm not sure what they mean by God. i am almost always sure that we are talking about very different ways of believing. Einstein, when asked if he believes in God, answered 'depends on what you mean by God.' but that's a discussion for another time and place... but i love love love the idea of a God that listens to the prayers of little girls.

'dear God, i need help to get my hair washed and get out of my pajamas.'

'big girl prayers!' some days ago i wrote that i was blue, some days later i wrote that i went out in my pj's, there is a connection, though i had not realised it. Carl Jung shared 'she does not become enlightened by an imaginary figure of light, but by making the darkness conscious.' if we can become aware of that which makes us blue, then maybe we can be on our way again...

during one of those days, through the tears, i sat and began to count on my fingers just what was 'going right,' as opposed to focusing on what seemed to be going wrong. the blues began to lift, my little stomach bug flew away, and i just began to feel better. i read this morning that in times of despair we tend to close ourselves off. and the thing is, if we feel small, then do little small concrete and affirmative things; laundry, cleaning, writing... 'i am at the page and it's calming me. i reach for words and my reaching is a tiny prayer. God can find me here...

they say don't give up 5 minutes before the miracle...

listening this morning to the sweet voice of carla bruni... http://www.carlabruni.com/

having a nice cup of tea; as i like to start my day. writing. planning to take the little journey to visit my sister and family for thanksgiving dinner. putting up christmas lights, i know it's a bit early but i love them so, why wait. yesterday while walking by the waterfront i thought if i can walk, and i have food and a space to call home, family and friends are feeling pretty good, then things aren't as bad as i thought. still sometimes we do get down and we try to find our way back up. my little girl prayers still work. things are good again.

art 101

i asked the lady who works in the monkdogz urban art gallery what moves a buyer to buy a piece of art? how does it work? i've always wanted to know. she explained in that lovely british lilt that always gets me, that people buy art for all kinds of reasons. and she encouraged me not to be afraid of the 'gallerinas,' it's all an act! when i expressed my fear for entering galleries, they seem so forbidding, except for some seemingly secret club that i can't even begin to talk about because i wouldn't know what i would be saying. 'rest assured, artists want their work to be looked upon.' i believe her.

encouraged and more courageous, h & i wandered down to the sundaram tagore gallery and there my heart was captured by the creations of sohan qadri, painter, poet and yogi born in india. i haven't just sat down to spill out words on this particular post. something has been brewing inside me for quite sometime now, as i have tried to connect my ignorance of how art works and my desire to understand. and maybe i have found something that may begin to address my ponderings. for me, like many things, it is a feeling. the work of this artist hits me in the heart. can't say it's a 'sweet thing,' but i can say it is a feeling. i feel something, something rich and daring which i need, especially in a time and place where it is easier to go through the motions and avoid what the heart has to share.

lots of luscious words have been shared in critique of this artist's work. robert thurman, buddhist scholar and father of miss uma, describes his dots and grooves & scratches as lustrous bubbles of energy, others have said the rich reds, silk blues and fire ball oranges engages one in a spiritual and aesthetic dialogue. i think what i like about this artist is much in tune with these sentiments, in the sense that the movement created within invites a questioning about being moved. i ask myself by what, how and why? being touched in way...

tell me a story...

pbs, channel 13 here in new york is my favorite televsion station. now i know it is totally uncool to be talking about television these days and the evils in connection, but i do indeed love pbs for its educational and cultural programs. oh! and the delicious british mysteries. a nice cup of tea and a british mystery; i'm undone. ...another cool thing about pbs, probably the coolest, is that it's where i began to learn to read while watching sesame street as a wee one. i remember when my mom went to take my brother to kindergarden, my little sister not yet born, i sat alone and watched sesame street, learning my abc's and piecing together letters and sounds to form words... b + ook ... book! by the time it was my turn to go to kindergarden 'the powers that be' moved me to first grade directly. they said that i had already learned all that they would teach me in kindergarden, that is to begin to read. ...been there done that! but what about the nap time?! i still feel a certain longing for never having the privilege of nap time in kindergarden. i think i'm still trying to fill that void. como se dice 'siesta' en ingles?

whew! just a long (and i hope interesting) way of getting to these two lovely prima princesses. i learned of them last night during a program on pbs (not an advertisement for the station, just giving them their 'props!'). the sister ballerinas immigrated from Cuba and have carved out beautiful illustrious careers in boston and san francisco in their respective premier ballet companies. for me, it is an inspiring historia of the intense work, dedication and courage they have in carving out an interesting and inspiring career. ...the laws are a bit confusing for me as to when and if cuban-americans are able to return to their homeland. can't imagine what it must be like not to be able to go home. m, a friend from bulgaria lived in cuba for 7 years. people in madrid always wondered why she spoke spanish with a cuban accent. back here in the u.s while she was doing post doctorate work, it was amazing to watch the wonder in a cuban person's eyes as they probed her about their homeland. as many details as she could remember please, they wanted to know. if she could be their memory for them, for they were unable to go home again.

... learning to read, sesame street, cuban prima ballerinas ...if you tell me your story, i'll tell you mine...

lars and the real girl

there seems to be absolutely no reason why this film should make any sense or be interesting to anyone with half a brain, but it does and it is! this movie is about a shy and introverted guy who chooses a life size doll as a companion. after everyone tries to come to grips with the idea that this situation is absolutely nuts, they all try to find a way to support mr. shy and introverted with his 'issues.' the results are tender in a day and age when we can all use a little sweetness...

jammies!

i snuck outside with my pajamas underneath my coat. there's something fun about sneaking and doing something that no one else knows about... creep creep...

monsieur mailer

Norman Mailer died yesterday. may he rest in peace. i last saw him while he was being interviewed by Charlie Rose on pbs. he was talking about his most recent book at that time. it was earlier this year. Norman and Charlie then began to talk about his next project, and i remember being struck by Mailer saying that he hopes he lives long enough to finish it. if we are fortunate enough to make it to age 84, i imagine one wonders just how much time remains ... really. ...a long and fruitful life. may we all be blessed in our own ways.

been blue...

...been a little sad lately and it's been incredibly difficult to write. after some time passed i realised that i was 'blocked.' i guess writer's block is not a cliche. i tried a few things to try to get the juices running, but to no avail. and then on top of it i managed to get a kind of stomach bug, so i haven't been feeling well in general. i'm wondering if the sadness and stress has bought on sickness. i wouldn't be surprised, mind and body connection, you know? i tried to will myself better, but then i wondered if that was bringing on even more stress. not allowing myself to be. so i thought better of it, and gave in if you will. i just thought that i would let go...

... and i slept, and dreamed, and had tea, and listened to lovely music and i am reading novels and magazines, just spoiling myself really and i think it is helping. i feel like i'm starting to feel better, at least my little stomach bug seems to be flying away.

l'exercise

once around the block... this is advice i read for one wanting to begin to exercise. i thought this recomendation was ridiculous. what good can come from running or walking once around the block? the writer said that it is a beginning. a lame one at that, i thought, but it is indeed more than what i was doing. that winter morning i put on my jacket and hat as well as my sneaks and walked out into the brisk air. it was no fun, but i thought i should at least give it a chance. given a chance it does get to you, you start craving it. now i excercise for an hour at least four days a week. ...just once around the block. see what happens...

la lectrice

so

many

books,

take your

sweet

time...

in the zone...

it's ridiculous how beautiful these october days are, but i have no complaints. i plan to enjoy as much as i can. i'll walk through central park today on my way to class. i really want to savor these days since i know how brutal new york can be in the winter. the cold will come and it doesn't let go until around late april for the most part.

i've nothing really special to say today, but for some reason i felt as if i wanted to write something very much, still i'm not sure why. these days i'm a little bit conscious of writing. there are two ideas that are knocking on my heart asking for expression. they even tell me in which way they want to present themselves. one is a poem. it hasn't told me as yet what it wants to say. i think it has to do with fantasy, or even the mystical if you will. i hesitate to use the word 'mystical' because i don't have a full understanding of it. maybe having to do with 'mystery' as well as a space or the existence of something that is difficult for me to wrap my mind around. anyway it assures me that it is light and fantastical and i am looking forward to it unfolding.

the other is an idea about the sacred and ritual. these i know can be spooky words, but no need to fear. i feel as if it has to do with the love, care and seriousness that we give to that which we care about, that which we love. as if, when we are consistent in care they can, and will grow in beneficial ways. for me personally, if i can become more caring and consistant about writing, which i adore, maybe i can become good at it. me and m talked a little about studying and becoming really good at something. i would like that very much. 'master of something' as opposed to 'jill of all trades...' it's like getting 'in the zone,' where you become one with your chosen subject, or that which has chosen you....

new york wanderings

...ventured out to wander around new york city yesterday. i did one of the things i have always loved doing as a new yorker, that is, to get up and go out with absolutely no idea where i'm going or what i plan to do. i suppose the city invites this kind of behavior with so much to do and see. i thought i'd let my mood guide me about. as i was making my way through the shopping crowds on 34th street i realised that i was quite near to the new york public library on 5th avenue and 42nd street. a perfect walk on a perfect 'spring like' day although it is mid to late october. i always forget about visiting the library, it's like a museum surrounded by books. what i mean to say is, there is delicious art work; sculpture and paintings and photographs sprinkled in amongst all those books. and everyone looks so smart and studious there in the quiet with their books and laptops. it's inspiring just to want to study and do something and be really really good at it!

i then wandered up 5th avenue and stopped in St. Patrick's Cathedral. you can see here how gorgeous the cathedral is with its majestic columns and rainbow colored stain glass windows. the crowds were not free to wander as we normaly can at this moment. i wondered why, what's going on? without exageration, the main sanctuary was roped off as a bride (gorgeous dress!) was about to begin her wedding march. i sat down in another part of the church and admired all the pretty dresses, smart suits and shiny shoes. i was tempted to think about marriage and what it might mean. ...and then i thought it may be too big a subject to 'ponder' on this bright big sunfilled breezy day. ...all you need is love?...

all you need is love...

'across the universe,' once i learned that Julie Taymor was the creator of this film, i didn't really care what it was about. she's an artist, once you become an admirer, you'll almost go blindly to what she creates. a nice surprise to find out that the film tells many stories to the music of the beetles. some say the story begs more depth. i'm not sure how i feel about this sentiment simply because for me, the film is a work of art. the story, music and visuals are so intertwined in such a remarkable, interesting and beautiful way, it's difficult for me to separate the elements. i do hope this film is playing at a cinema near you, or coming soon... it's an amazing experience. ...lucy in the skyyyy with diamonds...

baby's breath

baby's breath

this moment tender∙delicate, now
i remember
…where we are going.

(still) show me in your own way,
take your time,
quiet∙like, away from places
and people...
this one’s mine.

start inside∙inside soft soil
shy, away from unkind frost
for i’m partial to sun,
easy to grow, quick to blossom,
a profussse flowering, watch me.

gentle like∙whispered worries,
(sweet) comme une rime écrire doucement,
mentioned upon memory like
a baby’s breath.

bless me, please, bashfully
if you must, only
show me the space
again
where the brave go,
trembling towards transition
coo coo boom!

noise is silenced∙fear transformed,
and jealousy and envy
kneel down beside instinct.
change...
breathe. again, a
baby’s breath,
sweet∙soft∙like…
only a new born can.

© audrey paradis

change...

i’m thinking about the time when, as a girl of eleven or twelve, mom talked to me about some changes that will occur as i begin my entree into ladyhood. i thought i was ready, mom had told me about it, so i considered myself ‘prepped,’ prepared for the change so to speak. maybe i was, from a thinking point of view, but from an emotional point of view, maybe i wasn’t.

growing pains! i should i have known then that change can sometimes mean that it hurts? 'peut-être,' however, change may consist of various elements, some joyful, fun, interesting and exciting, as well as painful. sometimes all of these elements rolled into one at the very same time. complex may be the word…

keep growing quietly and seriously throughout your whole development~rainer maria rilke.

with autumn upon us, in various ways change is upon us with modifications as simple as ‘what will i wear this morning?’ the mornings and evenings now tend to be cool, but here in new york the afternoons are like summer days. we’re lucky this october.

in autumn we shift from outdoor and outgoing activities to perhaps more indoor, introspective doings. this change in season may inspire the making of plans for the winter months, the coming holidays, the coming year, and the coming years. who knows?

just as nature has its phases and seasons, so too our days, our lives. the natural world teaches us the power of transition. as seasons shift so does the quality and beauty of our existence.

an opportunity. as our moments flow, not unlike a melody, allowing a rhythm, a harmony to move through our days. creating a symphony of our lives as we learn grace, and the importance of tempo. recognising that there is a feel to seasons and a flavor to every time in our lives.

the promise of the seasons. it’s all good! no change is without the possibility of benefit. no transition, however displeasing or strenuous, fails to bring the goods.

Sundays

"What matters in life is that you make love with someone you care about on Sunday Morning and walk out with them on Sunday Afternoon."

last days of summer...

one sunny afternoon my mom came home with new summer sandals for me. it was my turn. my mom is a single mother with four children and she couldn’t buy all of us shoes at the same time. so she would buy us all shoes one by one as we needed them, and this was my turn. new pretty sandals for the summer. i was so happy and beside myself, i couldn’t wait to show my friends, not in a spirit of pride, more so in the spirit of sharing my enjoyment and fun. we were little things, maybe four years old or so, and these were the days when children could go out and play in front of the house or nearby without any problems for the most part.

there i was with the girls showing them my sandals. some of the girls i knew and some of them i didn’t know. and now that i think of it, of course, you know how children just take up playing with one another, it doesn’t matter that they haven’t met before. in a way there is something beautiful in that, how it doesn’t matter, they see one another as the same.

this day when the girls were admiring my sandals and trying them on, (we girls have always liked sharing and borrowing and lending our pretty things) one of the girls whom i did not know asked if she could wear my new sandals home and show her mom how pretty they were. of course i said, she left me her shoes and i waited for her to come back. she never did. i was heart broken. and since i didn’t know the girl i did not know where she lived.

i went home with someone else’s shoes, my mother couldn’t believe her eyes. i was crying and wearing these strange and ill fitting shoes. once my mom was able to determine that i was safe and unharmed, she could not believe the story of my stolen summer sandals. she took me by the hand and we set out to find the little girl who had taken my shoes. my mom talked about the work and the amount of time it took her to save to buy me new sandals, this paled in comparison to my little heart break experience of the day, though i tried my best to sympathize as a little one.

we never did find that little girl thief (smile), and i had to wear my old sandals for the rest of the summer. but as children tend to do, i forgot all about it in little or no time and concentrated on summer fun.

on reading...

what do you do when you are reading a book that isn’t very interesting? do you continue and finish it? or do you stop where you are and begin with a new story, which hopefully will be more interesting and enjoyable?

at the moment i'm reading ‘I Capture the Castle.’ i passed by it one day in the young persons section in the book store. it's a story of a young lady (17 years old) writing about her experiences living with her family in a castle. her father is a published writer, and it seems that she hopes to be a writer as well. the words on the page are lovely, and she paints vivid pictures with her stories. it’s very well written, but in a way i don’t find it all so interesting, the story that is. sometimes it could be timing; maybe it's just not my moment for this story. or maybe it's a book for the teenage world. i’m not quite sure what the reason is.

but isn’t it curious how we can have a feeling or a sense of something and not understand why? i think very often we do want to understand, and we don't want to let go until we do. is there a time to listen to the heart, even when the mind has not yet understood?

i must admit, i think that i may let go of the story i'm reading at the moment. who knows, maybe i'll find it more interesting at another time. there are other stories i'm eager to get to, that i hope will be more interesting. i feel like i'm being irresponsible, not finishing what i've started. maybe this whole thought process is ridiculous, just get on with it.

it reminds me of a time (and it wasn’t the first time) that i walked out of the cinema in the middle of a bad film. i just couldn’t take it any more. i’ve learned that some people find it difficult to just leave, especially after having paid and all. i just was suffering through this bad film, and i can easily think of more beneficial ways to spend my time. the price of the film ticket was not worth wasting anymore of it. but i think it depends on the person… we all have our things.

so in the days to come i think i'll spend time reading Pride and Prejudice. i’ve not read most classics, and i'm eager to begin. it’s funny, there was a time when we were asked if we have seen a certain movie, with pride people would say ‘no. but i have read the book.’ now, the joke is when someone has asked if we have read a book deemed important in whatever circles, including society in general, people say ‘no, but i’ve seen the movie.’ …that said, i begin today reading Pride and Prejudice. at least i’ve seen the movie...

wild flowers!

i didn't know that... wildflowers are considered weeds.

sometimes… something presents itself in life and we don’t like it, we don’t want it. if we can consider not pushing it down, or denying it, or plucking it up. have a look at it. see what it is, what it wants, and see if there is a way of working in cooperation, working through it so that it does not become a hindrance, a problem, a block when it presents itself again, because it might, and quite often it does…

for-giving

they say to 'forgive is divine.' quite often forgiveness is difficult, when someone or something causes us pain and suffering. in the midst of this pain the last thing we want to do is to forgive. it lets her off the hook. and somehow invalidates the pain that we are feeling. this quite often is what we think when we think about forgiveness.

remember the relief and pain lifted upon being forgiven? for-giving is a gift to be shared. and when we don't forgive, strangely we carry the negativity with us. i know i want to be free of it. i don't want it. when we forgive we let go. letting go creates space for the the pain to begin to subside. negative connections wih persons inflicting pain is severed. it is up to us to decide if we want to begin a new, or simply go our separate ways. but at least we have allowed a space for healing, which is beneficial for our own well being. at the same time we share this gift with the one who has hurt us. this we do in love, which is why maybe they say to forgive is divine.

we are then free to go on with our lives. perhaps with one foot a little deeper in this thing we call love, simply because very often for-giving is not easy. we have to find a space deep inside of us where love lives, and call it forth. this places us on higher ground. when we have to meet love deep within us, it transforms us, makes love more evident in our lives. and with more love, even when it hurts, we witness more joy and beauty... for-giving is a present we give to ourselves as well, and we are worth it!

keeping company

on this beautiful day,
it’s comforting to think
of friends, how they
sweeten our days, our lives

a genuine gift…
girlfriends
keeping company…

telling our stories, sipping
our tea…

touch her

bienvenue a l'air de temps...

l'air de temps simply means 'air of time.' ...exactly... as if any of us know the meaning of things and what we are doing here. but we try...

one night some time ago, after a long winter's day of work, curling up warm and cozy for sleep, thought i'd read a bit of poetry before dozing off. i stumbled upon this poem and i remember thinking 'what a lovely poem.'

une embrasse pour tous.



…if i could just
run my fingers through her wondrous imagination
hush her fears with the healing balm of my security
gently glide my care down the seams of her constitution
then leap into the skies of her continence
flapping my wings to blow away
storm clouds
hurtful secrets
and people who brought despair

if i could
stroke her with my breath made sweet by licorice
wild violets and a thirst for adjoinment

breeze across her cheek when i whisper
above the intonation of crowded rooms
the resonance of crowded memories
ancient tribal rhythms
coded conversation and my need
to identify just how to attach warmth
to her chill bumps
melting everyone with a certain stare

console her with these whispering wind songs
seeping through the open windows of her essence
searching and finding her reclining spirit
to sweetly invigorate
with the sustenance that swims beneath my skin
the only place where fire and water mix without steam
where wind and earth mix with water and fire
to create tornado passions
the colors purple and blue
autumn breezes
and angels with brown hair eye and skin

if i could converse intimately with her purpose for living
coincide with her prayers for strength and kindness
deep french-kiss her hopes for eternity
suckle her need to be understood
have intercourse with her faith and focus…

if i could just touch her

excerpt from 'touch her' by anthony c. lyons