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