For whilst I am Canadienne...

"roadwinding.tumblr.com"

Goodbyes

I didn't realize they'd be this hard.  

But today I said some hellos, and that's helped things a little bit.

My dear sweet friend,

I'm at your house right now. In Pat's stinky room.You told me to go put something on his computer, and I noticed your blog was left open. You're almost done packing all of your stuff.  Although I've been with you for days I still don't feel like I've had time to say goodbye and I know that the goodbye I'm going to say isn't going to be good enough. I know this all sounds SUPER cheesy: but words cannot express how much I am going to miss you. Our friendship is so very precious to me. Thank you for letting me be in your life. Really, thank you. Pat just came in and started playing guitar and now I'm secretly crying. If he knew he would probably think its because his song is so good. Well, I love you so so much and cannot wait for the day when we are reunited once again. I will pray and think about you every day that we're apart! Okay I must go now, I am being way too mushy.
Love Always and Forever, Gracie <3

p.s. I still can't believe you let me give you my socks.

Time Already Told.

"tonight i'll dream while i'm in bed
when sill thoughts go through my head
about the bugs and alphabet
and when i wake tomorrow i'll bet
that you and i will walk together again
cause i can tell that we
are going to be friends"

and it's a relief, thru all the raindrops that keep falling from my head.

Firsts:

Kayaking under no moon, upon the giant Rincon waves, getting splashed in the face by the dark swelling shadows of the great and wild pacific sea...

...so amazingly, overpoweringly, terrifyingly, ethereally beautiful.

Everynow and then...

It can be a little bit hard saying goodbye, when it means watching their crying faces depart off into the great dark abyss of the fearful unknown.

Shades of Grey

 

"Shades of grey wherever I go

The more I find out the less that I know

Black and white is how it should be

But shades of grey are the colors I see."

So nice.

To have a friend like you.
To weave with through the crowds,
and watch the seals chase schools
of mackerel at the end of the pier,
and bike around in the silence
and the downtown chaos
with all the crazy people
and the confetti from fiesta
...and all the people
...so many people

so many faces,
but they all seemed so alone,
in that train of bodies...
but we weren't.

So, thanks for being my friend.
and for giving me that most precious gift
...of your time.

Sitting Babies

Not to be an obnoxious blogger or anything... it's just I have another hour and a half before the parents get home. :-)

Colors mixed with Light.

I can almost hear and taste them.

I guess all the senses are pretty intertwined, afterall.

My role in Matrimony

As I spun around on the dance floor, cupcake frosting in my hair and caramel popcorn on the bottom of my shoe, underneath the twinkling diamonds in the sky, It suddenly struck me that 5 out of the last 6 weddings I've attended, I haven't actually been "invited" to.

It made me stop in my tracks for a minute and think... it made me wonder and feel a lot of things; sending me almost on the brink of some deep esoteric soul-searching... but before I could come to any conclusions, my frosting and I took up again.

Mr. Updike

“When I write, I aim in my mind not toward New York but a vague spot a little east of Kansas. I think of the books on library shelves, without their jackets, years old, and a countryish teen-aged boy finding them, and having them speak to him. The reviews, the stacks in Brentano’s are just hurdles to get over, to place the books on that shelf.”

Thanks, Mr.Garrison for reading this over the airways of the radio while my father and I drove on APS with our windows rolled down and smiling.  It made for a good moment.

Currently,

Two little Mexicans, wet from showers, are tucked in bed, down the hall behind me.  The little family of birds are covered in their cage, but they continue to chirp, and regurgitate food to each other.

Something about being tired makes one grateful ....I see my pillow at the end of today [and it is so beautiful].  And I see my life very soon thousands of miles out of reach of this little shelter, my close friends, long days of lifegaurding in the sun, bowling and drive-ins and late night bonfires that warm our faces as we watch the waves glow...

I will savor these moments till the bitter end.  Even if it means drinking coffee at 9 at night.

So, here's to not dozing off on the way home tonight!  God's gonna have to hold my hands on that steering wheel.

Words are very limiting.

A girl I know, just got back from Europe, and came home with a bundle of a unique sort of gift.  To each of her close friends, she dedicated a photograph, taken abroad.  I like this better than anything.  ...here's mine. ;-)
Why this, Jordan; why this one...?  I can think of maybe a million different reasons...  and all of them make me smile.  I just love you.


Plain and simple.

Crown thy good with Brotherhood

17 Faces all lit up 

Lined up

Tucked up

in bags for sleeping.

1 piece of pizza gets passed

from one mouth, to hand, to another's lips,

and on. down the row.

Like communion.

1 Piece of pizza get's multiplied

Like with the five thousand,

Back when

that Prince of Freedom 

was preforming miracles on hillsides

And then again,

on the fourth.

of the seventh month.

of this year.

He did it again.

with love, with communion, and fireworks and freedom and one slice of pizza.

while we all hunkered in holes in the sand
and watched Him.

Long Gloomy Day

The boys away in their cabin, avidly look up Hurricanes in the South.

Light shoots from their windows and skylight.

Bricks and dirt are firmly planted amid the flowers of the night.

A door creeks, 

And I ascend the ladder to my room, turn on some Old French Chant,

and breath the window air, as warm light rests upon faded wood paint,
...and listen to the harmonies blending and dancing, filling up this loft,
touching every book and lamp;

while everything within this little 1/4 acre Sanctuary called home

welcomes the calm, sureness of the night.

Goodnight moon.
[camping is nice, but it's good to be home]

"Cheese"

Well, we tried.

Libraries

A dusty bike path takes us to the doors of a large building filled with many books and wide widows framing a beautiful view of a very blue lake.  Each of us wander down separate isles, picking out our own preferred reading material.  C. is next to me, reading: "Camping and Wilderness Survival," researching his newest chipmunk trap.  P. has "The Joy of Signing" open upon his lap, and keeps demonstrating words and phrases in American sign-language, to us, as we try to keep our heads in our own books.  D. has a newspaper open in his lap, M. is looking up Tahoe History and Hiking trails, while S. is merrily flipping the pages of a cardboard alphabet book.  B. is no where to be found.  I think he's taking a nap on one of the big comfy arm chairs, someplace.  When we got here, I picked up one of the first books I saw displayed on a shelf, entitled: "Women Who Write".

Among them was one Madeleine De Scudery, who lived in the 16th century and is known for creating "Carte de Tendre", a map of tender love. [quote] "It is an allegorical map of he broad terrain of love, representing a new code of behaviors in love which transcends sensual passion, by a sympathy between souls.  The map guides the inexperienced lover among the dangerous path, hemmed in on the left by the sea of enmity and on the right by the lake of indifference, towards the three possible kinds of love: love as respect, love as high esteem and as affection.  The last of these three, may be reached directly via the River of Affection, which runs through the middle of the map.  Beyond the city of Tender Love, the river flows into the perilous sea, on the far side of which lie the as-yet-unknown provinces of love."

"Sympathy between souls"... thank you, Madeleine.

All that to say: A Library is a nice break after being outside 

in the wind and under pine trees for several days.

Sittin In A Lake

2 Weeks.
1 Lake.
4 Bikes.
2 Mini Vans.
7 People.
1 Kayak and 4 Blow-Up Rafts.
3 Guitars, 1 Uke.
O Computers and a whole lotta books.

Bye bye rest of the world.

P.S. What now, pandora?

"There will come a time, when you believe everything is finished. 
That will be the beginning." -Lois L'Amour-

No Santuary, Lord, but Thee.

Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are 

true, 

whatsoever things are 

honest, 

whatsoever things are 

just, 

whatsoever things are 

pure, 

whatsoever things are 

lovely, 

whatsoever things are of 

good report;
if there be any 

virtue, 

and if there be any  

praise, 

think on 

these 

 things.

Unconventional

...and it's been okay being the girl backstage, I don't mind helping with cues and pulling curtains, I like watching friends perform, waving my pompoms from the sidelines - and when I get bored I listen to NPR, or think of metaphores - and I've discovered a very good sound, and learned that simple things don't always have just one use; windy nights cause the chimes on the front porch to scream, which sound very nice with a little improvised guitar blues, right after a good movie, that leaves the face wet and the heart hopeful; mostly my wheels turn, but I'm realizing they are on a track... a train track -  which is good - because tracks are very beautiful; things are expected, now, but only to me, which is also fine because it means my brain is finally growing up; but I still sleep in an attic and keep my clothes in the downstairs kitchenette, and my socks in the microwave, so not to worry.


Oh and also, yesterday I asked a little boy in overalls wearing two different shoes, each on the wrong foot, where he got his bugbite... He answered: "When I was sleeping, when the sky was black." ~future poet.

I guess you could call it, that.

Things that have put a smile on my face, lately...

Seeing 3 Traitor Joe's employees busting up hysterically in the parkinglot while unloading the produce truck.

The elementary school music teacher absolutely rocking out on an amplified keyboard as a group of 3rd graders loudly screached out 80's pop songs.

Waking up and coming out into the kitchen, and greeting Sunshine with a hug and a "Hello LoveBug", to which she replied: "Nooooo!!! You're not my HUSBAND!"

and lastly, this:

So good.

Bubble Rings Floating up 9 Feet to the Sunny Surface.

I keep seeing you're eyes sitting on top of the water, like a crocodile, spraying water out your mouth onto the steaming surface 
of Los Banos in the morning fog.  

-------------------------

I learned a lot of things this week.
I learned how to strap an unconscious spinal victim to a backboard in the deep end of a pool and take him out without reinjuring him, then provide rescue breathing and CPR until EMS comes onto the scene.  I learned about AED's and EAP's, BVM's and BSI.

In one day, I spent 7 hours in the pool.  I learned to push on.  I learned how to escape from an active drowning victim, and I also learned multiple victim rescue.  I learned how to treat someone going into anafalaxis as well as crepitus.

But I think mostly, overall, this week I learned the importance of breakfast.

Of all the people,

I would have chosen you as least likely to sit with me on the kitchen floor and talk about reproduction, while sharing a piece of flour-less chocolate cake...

but curve-balls do make life interesting.

“This diamond's growing in the mountains
beneath the pressure of all time
that glow in hope and expectation
waiting for your hands to find
'cause only you could reach inside me
and figure out the worth
of a life I live providing
what it was you needed most"

(....it's mah new favowit sownga)

Fantasy Man, Swell Season
fastforward to minute 9:35

Comfort

It did my heart good tonight, as I passed by my parents bedroom door, and stopped to listen for a minute, to their conversation.  My mom was retelling stories from her childhood, and my dad lay there,listening, and asking questions.  This gave me so much hope.

Because, you see... One of my greatest fears is for my love to grow cold, or wax over or become too familiar or mundane.  If my parents still have new things to tell each other and secrets to share... after 25 years~ then, I think I have hope for my love one day.

Another thing that gives me hope: sunsets are never the same.

On Spending Five Days at a Carnival...

"whirlwind"

is really what it was.

splashes of paint,

and smiles,

and tantrums,

and hay,

and sugar,

and tractors,

and clowns,

and bbq smoke,

and alpacas,

and hoola-hoops,

and men in tall hats carrying geese.

...but the part I liked best, was stepping out of the dome - after being under it for 17 hours - venturing out into the rest of the fair, and walking straight into the harsh 6 o'clock sun, feeling myself just a stitch in the cross-hatching of society.
I liked it, because I could really feel humanity's heartbeat.

Moms, dads, daughters, sons;
friends, enemies; strollers and gangsters... we were all there.

with the animals... and the entertainers.

I wonder if God ever looks down and is surprised at what he sees.

Today,

I gave a letter to a snail, to put in the mail.
Not just for old time's sake.
But because, I really needed to send you something. ;-)

More from the Rug...

I sipped my cup of peppermint green tea brimming with whipped cream, and listened to Norah Jones' voice echo loudly throughout the house, while two little boys wrestled on the rug.  ....The three of us; no cares in the world;  Enjoying good music, and loving each other, in the one million ways God made us able to to do so.  What a wonderful way to spend the afternoon.

This day should be documented.

Of all the kids, I'd say I learn the most from you.
And for whatever reason, you have a big impact on me.  Something exciting is happening to you.  There is a new lightness in your step... and purity in your heart... a love and a joy that you cannot hide.  Today, I was full of peace.  And not just pieces of peace.  Real full peace. ;-)

Anyways, I don't really know what to say.

Just wanted you to know, I am so glad to get to watch!  I'm learning to listen, now too.. more than ever.  Thanks for your patience.  You are teaching me, friend; because as this is happening in you, it happens in me, too.  So, I'm just gonna close my mouth, and put all my trust in Him... for you... for me... and for the

world. :-)

-------------------------------------------------

Oh and P.S. - Greg Brown. Where have you been all my life?

Death and Blue Jays

I've always liked Blue Jays.  When I was younger, there used to be a family that would visit my backyard every sundown.  A father, and mother, and their adventurous son, whom I called Lil Mischief.  I used to talk to them, ever so softly, and often held my hand out, pretending to be an Indian Princess whom all the woodland creatures would flock to and congregate around.  They never flew to me.  But we had a rapport.  I'm pretty sure they knew me.  Whether they thought I was crazy or kind, I do not know.  But nonetheless, I feel a particular fondness for the birds of blue.

Today, as I was riding my bike home, I looked over, and there, in the bushes, was a poor, wounded Jay.  My heart jumped out of my chest and rushed to him.  The rest of me followed, but the closer I got, the farther he would hobble away.  Most of his left wing was missing, and he looked pretty bad off.  [I couldn't hate cats more!] :-P  I wanted so much for him to know I was a friend.  Why is there this strange mistrust amongst man and animal? 

The funny thing is, lately, I have felt rather numb.  Deep down I have longed to be able to cry... about SOMETHING, but I haven't been able to.  I've had plenty of reason to, lately.  But my tear ducts, for whatever reason, have been currently blocked.  I went and sat in the bushes and talked to him, telling him I wanted to help, soothing him and praying for him (it's okay, to pray for birds, right?).  Another Jay came over to us, to check things out.  It was so tragic.



It was the closest I got to crying these last few months.

I started day dreaming of all the things I could do for him.  I could save him, and keep him in a box and protect him, and nurse him back to health.  Then we could be the best of friends.  But the reality was, he was half dead.  He's out there, now.  He'll die tonight. It's a pity the creatures God makes must die like this.  Oh, why do I have to like Blue Jays, so much? :-(

Fields and Hillsides

 

Take me on the road less-traveled.

Corners of Carpets

I sat behind them, and watched

as the little boys crept up to the edge of the carpet

and peered off of it, as if looking across the great wide sea...

which in this case was merely the
hardwood floor leading into the hallway.

But it made me think back on the time when

I believed with all that was in me,

that my livingroom could become the whole world.

The couch, Mount Olympus,

The bookcase, a stretching skyscraper,

The patterns in the rug, roads and byways for my boxcars,

A scarf strewn on the floor, a bending river,

The legs of the coffee table, a redwood forest,

A folded book, a snug tent.

...and all that mattered was the story that was taking place in my imagination. Reality was what was true in my heart moment by moment. I got to taste a little bit of that today.
Thanks, boys.  Keep crawling to the edge of your carpet.  Keep building those memories that, when you get older, will be the sweetest thing your heart can taste.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
And on that same note: watch this movie I took yesterday. :-)  Rain is good.  Dancing in it, is better. ;-)

Luv, more luv

 I shot another wedding... :-)  Love is nice.

I saw your face...

In a crowded place....
...and I don't know what to do...
-----------------------------

Oh dear Lord.
I'm in a basket.

Some bright Morning,

When this life is o'er, I'll fly away; 
To a home on God's celestial shore, I'll fly away. 

I'll fly away, Oh Glory. I'll fly away; When I die, Hallelujah, by and by, I'll fly away.

When the shadows of this life have gone, I'll fly away; Like a bird from prison bars has flown, I'll fly away.

Just a few more weary days and then, I'll fly away; 
To a land where joy shall never end, I'll fly away.

Memoirs

Some memories from "Life on The Road,
Living in a Bus, Summer, 2006 - Winter 2008"...

I remember the time when: Ceasar Salad on the steps of the bus was the end of a perfect day.

I remember the time when: Mom sat and wrote out ALL the lyrics to the Johnny Cash song "I've Been Everywhere, Man," by listening to it over and over.

I remember the time when: Breaking down became as common as getting gas, and how we all became so unfazed about it towards the end.  Routine becomes routine, no matter how stressful it might have first been.

I remember the time when: Pat and I would lay in the greens of Parking Lot's and talk about what it felt like to be getting older; and how at that time, reality and dreams had no distinction. 

I remember the time when: Walmarts were made either "Premium" or "Low-End" depending on whether they had a massage chair in the medicine department or not. :-)

I remember the time when: The Great wide open was my road, the Rocky mountains were my backyard, The great starry sky was my roof, Truckers were my neighbors and Walmart parkinglots were where I lay my head.

I remember the time when: I'd wake up with a "thunk" in the middle of the night because I had bonked my head on the underside of my parents' bed, less than a foot above me. ;-)

I remember the time when: My heart longed for home... but the ache was able to make me say things and understand things about my friends that I never could have, had I stayed with them.

I remember the time when: We'd read books aloud over campfires as coyotes howled behind us, and raccoons snuck in and out of the shadows and smoke.

What people REALLY want.

I've been thinking.

(to be continued...)

The Sweetest Thing...

...Getting to tuck this girl in tonight 

and getting a glimpse into her view of the world.

Leonard

Normally when one is experiencing the uncomfortable numb of nausea, everything just seems to get tainted.  Things that are usually liked (foods, sounds, etc.) can make you feel almost worse, and often it's just better to sit in complete silence, and wait till it passes.

Well, tonight I made an important discovery.
I can listen to Leanard Cohen while nauseous, and it has no ill-effect on me.  I can enjoy him just as much feeling gross as feeling wonderful!

I thought this was special.
Leanard is special.
He reached a special level of musician-ship in my book:
Being good all the time, for any mood, or level of particular health.

P.S. So I don't forget...  I think I could name my kid Cohen... if I need to. :-)

Surprise!

Even though I shun most modern technology [the the www], and even sometimes have qualms in the keeping of this blog, I caved today when my friend showed me where I could build a free photography website.  Here's the unfinished link! :-)  Also, C is letting me borrow his camera for a while.  More cool pics to come; stay tuned!

Touched

Lately, I've been amazed to discover how different people can be once you actually get to know them.  People in my art classes are unfolding to me like wild flowers recently.  I felt like the theme of this semester has been :"Learning to See".  Perhaps it is People I am meant to see, even more than Art and Beauty in the World.  Or no, perhaps I am meant to see art and beauty and the world INSIDE people.

Because I am really starting to.

P.S. Here is a pic of Markus's cool shirt I took today.----->

Mielle

"Why are my tears hot?"  She asked, wading through them, to fix her gaze on the older man.  He looked at her, in love, and assured her, "Because they flow from a heart that's full of fire."  He smiled.  And for a moment, the truth of his statement, parted the clouds of her mind; the storm stopped, and she could taste the sun in the sky and realized, it's warmth was what was inside her.

Writing

They say photography is a subtractive artfrom. It’s all about cropping, and narrowing, simplifying, focusing in.

Drawing, on the otherhand, is an additive artform. One starts with a blank canvas, then adds to it. One is constantly adjusting, layering, inventing, fixing.

Then we have writing. Another artform. I always would have likened writing to Drawing or Painting. I would have imagined it to fit nicely into the “additive” category.

But now, I am thinking more and more otherwise. These days, when I sit down to write, I speedily begin whacking through the proverbial “jungle” of my mind, till I finally settle upon that one, singular thought I wish to express.

Many authors have perhaps been plagued with the infamous “writers block”, sitting for hours, staring at their page, a wall between them and their creativity.

The problem that befalls me is quite the contrary. I sit for hours staring at my life and wonder: what should I not write? I think sometimes this can be the hardest part of being a writer; choosing their subject matter.

I look out at the vastness of all the experiences I’ve gathered these last 20 years… All the observations, revelations, moments… There is plenty of content. I have to decide where to point my lens, set my shutter and when to snap (!) in order to present you with the perfect composition.

Saying is all about not saying, I’ve decided. Or something like that.

Jealousy

Oh, I try really hard.

But this heart is still capable of hosting 
such a feeling.

Oh it stings.

Maddy, you have 
no right.

No entitlement.

Be quiet, 
and shut off that 
room of your heart.

Now.

Move on.

When I grow up...

I hope to have a home, with...

• Lot's of love [and an open door]
• Many hammocks, strung about (indoors and out)
• Twinkly-lights, woven through Ivy vines across bookshelves and nooks
• Homey quilts scattered, and egg-shell curtains
• a chalk-board wall/ with quotes and drawings and random things covering it
• a futon
• beds of many layers and levels 
• [and maybe a room that had just as much inside as outside in it]
• oh, and some glass bottles on window sills could be nice, too ;-)

 

But I really don't care so much about material things.  As long as #1 is covered, I'll be happy as a clam!  The other things would be just frosting.
Because, maybe just a sleeping-bag and some sort of roof would be fine, as well.

Findings

I found that
In my hour of need,

when I needed someone to truly
"combat all my demons"

It was the vision of a barefooted,

carpenter,

working in the shade of his shop,

willing to take time out and sit with me

on the stoop of a step

and listen to all my woes

and fears,

that was forefront in my mind.

Not a King,
Leading a Victorious Army,
Fierce and Just and Strong,
Able to wipe away
all my foes in an
instant,
even though he is Him.
and he could...

But it was the lamb
I called out to
in my desperation.
When I had almost given up,
all I wanted was to be beside
that simple man,
dusty beard,
gentle eyes.

I found this interesting.
And slightly illogical.

Life and truth aren't always "logical".
They don't always fit into the grain.

I am finding that out, as well. <3

Brothers

Sometimes in life, we are surprised

when we chance to find ourselves

inside a moment

that makes us feel utterly whole and warm and content.

I got to be inside such a moment last night.

The coffee shop was buzzing with warm lights

and chattering voices, as rain could be seen

through the open door out on the sidewalk and down the street.

My one brother played music with my other brother, as the third, dread-locked brother stood,

in the back,

adjusting the sound mixer and watching 
with fond love and gentle admiration.

Little Sunshine danced and made friends with all the patrons, as I sat, and soaked it all in.

Such a simple moment.

Surrounded by earth-toned, homey decor, 
and the scents of foreign coffees...

I swallowed it up.  This moment.  This lovely, perfect, happy, heavenly moment.

It will stay with me.

My heart is so grateful.

My heart is so grateful for this life, these moments, these brothers... :-)

Prayers

Help him to see only you.  Shine on him with your perfect holy love.  Give him revelation and hope and rest in the truth of Goodness.  Make his peace to be your secure arms felt firmly around him. Don't let him stray.  Hold on really closely.

Help me to not love him selfishly, but purely;  loving for his sake and not my own... and all that that entails.

Northstar

 

The day we became famous rock-stars. :-)

On trips. And the things they teach us.

The three of us sat on the shore of Fallen Leaf Lake.  Our cheeks were red from the cold air, and from walking through the snowy forest to get there.  The white carpet crept gently up to the water, but had melted several yards from the banks.  That is where we were perched, atop stony pebbles and water-logged logs.  Gracie found a stick of burnt charcoal, and used it to make etchings on a stripped and fallen tree.  Her fingers traced the outline of a heart.  The charcoal dropped to the ground; she blew gently upon her drawing, and the dust dispersed into the mountain air.  "The answer is blowing in the wind", she joked.  But she was right.  Love is the answer, and her drawn-heart had just been picked up by the breeze.  This made me understand Bob's song on a whole new level. :-)

Ode to Friendship, pt Vlll: Misty Renia Schmidt

Misty, today, 21 years ago, smack-dab in the middle of the middle of the mid-west, you were born unto us.  It took you 19 years to make it across the states, to be a part of the west, part of our family, part of my life.  You've taught me so much.  About love, and generosity and drive and fervor for life!  Every minute spent with you, left me with a smile upon my face, and a new excitement for what was ahead.  You became like a sister to me - like the one I'd never had.  You brought joy to our home and to my heart.  I'll be honored and jazzed to romp with you again anyday... 

....and everyday... I will treasure the memories we've shared, but mostly the way you changed my life and taught me a new way to live.  

---Being an adult.  Yet having a child's heart---

May you stay forever young as the graceful and beautiful daughter of our most Holy and Righteous King.

Happy Birthday, love.

I've found the gold.

Name: M. Olivia D.

Age: Two Decades and a Year.

Residence: Paradise, Planet Earth.

Occupation: Looking into these beautiful faces, day after day.

Answer to all life's Questions: Love.

It's one of those days... were you wake up right into a dream.

"I was waken late the other night/There was a bird trapped in my heart/I tried to open up and let it out/Before it tore my chest apart."

Anticipation and excitement is brimming as we rip yucca and succulents from our yard, to replace them with hedges and bougainvillea and grasses and vines and flowers and a deck and a porch-swing.  Springtime comes early on this stretch of coastland...  And my heart is blooming.  I'm in a wonderland of greenery, growth and planting.

P.S. Gardening is always made better when you've got Mason Jennings by your side.

on goals...

In my lifetime, I hope to be able to:

say something

that no one has ever said before.

but that everyone has thought.

Oh baby, baby baby!

Today I got to be the care-taker of a two-day old baby that's been abandoned at the shelter. He was so incredibly adorable!  -Well, all he did was eat and sleep and poop (I honestly didn't know it was humanly possible to poop with such frequency)... But he sure looked awfully CUTE while doing it!!!  I couldn't have asked for a more fulfilling day.

Mr. Billy Collins: my Mentor, #1 of late.

"The trouble with poetry, I realized

as I walked along a beach one night --

cold Florida sand under my bare feet,

a show of stars in the sky --

the trouble with poetry is

that it encourages the writing of more poetry,

more guppies crowding the fish tank,

more baby rabbits

hopping out of their mothers into the dewy grass.

And how will it ever end?

unless the day finally arrives

when we have compared everything in the world

to everything else in the world,

and there is nothing left to do

but quietly close our notebooks

and sit with our hands folded on our desks.

Poetry fills me with joy

and I rise like a feather in the wind.

Poetry fills me with sorrow

and I sink like a chain flung from a bridge.

But mostly poetry fills me

with the urge to write poetry,

to sit in the dark and wait for a little flame

to appear at the tip of my pencil.

And along with that, the longing to steal,

to break into the poems of others

with a flashlight and a ski mask.

And what an unmerry band of thieves we are,

cut-purses, common shoplifters,

I thought to myself

as a cold wave swirled around my feet

and the lighthouse moved its megaphone over the sea,

which is an image I stole directly

from Lawrence Ferlinghetti --

to be perfectly honest for a moment --

the bicycling poet of San Francisco

whose little amusement park of a book

I carried in a side pocket of my uniform

up and down the treacherous halls of high school."

Acasia Bramble Daffodile

Sometimes, I believe... love is an ACHE.

"It's not about what you do,
but who you do it with."

Well, I've been convicted to never dad-gum complain or dis-enjoy myself somewhere, cause I realize I've got the best: friend, teacher, father, guide and companion with me wherever the heck I go.

The realization of this has helped me...
with work on Thursday Mornings.
I actually enjoyed myself this week.
Cause I was with him.  And He sure was having a good time.

Gladness

This past week was a very good one. Thank you, J for flying 1,323 miles to be with me. It was very much appreciated.  Please, do come again, soon!  And stay.  Like, maybe forever or something like that.

Sincerely,

M

The wind in the crooked trees...

...bid me bow my head
bend my eyes
brush my gaze
across the bronzy
aspen valley below

breath in,
and burst out in blessed song!

Twu Luf.

This picture is exciting for the following reasons...

1. John and Lindsey are Married!

2. They are the first S.B. Homesteaders to grow up and marry each other!

3.This picture was snapped by Yours Truly, and it represents the first wedding in which I've played the part of photographer!

Three cheers for love, homeschooling and photography!!!

whims

Life would be sweeter if I had a beat-up hippyvan to park under a Swiss-family-Robinson Treehouse, with a baby pet bison that came when I called.

But I am learning to be content with what I have.

Must it...

...hurt my heart so much

When I see you see me

and turn on your heel

and avoid me like the plague?

What did I do wrong?

What happened?

Oh let's please be friends, again

so this frail heart wont feel like

a dooby.

Quest: Canada

I miss my french Flesh and Blood. Starting today,
I venture to send a letter a day (en francais) to one of my Canadian family members... for at least a week. Ce sera le début de quelque chose que j'espère finira dans du fait de se réunir, très bientôt.

Memories of the Future

"To laugh often and much; To win the respect of people and the affection of children; To earn the appreciation of honest critics; To appreciate beauty, to find the best in others; To leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition; To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded." 

Dear D,

We missed each other by a hair.  Don't get to deeply lost in the heart of paradise.  I am planning on spending some quality time with you as soon as I get up there.

It'll be ok.

"But aren't you afraid that we might grow old, and never live exciting lives full of adventure and romance?"
"No.  But even if we do... we'll always have books."

Thank you world, for books. - Our ever-present companions and trusty vehicles, taking us places we might never have gone otherwise in this life.

 

P.S. This quaint little house was lodged right between a Subway and a Repair Station we passed on our drive back from the hills. I like it.

Wisdom from Elders...

"And my father told me... he looked me square in the eye, and said: 'you don't ever have to be shy... because all you need to do is just smile.'"

Thanks, Miss Cynthia.
I'll remember that.

Blushing Bonfire Sky.

 As if unwrapping a present,

Each new day, I awake to life's gift
I unpeel blankets, wrapping me tenderly,
Undo the bows of my curtains, and
and Peek out my windows
to see it's newest installment. 

This particular day, at it's advancing end,
I was able to witness, one of it's greater endowments.
Lately, He's been teaching me... what it means...
to "See".

And He gives me only the best things for practice.

My tennis shoes found themselves traveling rapidly over pavement,
I ran under the archway of sky who's hues looked
like they had been dipped deeply into the heart of a Caribbean rose
I had to stop many times, out of breath - not because of exercise,
but because, the majesty of the light in the tree tops, or streaks in the sky,
or glow of the mountains... simply commanded I stop an admire them.
I turned a corner, and was at the base of a long, narrow lane.

I've never seen such a rainbow, so vividly framed in blushing, bonfire sky!
It burst forth, from the root of the road, extending to the cosmos,
Something otherwordly, urethral, stirring and magical.
Time stood still as I walked under it, through it, in it all,
tears filled my eyes, my jawline as low as my ankle socks.

The sounds from my ipod mysteriously switched
and whispered lovely secrets in my ears.
This time... I wanted to take all of the connecting strings from my present,
 draw their lines around me and crawl back into this magical gift box,
and close myself up in it forever and ever.

But, the crazy thing about gifts is that once opened, they can be shared,
I ripped a piece of wrapping paper from the sky, and tucked it in my bosom.
Here it is, reader.  I want to give it to you.
It's just a crinkle, but it speaks of beautiful promise,
staggering beauty and incredible love.

He made the whole world for us.
And He continues to give it to us.
Everyday.

On taking up new hobbies... :-)

We are needles,

threading across

pavement roads

in secluded lands
behind mountains...

we weave in and out on quad-wheeled boards.

Bumping along,

zig-zagging.

The sun is setting, and

her final rays

dance with us, as

they too,

thread through the thin tops of trees,

shimmering down,

casting resplendent light

upon the beautiful patchwork of

joyful contentment

we create
as we

speed

down

hill.

Ode to Friendship, Pt. VII: Laura Michelle Goto

After 5 years, almost everything in our lives have changed, except for our sweet amity. :-) I'm so glad.  Yesterday, I wasn't sure how things were going to go...  but praise be (!) We're still the same ole goofy friends!  It was like being transported into a slice of our childhood.  I remember one day after an afternoon "playdate" at your house consisting of building mud pies and climbing trees, my mom picked me up and on our drive home asked me how my day went.  I remember sighing and telling her "I just really, really like Laura... She's a really fun friend."  I had that same exact feeling as we were driving home after meeting her half way in Cambria yesterday...  Man.  Something special about that one.  I shall never fear again about loosing touch.  Even if one of us falls off the earth for 29 years...  If we ever chance to find each other again after that...  We'll be able to find our friendship nitch - I'm sure of it.

"The bird a nest,
the spider a web,
man, friendship."
- William Blake -

♫ clouds clung to mountains...

without strings

the land is too changed to ever change. ♫

Who Knew?

...That the perfect spot to watch the sun set, on a Hilltop, exploding with Flowers, beside a Lake and a Waterfall, complete with City, Mountain and Ocean views was located so close to me?! Why would I ever spend another evening behind curtained window-panes, under a dark roof, knowing this gem of creation was located less than a mile from my front door? 

What am I going to do?

In 2010?

It's the million $ question.

"...no resolutions, just change..." 

"To learn something new, take the path that you took yesterday." 

Ode to Friendship, Pt. VI: Katrin Cunningham

Here is a quote from Kahlil Gibran, I tribute to Kat. Thankyou for spending the day with me yesterday, doing nothing... and everything at the same time.

"[Your friend is] your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving. And he is your board and your fireside. For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek him for peace. When your friend speaks his mind you fear not the "nay" in your own mind, nor do you withhold the "ay." And when he is silent your heart ceases not to listen to his heart; For without words, in friendship, all thoughts, all desires, all expectations are born and shared, with joy that is unacclaimed. When you part from your friend, you grieve not; For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence, as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain. And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit. For love that seeks aught but the disclosure of its own mystery is not love but a net cast forth: and only the unprofitable is caught. And let your best be for your friend. If he must know the ebb of your tide, let him know its flood also. For what is your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill? Seek him always with hours to live. For it is his to fill your need, but not your emptiness. And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures. For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed."