"There comes a time",
said the sage
to the drenched woman,
"to use your arms as oars."
"When the mother of all
storms surges its
pounding and plowing
across the bow,
and tears through sails
as through your lungs,
and against your ribs
it's time to reach
your arms as oars.
Your oars are
smooth and broad,
oak old and oak hard,
polished by oil,
smoothed by sweat,
and molded by toil.
They will guide the bow,
align the sheer,
override the surf,
undermine the tempests,
the old boat
Rory hit the wall with a silence,
like the sound a skull drum shakes.
Rory felt like a clay pot
crumbled before it bakes,
in oven-hot hands that
burn til they ache.
Rory lost grip, felt as brittle sticks
snapping beneath tines of a rake,
without an ounce, an inch,
a peck, a pinch it might take
to understand how
an olive-pit breaks.
The three-quarter moon turned away from me tonight,
her full lips set, jaw edged tight,
war-paint eyes turned to the right,
the three-quarter moon cut shadows with light.
The three-quarter moon
took away the stars,
took away the sea,
took away the clouds,
for a two-toned realm of fog
above the horizon line,
from the sky,
The pan shattered,
from oven to stovetop
who knew the burner was hot?
Rich chocolate creamy brownies
all over her
all over her feet
all over the kitchen
all into tears.
Shards of glinting needles
and burned cake
What a relief
I finally feels like summer here on the central coast of California, a noontime walk with a friend became a drenching sauna......Oh, and yeah, then there was the Green Man in the lawn....................
Some injuries are losses, some are gifts. One door closes and another one opens. I treat hands after injury or surgery at my work. Until you can't use your hand, you don't realize what it does. A large proportion of your sensory brain and muscle control centers are dedicated to the hands and thumbs. Your hands have more bones than your back. Would you see a general orthopedic surgeon to operate on your back? No. But how many people go to a generalist when the hand is severely severed or broken? The therapy following is equally complex, handled best by a Certified Hand Therapist with experience.
We learn to value what we have/had after it is taken away or damaged........
May you recognize serendipity when it comes your way.
New moon, fresh sky, meteors flash to the naked eye.
Crescent sickle, piercing slate, a hanging handle to galaxy's gate.
Dark-masked half-moons, denying hidden blues.
Gibbous waxing full and ripe, fruit of loin and rounding high.
Ah, the moon's full-faced and seasoned, alive and vivid with clarity and reason.
(The moon is full tonight, unfortunately blocking the meteor shower view with its light. There is beauty in a night with no moon, the crescent can be startlingly sharp and star-catching, the half-moon can change it's face, the full moon lights the night world, but obscures the milky way.
This was a California Red Tail Hawk, the largest local predatory bird. On the coastline, the Peregrine falcon is it's counterpart. This juvenile hawk tried to fly in the window at my clinic. He spent the following hour sitting outside, stunned by the window glass. He kept a close eye on us, but didn't retreat when we came up to him. He just watched us move behind the glass, baffled. (eventually he flew away)
The Hubble deep space telescope is looking at galaxies forming. "Dark energy", unseen, might hold pre-galaxy gasses in a "web", visible only by the pattern displayed by the spaces between the molecules.......
yet we cannot see that our spirits interact across spaces?
May you recognize Serendipity when it comes your way......
Drug free,(except for carafes of coffee), and alcohol free, a queer let-down occurs at the end of the day. Triggered by hypoglycemia, fatigue, solitude from a very public job, or rare isolation, the feeling is heady and disorienting at the same time. (nursing mothers, think of the "let down" sensation) I decided to stop fighting it and honor it with a sigh, a nap, a tear, and a poem.
This is a poem in exactly 55 words. If you write flash-fiction or poetry in 55 words, post on Friday and let your flasher with the fastest 55's know, Mr. Knowitall, HERE
I have a sense of alienation this Spring, as though nothing will ever be the same. Winter is lingering much longer than usual in central California, with rainstorms reminiscent of the Pacific northwest. This shot was from our usually barren front acre, during a freak hailstorm last month. It was followed by an even rarer snowstorm the following week, tricking the flowers and trees to retreat into dormancy even longer.
Hospital monitors don’t soothe a newborn cry.Mothers don’t cry at dinner tables.Loud drunks don’t listen.Did postpartum depression have an evolutionary purpose?
(This is a flash fiction in exactly 160 characters, including spaces. I took liberty with the spaces between the sentences for a better rhythm in the grammar. For more fascinating stories and poems visit the host with the minute 160, Monkey Man HERE .Try one yourself, and let us know!)
In my muse's absence, I revert to my version of Wordless Wednesday: Tuesday Toes.
Where have YOUR toes been?
Today I actually have a gift from my travels to Philadelphia. I thought of my friends in blogland as I snapped this shot outside the Sheraton Hotel downtown. Of course the highlights of the trip: friends, the Rodin sculptures, and Hand Surgery/Rehabilitation Symposium. (this was street art, emerging from the sidewalk and walls like the "Gates of Hell")
Toe photography began when early travels took me to New York. I was newly married, headed for a college buddy's wedding in New Jersey. I had not traveled out of California. Tired of the familiar profile shot for perspective in the forground, my buddy Kim and I began to shoot my foot with famous landmarks. So what next? Sisterhood of the traveling feet?
-bluegrass blues on mandolin.
-drawing designs for a higher view.
-reconstructing tools into instruments.
-cuddling cat fur.
-morphing into tighter spots.
-compressing into vicelike strength.
-spreading a pyramid of support.
-pressing flesh with delicate fasciculations.
-articulating to tap, trace, scrape, slide or ruffle.
I miss inter-lacing through the windows of our souls.
Missing someone can take all shapes, forms and feelings. What do you notice most when you miss someone?
This poem is generated from a trip to Philadelphia, and the Rodin museum. Before I spent 4 days studying hand surgery and rehabilitation, I spent 1 1/2 hours circling the bronze figures of hands, feet, nudes and faces at The Rodin Museum.
Harmonic murmering - swinging open the doors
Soft eyes - in the vortex of the windstorm
Steady gaze - held in a familiar hammock
Slow motion blink - film strip strobing by
Upturned corners - grinning over and over inside
Inhale the scent - to lift a balloon above the sky
Owed to my teachers: of yoga, friendship, and love.
sharply pierce the rind
gently ease the zest
from the membrane.
stab it open
feel the sting, the spray,
the cutting scent.
if sweet or sour,
it's yours to discover,
but a bite is required.
I am reading The Four Agreements, by Don Miguel Ruiz. If you have read it, please share your reaction. If you have not, there are four codes of conduct explored. Stemming from ancient Mexico's Toltec teachings they are: Always do your best, Don't take anything personally, Don't make assumptions, Be impeccable with your word.
Buccal bugged, butt bumped, bone droned, toe tingled, face braced, eye dried, lung fumed, ear jeered, ankle jangled, skin numbing, heart starting, nerve-verve.
This is a poem in exactly 160 characters, spaces included. If you want to read more or try the challenge, post on Sunday and let Monkey Man, our host for this event, know HERE .
After 24.5 years of marraige, baggage too heavy to carry, and children almost flown the coop, I decided to review and renew my spousal relationship. My spouse builds motorized bicycles for the past 5 years but I never took on the 30 mph ride. (I prefer the silent, clean but sweaty type.) ....I'm finding out I didn't know what I was missing............in more ways than one, WOW.
Sleeping, demon slain?
She screamed in the dream, awoke,
to own it again.
Some of us have recurring fears, resentments, triggers that threaten our inner joy. Peace with ourselves may be elusive, and fleeting. I am learning to face, name, depersonalize and let go of past wrongs. However, the power we give the inner life of our minds and souls work on. A nightmare awoke me this morning, reliving a current anxiety with the roles reversed, at which point I realized all the characters in the dream were elements of myself...............
How the words choked off: Please look over the choices keeping us safe
How the rain on the car
or the sun on the walk
How the motocross racer
with the most wins, passed,
In honor of those who truly take risks, do their best, fight the odds to win, and love their careers, families and friends.
In honor of Nathan Woods, who died this week in a practice jump before the World Off Road Championship Series in Calif. He won the WORCS twice, over all other riders. He wore the tatoo of a photograph of his infant son's face on his forearm. His wife and two young sons are in my prayers. Photo: courtesy of google
3) Choose routes: 70 mph?, Yosemite and Grand Canyon?, visits to kindergarten buddy and sisters?, downhill and straight highways?, rocky, wet, overgrown, unmaintained? known roads and pre-mapped courses?
4) Organize gear: money, map, car, bike, foot, phone, bedding, food, water, friend.