Walking Cross-Town. In Vogue.

new-york-city-rain-street

Dawn breaks. The air is heavy for April. I peek into my bag, and I’m reassured by the pocket umbrella. It’s the second train of the morning. 55 minutes, 2 stops. Destination: Grand Central Station. But for the clack of steel on steel, the train is silent.

We arrive at Grand Central. The masses, bees awakened and agitated, pour out of the hive and race for the exits.

A count of the passersby between Madison and Fifth: it’s 6 of 9, 7 of 10 if you include me. The count is Secluded. Sequestered. White cords are draped from ear lobes to pockets, strapped to the Source, private and away.  One smiling. One solemn. One harried, a Working Mom?  One at peace. One head bobs with lips’ syncing.  And the narrator, Madonna in Strike a Pose.

When all else fails and you long to be
Something better than you are today
I know a place where you can get away

“You long to be Something better than you are today.”
[Read more…]

SMWI*: Hold it Girl. Hold it.

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Notes: Source: Nikewomen. SMWI*=Saturday Morning Work-Out Inspiration

Saturday Morning

Wales

Of life are woven woes
the days dissolve to live a bit
a lot!
dissolve.

Anne-Marie Alonzo, from “Lead Blues,” Voices in the Desert: The Anthology of Arabic-Canadian Women Writers


Anne-Marie Alonzo is a Quebec poet, translator, literary critic and editor who made a major contribution to the culture of Canada despite her severe physical disabilities. Alonzo was born in Alexandria Egypt in 1951 and came to Quebec with her family in 1963. In 1966 she was the victim of a car accident which left her quadriplegic and confined to a wheelchair. She earned a B.A. in 1976, an M.A. in 1978 and a Ph.D. in French studies in 1989 from the Université de Montréal.


Notes:

 

5:00 PM Bell

TGIF-T.G.I.F.-gif-bird-run


Source: gif-tv

Why?

jello-gif-red

Not exactly sure.


Source: Bizarbazar

 

T.G.I.F.: It’s been a long week

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Source: themetapicture.com (thanks Susan)

Lightly child, lightly

butterfly-hand-lightly

Wake up, you poets:
let echoes end,
and voices begin.

— Antonio Machado


Notes:

  • Image Source by Elâine Cristine.
  • Poem source: “XXIV” of “Forty Poems Chosen from ‘Moral Proverbs and Folk Songs,’” Times Alone: Selected Poems of Antonio Machado via memoryslandscape
  • Prior “Lightly child, lightly” Posts? Connect here.
  • Post Title & Inspiration: Aldous Huxley: “It’s dark because you are trying too hard. Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly. Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply. Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them.”

It’s been a long day

A man takes shower

…Take a shower, wash off the day.
Drink a glass of water.
Make the room dark.
Lie down and close your eyes.
Notice the silence.
Notice your heart. Still beating. Still fighting.
You made it, after all. You made it, another day.
And you can make it one more.
You’re doing just fine.
I’m doing just fine.

~ Charlotte Eriksson, The Glass Child


Credits: Photo: The Guardian. Poem Source: Schonwieder

 

I step quietly from my bed

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I have risen early. Far in the distance, a faint glow paints the horizon. Dawn is coming, gently and full of prayer. I step quietly from my bed, alive to the silences around me. This is the quiet time, the time of innocence and soft thoughts, the childhood of the day. Now is the moment when I must pause and life my heart – now, before the day fragments and my consciousness shatters into a thousand pieces. For this is the moment when the senses are most alive, when a thought, a touch, a piece of music can shape the spirit and color of the day. But if I am not careful – if I rise, frantic, from my bed, full of small concerns- the mystical flow of the imagination at rest will be broken, the past and the future will rush in to claim my mind, and I will be swept up into life’s petty details and myriad obligations. Gone will be the openness that comes only to the waking heart, and with it, the chance to focus the spirit and consecrate the day. What is needed is only a passing of the heart so the spirit can take wing and be lifted toward the infinite. I walk silently toward the window. The darkness is lifting. A thin shaft of lavender has creased the horizon, setting the edges of the trees on fire with morning light. I pause and bow my head…

~ Kent Nerburn, Small Grace: The Quiet Gifts of Everyday Life


Notes:

Guess.What.Day.It.Is?

camel-hump-day-caleb-wednesday

Caleb walking tall…


Notes: