Driving I-95 S. With Little Lights.

martin-stranka-birds-road-silence

6:14 am. 28° F. Friday morning.

You push the start button, the engine fires.  The heater begins to blow.  The wipers clear the morning dew. The transmission slides into reverse.  Sirius beams down from the satellite circling, silently, way above.  You turn the dial and it’s Seals & Crofts. “Summer Breeze” fills the cabin and you mouth “makes me feel fine, blowing through the jasmine in my mind.”  It fills you like Guskin’s current of heat running through your body, as if you’ve swum into a warm patch in a cold lake.  Your eyes scan the traffic in the right lanes, orderly, flowing. They shift to the horizon, the sunrise burns amber into the light cloud cover.

And there it comes. Heart-side. A morning rush of sorts.  The cables affixed to the poles – a mild current jumps and sparks, stops and starts up again. This continues for two to three minutes, a morning call in recent weeks.  This intermittent squeeze, a crack in the earth, the bedrock shivers. [Read more…]

Sun on skin, smell, particular light, that sort of stuff

marion-coutts

The template of self-image I adhere to is that of a happy person. Is this different from being happy? I have no idea. Before the crisis, the bad sank down somewhere I couldn’t reach or was too lazy to get to, and the good floated up as flotsam near the surface. I was usually near the surface too, sometimes impressively active and sometimes just bobbing and lolling, lolling and rolling, the one a front for the other. Bad and Good are weakened words now, blanched of force. Language is failing me too.

Optimism is an under-researched attribute. Where’s the science? Where’s the research? What do our brother creatures – the owls, crabs, bonobos – think about the bright side? What do optimists do under pressure? Do they continue to seek out slivers of silver the size of fingernails in the crushed, smashed and folded lining of the earth? Optimism doesn’t seem to be something you can just adopt. Equally, I can’t be rid of it, even in mid-fall. […]

I am a blessings counter. I am and always was. My family gifted me balance and ballast. By upbringing and temperament it was just one of those things that came with me. I link it to the most rudimentary physical sense of being-in-the-world: sun on skin, smell, particular light, that sort of stuff, and that in turn connects to the articulation of the stretch between being an individual – myself – and non-individuated matter. I have always been able to think of myself as matter: one and many, all-solipsist and nothing at all. Not anything.

~ Marion Coutts, The Iceberg: A Memoir


Notes:

 

 

Merry Christmas

photography-tree-blue-lights

The silence of this morning.
The ethereal mist that swaddles this day.
The heartbeats that sleep peacefully under this roof.
The stirring of blessings bestowed by Family.
The blood silently pumps from the heart to the lungs.
I breathe Gratitude.

~ DK


Notes:

 

Under Pressure?

painting-Almedia-blue

I listed my blessings: all those
I love who hold me here.
I looked up at the thick
interlacing of branches above my head
and saw, high up, the bright blue
of air I might breathe, air I could swim to.

—Gregory Orr, “Under Pressure,” in City of Salt


Poem: I Hear It Deep In The Hearts Core. Art: Helena Almedia (mennyfox55)

Truth

feel-blessing-curse


Source: verystrongwords

 

4:48 am. And Inspired.

photography,memorial,terrorist,attack


Good Wednesday morning. Here are my selections of the inspiring posts of the week:

Elisa Ruland @ South of Easton with her beautiful post titled Despairin memoriam to those who died on 9-11:  “Scouring the rusted steel edges I wanted to find an explanation for the madness, I wanted to feel something instead of going numb, to find beauty in the ugliness.  The pain, horror and confusion was palpable in the blast etched remains of the steel, and the need to walk away was overwhelming.  I left without any answers to calm the static...”  That is Elisa’s photograph above.  Read more at this link.  Check out her other wonderful posts and photographs at this link.

LouAnn @ On the HomeFront with her post titled “Beauty and Grace.” You are asked to write 6 words that describe what your future holds for you.  What are your six words?  Go to this link and read LouAnn’s story.

The Kindness Blog with a post titled: “Go Humans.”  I just began following this blog which posts and shares heartwarming morsels of humanity each day.  Check out this post at at this link.  Take a moment to fan through the other posts over the past week.  I’m convinced you’ll feel a change.

Cristi Moise @ Simple & Interesting his share: People Seeing Their Younger Self in The Mirror. “Tom Hussey is an award-winning lifestyle advertising photographer based in Dallas, Texas. In a series entitled Reflections, Hussey shows a series of elderly people looking in a mirror at their younger self.” Moving.  You’ll find one of Hussey’s pictures below.  You must see the others at this link.

Have a great hump day.

portrait,photography

 


4:04 am. And Inspired.

swimming in the rain


Good Wednesday morning. Here are my selections of the inspiring posts of the week:

Jon-Mark Davey with his post: Life Changing Moment: “Nothing changes your life like a life-changing moment. It may sound pretty obvious, but that statement doesn’t have real impact until a moment changes your life. One certainly changed ours.” Heartbreaking.  Read more at this link.

Make Believe Boutique (back again) with her share titled The Twinkling Stars Behind Our Sorrow: “…It is rare to meet a person whose life is full of gratitude. Even though the course of a single day may bring innumerable blessings to us, the few moments of genuine gratitude we experience are often overshadowed by our complaints, disappointments, sorrow, and frustration…” Read more at this link. [Read more…]

Man Down

head cold

It was born on Thursday morning. Source, unknown.  Lousy night’s sleep.  Scratchy throat.  Teasing cough. Oh, oh.

By lunch, phlegm was sliding down the nasal passages.

By mid-afternoon, slow ripples…no waves, waves of low level, throbbing migraines.

I skip over major projects.  Start pushing off meetings that can be deferred.  Manage to creep through the afternoon aimlessly picking at project-lites.

Leave at 5:30.  Head home.  To rest.

“Starve a cold. Feed a fever.” (Why then, am I sitting at the table eating like a wolf?)

Vicks NyQuil Cold & Flu.  I roll the shimmering green gel tablets in my palm – calm settles, I pause, and I swallow.  (The Nightime, Sniffling, Sneezing, Coughing, Aching, Stuffyhead, Fever, So-You-Can-Rest Medicine.  Yes, as advertised.  This sh*t works.)  Magic. 30 minutes later, I’m gone.  Dream land.

Friday morning.  Eyes open.  Wary.  But feeling rested.  Hey, I feel better.

I approach the decision tree.  Stay home – contain contamination. Or, Soldier on.  Decision? Off to work it is.  Real men, work.

Steady downward spiral.  Hour by hour deterioration.  Popping Sudafed tablets.  Phlegm no longer phlegm.  Mucous. Vicious type.  Sn*t.   No longer a gentle slide.  Running. [Read more…]

Sunday Morning: Remember to Breathe

Shot in Alberta.  Paired with the song “Roam” which is performed by Wil Mimnaugh.  Here’s more of Canada’s breathtaking beauty and its people.

O Canada.

My heart swells watching this…

Good Sunday morning.



So…
Close your eyes and see
Gold…
Fields that chase the breeze
Hold…
Your eyes up to the trees
Have your ever seen
The sun jumping into a stream
It’s really something to see

Roam
Up into the peaks … of snow
The sky that you can reach
Float
Clouds that look to breathe
Rolling along with the creek
It’s really something to see
She’s really something to me

Roam !!!
Open up your eyes
Know!!!
Know that we can fly
Float!!!
Float into the sky
Along the tops of the trees
Our shadows dance on the seas
Remember to breathe
She’s really something to me


Thank you Lorne for sharing.

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Sunday Morning: Growing is forever, they whispered…

“A very long time ago, there were no groves because everywhere was a grove with no roads to bisect and no people to erect stones and fences and bridges. The trees were very, very young and had much living ahead of them. The enormity of their lifespan loomed in wooly mists around them, so they stretched out their root fingers and wrapped them around each others’, intertwining and holding very tight. The ferns found pockets of root fingers where they could nestle in and the moss stretched itself out over the soil and everything became very soft. The trees grew and made patterns of light and dark on the ground and the vines swirled in to trace the patterns. Spotted spiders moved back and forth and up and down, making nets to catch the mist, and the mist would linger on the nets in drops that cupped the light. It was very quiet all the time because the trees needed to focus on their lives. It is not easy to grow so much, for so long. Some trees became tired and lay down on the soft ground; others leaned and rested their tops on another. Growing is forever, they whispered, and when one tree had to stop, another would grow out of it and reach very high into the grey and gold sky. The trees rested and waited to the mist to come and cool them. They were very large, but still not very old, and had much more growing to do.” ~ Kallie Markle

Good Sunday morning.


Growing is Forever from Jesse Rosten on Vimeo.


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