It’s been a long day


Notes:

 

Lightly child, lightly.

what does light
sound like
and can I keep it
as a pet it followed
me home in my
dumb & sour heart.

August Smith, “A Delicate Warzone,” from Malfunctions

 


Notes:

  • Photo: via Your Eyes Blaze Out. Poem: Boston Poetry Slam
  • 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.”

The Girl From Tiksi

Do NOT miss the entire photo series by Evgenia Arbugaeva: A Girl From Tiksi.

“Born in the town of Tiksi, located in the Russian Arctic, photographer Evgenia Arbugaeva often looks back into her homeland to tell the stories of the remote lands and their inhabitants. In the series ‘Tiksi’, the internationally acclaimed photographer tells a fairy-tale-like story about a girl living in the small town located on the shores of the Arctic Ocean, in Siberia. Created in the aesthetics of a documentary series, the images present everyday scenes and surroundings of the town. Possibly based on photographer’s personal story, the project features a poetic text depicting a picturesque scene of a girl walking beneath Aurora Borealis. After waking up early in the morning during the Polar Night, the girl dresses in her pink jacket she steps out of the house to walk into the endless fields of the frozen tundra. As she walks by, she notices the wondrous colors of the Northern Lights projecting onto white snow. “She loved these colors very much. Walking through them made her imagination come alive. She liked to think of the fields as blank canvases for Mother Nature to paint upon. Was she part of the painting too, in her pink jacket and red hat?” follows the text, making a visual journey into this remote land a complete experience.”


Source: Ignant.com

Guilty

The same applies when I’m reading for pleasure, too, because reading books as if something were burning, or you were in a contest with someone, doesn’t make sense. That would be like swigging a glass of expensive and fine wine, instead of tasting it and rejoicing in it. For me, reading has all kinds of culinary and sensual connotations, and I feel sad when I see people who read like gluttons, guzzler readers who are vainglorious about their numbers, and quickly forget their feelings, if they get any at all.

~ José Luis Amores, from An Interview with José Luis Amores – The Evan Dara Affinity


Notes:

T.G.I.F.: Bring on the Weekend

dog-pet-cut-bull-dog


Photo: juj (via Nini Poppins)

Saturday Morning

dog-pet-cute

O let me lift it, ever so slightly.
It hangs before me—ever—heavy, motionless—
this curtain which veils the future.
Let me just hold a corner up and peep beyond.
Then maybe I shall be content.

~
Katherine Mansfield, dated Sept 2, 1907 from Delphi Complete Works of Katherine Mansfield

 


Notes: Quote: The Value of Soul Making. Photo: Kulturtava

Morning Exercise (1, 2, or 3?)

#1:

ice-swim-winter-paris

#2:

ice-swim-cold

Or is it #3?

[Read more…]

Happiness is…

hug-tree

Fall.
Naps.
Miami.
Spring.
Canada.
M*A*S*H.
Full moon.
Saturdays.
Snow Days.
Hot shower.
Maple trees.
Warm winds.
Orange Jello.
Family Dinner.
Blog followers.
House Finches.
Fleetwood Mac.
Morning Papers.
Haruki Murakami.
Zeke’s waggy tail.
Shiny black shoes.
Anything àla Mode.
Buttered Spaghetti.
Finishing a long run.
CBS Sunday Morning.
Netflix binge watching.
Milk Chocolate with nuts.
Rachel & Eric coming home.

~ DK


Photo: via Hidden Sanctuary

Dog Tested (56 sec)

Millions of views since it was published in January 2016. Not sure how I missed this one. Bravo!


Thank you Eric

Monday Morning Wake-Up Call (Long Walk. Breathe Deep. Taste the Air.)

patty-maher-the-quiet-storm-photography

Take a long walk.
Breathe deep.
Taste the air.
Keep your eyes open.
Try not to think.
Wet your lips with your tongue.
Tilt your head slightly into the wind.
Separate the sound of a single stone
cracking under your boot.
Feel the difference in weight
between a milkweed seed and a blackbird’s feather.
Stray from the road on your way home
until you are waist high in wet corn.
Approach your house from the back.
Whistle for the dog with the white mark
like a crescent moon on his chest.
Look your children in the eyes when they speak to you,
and raise your eyebrows, and smile when they smile.
Notice your son’s mouth curves up on one side,
and his fingers are long and squared-off at the tips like his father’s.
Search your daughter’s right heel for the star-shaped scar
where they tapped her for blood when she was two days new.
Drop everything when your husband gets that soft, glazed look
and presses his palm into the small of your back.
Think to yourself how like the spreading roots
of a silver maple
are his hands.

Marcella Remund, How to Practice Poetry


Notes: Poem – The New Poetry. Photography: Patty Maher (The Quiet Storm)

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