Semi-Daily Scribbles

Safe Travels

Still raw from saying goodbye at the beginning of the month, but it's gotten a bit easier to breathe. Been receiving lovely messages from friends wanting us to know the many ways in which you helped them and provided countless good times that'll last as precious memories. I've been going through letters and photographs and that's been a good way to process all the jumbled emotions. Here are a few snapshots of the Summer of 2012 when you came to visit on your cross country drive to see Barb & Bernie. That was a solo trip you wanted to add to your list of I Did This! You did reach your destination and had a grand adventure with stories to share when the new school year started.

Speaking of road trips, I'm looking for the photos from our family vacations. I'm including this link because not only is it a beautiful story, but it's also about a place we visited to camp and fish. The Tuesday mentioned in the article made my breath catch in my throat.

I'll check in soon with more pictures and thoughts.

Do like you do

The things you make define who you are. You do what you do to pay the car note, but don't forget to write notes, play notes. Leave a story behind for others to try on. Thoughts and Words and Actions matter. Just know that what lights you up may hardly start a spark in the people you love. So continue to photograph toes. Keep on studying the history of Pidgin. Build your time machine out of all your other half-assed projects.

In order to let go, you'd have had to have clung to something. Watch what happens when you breathe and unravel your beliefs. This shit is for real. What splendid fertilizer!

Lens

Keeping up old habits is an exhausting task. There must be some worthwhile gain in the game of self-sabotage or it wouldn't be such a popular sport. The mirror I hold in front of me is a grimy, broken lens through which images scream to be noticed. Relinquish all sense of specialness; everyone is a star in this rotating galaxy. Is this how community is formed? Hot spots that carom off each other in search of the deep and meaningful? We've all been exiled to the village of individuality.

The thing about a moment is...

This snapshot titled "Hallucination" thumbs its nose at my whole #AmPresent vibe. It's not Christmas today, which is the point of my daily photographic reminders, i.e.: Here I am, smack-dab in the middle of having a moment and not I am ignoring the present to obsess over future events. Any oddball item or chance meeting can easily become the subject of a photo. I make an effort to connect with what is happening, inside and outside of me, as I take a picture of a leaf, dogs on a leash, broken glass, or a perfectly ripe tomato. String these objects together and life goes on for another day. And those days add up. It'll be Christmas before too long, but there's no room in my October moment for December things.

change is

it's ok if the songwriting suffers
the poetry stinks
snapshots of flowers
boring/blurry/bathed in shitty light
it's all right
the big red death moon
and a pox on your lips
brings big big change
and change is magic
disguised as one's biggest fear

Leaves

Leaves didn't float to earth in an autumnal freefall, or were eaten by caterpillars, or whacked with a hatchet. Young leaves hit the deck in pale green tenderness because the sky threw a tantrum. In the after-winter hour, the sky was jealous of everything it looked upon. Atmosphere must never be ignored. Clouds tossed aside their fluffy likeability and let loose flame and frost; a mixture that made heaven scream in agony. All the new growth got pelted and drowned. The canopy became carpet, and the sun trickled over unstable April.

Mementos

 

 

Sandy, covered in mollusk mucous, smelling of the low tide. Treasure! Vital is the grit, the tang, the salt sea mist on taffy-pulled lips. Slap and slurp of the flip flop lost in the tide pool. Slime trails anoint mementos that come home in pockets and glove boxes. Display found objects in a prominent spot. Magic mile markers remind us we were once on the road. We stopped long enough to let the waves rush in to meet us.

Heirloom

Her grandmother's heirloom string of pearls was Claudette's lifeline to perpetuity. It was difficult for her to traverse the physical plane, but the smooth connectedness that kept pearls in place provided great comfort. Existence moved in quick side steps which left Claudette dizzy and confused. Only by holding a pearl between thumb and forefinger, counting each sphere on the strand and repeating 010101010101, did Claudette find equilibrium. In spite of fragility and futility vying for her attention, Claudette found tranquility in the absurd.

Clear a Spot

Warmth has moved in after March decided lightning and ice was a nice calling card. The yard is struggling to find a foothold between seasons as early bud and leaf suffered a flash freeze. Today the sun shines as I clear a spot to inspect wilted rose bushes the color of rust. Stunned and stunted, Spring's blush could not push back the hands of obdurate Winter.

Pear Blossoms & Mist

Standing in the midst of magic. White buds and pink fog are a delicious mix on which the wise ones feed. To learn the difference between craft and trickery is why we gather in this field. Breathe in the innocence of pear blossoms. Venture into the timeless mist that captures the essence of everything it rolls up on. Great change takes place when eyes are shut tight enough to see.