August Break

First day of school.  A new year, a new attitude.

I'm the one who is not ready.  I want another July and then I might be ready.

Wolves - August Break

It has been a year since I started reading it

and now with only 100 pages to go I will confess it has hit me hard and deep. And I wouldn't have it any other way.  Awrrooo!

August Break

137 feathers

because this chicklet needs liftoff.

August Break, Friday Haiku

We ARE all one, right?

Our Language Police would faint

over the chance missed.

P.S.  It's a bit cryptic, I know.  But many will get it.

August Break

Because, for me, when I've lost my sense of humour, I've lost everything.

I haven't lost my sense of humour yet.  But prayers, juju and good thoughts my way would still and always be appreciated.

August Break

We went for a scooter ride down to the lake on Sunday.  The rock I picked from my bag to leave behind

for those of you who know what is going on in my world.  So why is it so damn hard?  I am a master at grasping and holding on.  Recently I have heard other people's stories about how they had to let go.  Now I am asking for help.

August Break

I am a person of few words these days so I'm loving the idea of August break.

Views from my kayak

I haven't posted enough here since Blogger changed the format and every time I do show up here, it feels a bit frantic as I click around finding my sweet spot.

I have been having some sweet experiences like outdoor art for everyone

\

finding polar bears during an extended, parching heat wave

and out houses right off the secondary highway

not to mention thinking I was candidly photographing a heavily tattooed man only to get home and find I wasn't so candid with my camera.

Life has been hard and strange and exhilarating and I still don't know which direction I am headed any given day. The best I do is show up and sometimes muck along, sometimes grab the brass ring. Just when I thought I had tempered the change blasting through, I feel yet another wave of light and shadow shaking me up and making sure I am exactly where I need to be.

.

Where I've Been

Here and there.  Not here-here.  But here in my life.

I have been leaving some of the Rock Fairy's messages behind

wishing Anne Lamott would write another book about her spiritual journey because I could use her insights and humour right now.

 So much change, some welcome and some not so welcome.  I am trying to go with the flow, open my heart and let it all in and out,

astonished at how often I stop and wonder, "how can I still be finding my way?"

To paraphrase the Wild  Jane Cunningham, I have been trading in nice for real.

 I have not been using my camera much, feeling worn and tattered with looking at myself through a lens.

Discovering that nothing good ever comes when someone starts a sentence with, "Do me a favour...".

I have been disappointed in the way Keen handled my complaint after a pair of their sandals fell apart after a few short weeks of light wear.  I'm back to my old trusty Nike flip flops, still spongy after all these years.

I have also been living without a watch for about a month now, observing how, although I am still bound by schedule and time, I am letting the minutes and hours pass by themselves, as they will.  It is not a little disorienting.

I have been meeting my shadow face to face and battling it instead of embracing it and holding it close to let it cry itself out.  I have been remembering why I left old habits behind, feeling my crustiness tumble over the colour of my soul

and gratitude in the magic that has appeared.

Turbo Snail III

Don't ask what happened to I and II.

A funny thing happened on the way home

To quote The Universe from my inbox this morning, "Time and space, The Ultimate Adventure".    Some days it really does feel like that.  I had a few moments this week when my inner core was an ant's eyelash away from going postal and I thought, "wow, this is what it feels like to go postal".  Being such a spiritually evolved human being (*snort*), I observed the feelings, then poured myself another vermut and stepped up to My Most Recent Ultimate Adventure.  Which was digesting this snippet from the timeline of history posted in my son's classroom.

Perhaps it is just semantics over the verb "prendre" (tr.: to take) and the negative connotation that overwhelms me to read it in this context.  Perhaps History could be deemed to be a subjective subject after all, couldn't it?

All this makes it so easy to segue into My Most Recent Observation of the Brazilian treehopper (photo originally linked by Marie EVB Gibbons) and how it was most likely separated at birth from this:

the hair from my rogue, hormonally driven follicle pulled from my chin this morning, the recurring hair that I pull about once a month. I have already written about this rogue here but looking back I see that it has grown coarser and more weapon-like over the last few years.

If I could sum up this Past Most Adventurous Week it would include my 12 year old Palm Pilot (the one holding all the telephone numbers and addresses that I consult from time to time but which was still the sacred cow of my recorded contacts)  upped and reset itself, erasing the entire memory.  All that displays on the current "Address" screen are the two 1-800 numbers for technical support which, judging from the age of this puppy, are no longer in service.

Dear Past, I hereby let go of you.  Maybe a little under protest and in a state of confusion, but I acknowledge that it is indeed time to look ahead.  Namaste.

Now, there's nothing like company coming to inspire an over due clean up.  Other than my chin getting plucked, I can thank the Queen of Arts for inspiring me to clean my toilet and for restocking my stock of her art/rocks.

This favourite person of mine 

and I are all set for our summer shenanigans now.

But wait! Before you go, I forgot to show you the astonishing rainbow from two weeks ago

and much about my Thelma-and-Louise Arizona retreat like the 79 cent Big Slurp (32 ounce) unsweetened iced tea  

the Mustang car rented, in true Thelma and Louise fashion, of course

the magic found in the garden

a dog named Belinda we spent two days with

 beetles making more beetles

and a culture very different from my own.

I confess I am a little bit on overwhelm lately with big changes hanging over the future.  Living the concept of constantly being in choice conflicts with the concept of not being able to control my situation which then induces panic attacks, usually in the middle of the night.  It is kind of like taking responsibility and yet feeling as if I am flapping in the breeze.  This life is not for the faint of heart.

My Arrow

Rumi crossed my path this morning to remind me about the push and pull of wanting something elusive.  He said,

"A man searching for spirit-treasure

cannot find it, so he is praying.

A voice inside says, You were given

the intuition to shoot an arrow

and then to dig where it landed,

but you shot with all your archery skill.

You were told to draw the bow

with only a fraction of your ability.

What you are looking for

is nearer than the big vein

on your neck. Let the arrow drop.

Do not exhaust yourself

like the philosophers who strain to shoot

the high arcs of their thought-arrows.

The more skill you use,

the farther you will be

from what your deepest love wants."

Random Thoughts and Inspirations

I had a head-slapping moment of "oh yes, me too" reading Lisa's Doorways Traveler blog this morning about being "true, transparent, real and human".  Everything she said was me and what a sense of comfort to know there is someone else in the world who can put words to my experience.  I urge you to go and read it for yourself, it is poetry and her photos are stunning and it made me feel as if everything was going to turn out alright after all.

Then I turned to the Queen of Arts blog and found an excerpt from Mary Oliver's, "When Death Comes" and felt completely gob-smacked.

You see, yesterday I experienced a little miracle and all of a sudden I feel like I am walking on a different planet Earth.

What I am acutely aware of today is that I have line-dried sheets

and a beautiful turquoise bathroom with white, white shower curtains.

I have friends who listen and iced tea that is golden in the sun.

I don't feel silly when I laugh at hearing women's breasts called "ta-tas".

I recently came home with a full moon drum

and had my first Skype conversation with my friend Kate, who helped me iron out my audio (or lack thereof).

Where I live, backyard composting means I put this in my bin

and provide tasty breakfasts, lunches and suppers for these guys

and I'm OK with that.

More often than not I feel a lot like Popeye - I yam who I yam.

and this is my world.