California here I come right back where I started from (singing to myself)…
Yes boys and girls, that’s right, I’m home!
Well, not exactly. Technically I am still at my parents. But by this evening I will be safe and cozy in my own little world once again. After 29 days away I am looking forward to my things. To the known. To a bed that I can sleep soundly in.
More to come.
The air on the East Coast feels alive tonight.
The humidity is like quicksand, hot, heavy, damp and dangerously devious. It is thick and touchable. Tangible..
The watermelon that I ate this evening was crisp, light, cold and delectable.
With each bite I felt a smile work its way across my moist and slightly sticky lips.
How is it possible that something so slight and insignificant as a melon could impart such a feeling in a rather ordinary evening?
But then I wonder, is the melon truly insignificant?
Isn’t every breath we take made up of milliseconds and moments that become a memory?
Will I always remember this evenings watermelon?
More than likely yes.
Because it was tantalizing in its own, pink, sweet, juicy way.
Just like life!
It’s finally quiet.
Oh how I love nights silence. The pure, undiluted beauty of the universe shines through when the sky is deep black and the stars are bright.
My mind wanders and wonders …
Why are we here?
What is desire?
Is the answer to life’s questions buried deep within our subconscious?
Why is a peach sweet and a lemon sour?
Can we exist on a daily basis without knowing exactly what it is that we need?
Will we be shunned if we share our deepest thoughts and ideas?
When doves coo are they whispering I love you?
Am I brave enough to really find out?
If you wear your heart on your sleeve will it catch a cold?
Are kisses a form of communication?
In the end will it have all been worth it?
What will I be remembered for?
Have I made a difference?
Why don’t doctors give out lolly pops to adults?
And the beat goes on …
Have you ever wondered how people see you?
How you’re looked upon by the world?
How we’re perceived?
This evening while spending time with a close friend (my ex as well), I was surprised by an observation that he made.
We were watching the movie “Must Love Dogs”, when the character Jake spoke of a woman.
He described her this way:
“oh Charlie you should see this girl. She’s shy, she’s fragile, she’s self-conscious. She has no idea how beautiful she is. She’s a mess. It’s fantastic.”
At which point my friend patted me on the arm and said “this sounds like someone I know” and smiled. I was a bit taken a back. I then asked “is this how you see me, really?”. The answer a resounding “yes”.
This slight moment seems to have catapulted me into a place of ‘who am I?’ And how exactly do others see me?
But seeing isn’t always knowing, is it?
And, there’s something about being known that is slightly unnerving. Yet, it’s also somewhat intriguing.
My best friend says that I’m perfume, light and sweetness.
But is that all they (the ubiquitous they) see?
Should I care?
I suppose the moral to this rather lengthy story is this:
No matter how hard we attempt to hide our vulnerabilities, sooner or later someone is going to get a peek at the inside.
Mother nature has just unleashed her fury…
One moment I was reveling in the beauty of tonight’s harvest moon, when suddenly lightning appeared. Moments later roaring thunder and torrential driving rains.
It’s as if the heavens are angry.
There’s something so very magical about such a storm. It makes you realize how truly small we are in comparison to this beautiful planet we live on.
I am truly humbled …
What you’re thinking at this very moment …
Sunday mornings mean slow, sweet and delicious things.
The smell and taste of deliciously hot and creamy coffee.
Smooth jazz that seeps into your soul.
Delectable tidbits that tantalize your taste buds.
It’s a day for oneself.
It’s a day to stay in bed with a lover.
It’s a day to rejuvenate your spirit.
Enjoy the peace …
I’ve wondered lately if I cling to tightly to things past.
Can the now live up to the then?
Will I allow myself to love again? Ever? Do I place too much emphasis on what I had? Is it possible to find fulfillment again?
The heart’s a funny thing. After a while it simply starts to petrify. So much so that it makes using it difficult and somewhat painful.
Is there honour in detachment?
Can one really escape pain by compartmentalizing?
How many times can a heart-break before it’s irreparably damaged?
And, when we’re putting it back together after each heartache, are we missing little shards? Without these shards is there a chink in the armour?
Isn’t it simpler to enjoy what others have to offer without expectation?
Isn’t expectation desire?
And doesn’t Buddha say that the key to happiness is to not be desirous of outcomes?
I sometimes feel like a paper doll. Beautiful and mutable yet easily torn.
It’s essential that paper dolls be handled gently and kept safely. Not everyone is capable of handling such a doll without tearing it.
So, here’s the question: How do you know when an individual is (capable)?
Can a hardened heart feel warmth again?
Will it ever ebb and flow as it did when life was new and disappointment was rare?
Where does one start?
Is it worth it?
“Amelie has no boyfriend. She tried once or twice, but the results were a letdown. Instead, she cultivates a taste for small pleasures: dipping her hand into sacks of grain… cracking crème brûlée with a teaspoon… and skipping stones at St. Martin’s Canal.”… “Time has changed nothing. Amelie still seeks solitude. She amuses herself with silly questions… about the world below… such as ‘how many couples are having an orgasm now?’… Fifteen!”
I love carousels!
There’s something a bit magical about them.
As if just by stepping on to one you could somehow transport yourself to different lands.
I’ve always wanted a carousel horse of my very own. I suppose it’s a little girls dream that hasn’t yet slipped away. But not just any horse, one that is old, hand carved and filled with brilliant character. One that vibrates with happy energy. The kind that has been infused into the wood over the years by whimsical riders.
I spent the day today at the Atlantic, and the carousel you see above is from 1932. The music that it plays is from an original Wurlitzer organ.
It is magnificent!
The best part? All of the animals had names.
Personally I preferred Norma, Lilian and Fella!