Us, Niagara Falls, 1990
Our love is a true love.
Not a perfect love,
but an unwavering bond.
From good to great and bad to worse,
even when at odds,
we cling to one another.
Our love is not blind.
Our love is not selfless.
It is strong enough to be honest
with ourselves
and one another.
For you and me and
We to be.
To our last we are
inseparable as
the clouds and sky.
Ours is a true love.
Slainte,
Paz
I think it started at the coffee maker.
“Joy in the task of coffee…” Nin’s words rushed into my morning mind.
A leaf fluttered in through the window this morning, as if supported by the rays of the sun.
A bird settled on the fire escape.
Joy in the task of coffee; joy accompanied me as I walked.
– Anais Nin
I recalled the last line, before referring to the written quote, as “joy followed me as I walked.”
Joy followed me through my morning ritual. The soap brought a lovely fragrance.
The cat loves me even if I’m not giving her snacks. Joy found me again.
Sassy June is a beautiful and happy animal. She looks me in the eye, wags her tail.
I am warmed within by these simple things. Joy in the love of a dog.
Joyful Wood
The commute today was through a perfect example of a September 25th morning.
Joy shined on me as the sun rose.
Colorful trees and wispy remnants of silvery clouds cast with the slightest pinks and yellows.
Joy sat on my shoulder and reminded me to look out the window. To not stare at the roads or the cars ahead.
To drop the UV-tinted glass and see the real glory of Mother Nature. Joy in color.
At work, my sparrows gathered around the Fun Bus, and starlings joined us for the morning breaking-of-bread.
Joy in the lives of delicate creatures. Joy in sharing.
Small V’s of geese transit the sky. On the road, we can smell the ripe corn standing tall and golden and tanned.
Joy in the honking birds, joy in the smells of autumn.
Sweeping the floor. Looks so good when it is done.
I kid you not, the simple task of cleaning the toilet brought joy.
How shiny and clean the bathroom is. The porcelain sink, the antique mirror.
The soap is red and smells of apples.
Joy in the simplest tasks. Doing.
Once I found joy in writing a little thing titled “Three Q’s”.
Can I really be this happy?
Or am I crazy?
Does it matter?
As beauty is in the eye of the beholder, so too is joy in the heart of the joyful.
We can choose to be joyful. We can choose to see the beauty and the joy.
It’s easy, it’s fun, it’s free.
Joy brought me to my journal. Joy in expression.
“…joy accompanied me as I walked.”
Slainte,
Paz
It was not the governments of the world that tore down the Berlin Wall.
It was not soldiers in uniforms, nor officials or dignitaries.
The Wall was brought down by ordinary people. Millhands and plumbers and taxi drivers and waitresses.
People who would no longer tolerate the isolation and separatism practiced by their native countries.
The Earth is our homeland.
We are one people.
Slainte,
Paz
Evan Defies Gravity
When you were just a wee thing, I tossed you into the sky.
You smiled, you laughed, you squealed.
You were never afraid, never doubted that I would catch you.
Grown now, with your own wee ones, you are too big for me to throw in the air.
Fear not, however, for as long as there is breath in this body
I will always catch you.
Seek peace,
Paz
Sumac Sunrise
Every morning when I step out the door, I speak aloud a greeting to my dearest departed friend, my faithful canine companion of over 15 years.
It is a warm moment of remembrance, our bond as strong- or stronger- since parting.
As Chuy says, “The Circle must close. It is true for us all. It is simply so.”
This reminds me that every moment of every wonderous day is a gift to be opened and shared with the world.
That even after passing, the meaningful things in our earthbound life can remain meaningful.
It is not my inner light that illuminates my path.
It is the light I see in each and every individual and creature on this planet.
It is bright as the sun.
May peace find you always,
Paz
Inspired by posts at Thriving Under Pressure – www. drandreadinardo.com
Over The Rainbow
“Someday” is an essential part of a long, healthy life that ends peacefully.
Always working, the mind must always have a dream. It’s not natural to live only in the “now”, but also in the “next” at every waking moment. Where to take the next step. Where to find the next meal. What comes next after the shadow passes overhead, or the footfalls rapidly approach?
Who says delusion and denial are anything but good for you?
Fantasy, imagination, fiction, dreams, books, the stage and screen, pretend and play.
Every amazing invention we know of (including this written language) began as an unseen image inside a mind.
How could we choose at what point we stop thinking of, imagining, dreaming our “somedays”?
After my last child is born? After they are grown? After I achieve “success”?
When I reach XX age? When I retire? When I check off the bucket list?
I myself have many irons in the fire as I cross the crest of 60 years of age.
I imagine for myself a billion someday things I want to do; finishing this novel and starting the next, publishing something. There are a dozen ideas for oil paintings, a hundred ideas for poems to be written, a thousand ideas for blog posts, a million opportunities to shoot that contest-winning photo.
There are grandchildren that need to be shown how to properly tie an improved cinch knot in monofilament line, how to Texas-rig a rubber worm, how to fillet a bass. How to tie off to a cleat, how not to trailer a boat. There are holes that need to be drilled through the ice to set tip-ups. Hot chocolate to be poured from the green thermos. Stands to occupy during dear season, streams to wade for trout in the spring.
There are a thousand miles of trails to be walked, billions and billions of autumn leaves to view in awe, wet dog kisses to be received.
There are philosophies to be shared, great books to be read, a whole planet to save…
Thirteen billion prayers to be said.
There are grown children that need to witness lifelong commitment, unwavering loyalty, unconditional love, unbreakable will.
I must always be filling my heart to overflowing, and seeking out vessels to fill with the excess.
The last thing I want is for a single day to be boring and unfulfilled.
I’m glad to know my list of someday things will not run out before I do.
Seek peace,
Paz
Inspired by a reply to “Someday Is A Disease” on TheEnlightenedMind622 – http://www.theenlightenedmind622.wordpress.com
Mother’s Kisses
Sometimes the world appears to be a bumbling behemoth,
a bull in a china shop, an unleashed Baby Huey, crushing the furniture.
Yet always she comes with the gentlest of hands, and the most tender heart.
I can’t help but love the sweet giant, even as she suffocates me in her embrace.
Seek peace,
Paz
Inspired by The Rabbit Patch Diaries – http://www.rabbitpatchdiary.com
Sumac Snow
In these, our bitter days of winter,
As bare trees stand, their feet ice cold in the snow,
Above our heads icy North Winds blow,
And from my eaves hang frozen crystal splinters,
Stalagtite Ice
Let us then retire to our rooms.
Where we’ll sip hot tea and clasp our hands
And know the warmth of love still stands,
While overhead, the Winter Rage looms.
Blizzard of ’18
No embers of wood, nor burning coal,
As their fire radiates its heat
Upon our faces, upon our feet,
Can, as the heart, so warm the soul.
Embers
Seek peace,
Paz
Here we are again. The shortest day of the year draws to a close.
With the Solstice my new year begins.
Sure, we’ll have a party in 10 days and we’ll turn that paper hanging in the kitchen.
(Or rather, we’ll hang a new calendar for the “paper new year”.)
My celebration began yesterday. A kind of New Year’s Eve feeling filled me as the 20th expired.
Today the Big Blue ball on which we ride crosses imaginary lines that would be measured in the millions of miles.
As we conserve our angular momentum on our course around the gravity anchor of our solar system, the tilt of our wobbling globe begins to be exposed to increasing amounts of daylight. Starting tomorrow.
Each year, the time lapsed between my longest day and my shortest seems to pass more quickly.
This cannot be, of course, in a system that has had 14 billion years to find its rhythm.
For me, each day is a page in The Book of A Thousand Seasons that makes up my life.
I clearly recall standing under a warm, June sky, setting my sights on this next milepost.
In the past three hundred sixty-five and one-quarter days I have filled my countless hours with more beauty than can be related in a single volume.
From the sky to the water, from the valleys to the mountains.
With family and friends. With my speechless canine companion.
With children and grandchildren and siblings and nieces and nephews.
I have exchanged correspondences with some of the finest people I have ever known.
I have felt kindred.
I have spent silent hours in nature’s lap.
Watched the moon and stars transit the sky.
Waved hello to the Robins of Spring, and goodbye to the Geese of Autumn.
I have taken down from the shelves of the past the warmest memories of my dearest friends.
Lingered over them. Let them fill my spirit.
I have cried.
For my people. For the people of the world.
For my planet, and the delicate living things that inhabit it.
I have laughed.
With the snow. With the sparrows.
With the sun and moon.
I have loved.
All that is laid before me.
All that which my wondering eyes behold.
And the Great Cosmos has lived and loved and laughed and cried with me.
For another year.
And, starting tomorrow, I shall do it all again.
Happy New Year!
Seek peace,
Paz
The real world is a constant distraction.
I can’t pass a window or go out to the dumpster or drive to lunch without tracing the patterns of clouds in the sky, the passing sparrows, the shape of the spider’s web in the grass.
She calls to me on the wind, sweet fragrances dousing me, the gentle breeze embracing me, “You come, too.”.
She is the brilliant sun, she is the pale moon, she is the soft pillow of stars on which I lay my head to sleep.
I am deeply, helplessly, hopelessly in love with her.
She commands my senses always.
Seek peace,
Paz
Armchair Zen 