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................Judgment....
the uncomfortable part of myself that has sat in the shadow of my being, came out and took a seat in the light today.
Get away I screamed I do not like you...
but closer it sat and rubbed its dirty hands on my face...looking me right in the eye!
Judgment is one of the things
I am guilty of ...
and it sits on me today
heavily.
Spirit of friendship, colors true in varied shades of sacred hues..
joyous affirming tones of golden wheat, generous splashes of red pour into my heart, seeking...being holy communion for each other..the seeds we plant create the garden..to live and let live, to bloom and fade and send a fragrant perfume!
Thank you, the many "you" who come and read my blog...who write words generous, wise and giving, You who encourage me and make me laugh, You who I have come to know...my days see a different color horizon and I find you beautiful! Thank you, thank you a million times over!
(Click on any comment to go on another journey, each holds a special place to visit! Honor each other with a greeting!)
What would happen, if you played hooky? If you just step aside? If not for the rest of your life, just for a day, or a few hours, or as long as a blink of the eye?
What is your idea of spontaneity? Fun? Letting your hair down and cutting loose?
In the game of life what does it mean to win?
In your list of things-to-do-today, is playing marbles one of them? Or are you trying to keep your marbles all in one place?
Children do not like to lose at marbles!
Questions Chelsea asked me when she was three years old:
Where is heaven? What does it mean to die? When I yawn why do my eyes water? How does water come to our house? How does our body make urine? What does God look like? Who was born first? Why can't we make grapes in the kitchen with a recipe? Why do we have two nostrils? Where do words come from? When fish die do their fins turn into wings?
Does God feel scared?
No, I don't believe God feels scared.
Does God feel happy?
Some questions just need to been asked, with each question the answer goes deeper and deeper... like a child who says, "why?" after every answer...
My Mother reminded me to answer, as honestly as I could, the why questions my children would ask. "That is how they learn, and after they have asked you a hundred times the same question, and they go to ask you yet again, simply ask, Why, back to them...they will have the answer."
The heart doesn't question, it responds.
French Husband went to Malaysia with a friend. They went trekking in the jungle and exploring the sun on deserted islands.
When Sacha saw the back pack that Yann was taking for his two week trek, one that was smaller than his school bag, he was horrified!
"Papa, how many underwear did you pack?"
"You do not want to know."
"Papa, how many socks do you have with you?"
"The pair on my feet."
"Oh man! When you come home, I pity the person you sit next to on the plane!
Such
beauty
in
the
silence
of
time
made
still.
The gift of being with oneself and knowing love. Do we give time to the silence of our being? Do we allow ourselves the freedom to be our own best friend?
I hate headaches. I have had them since I was a kid. I was told not to say, HATE. It was a bad word in our house. I HATE headaches!
Is the new catch word for headache, migraine? I hate migraines!
I have them both. I know the difference. I can function with a headache.
I know I have said "I" alot...
"Aie," pronouced, "I," in French, means: OUCH!
I I I I I I I I I... am off to bed.
What moves you
when your feet don't?
Jumped out of bed,
late...
5:45 a.m.
Drank
grapefruit juice,
and hesitated
about going...
"Should I add to my blog now
or do it when I come home?"
What am I thinking???
Flea market or Blog??
Drove to St. Paul de la Durance.
200 dealers!
Felt my heart skip a beat like it was the first time in love!
One word, a few words...the power of the spoken word. The feeling a word can evoke, the cherished word, the cannot be forgotten word. The singing of words, the whisper, the cry, the angry word. The word not spoken, the word denied. Sharing, and searching for, the written and the buried, the questioning words. Poetic, prayer words; Three simple words. Words from the heart, words from pain, words that won't come out. Words that speak a different language. Words carved in your mouth like tokens, that say who you are.
click on any image to enlarge.
Light penetrates us like blood in our veins; it is life giving.
it pours within us and reflects outward, the color of our soul is splashed on the walls of those around us.
there are no dark corners, no dead end streets, that the light cannot enter.
What are the colors of your life? Where does your spirit shine? Do you like the reflections that you see?
Colors from my crystal: Willows on a late summer evening after the rice harvest. The heron, setting sun, the glistening sweat, the play of light on the horizon as I rode in the truck with my brother Zane.
Hearing words in French as if they were spoken in English, I understood!
The soft hush after my niece gave birth, the tenderness of that moment.
Being in the Azores, holding the 16th century ledger that contained my family's history. Knowing that I had been there before, reading my name between the lines.
The first time I felt my babies move inside me.
My Grandmother Amaro and I, laying on our backs looking at the clouds, talking about life beyond, as her hand rested in mine.
Tell me one of yours?
