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Archive for the ‘creativity’ Category

Stacking my thoughts

I made Monday a Sunday.
Slept in. Dawdled. Worked only one hour.

Then I went to the beach by myself plus my soul and my snapshot machine. And beach blanket.

High tide was on its way in. So much for exploring.

My self said lets sit. No need to explore. We can see what we see from this spot on the rocks.

She was right. Our eyesight grew sharper with a short-sighted focus. What could we see in the sand and the gravel and driftwood from here? A lot it turns out.

Like flat rocks to stack, like thoughts on a shelf.

And blue mussel halves of size large and medium. Then lo and behold, a super small two-halves still-intact whole!

mussels-nested-DSC_0510 (600 x 399)

Add a half ancient shell with hole for a string to add to my collection back home, then a super small shell of the same kind, sans string hole.

Clear sandblasted glass then a green shard.

My eyes were having so much fun noticing, I mostly took pics with my mind.

I noticed how high tide comes in with so much stuff in the swells. It matches the muck in my mind that’s needing releasing.

The waves serenaded. The sun played hide and seek. The sand bugs jumped up and down in delight or delirium; it was hard to know what they meant in their popcorn-like frenzy.

Time slowed. Time passed. Sea slowed and did a 180 sans fanfare.

By the time dinner called I noticed the waves were clear of all stuff. So was my mind.

On the beach blanket

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I found a tiny pink seashell

It was half-past high tide and love at first sight
when the tiny pink seashell
caught my heart from her spot on the sand.

She paused in her talk with the shell-shard and seaweed
to blow me a kiss of hello.

Pleased to meet you

“Oh, hello! Pleased to meet you,” I said
as I sat down and scooped her up in my palm.
“I’ve never seen anyone like you before in this cove.”

“That’s cuz I’m new here,” she replied.
“Can you show me around?”

We went down to the driftwood

We walked up the beach
and I showed her some sights
she’d never seen from the height of my hand.
At the Driftwood Plateau we met a lone plant
who had grown in the sea-tossed-up soil.
“Seashell, meet Dandelion.
Dandelion, Seashell.”

Seashell, meet Dandelion.

“I thought dandelions were bright yellow with petals?”
Seashell asked with a pure questioning heart.
“I am still a yellow dandelion,” said the flower,
“But my yellow has transformed into seeds.
What you see now are my daughter ideas
almost ready to spread.”

“Is it true I can blow on your face
to make my wishes come true?”
asked Seashell.

What you may not know
(Because I know I didn’t)

is that dandelions can make wishes, too,
by blowing into the face of pink seashells.

Who's making the wish?

Each blew hard as they could
to send their wish flying.
Seashell did a backflip.
Dandelion launched seeds.

Shell's wish to stay

“Ha! Now my wish can come true,”
laughed the shell when she landed.
“I’m hoping a wave will arise
and sweep me back to the sea. That’s where I belong.”

Dandelion's wish comes true, too

Without a word Dandelion smiled,
Trusting her wish would come true.

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[Please enjoy our second video story and photos!]

I walked down to the meadow on Saint Patrick’s Day to visit my friend, Mr. Gnome. The daffodil sisters were shouting with their hyacinth smell for me to come over. They had something to say.

I stood on a log to get closer. The eldest leaned down. I peered into her face, and inhaled as big as I could.

“Oh my gosh, you smell divine!”

I heard them whisper

“Why, thank you,” she said, on behalf of the whole clump of girls. And they giggled and waved with delight.

“The slugs have been bugging us,” the eldest told me. “Their breath is so bad. Can you help?”

“I’m not at all sure,” I replied. “What can I do? They live here, too.”

“Just look at these holes in our petals!” she cried.

“You may look bedraggled,” I said, “But that’s what comes from a full season of growth. You’re living your life. You’re feeding the slugs. You’re perfuming the air with your heavenly notes. You’re lovely narcissus!”

Then I added, “You’ve made this meadow a sight to behold. I’m beholden to you and your crew.

“And I know for a fact, you’ve blessed and impressed more than me, the slugs and the bees. We’re so lucky you live here. I don’t know what to do, but let’s ask Mr. Gnome.”

I knew with his spidey-sense ears that he’d heard the whole conversation.

Mr. Gnome simply whispered, “I’ll have a talk with the slugs.”

We met in the garden

P.S. If you missed the last story, it had a video, too.

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This morning’s glorious blossoms called for a song.
And a serenade.

So we invited Izzy’s spirit to our backyard
and invited him to play for us
and his namesake plum tree.

Apologies for the birds, the bees and the Cessna
for their fly-by’s in hopes of being seen.

Every blossom on the tree cheered when Izzy was done.
It really is a wonderful world!

 

 

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My shadow snuck up on me

I was just standing there
enjoying the view
breathing in the salt air
when I felt a presence behind me
breathing out.

I froze for a second
afraid of what I might find.

I turned suddenly

I spun around
and said “Ha!”
as if to surprise the intruder.
And I saw it was me.
“Ha!” my shadow said back
unsurprised
and happy to see me
face to face.

Hello old friend

Hello, old friend
she said to me
and I said to her
in the same breath.

Shall we dance?

Shall we dance?

She whistled a tune
while we danced a jig
and laughed when
I tripped over my toes
and almost fell into the tide.

Let's go explore

Oh, I’ve missed you!
Where have you been?

Here. As always.
You forget to listen
for my whispers,
she said without hurt.
Life gets loud, doesn’t it?
she said with compassion.

And then, to change the subject
and get back to some fun,
she said,
Let’s go on an adventure…

shadowcorner-sq

As we peered round the corner
seeing where to go next
we drew close enough to swap secrets.
Nearly one as shadow and light
but not quite.

I love sunny days.

Last dance

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emotikin-bluedoor600

Blue doors have been my thing for a very long time. I’ve always claimed blue as my favorite color, sometimes periwinkle, sometimes cornflower. But blue. I’ve never had a blue door though I’ve painted blue walls.

I have a blue door in the alpine meadow of wildflowers where I go when I meditate really deep. It stands there, no walls, in the middle of the meadow, as if I’m supposed to go through.

But I couldn’t. I would sit down with my back against the door. I heard a laughing invitation to just walk around the side, that I didn’t have to go through. But I couldn’t. I was stumped.

Another time, not long ago, I landed in my meadow out of the blue. I opened the door. Beyond it was a dark midnight sky full of stars. I stepped through and soared through the stars for a bit, tethered to the doorway by a silver cord. I didn’t stay long.

A few weeks ago, I finally stepped all the way through, not just that door but a whole series of doors. I erased some hard parts of the past, walked down paths now easier to see and to choose. And I heard, “Trust and believe. Expect miracles.”

I didn’t expect what happened the very next day. I saw my blue door, live and in person, around the bend in an old country road, in front of a cottage for sale, with a tree swing out front. I screeched the car to a halt and pointed. “Look! A Blue Door!”  We sat there in awe. Then we got out of the car.

bluedoor-sq-600

bluedoor-opening600This blue door beckoned. It seemed to lead to a land of bliss and enchanted forests and talking trees and one friendly sit-on-your-shoe kind of squirrel. The cottage holds a piano, built-in bookshelves, and wrap-around windows with a view to the sea. Only a cane in the corner would have made it feel like our own Miracle on 34th Street. It seemed to say, here is your doorway to heaven. You’re welcome. Come in.

So the question is whether this cottage for sale, this land of bliss, this tree swing, this door, this meadow with room for a horse and some chickens, is supposed to be ours.  It sure feels like a soul sign. It sure feels like a miracle.

I do know, at the least, that this real-life blue door is a sign from my soul to pay attention to miracles. To pay attention to gifts that come out of the blue. To open the door and walk through, with courage not fear. With hope, not with doubt. With wonder and more wonder and more wonder yet, and some patience to wait for the answer to “I wonder what this all means?”

I don’t know the answer. Not yet. We’re doing some work called Logistics and Research. That hard human work that makes miracles happen for real. Or at least invites the result. Accepting the invitation to a miracle takes as much courage and work as you can muster, it seems.

And I’m waiting to see if the sign was a “Yes, this is your home.” Or if it means something else. Trust and believe can mean anything. But I do believe in blue doors. And I believe that miracles might have a different answer than the one I first thought of. I don’t know the answer. Not yet. I just hope I am asking all the right questions so the right answer will come when it’s time.

Trust and believe.

Fingers crossed.

 

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In honor of the day you were born
I went to the beach
that’s across the Sound from where you were born.

The Sound splashed celebration
while I made you this cake
and the sunshine made wishes.

Make a wish

 

 

We wished you were here.

We're having a party

happybday2u-300

Happy Birthday, Mom!

 

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