beautiful beautifulness

Dosh - "Airlift" from anticon. on Vimeo.

i'm alive, uh huh, so alive...

Musings On A Heart Half Full

...versus a heart half empty speaks to my sincere longing,
the aspect of myself that leaps
and takes chances, the sum of myself that always
says yes (or wants to)! I am a yes girl again. A
heart half full has room enough inside, room enough,
room enough... rumi-enough... a room
of one's own - a space to call my own, a space so big
it's no longer held by space. it's an infinity of
infinites. this phrase/concept touches me in my chest
and belly like a third eye caress. My hands have been
throbbing since my massage last week, so much
is pouring through and out of me. A heart half full
bursts with life and room to grow and imagine and work and live.
I feel a little silly as if I am speaking in cliche or platitudes
but I don't care so much. I love this feeling.
I love walking through the rooms in my life and my
apartment, seeing the sun shining and moving
across here, there; seeing the blue gray shadows covering this, that.
Breathing deeply, feeling fully this gratitude I have for my life,
for clean water and shelter and bleeding hearts and
purple satin-y Iris and little bird skeletons. I could (and will) and will
go on and on like horses over the hills.
I feel wildly free with my half full
heart.

Thinking I was it's lover the arms of a tree lifted me...

A few days ago I began a love affair.

It was a mild and balmy evening, I had been working in the garden and so needed a hot shower to soothe my torn up knees and fingers. I made myself a cup of tea and bare-footed went for a walk...

Around the corner I came upon a splendid pair of flowering crab apple trees. In the early blue light of dusk the white of the petals and soft scent of these trees had such an effect on me the likes of which I have never encountered before. I was pulled to them as if by siren song, lost in a rapture so complete it took my breath away. I walked right underneath their branches and lost sight of the block I live and love on, lost sight of all the buildings and traffic contained in this neighborhood. I looked up into their arms and saw only the pale sky turning velvety, awash in white blossoms.

I physically needed, almost suddenly craved, a closeness with these beings. So I stood on a nearby ledge and pushed myself further into their canopy, falling madly in love in an instant. I was wearing a strappy little shirt so my shoulders and neck were near bare... I leaned into the soft scent of the blossoms and felt the gentle caress of flowers on my cheeks and lips and eyes. It felt like the touch of a lover. I started to smile, enjoying my joy and continued to rub my face and neck and shoulders on the blossoms and green leaves. My breathing was low and deep as I tasted the delicate flavor of the flowers, their fine yellow pistons tickling me. I lifted my hands and barely touching I touched here and there like a baby exploring with gentle hands the soft hair of the person holding them. I cooed and laughed and fell completely and willingly
into this sweet and delicious affair...

If not for the petals that fell onto my feet as I changed out of my clothes before bed I might have taken this moment for a dream.

I found this on Postsecret today. I like what it touches in me. I like the way it's put together. I like what it reveals and what it keeps.

Heart In A Cage is a wellspring of beautiful.

ifyouweretherebeware

Navigating between bold full disclosure and leaving something wisely unsaid is a hallmark of sensitivity and strength.

(4/24) I've been trying to think of a way to tell you more about this image and the words that name it but I'm just not sure how... I will make an attempt as I appreciate the opportunity to tell you more if I can.

The picture was taken last fall while I was reading/savoring a book I have read many times, a book that I feel has shaped me in some ways, called The Delicacy and Strength of Lace: Letters Between James Wright and Leslie Marmon Silko.

On this particular night I was writing myself a letter, trying hard to get my bearings in a life I could no longer discern from a dark night in the woods. The light on the bedside table refers to a concept I have especially loved in fiction and art these last few years. Perhaps you can imagine the significance of light in this context?

This is a solitary image, it speaks to solitude, is solitude. It encapsulates and reflects my need to be a hermit at times, to work out my thoughts, my desire for slowness, patience, rest and germination. In many ways my work is all self portrait: most of what I have to convey starts in my life somewhere. The phrase that I used to name this post is a quotation from a friend I respect and adore very much. I feel it is a beautifully articulate and enormous thing to say. I want to fully embody the sentiment of this phrase.

My bedroom is a sacred place, my bed is an island of repose and although I have invited this or that person in one context or another it is like a river: you never step foot into the same place twice.

Easter

(la resurrection)
by Patti Smith

flower and heart are equal. as one unfolds
the other is closing. the fist of charm.
the dance of fathoms. of voids. of veils.
layer after layer. wall after wall. there
is always more. there is always more after.

the scalloped edges of further valor.
the vigil of soldiers. foot and circular.
the waving tremors of empty warriors.
a thorn in the wound of love. of torture.
another immeasurable pain to suffer.

first dealing w/entry into the spirit.
the wall is pierced and the will assaulted
is vaulted. is shimmied into. is fenced.
fencing defending the sheets of the flesh
winding and binding and then to relax.

seconds of suspension in the pass of pain
wailing, exhaling. passing thru the strange.
this is the formula. the force of the father.
the hand that extends. the heart that is bleeding
harder then harder then silent and beating.

in a space warm and glowing. infinite yet dense.
the tune of chain caught then stretched.
this is the communication of the future.
death is a dance. a ballroom. a glove
an extension of total abandon in/love.

The Gentle Thrashing Of Bend-Over Girlfriend

boy, was she ever at play in the garden. hands and knuckles were scraped and poked and stinging as she rinsed them under the hot water. the crook between thumb and forefinger rubbed just slightly raw and red from raking. tender back from bending, tender knees from bending. rear end shining in the sunlight. cornerstone open and relishing the swift spring winds. a frond of open palm, swiftly and thoroughly applied. mmmm spring.

Bleeding Hearts, Miniature Daffodils & Clematis, Oh My!

There's been a strange feeling in my person, on my body today... took me 'til just a moment ago to realize what it is. It's joy!!

Joy! Joy! Joy!

This year as I build The Garden Of Disorderly Conduct I will make good and sure to plant early bloomers like magnolia and crocus and squill. I love the early blooms that greet us after the gray-blue wonder of winter. They look how I feel this year, how I always hope to feel at the bottom of it all.

When the bleeding hearts started to poke up through the soil in their tight little red cones I actually squealed! They were the first out of bed this year and seemed to hold much of my grief and happiness from the winter that's now behind us. I think it's sweet that they're called 'bleeding hearts' and that they bloom and bloom and bloom. I love that I live in a 'garden level' apartment and can watch them as if I were a worm. I love that soon I will be kneeling in these beds almost every day from now until October. I love that I can see flowers and herbs growing in every window in this apartment.

I love that many of these plants are gifts from my mother. She engendered in me a love of gardening many years ago while I lived at home nursing a broken heart. She would ask me in one way or another to come out of my pitiful cold basement and help her please. My blood pressure and the sun are killin' me. Please help me plant this pear tree. Please help me put the snapdragons around the pond... She coaxed me and put me to work in the dirt and put me to the work of the Living Green. I am amazed and amazed by this gift time and time again. My mom's good like that:)

I love this best: from now until the frost returns one of my favorite places on earth is totally open to me, for me to be me in and be love and dig and play and rest and work.

Welcome Spring!!! May you all have many good feelings on your bodies too:))