something has changed the angles of the clouds;

they cool in the simmering of her thoughts.

a lonely, uninhabited place is her companion

she must listen deeper…

sharpen tranquility.

silence nourishes her noisy world.

in solitude she is least alone

palm of a hand filled with green cardamom

a sun-hushed alley

sunlight shifting beams of memory

honey shadowed streets

tatters of whispers.

The burnish of ancient wonder.                                                                ~anthropologie

     .     .     .     .     .

art amazes and fuels me, here’s yet another reason why:

these photorealistic paintings were done by Eric Zener

yes they are PAINTINGS. not PHOTOS.

i love his ability to paint life into water.  i want a splash hanging on my wall

it will not stop raining.

i feel like i am swimming through this town
wading in the streets
holding my breath
with a smile
and paddling with my feet.

floating down all the freeways
dripping my way downtown
letting the buildings
wash over me
until i sink and drown.

today was about being in the present. so many days can come and go and I don’t even realize what inspired me or what I conquered. but today was the first day in a long time I wanted to be exactly where I was. where I am.

Plain was the same as it ever was the same.
Plainly plain…
Samely same…
But then, Someone lit the flame.
Plain rode away on lion’s mane.
Where Plain met fruits with strangely names.
Such wonderful things they did contain.
A shot of life to a hungry vein.
The captive beast who broke the chain.
And there upon that fruited plane,
is where plain became what plain became.
So much more than more than plain.
Plain will never be the same.

(…this, by the way, was the narration of a yogurt commercial… *sigh* and here I thought it would have come straight from my alice in wonderland Brain).

it gives me an awe stricken shiver.

I want to exist in this moment.

not as the wave crashes on the shore,

not when the water sits still on itself,

but in the spray.

… when it gets to reach up into the sky and hold there.

her curiosity exploited the natural human inclination to move from darkness toward light, 

because we cannot see all the beauty of the night.

I feel rejuvenated.

I never cease to be humbled by the amount of release I can feel from rumination.  But recently this surrendered tension was not simply attained by my own personal reflection.  It was brought to a state of increased intensity, excellence, and completion by the energy of several loved ones.  I had been caught in a sticky web of confusion, misdirection, questioning, and circular thinking.  What is the right thing to do; where will my next step lead me?  What if I have an immediate failure but remedy it later- will that riddance of the undesirable negate my initial failure? 

Circular thought. 

It was something dark that crept into my sleep and clutched at my dreams.  I woke exhausted.  Tears always waited, sneaked, pricked my eyes.  They clouded my mind’s sight and watered my fears, blooming them into a thousand more fears.  They drank me until I was dry and vapid. I was drowning in the swirling dust of my mind.  My soul felt drained and my exhaustion was too thick and heavy for me to sit and think about it in a context that was painted rationally. 

I was pulled out of that cyclone by an option; a quiet alternative that was always there but I could not see through my storm.  From that mental tempest I found solace in the centrifugal dawn.  I realize and embrace that I can not always come to decisions on my own.  One definition of “release” is “to take the tension off a mechanism such as a spring, brake, or catch and so allow something to move, open, or operate.” Through the screaming noise of stress and trepidation I can achieve solace and assurance.

I am released. 

Here is the deepest secret nobody knows.
Here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
And the sky of the sky of a tree called life;
Which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide.
And this is the wonder that is keeping the stars apart.
I carry your heart.
I carry it in my heart. 

(E.E. Cummings)

I have been spending a lot of time thinking about how I wish I could spend more time just thinking. I am a daydreamer, and a huge part of what courses through me is the whimsical. Some people recharge through a power nap, a long run on a beautifully groomed trail, a perfectly foamed latte, or turning a page in the chapter of a book. I however, benefit from a sumptuous amount of unknown time to sit and be. A lovely moment where I can let my mind wander and simply stare at my wall and watch time move light along the surface, playing across the tiny bumps of plaster. It is in doing this, and the occasional luxurious meandering hike, that I tap into the calm that keeps me energized.