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illusion i/artist unknown

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Hot Flashes

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Is it necessary to go through fire in order to appreciate being alive? Or is that just something we tell ourselves in the hope that the fire will feel a touch less hot? Surely, there must be a gentler way to learn and heal and grow - I just happen to be missing an important piece of the puzzle, right?

Perhaps some day, the answer will become evident. But then again, maybe not. Life is fickle, and unpredictable. And when it comes to the really important things (like all of those heart matters), I have come to accept – well, not accept so much as realize – that I have very little control in the whole matter.

Some of us go about life aimlessly, others are always stretching the limits of what is or isn’t possible. There are times I wish I would have been born aimless and thoughtless - yes, I mean blissfully ignorant! - as I can't help but think it would be instinctual to walk around a bed of hot coals.

Well . . . after thinking it over, I have come to the conclusion that I am in serious need of some good insoles, so as to walk more safely and softly over those charring coals I so often choose to tread on my life journey. So, does anyone out there know where to find fire retardant inso[u]les?
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Return me with a Kiss

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If i try
to make alliance
with
yesterday,
..........Hold me.

Keep me here
where love lives,

Return me with
a kiss.
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The proper function of man is to live, not to exist.

I shall not waste my days in trying to prolong them.

I shall use my time. . . .. .. .

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JACK LONDON
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joan mirò
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Metamorphosis

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.....Life tasting stale
As day-old bread
An open bottle of wine
I love yous spilled carelessly
Last year sometime

.....A promise uttered
From the bathroom
To the kitchen about changes
On the horizon while
Orange-pink light
Turns

.....In the dark I sit
Urging the sun to rise
The day to break.... hope
To float on droplets of
Morning dew
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J'ai retrouvé un blog pour les enfants de tout âges!

Venez suivre

Les aventures de Violet

avec moi!

Y

JULIAN BEEVER ...

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... is a sidewalk artist, who, among other arts, draws these amazing anamorphic illusions in a special distortion, in order to create an impression of 3 dimensions when seen from one particular viewpoint.
(that means that the sidewalk drawing you see above is only 2 dimensional - cool, yes?)

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Every time you don't

follow your inner guidance,

you feel a loss of energy,

loss of power,

a sense of spiritual deadness.

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SHAKTI GAWAIN

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The Girl in the Mirror

part xiii:
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Natasha, feeling weak, nearly crumbled but for Steven who reaches her just then. He helped her to the bed, again holding her in his arms. Rest now, Natasha, rest, he said softly.

Steven?

Yes, Natasha?

Will you keep taking these assignments abroad? Because I can’t bear –-

Steven quickly interjects, No. Never. I will never leave you. I’m here to stay. You need to get better now. So rest, sweet Nattie. Close those pretty eyes and rest . . .
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The Girl in the Mirror

part xii:
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Because I love you ... a near whisper from Christopher.

The room was still, as if the air itself forgot to move about for a moment or two. Natasha edged toward the large picture window overlooking East Tacoma and stood staring at nothing.
When she turned, it was with an air of comprehension, the piece to a missing puzzle found. With firmness she said, You don’t know love, Christopher. If you did, you would have done everything you could to bring Steven to me. And at that, she cast him such a look that Christopher swallowed the ready words and walked to the door.

He turned before leaving, still unable to utter a sound. He knew she was right. He had been selfish, he had hurt Natasha, and now he would pay the price by losing her.
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The Girl in the Mirror

part xi:
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Was it you, Christopher, who sent me that note?

Yes...yes, it was me. I knew that Steven was on his way and I wanted you to know I’d be here for you.

Well, you forgot to sign it, Steven says, holding Natasha and wishing he knew how to make the pain go away. You scared the shit out of her!

Oh. Oh...I...I’m sorry, Nattie.

Natasha needs to sleep, Christopher.

But she pulls herself up then. Is it true? Did you know where Steven was all this time.

Oh Nattie ...

It is...it’s true, isn’t it? When no words return, she cries, You bastard! Why? How could you do this? Why did you keep him away?

Look, Nattie, it’s complicated, stumpled Christopher.

No it isn’t. Why, Christopher? Tell me why!
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The Girl in the Mirror

part x:
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Natasha jumps when she hears the knock at the door. The nausea is coming back. The stress of these unexpected two days is wearing her thin. She reaches for the waste basket and misses.

Steven had already made his way to the door. He opens it cautiously, hears the sound of Natasha vomiting and turns back. But the visitor has already passed Steven, his lips full of words Natasha can’t make out. But the voice...the voice is unmistakable. Christopher, she whispers.
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mhébert: this is what my lilies look like before they end up as my header..

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always

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Always wear clean underwear, my mother would say, in case you get in an accident, you know?

What accident? I asked anxiously. Why does my underwear need to be clean?

Well, in case they have to take you away by ambulance, of course. I would be so embarrassed to have a child of mine show up at the hospital wearing soiled underwear.

But, I would stumble on, I might not even be conscious, mom.

Exactly! she would continue, and they might have to cut your pants and panties off with you in no condition to apologize or explain to the good doctors why on Earth you’re wearing yesterday’s undies!

Well, but mom... that young girl all those years ago could not wrap her mind around the thought that if I were to be run over by a truck or something, and I was hurt enough to be hauled off in an ambulance, unconscious, doctors cutting off my clothes so they could...what?...try to save a limb, my mother’s primary concern would be with whether or not I had worn clean panties that morning before leaving the house.

The girl's grown up, but she's still in the dark on this, I'm afraid . . .
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joan mirò
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The Girl in the Mirror

part ix:
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Natasha and Steven sit in the two chairs near the window. It's one chair more than she thought she would use during her Tacoma trip. Coffee is ordered and the ex-lovers talk the morning away. By moments angry, others tearful, others still are filled with joy remembered from back when.

Then, when love filled her healthy body and she felt a certainty that he would forever be in her life. Then, before the man she trusted, left.

She hears his words, the sound explanation, but it’s all too surreal and the words alone won't sink in. Natasha is exhausted. Steven helps her to the bed, caressing her to sleep. She mentions the fear she felt at his unsigned letter and her restless sleep last night. What do you mean, it wasn’t you? You didn’t write the note? But, Steven, if it wasn’t you ...
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July Haiku

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Bright orange poppies
swell beneath July full moon;
barbed

wire

lurching

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If you're not one of the 22 million people to have watched Matthew Harding dance his way around the world, do it now! It's sure to put a smile on your day .... :-)

For more on Matt's travels and videos from prior years, you can find him at Where the Hell is Matt?

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Music

has the capacity

to touch the innermost reaches of the soul

and music gives flight to the

imagination.

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PLATO

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BONNE FÊTE, CANADA!

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A.Y. Jackson: 1882-1974

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In 1920, with Lawren Harris, Arthur Lismer, Frank Carmichael, Fred Varley, James MacDonald and Frank Johnston, he formed the most famous exhibitors' group in the history of Canadian painting: the Group of Seven.

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