Space 1/8/17

Space 1/8/17

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Nobody would complain if we heard that one more time

Because it’s good. It’s really good

There’s no denying it

I just have the feeling sometimes that I think it’s time to move on

And I just can’t listen to it one more time

At least not right now

The pulling and the mourning

For things gone too fast

Only now living in the memory

Unable to put it to bed at last

But there are those times

When I played a song for an entire day

I wanted it to encapsulate every cell of my being

Swim in it

Or the times I counted when I walked

Just so I wouldn’t think

Because sometimes thinking is just too much

There is a dark hole between thinking and feeling

Or maybe 1000 doors

That may or may not be locked

Infinite variables, uncertain outcome

Grabbing my hand to run

Maybe you never thought of it

Never crossed your mind

Processing is so inherent and diverse

It is good though to be able and to stop

Catch your breath

Feel your breath

So, you can even hear the words when they come

Or hold the pen to write

Needing to make space and listen

Feel the rhythm of my own body

Finding my way in the universe

Listening’s

Listening’s 10/23/16

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You can know anyone

The world is smaller and bigger

All at the same time

Where sometimes you must get in line

And others you must lead

Out into the sunshine

Or behind closed doors

I listen. I’m listening

Trying to feel my body again

Trying to find my mother

Who’s receding behind the curtain

In touch and out of touch

Operating from another place

Same face, different eyes

I’ll carry you there

I’ll remember. I know you

Listening’s. Listening to talking

Thinking

Winding it up and down

Even though I can’t touch your hand

I can get to know you more everyday

Makes everything else fade away

Is the task important

The doing of it

The most simple process

That consumes

Not sure how to manage it

Does the tail in fact wag the dog?

Can it sleep or is it consumed in obsession?

What becomes you

How much of everything is everything

I’m finding tiny lines

And falling in huge cracks

Still me. Flowing

Feeling the same

In a river of my own destiny

Requesting permissions

And ready access

I build and reframe

But I remain intact

Humanly human

Softly, sweetly singing

What is only natural

And part of my eventual process

Sure, it is a circle

And not a straight line

Exploring the curves

To find my mind

 

Penrod

We went to Penrod Arts Fair last weekend. There was a lot of art, music, food and fun. It was a spectacular day. One of the bands we listened to was the Gordon Bonham Band. We know the harmonica player through another friend of mine. Tom Harold. He is quite amazing. The whole band is so talented and it was great to get to see them. I’ve taken pictures of them before, but this time I had a telephoto lens on my Panasonic camera. Wow. Even though it was a bit to get used to I think I got some great shots. Here is one of Gordon that I really like. The light was so pretty and he always projects such a good vibe.

Gordon Bonham at Penrod 2015
Gordon Bonham at Penrod 2015

Kitty Fort

There were several weeks that went by. The boxes came and came. Some were really sturdy, some not. The good ones we kept. Just spread them around. Lizzy and Pixel loved it. The girls. Kitties. Three years old this spring. Equal in their constitutions and intentions. The boxes were enjoyed for a couple of weeks and just when we thought it was time to let them go, we got a couple more substantial ones. Something had to be done. I cut holes, taped together, reinforced and joined. We had a kitty fort. What fun.

Lizzy and Pixel on their fort
Lizzy and Pixel on their fort