Dave with the Diamond, The Language of Love

As the baking heat of summer abates, I walk along the waterfront. The experience is so much like the last sip of mango juice, the last kiss of a loved one, the fragrance of the remaining rose standing singular on the stretching branch. Knowing that it is drawing to a close makes me open up my senses all the more.

I think to myself, “Soon you will not see the loose, relaxed bodies of family tribes strolling with a shared rhythm. Soon the skin, arms and legs will be hidden away for winter like putting away seasonal clothing, these exposed limbs. Soon the evening air will not be perfumed by the release of fragrant flowers like a retelling of the narrative of the heat soaked day.”

Sunset City Park

Sunset City Park

It is in the denouement or in the anticipation that we most awaken to our own lives. Studies have show the point of greatest happiness is when an individual is working toward a goal. Olympic athletes report a loss of joy at the end of an event, even if they have garnered a prize.

Quo Vadis losing the way

Quo Vadis losing the way

The ability to be awake to my own life is and has been my focus for several years. How do I stay in a place of contentment even as the seasons change, through the trajectory of plans, effort and achievement? How do I allow emotions, deep grieving memories like forest monsters be recognized and acknowledged? Can I remain aware of what I hold in my body and of what I hold in the grinding fine mill of my brain?

Feel, release. Listen, release.

When I wake up the dreams are tangled around me like dark sheets. For decades I would have nightmares about being killed. The residual fear of my father coming in my room would be presented to me in dreams. My subconscious would be saying, ” Deal with this. Feel this.”

For decades I would awaken sobbing with my heart already shattered.

Through my vision quests; through my sitting at the feet of Shamans, teachers; through my listening to broadcasts from life coaches; through my reading DIY reconstruct your life books I have come to a place where there is an opening.

My eyes unclench at the start of day. I am encased in sadness like a gray, smudging cloud and then I move to gratitude. I put my hand on my heart and thank it for being so committed to staying alive. My heart has kept me here. I thank my heart for being so open and child like. The spirit I am wants to be in love, to share love, to be innocent and expectant. “Thank you, heart,” I say.

Seeing the love

Seeing the love

I lay my warm hand on the place where I held cancer. The place where I have growths removed every five years and I say, “You are healthy. You are fully alive. You live in freedom. You are beautiful. Thank you body.”

As I swing my feet over the edge of the bed, I envision jumping off of the edge of a ledge into the day.

“What kind of a day will you have?” I ask myself.

“Any kind of day you create,” I answer.

“Oh great. Then, it will be wonderful and full of love.”

How do I know my focused study is working? Because there are times when I do not hear a dozen crows and fifteen monkies all chattering in my mind at once.

How do I know my dedication to feeling and healing is effective?

As I walked along the boardwalk a little boy under the age of two was being pushed in his stroller by his parents. He was wearing a wonderful, expensive fedora. I did not smile at him. I did not stop and make faces at him.

I only thought, “Dude. I see your spirit. You are one rocking dude.” He broke into a smile and put his hand up to high five me. His parents stopped, looked at him. They looked at me and were puzzled. And then we all laughed.

I went to the bank and behind the counter was an attractive, thin, very stylish new bank clerk. His name tag said: Dave.

“Dave,” I said, “are you new here?”

“No,” he responded, ” I usually work in another bank.”

I thought how much I liked him daring to be so trim so stylish so unmundane. And then I saw the gigantic engagement ring on his left hand.

“Oh,” I said, “aren’t you the lucky one.”

“I know,” he said, ” and it isn’t because of the ring.”

We smiled together about his love, his claiming who he is in the world, my recognizing how wonderful he was. We just stood smiling together.

As I walked down the street, I saw a car enwrapped in love. On the windshield were two generous bouquets of gladiiolas. An aluminum heart balloon saying, “I love you,” was on the windshield. And balloons, balloons so pink and plasticy were floating from all of the wiper blades.

t I love you ballon

I am so grateful when I see the bravery of love. I am so lifted up when I see two people kiss on a street corner, exchanging tenderness. My heart sings when a baby waves at me.

t power feet

The nightmare world of helplessness, having my bones broken and my spirit invaded are giving way. These days I step out into a world of surprising, magical moments of love. Thank you Dave for wearing your diamond and sparkling bright.

It is not a new season. It will not slip away like summer. It is where I plant my feet. Now.

My thoughts still attach to the narrative trajectory… anticipation, tension, release but I am thankful that I can be aware of what is appearing on my “reality screen.” And sometimes, I can even switch the channel.

How can one tend the garden?

wallpaper design Blue ferns

wallpaper design Blue ferns

blizzard, snow, wind tearing across the surface left the road looking like sand dunes along the coast of Oregon. Only these snow dunes were on our street. I am preparing work for the Okanagan Erotic Art Show and images for Tuesday nights Central Okanagan Photographers Society presentation. The Artist’s Eye in Europe is a challenge because I have close to 5,000 images and I need to select out those that stand up to scrutiny. Many of the images taken with my inexpensive Elf had to be taken in only excellent conditions. Night time shots are not effective and shots with something in the foreground when the intended subject was in the background are problematic.

Yesterday we totally cleaned out the pantry which is considered the “health” area for fung shui. If that is health, I don’t know why we weren’t both in an iron lung like they had in the 50’s. My goodness, gracious.

By evening we had the pantry clean, had thrown out all of the pans and appliances that we no longer use and had the kitchen cleaned up. The last two days we have returned to meditation practice and it is helping. Tonight we will go to the gym. Trying to keep the mind focussed on what really needs to be done is difficult.

This is a fun image. It has hedge hog fur on a star

This is a fun image. It has hedge hog fur on a star

If I gardened the way I live, I would have flowers all over the property. I would begin beds of lavendar, lilac, panties, roses, beans all at once. I would not weed or water. It would be the activity of gardening rather than the planning and tending that would be important. Chaos and fertility would produce a tangle of plants.

My poor daffodils and crocus were beginning and now they are under the snow. But we do have sun. Today we have sun.

pink yellow damask design

pink yellow damask design

Today I will tend to my submissions garden and get the bed planted and watered. And then I can walk away and think about the next task. Multi-tasking is the recipe for cake soup or coleslaw tuna casserole with popcorn. It just doesn’t make sense.

This was an open source original Victorian

victorian aluminum foil image

I will tend my garden one bed at a time, circling back to weed occasionally. Maybe, today I will even take time to look at what seeds I have sown in my life.