Sunday, June 8, 2014

June things.

A list of June things 

I'd like to see more of:

potted plants.
daytime moons.
outdoor folk music.
salt water.
summer rain.
red-coral sunsets.
tiny cabins.
old books.
possibilities of spontaneity.
wild, western landscapes.
remembered dreams.
days without time.
walks at dusk.
drives to nowhere/everywhere.
less waiting.

And more gorgeous music like this.... 

to melt into:

I promise they'll be wondrous.

photo source: here

One day we'll sit on a verandah
among silence and words
and the wide, sparkling sea.
From there we'll witness 
rhythms and waves
and skies and heartbeats.
And I promise
they'll be wondrous.
These worlds
that surround us.
You and me.

A time machine.

Art by Duy Huynh

As time treads on, we may think memories become muddled and vague, slowly disappearing with each year. This isn't the case.The body remembers. 

When you revisit a place it has a way of pulling the past up from the depths of your bones and flooding your bloodstream with old familiar feelings, only this time they're more concentrated, more potent, more clear. Like a time machine. A time machine of remembrance and longing; longing to hold on, longing to go back, longing to never forget again.

But nothing is ever truly forgotten, just stored inside us like a series of faded snapshots, simply waiting for recognition, rediscovery and sometimes permission to form the full picture.

Protect each others breathing.

photo source: me

I'd like to know about these forest paths. Their bending, their breaking, their changes, their seasons. How we'll step into our own, learning to protect each others breathing, learning to breathe together, to share space, to give space, to become the very trees themselves, steady in growth, roots deeper than the solid grounds, our strength sometimes stronger than reason.