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first day of winter without you

steam curling old logs splintering,  burning they rise as dragonflies skidding  across the water like stepping stones. Chest beating, bleeding heart the colour of the flame robins’ breast. Turn your back now,  give them grey.  A grey rock covered in moss,  a mattress. Let me rest. Catch my breath. Ferns curling green and dripping; they vibrate under my touch. ~

(The sighing ground gives up its love Unto the breeze and the trees above

Suddenly your phantom shoves my side) 

~

it’s been almost a year i remind them.  my friends just sigh and  look at me out of the corner of their eyes with fear. But i choose not to see my feelings as a failure,  a circling of mistakes but a sign.  A sign that I am open  to love again.  I have never been pathetic for my ability to find it everywhere.

(forgiveness is understanding and i am closer to both than ever before)

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And a woman spoke, saying, Tell us of Pain.     And he said:     Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.     Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain.     And could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy;     And you would accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields.     And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief.     Much of your pain is self-chosen.     It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self.     Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy in silence and tranquility:     For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by the tender hand of the Unseen,     And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips, has been fashioned of the clay which the Potter has moistened with His own sacred tears.

Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

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Instagram

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*breakdances sadly* 

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A Cloudy Day, Bluebonnets near San Antonio, Texas, 1918, Robert Julian Onderdonk

https://www.wikiart.org/en/robert-julian-onderdonk/a-cloudy-day-bluebonnets-near-san-antonio-texas-1918

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The Duration of Promises, oil on canvas, 52 x 70 inches, by  Diego Gravinese

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Yes! is the great powerhouse of life on earth. With Yes! life moves, it acts, it comes bursting forth. Amongst flying-foxes, as with many humans, I encountered this affirmation as it conveys the desire to participate in the great flow of life’s own desires and ways of becoming. ‘Yes!’ travels, it is interactive and relational, and it invites us to investigate how mutualisms circulate. For humans, saying yes to life is a profound ethical choice. It is a passionate embrace of the living world, a grateful response to the gifts of life, a pledge of solidarity with earth life, and a commitment to participation in the complexities of mutuality. ‘Yes!’ is our continuing commitment to ontological-ecological terrains of reality: the affirmation that conveys our desire to join other creatures in participating in the great flow of life’s own desires and ways of becoming.

Deborah Bird Rose

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rain and haze

Olden / Norway

by Denny Bitte

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Daughters really do share deep rooted emotional trauma with/inherit deep rooted emotional trauma from their mothers and I know it’s true bc whenever I try to approach a sensitive topic with my mom, no matter how calm and civil and patient I intend to be no matter how much I’ve practiced what I want to say no matter how OK I was even a moment before, I always involuntarily burst into desperate, angry hysterics the moment I open my mouth. As though it’s coming from a place buried so far within me I cannot even register its existence until it has overtaken me. And I know I’m not alone on this either. There is so much we internalize from our mothers that we never learn to contend with. That we never even learn to recognize

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If I am the seed 

then the heaviness of soil, the inertia the weight of all the love in the world is pressing down on my shoulders. it is so heavy that I can barely jump the fence on the walk (to what feels more like) home. ~ we blew dandelions i wished for healing,happiness. she wished for rainbows.

Perhaps it all really is that simple.