That's All That Matters

And this is a painting I have fallen in love with, created by the wonderful French artist Laurent Parcelier. Simply, delirious in light and sun and that filmy sweet dreamy love atmosphere that transports to wherever part of his heaven that is. Marvelous! Marvelous! You simply have to sigh to yourself,  "I belong there!" 

After playing quite the somber soul a night before my birth day, wherein I wrote the post I posted a post below, well, what can I say except life is life, sometimes we are ecstatic and triumphant in knowing, and then there are stretches where we ponder the deepest depths there is from our personal well of experience pull ing up a pail of nugget knowing that merely portions a quart of life lessons. Meaning there are a thousand trajectories to our being.

In the afternoon of my 44th birthday, I strangely became momentarily agitated. There was no quelling that dispassionate dragon, no matter how logically I chastised myself to behave. Discomfited and appalled at my sullen behavior, it took all my resolve from giving vent to whatever screwy emotion  churning my insides. 

Interestingly, my shadow person instantly metamorphosed into a docile butterfly ( from to dragon to butterfly, quite the transfiguration!) soon as my two sons walked into the palace of my home. Breezy winsome smiles and youthful air, they greeted me, the youngest brandishing proudly the gift he had acquired. I was in love with their presence. No happier, calmer mother was there at the moment. Perfection and completeness. Sunshine blessings to cap the late obliging afternoon of my day. And I realized my heart was merely aching for the sacred completeness of my tribe. What gratefulness and joy it was when it was so. The gift that I beseech granted.

After all that's been said, the innermost light of life is having each other. That's all that matters.

Unraveling

What is there to say when all the love has slipped away in half a minute

There is always something we can blame but in the end it's just the same

Suddenly you find yourself alone

What is there to say when every dream just fades away in half a minute...

Tomorrow I turn 44 but what is there to say except the obvious  - that I am grateful for life. Granted, my actions of late belie the notion, I suppose, for in truth,  there is much for me to ponder about the present me I have become. There is no kindness to my thoughts on this account - only honesty.

Two days ago I chanced on an ancient blog of mine and in a rare show of apparent interest read through my past ruminations (a pained cringe, a bleeding wince for incredulously boring writing). Journals do what they ought. Laced in teetering verbosity, they reveal a tactless truth to the workings within and the evolution of being.  Word naked. Page after page was the unraveling of a person who played on a cycle of moods: ecstatic, melancholic, bubbly, downcast, confused, enlightened, hopeful, resentful, encouraging and deflating. For a moment it was laughable, a woman child painfully peering through the world via pink rimmed spectacles.

Glued  to the comedic display was a saving grace to it all for I found part and parcel courage to be quite genuinely happy in between. It takes courage to be happy. In that aspect I pay respectful salute to the me of the past and ardently wish a moiety of her strength sans naivete would pulse in the present.

For life is lonely; I am not first to espouse; minstrels, bards, saints and transgressors had so. Why on earth do we strive to achieve? To earn? To gather together? To entreat a sublime being? Even to celebrate? Is it not, in all propriety to chastise this insipid feel of isolation? We are all each of us a planet of our own. Yet even planets conspire to align.

Often it is surmised that at the age of 40, a woman has - arrived. Arrived where? Four years past prime and yes, I get it, and no I don't. That's the whole truth of it.

Perhaps tomorrow I shall think differently.There is still tomorrow. That tomorrow when I turn 44.

Valentine's Day

Valentine is.........My kind of Christmas! ღ.♥A day to make LOVE out of the momentsღ.
Perfect weather - always!ღ.♥ Pretty ~ everything pretty!ღ.Classical music and Jane Austen quotesღ.Sparkles and kisses and bird chirpsღ.

Berthe Morisot

YOU pierce my soul, I am half agony, half hope I have loved none but you.
 ~ Jane Austen {Persuasion}
 

 Valentine is.........

Life and flowers and purityღ
Mended hearts and answered prayersღ.
♥ Hope and Grace aboundingღ.♥
St. Therese The Little Flower
Roses and all flowers ღ.
Friendships, children and Cherubims

 

Monday Morning Resolve

Painting By: Berthe Morisot

"The better part of happiness
is to wish to be what you are. " ~ Desiderius Erasmus

Should I indulge in a second cup of coffee? I'm thinking in writing as I diddle on this thought. My mornings are sacred to me. I want them all to myself; hugging quiet, quaintly reflective, full of these lilting bird songs I am most blessed to hear considering that outside the confines of my gated living, the bombarding noise of a chaotic city thrives!

Even here, my home secluded and a tale afar from the main thoroughfare, I cannot escape the dribble tattle of noises, noises, noises: a plane flying overhead, the neighbors maid doing her morning laundry (the screech squeeze sound of scrubbing a mere rhythm to the stereo she has open ), a car and two and three every now and then, and now the other neighbor with her pots and pans. Inside my home, it is my cleaning lady, moving chairs, sweeping and dusting. Kindly, I send her on a brief errand if but to reclaim a moment of that perfect peace I had when I first woke up.

Ah, I know these are the sounds of life, but at 43 my mornings have taken a clearer definition to me, and I must do something ( wake up earlier, or change routines) to honor that early solace need that my soul craves. If only I could move to the mountains or have my home a walk to the sea. I cannot! Maybe, someday. Today I embrace the gifts that I presently enjoy:

• my pretty city cottagey' homey' ( and a community park to enjoy) 
• morning kiss
• a clear sparkly fresh morning,
• somebody to help me with chores, 
• that smile I had when I opened my eyes, 
• a resolve to have the day play out beautifully ( which means I am healthy of mind),
• a healing from almost 2 months of allergies and sinus attacks ( i can breath! I can breath!)
• and the most significant, a lifting of my spirits! 

Today I will accomplish what need be - and then some, like:

• writing my list of 100 things to enJOY for the rest of the year!  
• my lovely menu for the week ( and purchases that need be done) 
• plans for decorating, and my garden plantings too!

Most of all, I will take care of myself. This is a must. Only then can I have something to give of me to those I love.

Cherished

By: Trofimov Oleg

 ♥´¯`•.¸¸.• ♥ •´¯`•.¸¸.♥

What can I do with my happiness?

How can I keep it, conceal it, bury it where I may never lose it?

i want to kneel as it falls over me like rain,

gather it up like lace and silk, And press it over myself again."   

         ~ Anais Nin

"Why do you  always smell sweet?"
He whispered -- his face slightly buried in my hair, our {tender} moment suspended - before he had to reluctantly pull away, walk to the door and lend himself to the day's hustle. It wasn't so much a question. It was a statement bestowed as an answer to itself.

A time ago, I won't bother to discern the exactness of hour, but it was when the light of the day drew golden shadows on leaves merry making to the mellow bliss of a contented February breeze, he took my hand and pressed it consciously on his lips. He let's go, gazes at it, smiles and tells me my fingers are perfect candles...it pleases him.

My days are pearls and lace and roses. How could I have forgotten, neglected, that we weave the love we adorn. Love presses itself over and over to my person. Enough of incessant snuffles,for life calls that I employ myself to happiness.

I sit here, contemplating,
how utterly grateful I am
to be eminently,
cherished.


The Lady Prism

About The Painting:

Trofimov Oleg has the most seductive paintings, truly! His masterpieces are undoubtedly gateways to visual paradise. There are several pieces of his which speak to me the most. and I do intend to share  those in my page. His beautiful paintings can be found here: OLEG TROFIMOV

No Misgivings

Every day includes much more non-being than being. This is always so. One walks, eats, sees things, deals with what has to be done; the broken vacuum cleaner; ordering dinner; washing; cooking dinner. When it is a bad day the proportion of non-being is much larger."

- Virginia Woolf

I posses the Woolf dilemma: An incessant fear of bleeding on the page. Part reason why I've much refrained from pouring and writing my heart out last year. Realizing how bereft my space had become, an acrid twinge of hurt pinged from my insides. Not writing is akin to dishonesty - close to disowning that soft part of myself that has always been.

However, discomfort reigned. This I admit. What would those who know me say of the me that trifles with semantics? A disconcerting thought until I read what Dani Shapiro had to reveal: 

It is only in the silence that our voice emerges. It is only in movement of the hand across the page, one word following the next, in the crafting of sentence that we know ourselves. We can talk ourselves blue in the face, and we may be telling a certain kind of truth, but it is not the deepest truth, not the truth of our private heart. 

This afternoon, late in the day there is that silence. So what can I say? That my under eyes have soft worry lines, that my chest still hurts from a prolonged seasonal bout with sinus, that my spirit still feels heavy from the shock of having my eldest son figure in an accident, that I think of myself wishing I could get an upgrade chip version of me.There.


Maybe a little rant can do good for the soul. Good times have rolled. No remiss in acknowledging that. My thoughts have always gone the course of the positive.But just this once, perhaps, there can be no misgiving in penning the bog that weighs me in. 

renascentia

*•ʚįɞ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ♥

Oh, my nippy self, 

forget not the embrace of January mornings and the sweet balm of it that saw you through the birthing of this new year. Renascentia is your word. How elegant it reads. It rolls in the tongue, - silk creamy caramel golden taste of honey. - Renascentia. Re-birth! But birth has pains and push and groans and sweat and tears and gnashing at intrepid times that punish for a second. And yes, there is that lashing slew of  inner vexation. 

Slither from guilt. No one is after you. Bedeck your soul with jewels of understanding. Learn from the years, heave, close your eyes and release the breath for you - a woman - know the workings of it that  bring forth life. Renascentia. The self that comforts me.

It is the last day of January. 
*•ʚįɞ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ♥

2012 Aha Moment!

2011 I went absolutely retro blog - shy! Can you believe that?

Like, whoa, what was up with me, then? WHY? Where was I?
It was a kind year, a mild "I care for you" kinda' feel for 12 months, rough in the edges at times, but generally the days were soothing. I could've at least recorded a sprinkle of the best times, but heck, no - I went, a-hiding. Did jot down several meager meanderings; however, the JoY, the jingle sparkle of what mattered most was left dangling vague. Alas, no record ov' it.

Frankly, no sweeping answer, ( to myself as I'm self- analyzing) except that it was a year made for burrowing inside my shell....no revelations, no shout-outs, no blissful writing and cybie connecting.

Which isn't to say that life was banal. It was rich to see Hliza, long time sweet blog friend! Yup, Got to see and hug her in person! The lady is beautiful! How's about that for some magic, eh? I reconnected with college friend, Lei. Ah, 2011 was the year I did the dirty salsa, (dig that) thanks to this lady, hahaha! We've kept up the meets since then which is a revelation!

Not to forget I met some old high school lady friends haven't seen in 2 decades too! Then of course there's those fantastic ladies at FB I exchange cute-somes with! Aiiind...my super BFF GalPals, oh yes, been a long stretch since we last got together but December I got to shoot margaritas with the hotties, haha! yah!

What say whoosh, 2011 was a year of new and old friends! And BOOKS!! And wine!! And food!! And hanging out with my boys around much more of the time! Had a lot of swing going on, just too ugh' shucks I didn't write them down in  this space.

But nevermind...2012 is a pulp pf vitality! Blog is back and I am here to write and ponder and write with inspiration! Plus, my so many pictures just a- hiding here in my storage bin - aha' time to spill and splash em' all out! I do this thing that I do because I love life and recording the simplest pleasure and blessing confronts me with so much to be grateful for.

This space complements my written gratitude journal.  When I read back, a month or two or three or a year even, and find what transpired what when, I find meaning after meaning and learning after learning and purpose after purpose for why I am who I am -where I am a certain point in time.
It all matters.

With this said, I'm back and vibrant than  EVER!!
Larger than life! :D