Ghost floating on the sea. Oh, come to me, this Hallows’ Eve. I’m moving, again. Away from this place on the Salish Sea. You’ve never been here. We painted the house Studio Green with paint that shimmers and shades in the light. We gutted the gardens, the ones that weren’t really there; just weeds and…
Category: MUSINGS
A SELECTION OF MUSINGS from the J.C. Love Letter Desk
They mowed down the blackberry shrubs on the side of Flamingo Drive last fall. Severely. I’m thinking they will grow back and still be filled with big juicy abundant berries in the summer. They must be thinking this, too. The ones who come and mow them down. What a nuisance they seem to be. According…
I’m on the sofa. Pulling the faux fur throw up to my chin to be cozy, I expose my perimenopausal feet, then reach for the remote control. The front window wall of blinds rises simultaneously exposing the sun scorched grasses, the shoreline of driftwood, and the Salish Sea. The waves are coming in. Romeo approaches…
It is our feeling and recognition of separation that takes us further from who we are as our true self and also further from our view of ourselves as a joined collective, which comes from one Divine Source.
I like Jim who runs the local organic food store, Heaven On Earth, downtown. His fitting, friendly ‘WELL, HEL-LO THEERE!’, followed by snappy conversation about anything new with you is simply dandy. He could have been a radio broadcaster. Today, though, he wasn’t to be seen or heard. No sight of him slipping a tastier-than-thou…
Murder mysteries are on the weekends. This is the time I watch tv. I don’t like to watch tv but I like a good murder mystery. Must have gotten that from my mother. She was a perfect sleuth.
i hate to complain but things are the same everything only slightly different each morning when i wake i can hardly open my eyes
On the Salish Sea, today, something is coming undone. Something that came in as a wave but stayed, for a while. The people on this stretch of sea tried to push it back, like a beached whale, but not the natural kind; overstaying its welcome, it was.
I lay on my yoga map, following meditation. I feel grounded in my body. Here, is not where I want to be. Elevated, is the state I seek to rest within.
‘Hello?’ ‘Peter?!’ ‘Hi, Dad.’ ‘Peter! Aunty Eileen died!’