>>>>Jane Through The Seasons

Perhaps a day came and brought with it an epiphany that life is a lot more exciting with some sense of humor and it––the epiphany––took you by the shoulders and shook out, from you, some of that toxic seriousness. I am not sure when I had this experience. It seems that I have always been playful (my lessons have been how to not be excessively so, so to cease having to issue several I am sorry notes). 
Disclaimer: I do not think this outfit ridiculous in the sense that it is idiotic. I find it ridiculous in the sense that it is brilliant! Now, the whole purpose of looking ridiculous is not for others, it is really for you. It is for every time you pass a surface that throws back your reflection, and teases you into a smile; for every time you remember that you look a bit out of it,i.e. OMG! You're actually wearing what you really want to! Or every time you meet someone’s eyes and see that peculiar twinkle in them that says they ‘get it.’  The thing is, wearing something playful help…

It was a few minutes after noon, my shift at my part-time job was over. I was excitedly heading out into the sunlight and though eager for the licks of the late summer sun, paused for a few seconds for my usual exchange with Jude, the guard at the door. “You’re done for the day?” He asked in a tone and look of surprise. Although my shifts are often over by noon and it really ought not surprise him at all, Jude always manages to act surprised when he sees me leaving for the day. I replied that he was correct and asked about his health. “By the grace of God, I’m well” was his response, as it often is. I stood and beamed at him and said I would be seeing him, to which he merrily responded, with a little wave of the hand, “See you, sister!” Jude has been calling me sister ever since I told him I am Ghanaian. He is Nigerian. 

As I made my exit I noticed a woman trying to get out, too, pushing a shopping cart from another store. I kept the door opened for her while she struggled to force the…

The Waking

I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.

We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Of those so close beside me, which are you?
God bless the Ground!   I shall walk softly there,
And learn by going where I have to go.

Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Great Nature has another thing to do
To you and me; so take the lively air,
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.

This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go.

-
Theodore Roethke

jamming for bread - j

- j

When summer starts packing to leave, I am reminded to wear a bit less.  You may ask, how is a full body length dress less? Ah, but if you are in the habit of wearing a bit more than necessary in any one outfit, wearing a single piece is less. Besides it is the simplest and easiest thing to wear a caftan. All one has to do is pull it over one’s head, and there, it’s done! Comfortable, roomy, breathable, soft, and long enough to hide one's legs. An especially good thing when said legs are sort of an organic farm called A Hairy Business. TMI?  >:)This caftan dress was gifted to Mother by one of her too many friends. And from the moment my gaze knew its beauty, I wanted only to be inside it. But Mother would not let me have it. Tried all my charms, they worked not. Two years after she was gifted it, having never gotten around to wearing it, the good woman then handed it over. Aha! You know what they say about when things are meant to be? Well, I have actually worn this dress here b…

Every where this summer, fuchsia roses reigned.  Every where! What is this I wondered? I am all for pink, really, all of me is for pink. But everyone knows that one does not mess with fuchsia. It is one of those colors best enjoyed in little doses. Which is why I was surprised that several thought it the thing to have so much of the pretty noise, in roses, dancing loudly under the hot summer sun. It did not bother me, being a color abuser myself I was very happy to observe how distasteful it all was! The thing is I did not know my complaints were a form of admiration until much much later. Well you know how it is, confusion takes over the land where fuchsia roses rule.Because they were always in one’s face when one went out for a little air, I suppose it is natural that one would start to feel curious about them. Thus the question came to me, from I don’t know where, did these screaming flowers smell like roses? I poked my nose into a flower for an answer. Yes, indeed, it smelled like…

I cannot believe life is really happening

I cannot believe life is really happening
Nor live without wonder that I am happening.

Uncanny feeling, question, unknowing a cloud
Of what, why, where, when, to whom this is happening.

Have you heard the night, swallowing every being,
Screaming how much pleasure and pain is happening?

This, never to come, always passed, can only be
Because there is no way that it is happening.

How many aeons have you been at sea? Big deal.
Doubting whether only proves you are happening.

Every biography is burning on the pyre
Of the pure anonymity of happening.

Nicola squirms in undersea caverns, alone,
Ecstatic, so happy something is happening.

-
Nicola Masciandaro

- j