Sunday, January 30, 2011

Tchaikovski and pancakes

...and reading emails.
The Venice radio stream on iTunes was playing some Nutcracker Suite music as I enjoyed my reheated-formerly-frozen pancakes and fresh coffee this morning.  I am so glad a few days ago I took the time to stand at the stove and make a whole batch of pancakes, then froze more than half of them just for days like today.

Lazy days.  When I don't want to clean up after making pancakes. 

I've lived long enough I recognize a lot of music just by a few bars of listening.  And I mainly listen to classical music, so it's not like remembering a pop song that was playing when I fell in love or anything like that.  Of course if I'd fallen in love while listening to Mozart or Beethoven, it would probably be the same reaction.  But as it is, I am amazed that I know what I'm listening to, without any study, training, or effort to know.  Whow, I have just let classical music seep into my pores and become part of me.

Poetry is also on my mind.  I don't write it, but do appreciate it sometimes.  So this week I'm purchasing some small books from a friend who does write beautiful poems.

Brigit is to be celebrated this week.  I'm facilitating a women's spirituality group with lots of fun Imbolc things to be done.  Candles, clouties, poems, stories, healing the world, guided meditation, songs, and maybe Brigid-crosses.  Too much to do in our short period of time.  But we will enjoy whatever happens.

1 comment:

  1. Bearing Water for Brigid

    Sketches for a water vessel --
    bottle and message bob on waves.
    Voice of Brigid calls
    at the root of desire.
    All who hear: Imagine
    Rock faces erode
    exposed to wind, to grit, to rain
    and hail.
    Designated fixed space
    Sacrosanct container
    Conveyor through fluid
    Creates place, surface to paint
    diffusement of emotion
    beatitude, foment of dueling farce.
    Charismatic gems
    harsh edges polished pure
    blend in the dark
    become enchanting
    wish granting.
    Enthusing brief infusion
    of giddy illusion
    just enough to guilefully entice.
    Sparkling Neural net
    Catch that glint, a secret
    clue revealing
    purpose, meaning.
    wild eternal child,
    ages' flamboyant fool

    (Voice rains from within)

    A wound is a sacred vessel
    Pain carves into flesh
    Carries sense memory
    Carries the seed
    Of its own demise
    Engulfed in life
    Learns anew to be whole

    Wounded with the potential for wisdom
    The prize applies when eyes are are pried
    from seeping, sucking, suffering
    aching to censure what future we admire
    Redefine the schizm
    This wound is our project
    To heal, discover the vision
    Realign the seam to fit
    self-framed landscape
    not lose or win
    Let loose that genie of desire
    Ride rushing blood streams
    Build a roaring pyre of grief,
    insane belief in wrathfilled deities
    Revile that old refrain: "life is pain" or a game
    to be lost
    No Faustian bargain
    Just a
    rambling adventure
    of daring
    to explore
    essence of ecstasy
    Don't wait for the rest to see
    and demur
    Take pleasure
    Stretch your sail
    Take sight of your guiding star
    The only failure is self-denial
    in favor of the vile lie
    that pain is destiny
    instead of faithful friend
    lending energy
    for change

    Slice vivid memories
    Exult in their flavor
    Savor the tastes, the textures
    Enliven your way

    In the end
    The vessel breaks
    There the Goddess stirs

    2011 Aquarius


Thanks for making this a more personal connection by saying what you think. I'll post your comments for others to see soon!