Monday, August 20, 2012

♪Notes and Quotes

A surreal week for me. Trying to stay focused.


Life is a rush into the unknown. You can duck down and hope nothing hits you, or stand as tall as you can, show it your teeth, and say, "Dish it up, Baby, and don't be stingy with the jalapenos.  ~Unknown

I do love me some jalapenos. 

And because that pretty much says it all, the song doesn't have to say anything.

Just sink into it, like I do, every time I listen.

Click here.  


All men dream but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that it was vanity; but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dream with open eyes to make it possible. ~T.E. Laurence

About a year ago, for a few months, I listened to this song constantly. It was my reminder that I was not drowning, no matter how much I felt like I was. That if I would just lay back and relax, I would be fine. Then I put the song on the shelf. So high, in fact, that I forgot about it. I didn't need it any more. But ast month I pulled it down and blew the dust off. I've listened to it once a week or so since July. Not something I need anymore, because I'm holding myself up. But the occasional chair I pull up and sit down on. Just while I remember to breathe.

We delight to praise what we enjoy because the praise not merely expresses but completes the enjoyment; it is its appointed consummation. It is not out of compliment that lovers keep on telling one another how beautiful they are; the delight is incomplete till it is expressed. ~C.S. Lewis

There isn't just one thing of beauty in my life, but many.  Colorado and my children top my list. I'm sure you've got yours.

My new girl crush. And this song says it all.

Sometimes things don't go exactly the way you thought they would. That's ok. I can be like nature.


And as for the song, it's as true today as it will be in a month or as it was a year ago. From my favorite musical...

Sunday, August 5, 2012

Thoreau Got It Wrong

“I have a room all to myself; it is nature.” 

I suppose Henry David Thoreau was waxing poetic when he wrote those words,
thinking he was capturing in them the essence of nature's indescribable meaning. 
I found a small amount of resonance in them when I first stumbled upon them. 
Not quite there, but not sure what was missing, I mulled over the axiom for weeks. 
Until a week ago, when I was granted a tour of the most awesome spectacle of nature I may have ever encountered. 

Our destination lay an hour to the north, on the other side of a late afternoon, sky-quaking thunderstorm.
We made it through, emerging unscathed on the opposite shore. 
It seethed at our escape and later returned, pouring out darkness and tempest in one large, seething rampage. 
Was it trying to contain us again? Frighten us with its fury? 
It was an unsuccessful attempt at capture. Instead, we marveled at its beauty and agreed, at the end, that nature had given us a show that was nothing short of magical.

Though I do not care to criticize or correct him,
to me the great transcendentalist missed the mark by being too narrow in his definition.
The word "room" does not carry the full emphasis for what I feel when surrounded by
the hills and mountains and animals and, yes, even maelstroms of the planet.
Nature is not my room.
It is my home.

That afternoon a double rainbow, two full arcs across the sky, were the canopy above my head.

Deep moss, thick and plush, the rug beneath my feet.

My satiation came from tart green apples, plucked from amply supplied branches,

while wild sage was spice, incense, and perfume.

Beautifully oddly stacked rocks, spray painted with neon green moss and pale blue lichen,
formed the walls around my ceiling-less manse.

Tossing their leaves before the approaching storm, the trees were a moving roof of green on glass.

The trails were my kaleidoscope hallway, changing views with every turn.

A diving waterfall, a flowing creek, swirling pools, a light sprinkle - all provide whatever kind of bath desired.

The whole estate was lit by a stunning, life-size, sky-to-ground light show.
My yard, which seemed to encompass the whole world then, teemed with wildlife.
Baby deer, spots still visible beneath a summer-changing coat, nibbled on the grass.
Birds sang before taking shelter.
Snakes tried to warm themselves in the hallway (how dare they?).
A bobcat scampered across the driveway,
which, by the way, passes through quaint towns, rolling vistas, and back roads.

Find it if you can, 
The nature home I explored that day.
It's colors are always changing, yet I don't have to paint.
There's always a place to sit or sleep and dream, yet I've bought not a piece of furniture.
Full of natural light, eco-friendly, and completely sustainable,
This is where I choose to live.
What some would call my real home is actually where my "stuff" resides.
For me it is simply a place to cook and sleep.
The place where I prefer to live and dream with my eyes open is out there.

Nowhere in particular.
Just out there.