Posted in 2018

The right words~ simply💫

One day I will find the right words, and they will be simple.⠀   Jack Kerouac, The Dharma Bums⠀

I can identify with Jack. Sometimes in an attempt to find the right words that will allow me to communicate with you, dear readers,  I find myself with nothing to say. Nothing. Sometimes that makes my friends and family nervous. Because it’s  not that I don’t have words. I have tons of words. Words that weave and dance, that caress and cajole but usually they are more complicated than I wish. I occasionally need to look for simple.

So I went to the sea, Cuba. Sunshine. Sand. Sleep.

Simple.

I went to the sea today

Raised finger tips

to sun kissed lips

Tasted the salt

Of a thousand tears

Words that have never been heard

 Just evaporated, disappeared.

~I feel recharged. We are and then we are not. Simple as that. 💫

 

 

 

 

Autumn leaves & pumpkins please🎃

  Autumn

leaves us

floating on winds

drifting around and down

golden

Vcl©️

Don’t worry, we aren’t decorating for autumn in our home quite yet, but it was fun pulling a few things out the other day when I was rearranging the storage room. I was excited to find my box of pumpkin carvers. It is an art in our family and we look forward to the pre-planning …picking the design, finding the right pumpkin, exploring new ideas and dream of spice and everything nice.

Wait for more fun pics 🎃 friends.

But first I’m packing those suitcases I dragged from the storage room with summer clothing and flip flops.

Yeah Cuba….see you soon!❤️

 

Posted in 2018

That tinge of bright đŸŒ¤

“Light is prettiest in the dark.”
― Joyce Rachelle

A number of years ago I had the pleasure of traveling to Europe. One highlight was a visit to the Rikkmuseum in Amsterdam. There I absorbed the old art by famous painters such as Van Gogh, Vermeer, Marten, Asselijn and Rembrandt. It was a truly delightful experience.

One of the portraits that intrigued me most was the famous piece by Rembrandt named The Night Watch, Rembrandt van Rijn, 1642

Undoubtedly his best-known masterpiece, which is said to have marked a turning point in the artist’s career, takes pride of place in its own gallery. The large-scale painting depicts guardsmen getting into formation, with a young girl in the foreground rumoured to be modelled on Rembrandt’s late wife. The grand space is dedicated to Rembrandt’s vision .

There was seating all around the centre of the room where one can gaze at the painting from various angles. I was struck by the darkness of the room and the picture itself , which was huge along the wall. My gaze centred on the people depicted in front. This was my first introduction to what is called Rembrandt lighting.

Rembrandt lighting was named after of the great master, who often used it in his own portraits. The idea is to create a small inverted triangle of light on the subject’s cheek that is opposite the light source. This is very flattering (especially for people with prominent cheekbone structure) and was often used in old Hollywood portraits. Teachers say that it is important to ensure that you get catch lights in both eyes.

Since then I’ve been mindful of this thought. There’s no wrong in darkness, only a brief departure from the light. To understand the darkness in others, it serves us to know our own darkness. Rembrandt knew his subjects well.

Let’s show ourselves some light.  Allow yourself to be inspired to let go of the need to stay in darkness—your entire life isn’t meant to be a struggle, but if you think it is, that’s what it’ll be for you.

The trick isn’t to drown the darkness with light, or to replace the negativity with positivity, but to bring the darkness to the light, like an offering.

This is my offering today to you.❤️

Posted in 2018

I am not a Writer ~ just stones that talk

    If you wish to be a writer,  write.

Epictetus *

I am not a writer~
Oh, I have stones crammed inside my head, collected

stuffed into an abandoned trunk of old forgotten valuables

left to expire in the dusty attic~ but I am not a writer.

I am a holder~

holding the talking stones of childhood memories, sibling quests

love gained and lost, birth pangs and the fool’s gold of age.

I hold the stones, smooth to my caress ~I feel the words speak.

 

vcl poem /photo ~ Lake Athabasca

Posted in 2018

You did not die â¤ď¸

Upon reflection

Sometimes things

Get broken

And you just can’t

Fix it

You just can’t

Kiss it

Make it better

It just won’t move

Or improve.

It gets caught

In a groove

And you’ve wiggled

And waggled

Without success

But stepping back

You’ve learned to live

Without something

Important

And You did not die.

vcl©️ Photo & poem

Posted in 2018

Criss-crossing threads ➰

While skimming through some YouTube videos recently I viewed an excerpt from the 1968 motion picture Funny Girl. One of the things that most stood out for me in this movie was the song Barbara Streisand introduced by the name of “People,” often known by the line in the chorus “People, people who need people are the luckiest people in the world”. I still remember that song for many reasons. One of these is the deep-rooted notion that we are never alone in this world, furthermore that we depend on others for more that just mere survival.

People do need people.  Together we comprise the real “fabric of our lives.” It is up to us to work with one another in creating unity. By understanding what we share in common, and better defining the boundaries of what makes us different, we can embrace our connectedness and our diversity in the long run. And this affects our own reality, both as individuals, as well as at large. The sooner we come to this realization, the quicker we are able to fall in sync with our life’s purpose and find fulfillment. If we are to survive the challenges of our changing world, we must trust ourselves, open our hearts and bond with others through the real experiences that enrich our spirits. Only then will we rise to the call of our true nature, As the song says  “you were half, now you’re whole.” 💝

Threads

Today I overheard the term “fabric of life”

Not as a complete sentence, certainly not sure of the context

I think of criss-crossing threads, a cloth of existence

That we can wrap around our selves. An assurance of realness

           Soul dressing    ©️Vcl

Posted in 2018

Memory Stones 😍

In the dead of night I ponder

all my stones of awkward weight

Mentally skipping them o’r the water

of my mind’s achromatic lake.

Casting stones of dreams and wishes

skimming hopes and fears obscure

Tossing far across the tide line

stones I’ve gathered on the shore.

Sweet release I feel unburdened

As they sink down into the calm arcane

Yesterday’s stones are now a memory

I stoop and gather an untouched day .

©️vcl

Posted in 2018

Celebrate cloudy days?⛅️

If at the end of the day

If there was a magical way, 

That clouds could suck up the fear,

All pain, bloodshed, the tears,

Angry words people say

And carry it on red wings of wind

Beyond the abyss of time

Never to return again

We would celebrate cloudy days.

Photo:Evening Sky~©️Val Letkeman

Posted in 2018

There’s a little butterfly in all of us đŸŚ‹

Happiness is a butterfly, which when pursued, is always just beyond your grasp, but which, if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you.     

Nathaniel Hawthorne

I was working in my garden today (actually I was playing)  when I noticed this butterfly alight on a leaf near me. It looked so pretty, sunlight bouncing off its wings that I stooped in for a closer look and a picture to show others. Truthfully it made me feel happy. How could that be? It wasn’t doing anything special.  But it’s very existence was special to me. Butterflies speak of peace and good will. They speak of change, rebirth and happy endings.  I had one of those mindful moments. Questions fluttered through my mind.

What has this little butterfly seen of the world in its journeys? Does it think about how important it is to the flowers as it flutters along , pollinating the natural kingdom? I picture it singing a happy tune, and even though it’s life is short I doubt I’d hear a mumbling word of complaint. What would that song sound like? Does it know it’s creator? Could it lead me there?  Or do butterflies just soar?  Some questions don’t get answered do they? I weave these thoughts, coccooned around my heart as the butterfly flies away.

The day has been long. Night has drawn its shuttered eyes, and I will do likewise. But before I go I leave you with this little Cinquain to ponder❤️ Vcl©️

    Butterfly

    Tissue white, graceful

      Chasing the wind, laughing

        Happy little thing

      Wings