State Of Mine

 

 

4:05 the room feels awake
restless after a week of excessive heat

restless from concentrating on the positive 

natural hot yoga

movies in front of a fan

birds at 4:45am

singing their songs

parade of dark clouds 

feeling the tailwinds as they pass

clouds moving east and south

each taking different routes

hummingbird flying into the wind

surrounded by trees

the sky is open, the sky is free

wind chimes play their songs

soft pink line sits on a dark violet horizon

crows chatting in the forest

I miss the ocean, the sound of the waves

yet I am thankful for the shelter I am able to provide

for trees, tall grass and milkweeds

by letting nature be we can witness
a walnut seed grow into a tree

or listen to frogs singing an opera

it’s fine wishing for different things
if we still acknowledge the moments of beauty

the same sun rises everywhere

beauty is how we view and relate to our life

5:48 coffee tastes better when greeting the dawn

Metamorphosis

 

Metamorphosis by tamaya garner ©

 

 

 

awake,,,,
am I awake,,,
notes drifting in low,, so,,, low
from the forest floor
s l i t h e r i n g over logs
dead from time pasted

there is something else
something,,, something like that sound of static
somewhere in the background,,,

so still the cellos notes float by 
oblivious, resistant, indifferent
to who they pass or why
they float on by

the skin on my feet have thicken
more than days or months, I faintly remember,,,,, did the notes first come
like memories surviving within the horsehair threads
every note played response to intuition
only through music do they emerge
like whispers floating in the air

I walk blind to the morning sun and the night’s moon
walking on soft decaying leaves
protects me from sharp twigs
I walk following the notes

static now turns into tapping
tapping like a finger on a window pane
attempting to draw attention without startling
tapping,,, tapping,, tapping

I raise my face to the sky attempting
to breath in fresh life, new thoughts

waterfalls gently upon my face
pooling in the pockets of my eyes
my mouth opens to release the spirits within
as I open my eyes the water floods in
like a tsunami wave

I now see the treetops
but they are underwater
birds have turned into fish
the sky is now the ocean
have I changed?
was I  larvae now metamorphosing
into,,, into,, what?
the notes I have been following are still here
only I am not following
as much as breathing them all in
they seem to be everywhere
or I am now, them
have I become the notes
that I once followed
was the cello my beacon?

now I breathe in
the life that surrounds me
I move effortlessly
with just a thought
static is now no more
for I walk on the ocean floor

january 29 2018

 

Inspired by the music of
Jesse Ahmann Cellist
‘cello with rain on a tin roof’

 

 

 

Anchor

Is it the heat?
Is it the fork in the road, again?
Could it just be that I feel exhausted with uncertainty?
I am a single boat in a big ocean and I have lost my anchor.
What do I do?
Do I paddle to shore with my hands?
Dipping them in the salty waters over and over
Watching them get covered with sun and salt cracks till they bleed
Do I make a sail with my body
stand with my arms extended in hopes of a wind coming by?
Or do I lay in the boat and die?
There is a memory of the anchor
Irrepressible, resilient  to a fault
But the rope gets worn from years of battle and holding on
The ocean, while beautiful can still take life
As the rope frays the salt gets into every fibre
Dissolving every connection till…till… it can hold on no more
and it remains on the ocean floor while the boat and trailing rope move  away with every wave till there is no longer any control
Do I jump off the boat and swim to shore
Even though I can’t see land
Leaving life to fate

I truly can’t say.

 

 

A Small Thing To Be Reminded Of “LISTEN’

september 29 2015

LISTEN
My naked heels rub against the leather chair
creating sounds of fire cracker sparks
Treble note created by my fork hitting the ceramic plate
ears fill with the sound of my mouth filling with coffee
then, as if a trap door suddenly opens
I can hear and see in my minds eye a wave traveling down my throat
as I swallow
the trap door closes triggering my ears to muffle the sound
If I listen
I can hear my clothing move against my skin
can you?

Sitting quietly I can hear my heart beating
I can feel its sound wave travel in my body
stopping only when it contacts an organ
If I close my eyes
I can see my heart in my chest
beating beating beating
With the slightest move
I hear tiny bones clicking in my ankle

With a deep breath
I hear the exhale…..
carrying the beat of my heart with it
like water running down the steps
Close your eyes
rest your head back
now breath…..

see…feel…hear
the universe that is you and only you
We are each wonderful miracles of the universe
appreciate it
contribute thoughts
contribute sounds
contribute words
contribute images
from inside and outside of you mind
Leave anger; resentment; discontent; jealousy and prejudice at the door
for there is no room of these in my life
My door is open
I hear the wind chatting with the trees
birds with their wings extended are flying on the breeze
like a magic carpet giggling
my eyes have rested
have yours?

Maybe There Is No Summing Things Up

I’m sitting here in front of my computer screen, thinking. How do I sum up this month in NewFoundland?
I came with suitcases full of anticipation and direction. As I sit here wondering what it was that pulled me here, I can only make assumptions. Perhaps it is not so important why we are drawn to something or a place but just that we are.
Assuming that a distance place where B and I never went together would somehow put his image from my mind somehow in the background. Well it was anything but. Discovering a new place just brought him more in the foreground but in a different way I think. Again, as I write, new discovered thoughts emerge. Before I came here for the two years that I lived without his physical body in front of me, I just wanted to be with him. I welcomed the idea of crossing over to continue a new life with him.
This month I have walked so many new shores and speaking to B was part of it. It was no longer longing to be with him but accepting the new relationship we have. Him on the other side and me here discovering and enjoying the new experiences while still holding him near. I think that I have [hopefully] discovered a way that I can share and communicate with him but without sadness and longing.
B’s thoughts come to me clearer here, perhaps it’s the moisture in the air hehe. I have not spent time being overly sad. The gift of walking by the ocean daily is truly a wonderful therapeutic session.
Paining? Well not much of that got done, almost completed one 30×40. I will bring it home and then we will see.

Understanding that someone you love does not leave you when they pass on is one of those things that you can tell yourself and god only knows others certainly find this a favourite phrase to tell us. I think now, that it comes when we have reached that point on our own. Thinking back in this past two years I can easily see how someone could completely loose themselves with grief. A friend say one day, grief if you allow it will eat you up. A year ago I would have said bon appetite! Today? As the sun just broke through the heavy clouds I would say, You don’t really want to eat me, I’m not very tasty heheh
Do I feel sad about leaving this island? Not today. With over 2000 photographs and videos and a laptop screaming NO MORE NO MORE! I do think I can remember the feelings enough to make me happy.

My playing by the ocean has brought me a new perspective in the views I look at. I have experimented with images and I do look forward to painting some of them out.

Always I hope that my writing this blog will in a small way help others not feel so alone and if I can find a glimmer of light I have no doubt that you can as well.

There is a Saltbox House Waiting for Me

 

 

 

 

 

There is a saltbox house waiting for me in Newfoundland. This will be my first trip alone. My first trip without B. This time it will be me sketching and painting. Will I remember things differently? Will I take things in differently?
To have all questions directed at me will and has been different. Before I would chose which I felt like commenting on, now I must reply to all.

I really do have a burning desire to create something. The shortness of two weeks to go builds excitement in me.
The decision to bring canvases or not is now an un-issue. I will bring canvas cloth then purchase 1/8″ plywood and paint if I feel the need to go bigger. I will not restrict myself when I get out there.

This week I was casting and finishing some castings for my series. It was this spring and last fall that I cast these but it has been taking me a while to finish them. I think that with every sculpture I polish the memories come alive. The fill me and often they absorb me. As the months tick on by I feel better able to not let them exhaust me so much.