02 May 2011

Summer is here!

Snippets, pieces, thoughts, and fragments.  It's Monday! 

Happy Birthday to my talented and compassionate brother Sam who was born on May 1.  Sam continues to inspire me and has become a good friend in the last several years.  I'm so glad to be part of his life.  May you grow in peace, wisdom, vision, and see the fruit of your labors this year.

Yesterday, J. and I went down to Laguna Beach to lounge in the sun and boy, was the sun fierce and hot.  Hello SUMMER!!!  It was an absolute treat to sit and take naps and wade in the ice cold Pacific waters and let the sand sift through my fingers.  J. actually got sunburned.

When it's really hot and you are thirsty, this can really hit the spot.  I like the one with pulp.

Do something new with your hair.  Twist up the top layers and pin it poofy to the side.  It will be fun.  It works well on Day 3 or 4.

Saturday, I helped celebrate my dear friend Lydia's bridal shower.  We had an afternoon tea under a gorgeous tree tied with pink and purple tissue paper flowers on its branches and bright yellow tablecloths with an eclectic mix of vintage tea cups and plates.  We had tea sandwiches, made couture bridal gowns from toilet paper, won prizes and talked babies.  It was quite glorious in all its feminine coziness.

I just read a short fiction piece by Stephen King in the Atlantic, May 2011 issue called "Herman Wouk is Still Alive."  It was quite a wonderful morning read!  King takes a fictional news article reporting a car accident with 9 dead and writes the back story of the people involved. I'm inspired to try taking a news article and doing the same for practice writing a story.

J. got a volume of the complete works of Kenneth Rexroth this weekend and started reading poetry out loud at our home, while I'm falling asleep, when we are at the beach, at the end of a serious conversation.  At first I'd say, "What, right now?  I'm not in the mood for poetry."  And he'd give me this look like, C'MON.  And I would begrudgingly say, Fine, go ahead and read some (even though I'm totally not in the mood).  And you know what I realized?  To enjoy poetry, to be receptive to hearing it means Letting Go.  It means frankly, just letting go of the need to be in control and to be open to hearing something even if it doesn't make sense, even if you feel like you don't have the energy to listen closely, even if it means wandering in your thoughts and thinking about Prince William and Princess Kate and horse-drawn carriages.  Listening to poetry is teaching me ironically,  to stop being so hyperattentive or feeling like I need t be hyperattentive, to just let the words wash over me, trusting in the subconscious, and to relax.  It's going to be ok.  The world is not going to fall apart if I don't get things.  And this morning, when I did my morning pages on the train, writing from my stream of subconscious, I noticed in a most curious and delightful way the ways in which my words fell down on to the page like poetry with cadence and rhythm and line breaks and swerved and plummetted and lifted into different directions and paths and surprised me with their wisdom and beauty.  Stunning.

May you experience poetry in your words and visions today.  It all makes sense in the intangible way.

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