Posted in Musings, Poetry

buzzing… trying again

Summer 2018

I am…
Absolutely disorganized.
Fundamentally curious.
Passionately involved with life…

love spins around me
pinned to my dress
notice his black and yellow
swaggered heart?

——–

Hey! I am still here. Certainly that statement is unbelievable to me. And since this happens to be an old blog post I unpublished, and republishing for any number of reasons, I wonder what you have been up to? With me, who the hell knows. I certainly do not have a clue as to where my life is heading. Well, i kinda do.

A photo montage of my vintage button and 1950’s fabric collection. Merrigold. Marmalade. Ginger. Clay. Olive. Seaweed. Pine. Tawny. Carob. Coffee. Metal Honey. Flaxen. Mmmm… metal honey.

My mother told me as a child I was born in the wrong era. Is that even possible? Perhaps she meant wrong world. Which possibly explains the significant interest in UFO’s by treasured friends and others.

Seriously though, why are any of us here? The answer for me is not to sell books. Or become published. Other than supporting WP to have others peer into my mind, what is there? Keep up if you can. Tomorrow is not so far away.

Do not turn that radio dial. You are not lost. I AM.

Posted in Musings, Photography, Poetry

Thursday Doors (Open or Shut)

The heart is the door to your soul.

What doors do you require to walk through, to understand yourself? Your neighbor’s door? Your back door? A stranger’s door?

Jesus said, ‘I am the door’ (John 10:7) in order to make it clear that no one can come to the Father except through Him. 

The church
of and for
and is
the people.
I am ill.
My heart is broken
in need of deep repair
and I wept at the sign
hung around my neck
that read “tired soul”.

Worcester MA has many beautiful church buildings. These church doors were closed so no inside photos. So why do churches lock their doors? Why do we feel it is okay to criticize these doors being locked versus locking our home’s doors? And to be fair, they posted a sign to try the doors on a side street. So when did I stop knocking?

Wesley United Methodist Church

Thanks to Norm 2.0 Thursday Doors for hosting all the doors weekly.

Posted in Music Video, Musings, Photography, Poetry

Week in Review: B&W

a path of voices
retrieve the warm clues scattered
your time approaches

I have never stayed with one theme on my blog for very long. This is my third consecutive week to post a “Week in Review: B&W”. Progress? Calm in my chaos? If nothing else, a personal record! 🙂

A week in review. A visit to Tower Hills Botanical Garden in West Boylston MA is always a treat. Especially when a greenhouse orchid show helps me resist a chilly Sunday afternoon.

The stack of books pictured are half of what I will be reading during Expressive Arts training. Natalie Rogers, daughter of Carl Rogers, is a big proponent of various art modalities as healer. I plan to spend my remaining time helping others find their voice in paint, dance, words and song.

It feels good to have a purpose. I find we all need to heal generational trauma. Whether abused or the abusers, we must stand still and look towards the sun. A new day dawns. Hope rises.

And ten years blogging? Wow! And it has been 12 years since my brother left earth. This blogging journey will go on until I too am released from gravity. 🕊

Looking ahead. I feel myself changing. It has certainly been a while since I have revamped my image. “Borderline Crossing” will reemerge as something new in the future. Even I will be surprised as to what becomes of this journey.

Posted in Musings, Photography, Poetry

I really never know

The vibrations flowing through my body are quite strong. An earthquake shakes my thoughts. The sudden creative rush stops me from moving. I reach to pick up a pen. Stare out the window to watch a storm approach from the west. The mountain encased by fog. Neither of us, pen or mind, can function. We are not heard and the mountain stands still.

Posted in Art, Musings, Poetry

Ive been meaning too.

Sometimes life expects us to make confessionals. My list happens to be growing as I recollect events that I am sorry for. For instance, in the midst of my grief, shortly after learning my brother John had taken his life, I stole a plant. A flowering plant at a local grocery store. The reasoning being I had always walked the straight and narrow and while my anger was bubbling up, I lashed out in order to inflict hurt on the world I once loved. I struck back at the heart of existence.

Then again, what belongs to any of us?

Posted in Musings, Photography, Poetry

Tread Lightly

be kind creation
smile on your birding friend
glimpse the miracle

Snowy Owl. Plum Island MA 1/25/2020. Atlantic Ocean.

I hesitated to post my photos of my snowy owl trip since the owl photos are a bit blurry. But hell people, it is a Snowy Owl! And my first encounter. But certainly not the last.

This bird is down right stunning, majestic, gorgeous, and oh so patient. I watched the wind ruffling her feathers, her ever alert, keen sense of hearing, and her head turning to see the four corners of the tundrous field for close to an hour. She flew but never far away. She glided as a seaplane hovering the waters.

My heart skipped beats as I encountered this regal bird. I will talk of this for years to come. I thank you for being part of this monumental day. I left the island with a skip in my step. And hope.

Field notes to those wanting to take part in life’s sacred dance. Please remember to tread lightly. Earth’s preciousness is a gift we should treasure and never take for granted.