Here’s looking at you kid.

How many times have I watched Casablanca without catching the interweaving of espionage and intrigue with undying romance? Too many. I actually thought, until this latest viewing, that Ilsa Lund left on the plane to America, alone. Never realized she was married and her man was fighting valiantly behind-the-scenes. I was so focused on the romance that I missed the back story, the WWII narrative and obviously the double-crossing French Capt. Renault, along with Rick, who played all sides of the war to their benefit.

If we stop breathing, we’ll die. If we stop fighting our enemies, the world will die. ” Viktor Laszlo

It is a romance, but the drama shines, building to a hero’s crescendo. The world, along with those imprisoned, fought valiantly in WWII, to secure freedom from the authoritarian Nazi regime. Casablanca teaches humanity that the only problem with human nature is our short-sighted and narrow-minded focus on ourselves. There is a greater vision of peace that gets tangled in the web of human need. Innocent hearts must remember the greater good is worth fighting towards. Rick understood this well. Never stooped below his values for a cheap thrill.

A kiss is just a kiss.

Today America celebrates a day of Thanksgiving. Not everyone understands the holiday nor does the whole population celebrate the season. My greatest concern is mankind’s inability to understand the other in the midst of their “I am..”.

May we all listen. May we all strive to be peace makers.

Portal Vision

Norm 2.0 Thursday 🚪

Stuff your eyes with wonder… Ray Bradbury

The leaves tumbled to form a soft blanket around her worn out feet. She had stopped the lengthy trek into the woods, as she had made many evenings before, to hear the softest of sounds coming from the east.

“Hello?” she managed to ask a feeble question that went unnoticed by anything or anyone, except herself. She continued to mumble her thoughts, losing track of the moon, now turned west and setting, for the hour had come to welcome Pan.

His song grew mesmerizing and cast a glow about her face. The hoofs of his feet took a beat to match her heart. Ivy vines wrapped around her legs and gently lowered her to the ground. She lay silent and watched as a figure grew close, shrouded in cloud, as the fog had grown thick from a cool evening breeze that washed away the heat of the sun’s hour.

“Listen now and I shall follow.” his words he whispered softly to her ear as she dreamed upon the moss and stone. “In the evening I so chose to find a lady to hear my sorrow.” She picked up the largest of the white pearly rock and rubbed it to a mirror. Gazing she noticed her face had softened with heated blush and rouge. With a swipe, her finger licked off the red and she wrote this mystical creature a poem.

Come! o come! Wisp me away
my devilish friend
who comes to stay
in purple passion
and eternal fray.

The sea has brought you wandering
the glen and forest true
to find your maiden
wrapped and warm
with fire in her head.

Come! o come! you hear me say
the years have worn you down
my cheer, not strife
with flute and pipe
the sorrow worn upon a frown.

The oaks are laden with brimming nuts
and food to last our spring
will come and we shall live
in magic harmony,
arm in arm for eternity.

As Pan approached the fairness of her heart, he bent to touch her silken hair, now golden to light time. He grasped her hungrily and the evening’s stars disappeared. The winter of his discontent vanished into spring. And their summer child frolicked gaily upon the streams.

The Pan statue photographed can be found in the woods at Tower Hill Botanic Gardens in Boylston MA. It is quite a lovely place to stir the imagination. Happy writing, J

https://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=god+pan+music&&view=detail&mid=A813A86C1207D8D47D88A813A86C1207D8D47D88&&FORM=VRDGAR

 

 

Chasing Dreams

I belong
where earth invites growth.
Where shadow spreads
the coiled soul.
I belong
under a musing sky.
Under shed skin
of nimble cloud.

Yesterday I took a wonderful class walking a Chartres Labyrinth. It gave revelation besides the release of ill thoughts. Walking on clouds, back to my car, I reached down to pick up a set of leaves.

Which led to a new quilt being built. Last evening, I created a leaf template and cut out nine sets of Buckeye palmate, compound leaves.

Today I am in the process of appliqué, onto nine squares of gray.

What inspires you? What do you do with your musings?

Happy creating… Jeanne 🌊🐚🕊

Thoughts Unleashed

Some say it best not to say everything that passes through your mind. And while I agree, I object! Take for instance the risk of keeping the peace versus being known. Walking on eggshells is painful and inhibits personal growth. I need to roam and if my choices disturb you, well guess what I will say!

Sorry. Yeah! My go to phrase when I am feeling bad. So I drink up! Coffee has been known to be both good and bad for your health. Go figure. It certainly has gotten me in trouble before. I wake up to see nothing in the world has changed since the beginning. When will we learn?

So I get on my soapbox and preach. I can be preachy!

That is me in my preachy mood. Pulling up my big girl pants and telling the world how to live. What do I know? Lots. Like I know that love makes joy makes peace. And couldn’t we all use a bit of grace in our lives? Lord knows I forgiven much. So go be happy! I will too.

“Live in each season as it passes; breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit, and resign yourself to the influence of the earth.” ~Henry David Thoreau

Courting My Heart

DSC_0609

I learned to love to paint. My hands trembled the first time I picked up the brush. The lack of color left my thoughts white and afraid to be coated. Today, as always, I question what my paint palette should be. I wonder what color fancies my heart?

I once dreamed of names for my children in high school, thinking of a man I would marry. So why can I not decide today, what color suits my mind? Does not Calvin weave water into ice cubes and Raina forever lick salt from frothy cheeks? Then my heart should beat blue and spill red.

“Color directly influences the soul. Color is the keyboard, the eyes are the hammers, the soul is the piano with many strings. The artist is the hand that plays, touching one key or another purposely, to cause vibrations in the soul.”
Wassily Kandinsky, Concerning the Spiritual in Art

As I watch a day progress to the blackness of mourning,
I sit trembling
horsehair brush in hand
tickling my heart with story
and dreaming of my friend.

 

 

 

bullshit and bile

In everyone’s “I’m not going to be phony, phoniness… ”

Ah, I just need to gripe to someone.

I can feel the volcanic ash rising. I’ve been burnt… smoldering for years. I need to release the trash compiled… hidden in recesses and crevices and tunnels.

Cut the crap! Get to the point! I leaf through the Sears Catalog, make my Christmas list, and it includes all I missed, being an adult. How did i miss childhood? While being my brother’s mother, my mother smothered me with her tears. I drowned in her fears.

Will i find my happiness in a bankrupt business? Maybe i can get in on that gig? Or rather i should roam the empty streets where dollar bills are strapped to soul-less shoes?

Is an egret an egret
or of another name
first determine nesting habits
and scope out long cafeteria lines
hungry is, as was,
we find
nothing ever satisfies…

Thursday Door(s)

Realized i have not put up any of my door pictures of late… so, cheers, to the WP door fanatics… and quote gurus.

MFA Boston Pooh exhibit through 1/6/2019

“And by and by Christopher Robin came to the end of things, and he was silent, and he sat there, looking out over the world, just wishing it wouldn’t stop.” -A.A. Milne The House at Pooh Corner

Spring Brook Farms Littleton MA

“I am sure there is Magic in everything, only we have not sense enough to get hold of it and make it do things for us”

-Frances Hodgson Burnett The Secret Garden

Fruitlands Museum cellar door

“The claim that cellar door is beautiful to the ear — in opposition to its prosaic meaning — has been made by and attributed to a wide variety of writers over the years.” New York Times Magazine (click to read the fascinating article.)

Fruitlands Museum

“Once in his life a man ought to concentrate his mind upon the remembered earth.” N. Scott Momoday

Reykjavik Iceland
Reykjavik Iceland
Reykjavik Iceland

“…it’s doors I’m afraid of because I can’t see through them, its the door opening by itself in the wind I’m afraid of.” -Margaret Atwood Surfacing

personal musings unleashed…

i am contemplating buying a typewriter. why? glad you asked!

i am starting to think i spend too much time here… in WP Land. and not enough time producing my chapbooks for family and friends. my time spent here also leaves me little time to work on quilts, paintings, my promise garden or finding a job that pays my heart with fulfillment.

the reasoning behind the typewriter is that it would force me to keep my words private. ah! similar to those diaries that would be buried under mattresses and pillows. or deep in bureau drawers where no prying fingers or eyes could disease the soul.

i believe
the typewriter
may save me…
my life!

or not! i would find a routine where i could post my favorite work of the week… say Monday. here, on my Borderline Crossing blogi know otherwise i would miss you wonderful people. so stay tuned for next Monday… i have my phone calendar set to ring at 6:00 am, so i can post and connect with you.

seasons are changing
again
in my world.
Yours?

now to find a typewriter…