Friday, May 18, 2007
Both images by Sabrina Ward Harrison
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
This is a poem that my mom has on a poster at home, so whenever I see it I think of her. Since it is mother's day week I will post it in honor of her. ♥
Skywatcher by Susan Sedon Boulet
Finding Her Here
I am becoming the woman I've wanted,
grey at the temples, soft body,
delighted, cracked up by life,
with a laugh that's known bitter
but, past it, got better,
knows she's a survivor-
that whatever comes,
she can outlast it.
I am becoming a deep weathered basket.
I am becoming the woman I've longed for,
the motherly lover
with arms strong and tender,
the growing up daughter
who blushed surprises.
I am becoming full moons and sunrises.
I find her becoming,
this woman I've wanted,
who knows she'll encompass,
who knows she's sufficient,
knows where she's going
and travels with passion.
Who remembers she's precious,
but knows she's not scarce-
who knows she is plenty,
plenty to share.
Jayne Relaford Brown © 1994
Monday, May 7, 2007
One good thing I can say about my behaviour yesterday is that I continually silenced the Bully. I am refering to the other voice, not the kind one who wanted me to have fun, but the snide one who usually shows up at such opportune low energy moments to dispense charming little observations like: "you are so lazy!" Each time this voice started up I was more or less successful at redirecting my thoughts. Unfortunately I redirected them to the computer screen where downloaded episodes of Gilmore Girls and Lost were playing, instead of towards something a bit more creative (it seemed easier to replace negative thinking with no thinking than recklessly jumping straight into positive thinking) but I none the less see it as improvement.
Luckily when Adrien got home from his fun day out with friends he was in a buoyant mood and immediately started peeling me off the couch, though I resisted obstinately and clung to the throw pillows with all my might. Eventually he was able to lure me into the car with the prospect of eating dinner at one of my favorite restaurants, Le Santropol. I think I like it so much because it is almost like accidentally finding out that a tiny little scrap of Vancouver has mysteriously vanished from Commercial Drive and re-materialized in the heart of Montréal. Not only is the interior a hodge-podge of bright bohemian furniture, and the walls alternate between showcases for 3D artwork that spills right into the room and glittering mozaics but also it has a fenced-in back garden where you can eat under a canopy of faerie lights and birch leaves. There are numerous shaggy fraggle-esque nooks amidst fountains, trees and overgrown flower beds. Cats wander through freely, on important cat missions. And they serve divinely, ridiculously, jaw-stretchingly huge sandwiches which ensure that you will not leave without embarrasing smears of cream cheese and mint jelly on your cheeks. It was the perfect sweet antidote to my sour mood.
On the way home, rushing up the little side street where we parked, and feeling startlingly chilly in my whispy blue-green skirt, I suddenly happened upon a night-time, lit up view of the city. I realized that I live in a pretty neat place actually, and the heavy grouch-creature on my chest finally took off for the rest of the evening. We took the long way home through winding streets lined with centuries old stone houses and I repeated Alissa's mantra to myself while peering out into the lamp-lit night: the world is Magic, the world is Magic, the world is Magic.
Saturday, May 5, 2007
This post is for Nicole for her Honeycomb blog and of course anyone else who likes honey and/or great children's literature.
I found this magic little book at the library and was drawn to it because of the art work by Patience Brewster , which I have often liked. The story is lovely and sad and quite clever. It is a story about the lives of honeybees (one in particular) done with an anthropomorphic kind of narrative but also (from what I can tell with my admitedly limited knowledge of the life cycles of bees) with a large dose of real bee life woven into it.