Love

Meandering in A Confused World

/ still a dreamer / 2 Comments

One of my small daily pleasures each morning once I’ve fed Charlie and made my coffee is to sit by the living room window and do two things – a perusal of Instagram, a gathering if you will, of positive words, thoughts and images (occasionally my own work), and then sharing them in my Stories. Then I journal to clear out the cobwebs, sort out my challenges, put to paper my joys and angst … whatever the day calls for.

While on IG, I always hope that whoever stops by gains some benefit from what I post. We know, vaguely, how the algorithms work; you get more of what you like (almost a corollary of karma, right?), and therefore, I find vast amounts of insight, positivity, and beauty. Some mornings, when I open the app, I am greeted with exactly what I need to know for that day. Because I do believe the Universe works that way.

Sometimes I share things like this, courtesy of @spiritualgoal –

Sometimes I post things I’ve been doing, like the gecko drawing above, or how I’ve redesigned my picture book, Where Do Butterflies Go at Night? 2nd Edition. (You can read that in detail here.)

But mostly, I’m sharing insights, inspiration, and the beauty of life.

Inevitably, while I scroll, I come across other things, often in Threads, about our current political circumstances. And sometimes, I drop in and read, because most of what’s really happening is on social nowadays, not the mainstream media. I find life – mental and emotional life – is a balancing act of trying to remain informed and at the same time, keeping my sanity.

It’s why the positivity is so important. Knowing, remembering, how important we are in the larger scheme of things. Even just being centered and loving in this world is a huge contribution. Holding the place of love.

And sometimes I create my own memes. This one’s for you. Just keep holding that light up high.

National Poetry Month – April 30th

/ still a dreamer / 2 Comments

It’s the end of April and the end of National Poetry Month. I felt we were overdue for a love poem.

PERMANENTLY

One day the Nouns were clustered in the street.
An Adjective walked by, with her dark beauty.
The Nouns were struck, moved, changed.
The next day a Verb drove up, and created the Sentence.

Each Sentence says one thing – for example, “Although it was a dark, rainy day when the Adjective walked by, I shall remember the pure and sweet expression on her face until the day I perish from the green, effective earth.”

Or, “Will you please close the window, Andrew?”

Or, for example, “Thank you, the pink pot of flowers on the window sill has changed color recently to a light yellow, due to the heat from the boiler factory which exists nearby.”

In the springtime, the Sentences and the Nouns lay silently on the grass.
A lonely conjunction here and there would call, “And! But!”
But the Adjective did not emerge.

As the adjective is lost in the sentence,
So I am lost in your eyes, ears, nose, and throat –
You have enchanted me with a single kiss
Which can never be undone
Until the destruction of language.

– Kenneth Koch

Away …

/ still a dreamer / 8 Comments

Searching through photos for one thing inevitably surprises us with something else. Especially when you have the amount of photos that I do.

This is a photo I took when visiting my cousin in Portugal when I was 23 years old. He and his family lived here, in a small fishing village, Vila Nova de Cerveira, at the mouth of the Minho River, just minutes from Spain. It was an indescribable experience, and looking back now, even more so, especially as the area has evolved so since.

Truly, it was a village. There was a tinker (today’s handyman/carpenter), a small bakery/grocery store, a church, a police station, and a few other shops. There was also a castle, and a variety of homes. The streets were cobblestone, and it seemed that everyone knew everyone. Many people grew or raised their own food.

In the morning, we heard the clanging of the bell at the long driveway gate. A neighbor had brought a clean bucket of milk, fresh from her cow. Wherever my cousin and I walked, there were young children skipping after us, fascinated by the visitor with her light-colored eyes.

Coming across this photo brought back so many memories, which could probably fill a short memoir of its own. My cousin, his wife, children, and dogs were my warm and wonderful hosts. With all I experienced in that too-short week, I existed in a slice of time never to be known again.

I also remember the train ride home, first to Porto, then a switch to a second train to Lisbon. In my compartment were five Portuguese men and women, none of whom spoke English. During the 5-hour ride, they brought out their lunch, and so generously offered everything to me – bread, cheese, some kind of meat, wine. With hand signs and broken language, we talked and laughed all the way to Lisbon.

I remember wondering even then if Americans would be so utterly kind to strangers who spoke no English in a traveling compartment. The importance of that entire experience has deepened ever since. Would we all be as kind and generous as they? Can we still share? Can we still love?

National Poetry Month – April 4th

/ still a dreamer / 4 Comments

April is National Poetry Month. They Want Us to Be Afraid is one of many beautiful – the word here is so inadequate – poems by Kamand Kojouri. This poem was written in May 2017, just 8 years ago.

THEY WANT US TO BE AFRAID

They want us to be afraid.
They want us to be afraid of leaving our homes,
to barricade our doors and hide our children.
They aim to make us fear life!

They want us to hate.
They want us to hate the other,
to practice aggression and promote oppression.
They aim to divide us all!

They want us to be inhuman.
They want us to throw out our kindness,
to conceal our love and bury our hope.
They aim to take our light!

They think their brick walls
will separate us.
They think their damned bombs
will defeat us.

They are so ignorant they don’t understand
that my soul and your soul are old friends.
They are so ignorant they don’t understand
that when they cut you, I bleed.

They are so ignorant they don’t understand
that we will never be afraid,
we will never hate,
and we will never be silent.
For life is only ours!

~ Kamand Kojouri

Where Do Butterflies Go at Night? – 2nd Edition

/ still a dreamer / 5 Comments

It’s here! ”Where Do Butterflies Go at Night?” – 2nd Edition is now available. While newly designed and formatted, the book still has the same heartwarming story with the lush and magical illustrations of Stella Maris Mongodi.

Why a 2nd Edition? Due to “Butterflies” first publisher unfortunately closing their doors, my beautiful picture book would disappear or … I could save it. I wanted kids to be able to still read of a child’s rich imagination as to where butterflies went at night, and also how they could help them. I decided to purchase the illustrations and acquired permission to use them to self-publish my book.

The challenge? The dimensions of the original book are not offered by POD publishers. This meant a new size and gave me the opportunity to do a re-design. As a graphic designer and an artist, myself, I was able to re-create “Butterflies” in this gorgeous, new book.

Please consider welcoming “Where Do Butterflies Go at Night?” – 2nd Edition into your home and share the magic with a child, available on Amazon.