Musings on Sunday After Christmas

Hide in a shelter of trees in the woods and listen to avian conversations, sweet songs and chatter

Serenades in chants of love songs, birds flirting, time phrases

Simultaneous displays of affection

When evening comes, lie down on the meadow to ease you muscle aches and back discomfort

Watch the stars appear ten by ten until you can’t count them anymore

Your brain nudges the hammock of neural synapses connecting lifelines of attention and comfort

The fragrance of grass, beauty of flower garlands open your senses to a new chemistry

The body is intelligent in an unknown way and know what to subtract and add in wholesome well being before you yourself knows what’s happening.

Open space embrace with soothing air and mountain views like a sanctuary as if nature is speaking to you. And understand emotionally what the birds are singing. The secret is not what you imagine but what you feel.

You know you will need tremendous courage to follow your own rules.

Some songs and calls are fading

The birds are facing extinction

Encroachment in their habitats or human neglect

The birds chant offers a sense of place and time and peace

We are losing the outdoors richness when our winged friends leave or die.

Don’t abandon the birds, they are helpless pretty creatures and friends

If you don’t answer your questions you have to find one who can. Don’t presume you are the first one to ask.

Vulnerability

The story, in the telling, sounds unreal like a dream,she is there,

She is telling it like it’s presently evolving,happening in real time,

not extracting it from memory

To rise again when all striving seems to have been all exhausted is a man of honor and courage. I can aspire to be that man who participates.

First let me wash the the dishes. Unclean sink does not promise a good dish. A hungry man does not mean he does not wants to eat a delicious dish. 

Brene Brown says “vulnerability is not a weakness “. Vulnerability is like a tire that has to pass all kinds of terrain to show real character, it’s resilience.

Mrs. Abstract and I and with two of our friends went to Spain last year. We visited Sagrada Familia in Barcelona.

A Letter

Avoidance of annoyances repeatedly

Life remains in narrowed preferences

I know some words to add, some experiences 

To relate, must not let them fade away

I open my eyes in the morning

Utter my first intelligent thought

A praise may be or a prayer

To see, not necessarily to understand

Not inquisitive but to experience

Is it too late now to find the reason

For not knowing?

My relationship ends unexpectedly

Without any arguments or strained voices

A decent separation, not devoting time

To keep each other’s attention

The dinner loses the delicious taste

We become monuments to each other.

Sometimes one has to cross a perilous river

To deliver a letter of forgiveness.

note: I finished reading Piranesi by Susanna Clarke and Kant’s Little Prussian Head & Other Reasons Why I Write, an autobiography in essays by Claire Messud.

I’m reading Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell by Susanna Clarke which I started reading a long time ago but never finished and For Whom the Bell Tolls by Ernest Hemingway. All these long reads in the time of Covid.

Once

We meet once in a farmer’s market

You are selecting a peach, I’m buying okra

Talk and walk and laugh

You spin a loom, I wield an ax

Gather, break, understand

Happy when together

A long beautiful day we wish each other

Before we wave goodbye

Cups of coffee and talks

Walks along the river

What is abstract 

A question of enchantment 

How do we measure 

Content or duration

And weight 

Are dimensions important?

Reflection

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Invent reality?

Is there a minimum of thought

One has to do everyday?

 

She is playing a guitar

and humming then singing

about ideas and consequences

then stops and starts writing furiously

“Examine your own courage

if you can get up every morning

with a better will than the day before?”

A cat comes, nozzles in her arms

She touches her with equal affection

then she looks at me and exclaims:

“Is it sad or meaningful or ostentatious to say—

I hiked Switzerland the whole summer?

Or I hug cows to relieve my stress?”

The cat jumps, goes to the window, sits purring.

 

Time folds, distorts harmony of living

Why bemoans the loss during the pandemic

Thousands are dying, millions lost their jobs,

thousands are lining up for food.

 

Time has changed unlike any other time:

A call for one another to stay together.

A Palm Tree Blooms.

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Accumulation of solitudes, tumult of the heart diminishes 

until it’s just a whisper, light as a leaf

You have been longing 

to know your real self

During your walk

or when alone in the river

You feel your deep affinity with nature

with other creatures

Alone with the blue heron

or with other traveler

Pandemic awakens your consciousness,

shakens by injustice.

Beware when all the running stops

numbness sets in and silence.

Out of weariness and withered trees 

love will rise.

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Questions

We talked for hours

We compared our separate memories:

notebooks, cupcakes, candlelight dinners

Coming out at night after we ran out of dreams

Our arms were still empty

and waiting

like two anglers standing on a river bank

reviewing the science of angling,

studying the river landscape

Where are the insects?

the shadows, the deep hiding places

silence of pride and pleasure.

Imagine if life is timeless.

They pause for lunch.

Do the fish miss also the fisherman?