Poem: Weary


Some days I rest

my weary thoughts

upon the gentle sea

the blue green beauty 

 beckons with her waves 

and reaches out to me

I cast them far

into the depths

where they rock beneath the tide

it’s quiet below 

and dark with fish

that watch my troubles sink

they grab them in their mouths

and take them off to hide 

So now they are far below 

beneath the heavy waves

my sorrow and my shattered pain 

tossed in wind swept freedom 

and caught by Mother’s womb

to die within her grave 

Buried Treasure


There are some folks that search for buried treasure. Some of that treasure may be from sunken ships from long ago that legend tell tales of gold and jewels that went down with these vessels. Divers search and may come up with some beauties, or may find only fish and wood in the depths of ocean, or maybe nothing at all. But it might be the journey alone that draws these seekers, the hope of treasure and wealth and a visit into the past.

I’ve read of current day treasure hunts: wealthy men hiding trunks of money and producing hints with maps given in books that hungry hunters must purchase in hopes of finding the loot. Is it bunk and a lucky gent making his own treasure on unsuspecting innocents, or is there really something hidden waiting for some brilliant detective who can unlock the key?

wpid-0627140540b.jpg

For me the buried treasure is of a different kind. It’s not material. In fact, I’ve been making efforts to rid myself of material goods, including ones of “value”. What is value anyway but what it means to someone. True, gold and diamonds have value if one tried to sell them in our market, but even these go up and down in price and they can sometimes cost so much they become: invaluable. Museums must hold onto pieces that are such treasures as to become priceless.

No, things are no longer what I am pursuing, but still my treasures have been buried. I’ve felt rather like some great explorer that has gone on a long expedition to some unheard of place to find my gems. The natives were not always hospitable and the climate often harsh. The tools I brought with me I found, at times, were primitive and didn’t quite do the trick as I tried to dig and dig to find this deeply hidden trunk of goods.

The maps I had were often handed to me by people who had no idea where I needed to be or what I was looking for; they were crude and often in a language I did not understand. So I tossed them aside and plunged on, sometimes through jungle brush, other years in desert heat sucking the water out of my pores. But I knew if I kept going, eventually I would find the goods.

There were years that I walked in circles. And sometimes I would just lay down and cry. Sometimes I had the strength of a tiger and the eyesight of an eagle, feeling like I was closer and closer. But then the treasure would slip away and I would have to start again.

wpid-20140822_130332.jpg

I’ve learned over the years now, that the maps I needed were with me written in an invisible ink only I could read. They were my maps to find my treasures. When I looked really closely, I noticed that the path lead me through all those places I had gone: the jungles and deserts and around and around–it’s where the trail led, I just hadn’t seen it before now. None of it was by accident.

And all the people I met along the way, they were in the Legend of the map, part of landscape I was meant to wander on path to the treasure. In fact, when I squinted just right, I saw that I actually had found treasure in each of these villages! There were markings showing that’s where some of the jewels were: the people, even the ones I thought were hostile had given me something I didn’t know, a tiny gem of knowledge.

But after walking, searching and following this map–and scrutinizing it carefully, I saw something that brought wonder to me. It appeared I was coming very close to the buried treasure that I had been chasing for so long. Maybe I’m only steps away now it seemed. The map showed it was at the center of everything: bright and brilliant, overflowing with energy.

I’m almost there now. The treasure. My treasure, buried–inside of me.

wpid-0520142142a.jpg

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sailing Ahead


For more years than I can remember I have been a single woman. It was by choice and something I needed to do to sort my head, my soul and myself out. Much of my life before these years had been rafting through relationships, on a craft that was unsteady and often leaky. I tried to navigate this flimsy raft through oceans far too rough and rivers overflowing their riverbeds. It often left me on some shore half drowned. And of course any passenger unlucky enough to be my mate, usually was left drenched and overwhelmed by the tsunami that was left in my wake.

But somehow, it seems now I’ve paddled out of the storm, onto a lake of glass. It is smooth and my sense of direction seems clear. I am ready to sail again.

wpid-1109131522b.jpg

It is so difficult in our times to find the right sailing partner to journey into the unknown. Even once we’ve learned to love ourselves and to steer our lives, finding someone who can meld their course with ours, seems like finding a lost ship under the ocean. It’s there somewhere, but the vastness makes the likelihood seem so impossible.

wp-1458345037800.jpg

So unlikely that it seems that magic must be involved (as I refuse to do the internet thing). Today I picked one Tarot card to see if a partner would be in my future one day again. And lo, I got my favorite one: the 10 of Cups. Just seeing it you can almost guess that it is positive! Depending on where you look, it has different meanings, but I got it right side up and my book said simply: Contentment, lasting happiness because it is inspired from above rather than being the sensual satisfaction. Perfection of human love. Great friendship. Lasting success. Peacemaking.

So, I guess I will take that to be a yes and hopefully my ship will eventually float into the sunset. And maybe I will eventually pick someone up along the way to sail with me.

wpid-20140819_195058.jpg

Something Fishy


Waving Stingray 

Passing by

New lipstick 

By in a blur 

Secret visitor

Flashy dresser

Bits of blue 

People accuse me of not being real but I take my time proving it.

Why hello….

Late for school 

Missed my flight 

Whoops wrong club

Feeling glum

Mixed neighborhood 

Police presence 

Every time I hit my head on the glass I swear I want to scream!

This tank ain’t big enough for all of us.

These are shots from our trip today to a little nature center. Cute place, good work educating the public and rehabilitating local wildlife. Fun times . 

Crabby


I have always believed in signs.

When I first moved here and into this rental apartment, one of the first things I saw on my make shift patio, was (of all things)  some sort of crazy crab creature! Now maybe that doesn’t sound too weird to you, but it seemed nutty to me given that I live in a pretty down town area, very far from the ocean or any body of water.

So imagine my surprise, when I saw this crab skittering side ways along my back wooden wall, in total fear of me. It was bluish, and quite beautiful. I thought that maybe it had narrowly escaped from someone’s bar-b-que?

But I never saw another in the year that I have lived here, so I figured it was a fluke.

Today,  as I was continuing to pack and putter getting ready for Saturday’s big move, my dog began to bark and bark. I figured it was my neighbor arriving home from work. I shushed him, but he would not be swayed, so I went to investigate.

Of course, dogs are much smarter than we are, and don’t talk without a good reason. And, apparently he had one. A visitor had arrived, unannounced–one that didn’t use the buzzer, but rather just showed up on the patio.

And guess who it was who came a-calling? Yes, another  Mr. crab! He must have figured his cousin came to greet me and now it was his duty to say Bon Voyage! So there he was, doing his crabby dance, looking at me like I was some kind of kook.


This time, I was able to run and get my phone for some shots before he danced away. Don’t think it’s easy getting photos of a racing crab…they move at lighting speed (a little scary I must admit), and will do anything (like climb a wall??) to get away.


But I was grateful for the send off. Even though it was as short as my welcome.


Maybe they came because they know my Zodiac sign is Cancer and figured I’d appreciate them being my welcoming/send off committee!

Sponges


In one of my karmic lives, I must have been a sea creature–specifically some sort of sponge-like aquatic marine form no doubt. There I was, a mulitcelluar organism filled with pores so the water could just flow through me. As the oceans currents would flow around me, whether turbulent or calm, I sucked up the salty stream going my way.

image
Well, not quite an ocean stream…

Now, in this life time, it appears I continue to suck up most things that float nearby me. The energy that is around me, whether positive or negative, seems to sink into my pores like a sponge out of water. It absorbs into me, even if I am trying hard to deflect it with the best of my defenses: meditation, positive self talk, exercise and simply just being happy myself.

image
This doesn’t absorb water, it explodes with it from build up pressure!

As long as I can recall, I’ve been chided for not have that tougher skin, that shield to bounce the bad ju-ju of others off me. Nope, I never could do it successfully for very long. In fact, many years ago I would actively try to save every soul until (finally) I learned this was a lost cause and slowly ruining my soul.

image
My ruined soul??

But even working hard to create my own bubble–with my absorbent nature–stuff seeps in and I find myself struggling to stay afloat, focused, energized and positive myself. It’s often the chameleon effect. I try to stay upbeat, but it becomes slowly draining and the sponge, more and more full of water, can hold no more. Simply wrung out.

image
Just blending in…..

When being in an environment that is consistently difficult, trying to stay afloat is like treading water to exhaustion. Nothing can float forever and eventually one dips below the surface and, well, disappears. One loses oneself no matter how hard you try.

This isn’t what I want. If I once lived below the ocean, while a beautiful and wondrous place I’m sure, I am now a creature of light. It’s where I belong and am meant to be. Some days I feel like it’s hard to be around others because of their energy…but maybe it’s because I just haven’t found my tribe yet.

Meanwhile, I rejuvenate when I’m alone, work hard not to absorb when around others and continue to keep my head above water following the sun while looking for my island.

image
Ahhhh….peace….someday? Maybe?