sweet indigo life

I love you in order to begin loving you. :)

 
I'm learning my camera this week. The shot above was taken this morning in my bedroom.  I shoot mainly in manual and aperture-priority but now I am learning shutter-priority and it is fun!  I'm zipping around the house taking test-shots of things with different shutter speeds and various white balances. I really want to know what I'm doing when I get to Jordan, and seeing as the technical functions of my camera aren't my forte-I am studying hard.  I'm more of a point and shoot kind of gal, in aperture-priority mode.  I will be on this trip with people that swamp me in technical knowledge and gear, so I'll be "the little engine that could" hanging on for dear life! Wish me luck I only have a few months to really know what I'm doing.

I have some link love today;

Gallery Thirty One, a twenty-photo essay about the Day of the Dead festival in Mexico.   

This ornament would make a startlingly beautiful addition to any festive tree!

We are heading out to get a turkey today, and all the trimmings (so they are as fresh as can be) for tomorrows little gathering at our house for Thanksgiving. I'm no Martha, but I want to make it a pretty presentation.

How many times have you judged, without trying to see both sides of the story? Or bought into a single story of a person or place? There is danger in a single story. 

One of my best friends lives here.  What a hip city!  I have her, her husband & daughter on my "must visit" list. Her and I try to talk on the phone a few times a week, it is our time to vent & laugh.  You can read a little more about her here.

Happily reading the following:

Digital Rebel XTi/400D Digital Field Guide

Paulo Coelho's BRIDA

Paulo Coelho's THE DEVIL AND MISS PRYM

100 Love Sonnets by Pablo Neruda

Here is a snippet of one (that fits beautifully with Day of the Dead celebrations): 

XCII

My love, if I die and you don't die,

my love, if you die and I do not,

let us not give pain more territory:

there is no expanse like the one we lived.

 

Dust in the wheat, sand in the sands

of time, the wandering water, the lazy wind

carried us like sailing grain.

We might not have found each other within time.

 

This prairie in which we find ourselves,

oh small infinity! we give back.

But love, this love has not ended,

 

and just as it had no birth

it has no death, it is like a long river,

it only changes lands and lips.

(Yes, there are 100 like that in this book.  Such delicious words!)

Last but certainly not least...I'm topping off my list with Frommer's Los Angeles 2009.

***

Have a love infused week.  Stay true to who you are; bow down to no one...forgive yourself mistakes you've made and pledge to learn from them.  Embrace new opportunity.  Carve out a new niche for yourself.  Study something new...the brain thrives when you feed it new information, so give it a good old fashioned work-out.  Sleep well, eat well, and take brisk walks.  Remember how important your contribution is, don't diminish yourself with pity, or self doubt. 

xoxo

Besotted.

Last night was a dark and stormy night.  The power cut off.  The darkness enveloped us.  We lit tiny tealights and hoped for the thunder to stop.  We tucked the kids in.  We sat on the porch watching the sky turn from charcoal to silver to a haunting yellow {yes, in that order!}.  We finally gave in and went to bed. Happily so.  It's funny, what the body wants and what the brain wants are two different things sometimes.  With no power and nothing to do save listen to our own breath...we tuned in to something we often ignore.  The body.  Funny how tired you actually are at the end of a long day.  Sleep was welcomed fast.

Things I'm besotted with at the moment;

• thunderstorms
• wrap around front porches
• friends
• hot earl grey tea, tiny splosh of milk, wee spoonful of sugar
• star anise (see photo!)
• dreaming
• my children's eyes being the window to their glorious souls
• learning my camera
• sending armies of angels to aid friends in need (all you need to do is wish it)
• a luscious ripe plum, which tastes particular good after a healthy lunch

Away for a relaxing week of nothingness...bikes, beach, fires, sleep, books.  I hope you enjoy your week, I'll see you upon my return.  The link above leads to "sea to sky"...hope you enjoy our collaboration.

xoxo

A pocketful of wishing.

A pocketful of wishes~by Gillian da Silva~(Click to enlarge)

i am;

a...

seeker

mum

lover

partner

friend

jokester

traveler

photographer

advisor

organizer

niece

kisser

daughter

cousin

blogger

writer

painter

cryer

laundress

nurse

snacker

sleeper

snuggler

blue

dreamer

encourager

inspirer

wisher

huntress

warrior

Interpreter of Maladies reader

creator

aunt

granddaughter

screamer

hugger

smiler

optimist

giggler

freckle counter

+

nightmare chaser-awayer

xo

what roles do you play?

~a post inspired by the lovely and gorgeous Tifanie, at n o d d y b o o m xo~

From crusaders to kings.

I'm a historical fiction nut.  You may say I'm crazy for crusaders. Frenzied for pharoahs.  Wiggy for warriors, lol!

My tea, and a good read awaits.

So when I went to the library yesterday I stumbled upon this while looking for Lahiri and Aslam (who aren't by the way, historical fiction authors per se but regardless) in the fiction section....(after a busy morning saving little frogs no bigger than my thumbnail from certain destruction on a main road with my girls, and several bike rides to train us for a long ride along the Waterfront Trail to Niagara Falls....but that's another story...)

I opened up the book I found and read the first paragraph...

Granada 1491

There was a scream, and then the loud roar of fire enveloping silken hangings, then a mounting crescendo of shouts of panic that spread and spread from one tent to another as the flames ran too, leaping from one silk standard to another, running up guy ropes and bursting through muslin doors.  Then the horses were neighing in terror and men shouting to calm them, but the terror in their own voices made it worse, until the whole plain was alight with a thousand raging blazes, and the night swirled with smoke and rang with shouts and screams.

From; The Constant Princess by Phillipa Gregory

Well that prompted me to want to read more! How exciting! I love suspense, and right now, I love to be entertained.  Regardless of my knowledge already of how things inevitably turn out for Katherine of Aragon.  Who wouldn't want to read a breathtaking and unguarded account of how a person from our histories may or may not have felt during the course of her exciting life.  I can't wait to see how this one ends.  Well I know how it ends but, you know what I mean! ;)

Did you know?? Catherine of Braganza (a Portuguese Infanta who married Charles I) brought HIGH TEA to England as well as the use of the fork.  No kidding. :) {Naturally I joked with Julian last night that he could thank my people for bringing him civility...lol!!!)

xo

Enjambement.

 

It's Sunday and I'm happy to be home putzing about doing what I do best. (My new bedroom windows allow the sun to tap me on the shoulder, waking me up.  It's a sweet view, with the golden light coming up over the houses on the street. I'm surprised to be up so early, as last night we saw Paul Potts in concert.  Not Pol Pot.  LOL!!! The Nessun Dorma's were weep worthy. But truly my fave of the evening was Caruso...love that song!)

So...today I'll eat toast, drink tea, flip through my book, fret about my hair (Thursday's appointment seems so very far away!), attempt more unpacking. 

I'll weed the yard, fuss over the kids, call my mum.

I'll make a dinner.  (After I go to the grocery store and spend so much more money than is necessary because when I shop I'm a chef!  I can go on T.V. and prepare culinary delights for the nation to envy and emulate! Taste buds will stop in their tracks! Faces will gaze upwards in praise singing...)  It'll likely be a simple meal.  Who am I kidding?  It will likely have an avocado in there somewhere! Oh I've also been told there is far too much food being thrown away.  We compost now, and well, let's just say our bin was overflowing this week!  Egg shells and tea bags baby.

I'll nip out with some excuse or other with my foot to the floor (pedal to the metal baby) and gun it to some pretty location, camera in hand, hoping, wishing and praying for the right light! The right subjects! The right mood! And right when I'm about to snap the perfect photo my cell phone will ring and it will be my sweet husband asking me to pick up milk, and "How much longer do you think you'll be?"

Whatever Sunday brings you, whether you are washing your car (windex those inside windows, it makes for better night driving), making spaghetti bolognaise, watching Amelie, painting your toenails, chatting with your friend on the phone about closet organizers & the benefits of aioli sauce on a salmon burger...or just napping on the couch with the dog curled up behind your knees....do it with L O V E.

Have a  lovely Sunday mon cheries!!!

p.s. Did you have to look up the post title? Perhaps you are a smarty pants and don't need to. (If so, good fa you!)

Do you know why

It is relevant

Here, now, for you to grow!

Wiser, stronger you will be

for using this in your _____ :) 

? {Lousy example, true!)

edit:

I'm sorry for the comment trouble guys.  It should be fixed now. :)

Flower picking.

A field of wild daisies near my home.

Thursday is upon us and that means a few things to me; It means I'll rise with the sun and pop off to work with a song, because the world keeps turning and people need us.  (Who needs you today? Cause that includes YOU.) It means I'll start a new book today.  I'll listen to this song a few times.  Cause I love it.

Does Thursday have a scent?  I think Thursday smells like naturally aged Indian sandalwood, with a hint of Moroccan rose. (It's got to smell good! . It's the day before Friday after all.)

Now some sharings (internet flower pickin's);

Want to watch a stylish old French film?  (Love her hair! She does too, combing it as much as she does.)

This is one expensive restaurant bill!

A place to exhibit your photography. Free.

Go have yourselves a joyous one, embrace those who embrace you, kiss those who kiss you, and praise those who need it.

xo

EDIT; I know the *new* Typepad has its niggles.  (Don't you love that word?) Anyway, I've become addicted to following.  Now I'm finding all these glorious writers and blogs...who knew?  What a pot-of-gold at the end of the rainbow! Go get your free profile...then you too can follow along.  Such fun! :)

East of the Sun and West of the Moon

 

Sunny days are perfect for walking through gardens with good friends, drinking hot coffee and reading Arabian fairy tales. (I just love how my friend brings chocolate chip cookies for my little one, and crouches down to her level to include her in everything.  Some adults just GET that kids are people too, I love that. She exudes kindness.)

Yes, the laundry has piled up.

Yes, the sink is full of dishes.

Alas, when I am no longer here, and I'm floating around with my harp I'll never say to another angel, "Gee, I should've done more laundry."

So this girl is full of forgiveness today.  Forgiveness is key.  Key to your OWN happiness, so yeah, a little selfish.  Whatever works.  :)

I'm going to eat some sugar today.  Shhh!  It's not on the "eat clean" list either.  Only a smidge.  Like a small handful of these.

xo

The light strengthened. The mornings came sooner.

 

  

 

Post title taken from a few small lines in my favourite childhood book, Charlotte's Web.  The book that my husband is currently reading to my eldest daughter.  I listen in while they read her new copy, which sounds hauntingly as emotive as the day I first picked it up to read when I was her age.

A tear will still form when I read that passage at the end; "Wilbur never forgot Charlotte.  Although he loved her children and grandchildren dearly, none of the new spiders ever quite took her place in his heart.  She was in a class by herself.  It is not often that someone comes along who is a true friend and a good writer.  Charlotte was both."

While repairing a sock monkey for Olivia at the kitchen table today, she asked me how I knew to make a right choice.  I told her that I listen to my belly.  I told her if my belly hurts, or feels achy, that the choice is wrong.  That the belly is much smarter than the brain.  She immediately got it.

Like Charlotte's web, where encouragement and support came in the form of a single word woven into a web, sometimes it's the simplest of gestures that help another person out.  A simple explanation.  A tiny thoughtful word of encouragement.  Taking a moment out of the day to ponder thoughts and questions. 

And so we end our Good Friday, by listening to the loud and tangible thoughts and opinions of our bellies.  We make the right choices.

***

Wanting my wedding to happen that much sooner NOW.

Oh! I found the most beautiful photo collaboration blog, HERE.

~Photos by Gillian da Silva, taken today on Good Friday in my kitchen, and in the wood down by Crystal Beach near my home.

The gathering.

 

Would you do me the honour of playing our little game again?  It was so much fun reading your compositions the last time, so I decided to do another one.   You are all smart and creative and you make this comments section alive with the fruition of your intellects!

{The way to play;

Using only the words in the photo, compose a short poem for our enjoyment in comments.  Easy.  Fun. xo}

***

On another note...Lately I'm pursuing some deep and pervasive ideas.  Cosmic, big-picture type stuff.  I remember reading long ago about ancient Egyptian lore, where our souls splinter into pieces when we take on our bodies, and our journey here on Earth is to gather up those fragmented soul parts and put them back together.  Once we do, a sense of completion occurs.  To me, that means a certain enlightenment would occur.  I had this idea, that perhaps the people we meet are splinters of our cosmic soul.  Especially the people we are attracted to as friends.  They open up worlds for us that we knew nothing of until they showed us, resulting in our hearts content.  The people who repulse us, show us our darkest side, the one we don't wish to face. Sometimes a soul fragment could be found in a glorious ray of sunshine on your face, or in a field of lavender.  A small act of kindness could ripple out and gather more fragments for us.  Our bodies as baskets; used to catch our collection of fragments until we are complete once more.  With time, our baskets appear worn, fragile.  In actuality, closer to it's destiny...ashes to ashes, dust to dust.  Once dust, home again in a new form to the star we call home, Earth.  The sun will shine once more to awaken our senses; we journey here again after manifesting a new shell, a new basket.  New lessons to be gathered among hospital corridors and high school graduations.  Soul projections peppered with steaming hot blueberry muffins and love's first kiss.  A resplendent circle of existence, complete with emotional contrasts and bursting colours.  Ours to hold dear and yet also to hold high for all to see. (Just some thoughts I've been having.)

***

Share something here today that may help us gather more fragments.  Put your heart onto the page in comments with your one of a kind poetry piece that will perhaps enlighten another one of your train passengers.  xo

p.s. I'd love to introduce you to someone who is just beginning her train ride.  Her name is Madison!!!  She is only 3 days old.  She is my chunky, sweet faced new niece.  Photos to follow shortly. xoxo

Dog ears & margin notes ::

My journals are peculiar things. Absent are chronologically ordered entries.  The scribblings within are dated; not in any order though. I don't even write in them from front to back, sometimes I open to a page at random and begin to write...

The writings they hold dear play out much like my thinking, sort of all over the map.  Whatever catches my fancy at the moment ::

                                                    {notes on a scandal

                                                      the last king of Scotland

                                                       Persian poets, a sacred affair

                                                        who exactly is, Yves Montand?}::

...see where I'm going with this?  It could be a sentence that I just love.  It (the sentence) doesn't even necessarily relate to anything, it could be the start of some new poem or short story.  An entire tome could be crafted around it, as if it were some bewitched seed waiting to cultivate worlds yet untold from the soils of my imagination.  It could just be words by themselves.  Written onto a page of their very own (as though they own it) like small works of intellectual art::{cupid, organic, garnet, caravan, betwixt, genteel, scripture, white-washed-beach-house}:: Just the word, and white space.

Lastly, and my personal favourite, I will write down the loved lines from a screenplay or a book that resonate with me long after,"So long, Sweet Lime."  

Daydreams I find, are wonderful muses. (I daydream a lot.  If socially appropriate to do so-like when riding a bus or waiting in line for frozen yogurt with fresh smashed up cherries.)   I don't mind this about myself, as I've learned when and where it is alright to do so.  I'll take a notebook out of my rather large bag {camera, organic coffee-flavoured Shea butter lip balm, red wallet, butterscotch candies...} and jot down the niggling idea no matter where I am. 

Some of the best journals are very inexpensive , but I do like tan leather, a lot.  Notebooks and journals of all descriptions draw me like a moth to a flame, and have done, since childhood.  I would pen my most intimate {and embarrassing sometimes} thoughts and fears onto the glossy white pages.  Later, to my regret, I would throw them away...afraid they would be discovered and read {because there was nothing I despised more than someone reading what I had marked private.} So now, I can only guess at my former self, wishing in vain that I had some sort of record of it.  My actions pain me to this very day. (I talk myself into keeping things now, I'm cultivating sentiment.)

During pregnancy, I committed to paper my physical symptoms, mental state and hopes for my unborn child.  One day I will give her those notes.  She may end up going through something similar to what I did, and she'll glean her mother's first hand knowledge.  I did notice that one thing had changed however from childhood diaries to pregnancy logs---I now did not care who read my writing.  My feelings on this changed once I came to the realization that anyone's judgments about me are really about them.  It was this realization---that set me free. I journal.  Therefore I Am.

Placed carefully within my journals {like small treasures} you will find business cards of restaurants I've enjoyed, postcards from various journeys and travels, stamps, foreign currencies{Egyptian pounds} and little maps of places I've been {L.A. marked out with little stars... the Santa Monica pier, and the two hour drive to Palm Springs...and more}.

So you see my journals are a lot like I am, wildly chaotic.  A hieroglyph of myself that really only I can interpret.  I remember an elderly librarian at my elementary school, she was "anti-dog earing" and "anti-margin notes". Tapping her spoon shaped fingernail on the books cover, she would say to me {rather loudly because she was a sea monster}, "Have you ever heard of a bookmark?" (Well, I for one love making margin notes and love dog earing the best parts of a well loved book.   So there.)

*Note to self; perhaps not all childhood memories are lost.  Just held in trust until something stirs them to life once more.* See, this cultivating sentiment stuff is working.  Maybe it will unlock a few more star-kissed past moments for me yet.

xo