And She Even In The Face Of Guns, Obstinately Refuses To Tell Where They Went.
 |
| VIOLETS SISTERS AT HER COMMAND, ESCAPES, BUT SHE REMAINS A PRISONER, AND SHE EVEN IN THE FACE OF GUNS, OBSTINATELY REFUSES TO TELL WHERE THEY WENT. |
*
More rain yet falls.
It makes a nice sound in the world.
*
Time for weekend breakfast. Coffee and toast and grilled sausage and eggs. A day to be still and silent. Contemplative. A day free of any kind of expectation. A day of small tasks done with mindful attention. A day for kindness to self and others. A day for tender self-regard. For yet breathing in the rain-dampened air and for feeling the solid earth beneath our feet. A day free of recriminations, hurry, worry, bother, or scurry.
A day for the world to reveal itself or not, as it is moved to do.
*
Namaste.
***
posted by tearful dishwasher at 9:03 AM
12 Comments:
I have no idea why, but this made me cry.
I guess because no matter what you write, it comes from the place that matters, even in the face of guns. Which is, you know, what I would aspire to.
Be well, Tearful.
Found you by way of Ms. Moon.
You scared me at first, kind of like watching the evening news. Which I don't do. Cause it scares me.
Ms. Moon is my virtual mama and I trust her so I kept coming back.
You don't scare me anymore.
I love a quiet Sunday
i especially like the footprints in the soft sand, in the collage; a sensual note. your work is so strong.
thanx,
susan
for some reason i keep wondering what that is behind the girls. it looks like a safe full of their secrets, and the girl in the middle will be amply protected by the twins, she knows it and holds on tight. i find the sand haunting, more dangerous than water, more restricting. you have a series here, Scott. It's beautiful work.
I hope your Saturday unfolded just as you described.
Ms. Moon-
I aspire to you not ever being in the face of guns, but that's just me. And everyone else who knows you.
I'm glad the piece moved you. Those girls. Angella is right, there is something working itself out in that iconography, something that feels deep and strange.
As always, I'm grateful for your company.
yrs-
tearful
Michelle-
That Ms. Moon. She has a lot of folks that trust her to look after them. I'm a convert, too.
I'm glad you're not ascared of me now. That's a good thing.
I went over to your blog and you made me cry, so now I'm a little bit scared of you. You strike me as a vibrantly alive and engaged human being. It leaps out at me through your writing. Love and laughter and an "I double-dog-dare-you" attitude towards life.
You can bet I'll be hanging around to see what you get up to.
yrs-
Scott
Nurse Myra-
Aren't quiet Sundays wonderful? I hope yours is.
By the way, I love your blog for its wide range of oddness. You go places and bring back stuff that I never, never, never would have seen if it weren't for you.
Susan-
Thanks. I'm glad you came by. I would have missed the sensuality of those footprints if not for you.
yrs-
tearful
Angella-
Yeah, those girls are on my mind. Moving around in the deep waters, swimming up to the surface every time I try to do some art.
I guess they'll hang around as long as they need to.
Which could be a long time.
I'm grateful for your presence here, and your thoughts and words and warmth, etc.
Thank you.
just delurking,
here via Ms. Moon time and again.
and Angella.
and Elizabeth.
sigh... trying to put together pieces of your story,
your heart,your art.
but in the end,
or beginning... I feel awed and inspired and intrigued.
wishing you peace tonight and every night.
deb
deb-
welcome back. and I'm glad you delurked.
i hope you'll keep doing that.
yrs-
Scott
Post a Comment
<< Home