Arts ღೋ Letters ღೋ Vignettes

february2015collage“First, he says, you have to go out into the world. This is not a simple matter of going outside one’s door. No, that is simply going out. That’s what one does when one is on the

Mary Oliver~ Every morning  the world  is created.  Under the orange sticks of the sun  the heaped  ashes of the night  turn into leaves again and fasten themselves to the high branches—  and the ponds appear  like black cloth  on which are painted islands

Every morning
the world
is created.
Under the orange
sticks of the sun
the heaped
ashes of the night
turn into leaves again
and fasten themselves to the high branches—
and the ponds appear
like black cloth
on which are painted islands

way to the store to buy a loaf of bread, some cheese, and a bottle of wine. When one goes out into the world, one is shedding preconceptions of past paths and ideas of past paths, and trying to move freely through an unsubstantiated and new geography.” ~ Jesse Ball, The Way Through Doors IMG_2991

This blog is where I go my early mornings.  With my tea beside me or coffee if preferred, perhaps this little space will be – my ‘unsubstantiated and new geography’.There are no font options, and I have only now determined, how I managed a sexier font in previous posts. Tsk, one cannot manipulate size either (many complaints noh?). As for the strike, heavens, is there a need for that?  O’ patience, remember to click on paragraph 6.

 To toss myself into the glowing embers of letters! Not fire -> embers. No reason to be consumed. There are reasons for other things; never for consumption. Why would one purpose to be depleted? Listen, the trick to everything – in – life – is temperance. An excess of anything is bound for boring. Literature and arts, I fancied them in youth, less than my current devotion.
It must be life smiling, inviting me to have fun, enjoy deeper, read longer, live in the worlds where I find myself, liberated from what I merely see and sense physical before me. Jesse Ball, American poet and novelist tutted about moving freely into new and unsubstantiated territory. Letters be  for me – the  terrain of my whole being; I mean to be my own  intrepid guide.
Don’t you ever feel that shadow notion, that a fraction of you is wiser than the sum of you? Speaking of wise, Anais Nin is  plucky for her time.  There is no ‘real’ meaning, only the meaning one gives, she says.  Here is the entire quote  lifted from the Anain site:
There is not one big cosmic meaning for all, there is only the meaning we each give to our life, an individual meaning, an individual plot, like an individual novel, a book for each person.
Which empowers me to redefine  ‘the because’  of everything in my wallet of consciousness – to summon what possible feels like, because often I get weary of my vignettes, these nuggets of personal historical narratives, like bird pellets I fling out into an un- heeding void.
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IMG_3018In a short while I will be huddled in privacy. Head bent  pulling down inspiration from pens and walls and gaps, making magic, writing energy  and in pure rose scented  essence, shedding preconceptions and  past paths. I believe that writing in paper is power.  I write my life before it happens. ღೋ  Create: Every day design something! No excuses! Why? Happiness is at stake. ღ A poem a week: Write it. Express it. Give it away. ღ My Garden: Make it fantasy- like. A corner Monet. A dot of Giverny. ღ My sacred rituals. A prayer for everyone. Candles. Incense. The Lady The Christ The Saints The Angels. ღ My body – strength, motion and nourishment. ღ
My artsy’  fancy journals, paintings and flower cards! Have I forgotten, this is ME – My Creative Living! ღೋ There is so much pretty I want to do – a life of living theater.
A life, which isn’t simply one of going out – the – door, but one of moving out into – the  – World!
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“Garden Restaurant” – Mixed media by Roselle Quin

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