When a bird, takes flight Wings, sail on air Silhouettes of time Upon clouds, inspire No height, inconceivable Nor dream, unreachable Fear, no longer, an obstacle Hunger, no more, high I soar Tears retreat, from, the earths floor The sky, stretches out, its arms and opens its door from A Bird Takes Flight by Bernard E. Harris
After months of contemplation, I awoke this morning and knew it was time to move. Although I haven’t settled on the exact location for my new home, I am ready to take flight!
It‘s a children’s book…It’s mostly about very small animals; the hero is a moss beetle. – Noël Coward.
For several months I have been utterly enchanted with the animal world and now insects, in particular, are capturing my attention. Previously, I associated insects with mostly the stinging kind; yes, occasionally a monarch butterfly or ladybug would land on me, but mostly I was a target for anything that would bite, be it mosquitoes, bees, wasps, deer flies, fleas, spiders, fire ants, etc. So my relationship with bugs has not been the best over the years.
But last October that all changed when I attended an exhibition called Crawly Creatures at the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam and became fascinated with the images of bugs on the pages of illuminated manuscripts, oil paintings, and ornaments. Since then I have discovered the beauty of these small creatures – be it their colors, textures, and/or intricate body parts- especially the wings!
Last week, as I walked around my neighborhood, I starting noticing insects everywhere- lurking on the edges of branches, flower greenery, and flying through the air. They have transmuted in my mind from being creatures of nuisance, to be cast off (or squashed!) to being fellow creatures to adore and to behold for their sheer beauty!
Come to me in my dreams so I can see you smile, take me back to yesterday even if only for a while…
I missed my mother desperately in the weeks before the holidays. She passed during Covid when I wasn’t allowed to visit her in the hospital. “Passed” isn’t the right word – more like “vanished, ” “disappeared” – “pouf” and she’s gone. Really gone.
My Mom had been the touchstone for my entire life. After she died, a deep grief, way beyond tears, burrowed into my marrow and appeared to be settling in for the duration. When suddenly, several days before Christmas, I started to find in the most unexpected places: photos of us together, her beautiful calligraphy-scripted book inscriptions, loving letters, birthday cards, and postcards from her world travels. These sweet and precious little Easter eggs were hidden away to be found when I needed her the most – when I needed the reassurance that she was not gone, departed, but very much with me still. Thank you, Mom!
Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed, The dear repose for limbs with travel tired; But then begins a journey in my head, To work my mind, when body’s work’s expired: For then my thoughts–from far where I abide– Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee, And keep my drooping eyelids open wide, Looking on darkness which the blind do see: Save that my soul’s imaginary sight Presents thy shadow to my sightless view, Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night, Makes black night beauteous and her old face new. Lo! thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind, For thee, and for myself, no quiet find. Sonnet XXVII by William Shakespeare
In that wonderful place between wakefulness and sleep, I think of you.
Just as the word “science” (scientia) means originally just knowledge and until the eighteenth century covered even theology (which was called the “mother of all sciences”), so natural philosophy (philosophia naturalis), which was also called physica or physiologia, covered the entire domain of the created world, ... Wikipedia
The way he has an “aha!” moment whenever he discovers something, no matter what the rest of the world thinks of it.
The way his hands manipulate things at the bench – his manual dexterity being the most enviable.
The way he insists that the study of science is really the study of natural philosophy – the philosophy of existence.
The way he finds satisfaction in bringing together disparate things and explaining new things to me.
The way he discusses new concepts with his fellow scientists with such passion.
The way he works to make a difference for the good of the world, not motivated by money.
The way he says man cannot negotiate reality: the laws of nature rule in science.
The way he can read labels on consumer packages and understand what is or what is not important.
The way he sees science all around him from baking and cooking in the kitchen to simply looking at tidal pools on a hike.
The way he says, “I don’t know. Let’s find out!” with the same sense of adventure as a small child.
Bonus: The way he looks hot in a pressed white lab coat!
Absence extinguishes a minor passion and intensifies a great one – as the wind blows out a candle but fans a fire.
from In Absence by François , Duc de la Rochefoucauld
The really important kind of freedom involves attention, and awareness, and discipline, and effort, and being able truly to care about other people and to sacrifice for them, over and over, in myriad petty little unsexy ways, every day. – from This is Water by David Foster Wallace
Sometimes it seems that all my time is spent picking up the pieces of other people’s lives.
Love is not written on paper, for paper can be erased. Nor is it etched on stone, for stone can be broken. But it is inscribed on a heart and there it shall remain forever. – Anonymous
Waiting for that great big crazy love to come again…
Satin & Sand 