Tiny Pliny
Novembeer
Novembeer
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photo by Ruth Biederman Fitzsimmons
Writing On The Dock Of The Bay
Falling Under The Influence of Place
Sometimes place becomes the starting point. Where we go from there becomes an adventure, a journey of creation and discovery. Sometimes, where we started when we began to write, gets left in the dust; so too does the genre we thought we were in. And when that harp plays and it's time to wrap things up, we wonder where the story we just wrote came from, and where and when and how did time itself disappear . . .
One's destination is never a place, but rather a new way of looking at things. - Henry Miller
Passing Through
Writing On The Dock Of The Bay
When you live in a place that's featured in guidebooks and documentaries (not to mention blogs!), it's a different kind of life. At times you have to navigate your way through clusters of camera toting tourists as you take out the trash or bring in groceries from the car. But most of the visitors are happy and considerate. When the woman from Dallas told me, "I want your life!" as I returned from the compost bin, her grin reminded me yet again of the beauty of this place and our good fortune to live here. As if I needed reminding. Alas, sometimes I do. It's true - my best teachers don't even know they are teaching me. Last night on the dock an elderly gentleman smiled and said, "It's a fairyland here, isn't it?" I smiled back, repeating fairyland to myself, thinking - we need fairylands in our lives, no matter how old or young we become.
Anyone who keeps the ability to see beauty in every age of life really never grows old." - Franz Kafka
Felines of SoFo
Things I've Seen Float By
Writing On The Dock of The Bay
Color has a power which directly influences the soul. - Wassily Kandinsky
Sitting on the dock with my coffee in the mellow autumn sun, I savor this extraordinary light, the golden feeling of time well spent. And in the autumn of my life, I've learned that orange - a color of zest, creativity and ripeness - the color of Halloween and the SF Giants, is a healing color with its warmth and feel of plenty, with its bright offering that life is here for the taking. Part of every sunset, and each sunrise as well, orange is a color of harvest - healing any wounds of the year in its 10th month; readying us for an ending that makes way for a new beginning, allowing us to float in the contentment of reflection; a sweet period of rest, solace and rejuvenation, before we close one portal so that we may open another.
Perspective 0n The Floating Life
- Swim in place
- Swim a lap around bowl
- Stare at diver with large head
- Try to get him to talk
- Make bigger bubbles
- Swim to surface
- Swim to surface and dream of jumping
- Stare at elongated creatures who drop food
- Wave tail, but not flirtatiously. I am not Koi.
- Practice floating on my back
- Play hide and seek in castle
- Swim in place
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Denizens of the Dock, Guest Blogger
Photo by Connie Ruben
"Happy Piscean gently soothing her psyche on her kitchen stool ...
Seagulls and mallards and cormorants paddling playfully by ...
Tireless tides teasing her home into magical amphibious dance ...
These breathtaking bay waters weave a wonderland!" - B.J.
Felines of the Dock
Vintage Photo by Dennis Bayer
Things I've Seen Float By
Writing On The Dock Of The Bay
The houseboat gently rocks but I am unaware of it until I notice the chandelier is swinging slightly. I look out the window and gauge our movement with the houseboat next door. And then I feel it. Sometimes I must step out of myself to observe my own shape, rhythm, and flow.
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"Dock Dogs"
photo by Lovise Mills
Writing on The Dock of The Bay
Treasures can be found at the Dock's free pile: pink flamingo cups, books by Hesse and Erdrich, 501's - just my size, a topiary giraffe, half a birthday cake, a barely opened bottle of gin. Some days I tell myself - just keep walking - but then I discover a framed history of Singing Toad Fish, snag a tiny photo album with b & w snapshots - no names - struck as I am by its sadness. I donate a jacket, it disappears, then reappears. I try not to take it personally! I wonder if dinner guests will recognize yellow soup bowls, or my new swordfish shirt. Sometimes I wonder who didn't finish their cake, who is on the wagon, who donated those Penis Puppetry books?! I have my ideas. By far my best dock find is the pole net, used to retrieve a plastic saber floating by, and rescue tongs that fell overboard during the heat of a bbq. Surely pole net would've saved the day when neighbors watched their key ring with yellow float fall in the water and drift away. As I gaze at a recently found artichoke platter and Mad Bum bobble head, I think - today I'll walk away from the pile. Easier said than done; especially when I spy a new purse with matching boots. Leather.
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