Floating Yuletide
photo by Dennis Bayer
"Sometimes a change of perspective is all it takes to see the light." Dan Brown (a neighbor with a camera, the gift, and a view from across the channel also helps!)
Between the leap . . .
Felines of So. Fo.
& the landing ~
In The Pink
Subject: When did I Get So Particular . . .
our daughter works in the produce section of a small organic market and often does the shopping now. She gets 20%. We’re out of bananas I say, but only get the slender ones, not the big fat ones. And don’t get green ones. You know me, I don’t buy green bananas, and she nods because she knows. Oh yeah, over and over she knows. And tangerines - get them when they are a little soft, but not too soft - you can tell the ones that are easy to peel. And there’s a secret to bosc pears, too . . . but okay we’ll save that for another day.
I’m like the old woman in a scarf and layers of big clothes and a little shopping bag - mine is Pancho Villa, pink - from a student - and when did I get so particular about my fruit, when did house samurai trade his shovel and hoe and ax and shears and typewriter and ties and briefcase and satchels and rolled joints in the glove box and jazz on the radio and homemade invoices and dread of rainy mornings and the arrival of Christmas with no money but still the bills and now gifts, and the song shine of family . . . basketballs, too, converse and ankle braces and bags of ice . . . & the classic car and vintage truck . . . for the fruit shopper who has the inside angle, knows where to go, and when and what to buy, and how, and now, writes when he wants, feels himself rise when it strikes, no matter the time time or the where where and writes because it’s now and waiting for then will leave him standing on the platform . . . waiting for a train that may not come 'round again ~
SS Maggie
"Cultivate the habit of being grateful for every good thing that comes to you, and to give thanks continuously. And because all things have contributed to your advancement, you should include all things in your gratitude." - Ralph Waldo Emerson
Happy Thanksgiving, South Forty Pier, 2016
"A story is something glimpsed from the corner of the eye in passing." - V.S. Pritchet
(specially enhanced by Dennis Bayer)
This is so deliciously trippy! I was sitting on my couch reading Mary Oliver and looked out, mesmerized in the moment by the movement and quality of the water from this narrow view I had. A sweet reminder of what I love about it here. So I snapped the shot, which of course didn’t do the image/feeling justice.But Dennis' rendition sure does. Far far out! I love it.
Higher Ground
a little something I put down . . .
Subject: The first morning of the dark days
-Wake and make coffee
- feed the cats
- Read a Mary Oliver Poem
- watch the sun rise over the water from your roof
- hug your daughter, hug your wife
- stroke the cats
- make oatmeal, enjoy each bite
- wash dishes
- check email
- stay away from Facebook
- write
- be there for others
- figure a way out, over, through this dark time
- rise above politics and seek higher ground
- vacuum
- change kitty litter
- practice tai chi
- shower
- take the call from a friend
- listen to Vivaldi
- go for a walk
- think about lunch.
11/9/16
Casting Aside The Weight of Facts
photo by Dennis Bayer
Still, what I want in my life
is to be willing
to be dazzled-
to cast aside the weight of facts
and maybe even
To float a little
above this difficult world.
I want to believe I am looking
Into the white fire of a great mystery.
I want to believe that the imperfections are nothing-
that the light is everything- that it is more than the sum
of each flawed blossom rising and fading. And I do.
- Mary Oliver, from The Ponds
Stir less, steer small
Stir less
steer small
write tight
pass ball.
breathe in
breathe out
stretch well
wonder ‘bout
smile so
wear hats
read poems
stroke cats
find groove
give back
be hungry
flap jack.
~
it all pencils out . . .
Here and . . . then
You can be walking down a street, in the here & now, and you see a bike, a car, or a bus and it's instant blow back - 40/50 years, itself mind-blowing, and you marvel at all those miles . . .
A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood
Long live those who have the love of color - true representatives of light and air. – Cezanne
(with a little help from my friend Dennis)
Extraordinary
You ride into town, an easy pedal, a sunny, blue morning. Wave to a friend sipping coffee on his schooner. In the park, a man appears to walk on air. Extraordinary. Funny word. Extra ordinary. Extremely ordinary?? Ordinary x 2? You've never really thought about it much. Slack line they call what he’s doing. Doesn’t look slack. Looks taut. With give. Give Line?? Paula Fox said words are the net through which all truth escapes. Ah, but words are what we have to traverse from tree to tree. Our give line. Extraordinary suggests extra special. A lovely word with a smooth feel, fine pull. Way better than extra special. Imprecise as they can sometimes be, words carry feeling that starts in our hearts, revealing our inner-ness. Bits & pieces, tiny tools, serviceable as paperclips and slim coins when an awl or screwdriver is called for. Our imagination nurtures our creativity and so with words we make due. Make do. Make. It’s what we do. Extraordinary.
The Leap, The Flight, & The Plunge
We were inside unpacking, following our move to the houseboat next door , struggling with cardboard and where to put things when we heard laughter and delighted voices across the water street. We looked up, astonished - what fun - how beautiful it is outside, hot in fact, and we thought . . . what is wrong with this picture . . .
. . . and of course, we realized . . . absolutely, positively nothing!!
weeeeeee!
Nothing is Written in Stone
This photo was an accident. Taken, apparently, while putting my phone-camera back in my pocket after shooting some lovely Sunday morning scenes of sailboats on the bay. But I liked the lines & angle of this accident and realized of course the metaphor of art, how what we sit down to create often turns out very differently than what we originally had in mind. Same with this blog, began last September with the idea that I would do it for a year and then stop. I also had ideas for various features, some of which I've gotten to, some of which I haven't. But here we are a year later and according to my 'mission statement' it's time to stop. Come to an end. But I'm not done. Not done floating. Reflecting. Noticing. Expressing. Not done totally digging life afloat. So I think I'll amend my original idea and just keep going. It amazes me how much living on the water has to show and teach, how much the people who live in the community have to offer, how utterly under the influence I am with this way of life. And how much the reflections - of light, of color, of life itself continue to guide me and lead to new discoveries of myself, of people around me, of the currents and tides and the life that thrives unseen, but so close, just below the surface. Like a good story, it changes once you are into it. That's why the original title of a story often doesn't fit when you're done. In this case, my title still works, but the length, focus, and direction have changed. Like me. A work -often a play - in progress!
Seagull Art
Best Dock find Ever
Conch Lessons
Sometimes our friend Dancer and his wife Iran invite us to join around the fire in the evening on their pod. Dancer grew up anchor-out and I love to hear his stories about being raised in the bay off the grid. Sometimes he brings out the conch shell. This is how the anchor out moms called their kids home for dinner. Blowing a note on a conch is more difficult than it looks. Dancer of course is a master, the way he is with oars when he paddles us out to the middle of the bay in a skiff to visit his father's anchor out, a floating tiny cabin called the Tortuga. It's magical and mysterious out there under the stars late at night. Back around the fire, I take another shot at the conch and finally blow a single, satisfying, deep~bellow of a note. And I realize I am home.