The Big Box of Crayons

 

 

 And... even if your box is small, more shades can be made when you mix them.

The Power of Poetry

The Power of Poetry 

with things falling apart
and anarchy let loose, 
 
it was only poetry, he found,
which had any use,

so he reached for his copy
of The Complete Works of Yeats

and bludgeoned the President
of the United States

-Brian Bilston

 

Photo: “Poetry” by Beppie, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0 

Paul Weller - I Walk on Gilded Splinters

Some people think they jive me
But I know they must be crazy
They don't see dey misfortune
Or else they just a little too lazy

I Walk thru the fire

An I Fly thru the smoke
I wanna see my enemies
At the end of my rope

I Walk on pins and needles
An I See what they can do
I Walk on gilded splinters
With the king of the Zulu

Singing
Come to me giddi come come
Walk on gilded splinters
Come to me giddi come come
Walk on gilded splinters

Till I burn up, Till I burn Up, Till I burn up.

I'm walking out of my coffin
Drink poison in my chalice
Pride begins to fade
And y'all will feel my malice

Put gris gris on your doorstep
Soon you'll be in the gutter
looking just like butter
A-a-and I can make you stutter

I Walk thru the fire
An I Fly thru the smoke
I wanna see my enemies
At the end of my rope

I Walk on pins and needles
An I See what they can do
I Walk on gilded splinters
With the king of the Zulu

Singing
Come to me giddi come come
Walk on gilded splinters
Come to me giddi come come
Walk on gilded splinters

Till I burn up, Till I burn Up, Till I burn up.

A Contemplation

A Contemplation

My body is no longer my own. It contains a
sprout like a fiddlehead fern frond, curled
inward on itself.

Microscopic cells mystically multiply
with fervor, their intention known only
to themselves.

While I breathe, while I sleep, whether
I churn like a river or remain a placid lake,
this body has

Its own mission. Summer is coming.

-Kathryn Harper

When the ICE agent is Canadian… | This Hour Has 22 Minutes

This is your feel-good video for the day!

Self-Care in Political Chaos

Someone shared this clip from PBS with me: The surprising way to fight political exhaustion, in which sociologist Tressie McMillan Cottom talks about "agency" as a key to countering exhaustion from relentless horrible world news and politics. 

She's on point. It makes me think... if I'm standing still awhile, it starts to hurt and get heavy, my feet and hips ache, etc. But if I walk or move in some way, pain recedes. (I had a lot of retail jobs long ago.) Passive consumption of news forces us to stand and hold heaviness, which feels even MORE heavy because that's all we're attending to. I liked her term: agentic. 

This is why I've joined to volunteer with Action for Happiness, and why I've started making "little art" earnestly, on the regular, and why I'm returning to frequent entries here, and might even write poetry again. Since this post is public, I can't pretend I'll be a secret agent -- but I can be an agent for kindness. 

The Bun

 

she is soft and gray
and likes to play, binking and
zooming around.
she snacks on flowers,
a sentient lawnmower
wherever grasses abound. 

        -Kathryn Harper        

What Is Real

"In our constant search for meaning in this baffling and temporary existence, trapped as we are within our three pounds of neurons, it is sometimes hard to tell what is real. We often invent what isn't there. Or ignore what is". 

- Alan Lightman

Picture This - Things Are Different

Some of us will drift apart while others stay together

And some will step in from the rain while others face the weather
And some will take their last breath while others breathe new life
And though they're standing on our necks, there's still the will to fight

Just 'cause things are different, don't mean anything has changed
And I know the world's on fire, but there's beauty in the flame
And we don't know how much longer
But we know we're gonna come back stronger, oh-oh
Just 'cause things are different, don't mean anything, anything has changed

Some of us will lose ourselves while others rediscover (ooh)
The lovers and the innocence, a baby to its mother (ooh)
And some will grasp it in their hands while others lose control (ooh)
Yeah, we gotta leave our fingerprints to let the future know, oh

Just 'cause things are different, don't mean anything has changed
And I know the world's on fire, but there's beauty in the flame
And we don't know how much longer
But we know we're gonna come back stronger, oh-oh
Just 'cause things are different, don't mean anything, anything has changed

I'll be the light (eh)
If you follow me, I will be everything you need
I'll be the leader
If you want it, I promise that I will set you free

Just 'cause things are different, don't mean anything has changed
And though the world's on fire, there's beauty in the flame
And we don't know how much longer
But we know we're gonna come back stronger, oh-oh
Just 'cause things are different, don't mean anything, anything has changed

I'll be the light (eh)
If you follow me, I will be everything you need
I'll be the leader
If you want it, I promise that I will set you free (changed)

I'll be the light (eh)
If you follow me, I will be everything you need
I'll be the leader (eh)
If you want it, I promise that I will set you free

Practice

The art journal practice is strong. Some days I do one page and others result in several. The process draws me into wordless intuition. It's a little mysterious. I always enjoy it and like the results, and sometimes I feel as though a bit of magic unfolded. Today felt like that.