Play Money

Gold and silver coins. Paper money. Currency. Tradeable. Exchangeable. Highly sought. Killed for. Fought for. Greed and jealousy stick to it sometimes.

I have found another kind of currency. It may fill pockets, but always hearts. 

I count my days with this other kind of currency.  Play money for the game of life from the Banker.

Monday was a three eagle day. Tuesday looked up twice towards falling stars. Wednesday was filled with seal conversation. Thursday rained pennies from heaven. Friday startled me with a double rainbow. Saturday tripped over heart shaped rocks. Sunday gave me a swing, the hammock of His hand.

Each trip has currency. On our last trip to Hawaii, I heard the mountains roar and spit fire, melting the sea. Once in Mexico I heard the rocks sing. My eyes have taken in grandeur that my heart didn't have the capacity to fully enjoy - yet. My body has felt love that was so deep, I felt taken from earth.

This kind of currency helps me keep afloat when the load seems extra heavy. As I pick up the pack for the day, I remember all the pockets of my heart are stuffed, not with heavy weight, but helium hope. Lifters. Baby joeys wriggling away in my kanga pouch. Every now and again a foot or a head pops out so I remember life is wonderful and I am grateful. I am the recipient of great goodness. Pregnant with it. A carrier.

Yet again, I come both boldly and shyly to ask for more  ~ "Open up the vaults of heaven". Greedy. Needy.

A Good One

When I went to Westport last week, a large tote of books came with me. One of them was Where the River Ends by Charles Martin.  When a novel breaks my heart good, and causes the tears to run, it's worth passing on.

Here are a few quotes that found a permanent page in my journal, I need them:


"What you got inside you is...is a well that bubbles up from way down deep. It's sweet water, too. But, sometimes wells run empty. If you ever get to hurting and all you feel is ache ~ you reach down and find your well empty, nothin' but dust ~ then you come back here...dive in and drink deeply."


"This river's taught me a good bit. Probably why I don't leave here. It winds, weaves, snakes around. Rarely goes the same way twice. But in the end, it always ends up in the same place and the gift is never the same."


"Some live well, some die well, but few love well."


"To love well ~ that's something else. It's a choosing ~ something done again and again and again. No matter what. And in my experience, if you so choose, you better be ready to suffer hell."


"If you want to make great art, something that can reach beyond time and space, find someone who isn't beautiful and show them that they are. Paint the broken, the unlovely...and make them believe."


Not once did they (her parents) think to ask Abbie, "What are you passionate about and how can I pour myself into your vision of you."


"You don't have to be beautiful to be beautiful." "Breathe."


"But time does heal, not like we think it does, not like we would ~ from the front~ but more from the back or side or someplace we can't see it coming. It bubbles up beneath and ruses all around. All of a sudden I dried my eyes long enough to look up, look beyond myself, and discovered my pain had become the sinew that hel me together. I stood on the bank, stared out across the vast epicenter of me and faced a choice ~ do I risk the river? So I cut the water, paddled out of my own black hole and discovered that the river was not one, but many, and like it or not, they all merge. Each turn, each bend, led to something beautiful, something whole, something worth remembering. Why? How? I can't answer that, I just know that."


"Tides ebb, rivers flow crooked, and love uses pain."


"Lord, Son of David, I want to see."

Charles Martin 

Finally Barefoot

Clinched around sand
buried deep in pleasure
indulge again child 

remember freedom 

crave it enough
 to shake off pack 

rid care tied heavy
 a breaking burden

trade in for moments
when cool sand
moist at first then dry
tingles

clings
 tickles
 falls away weightless
cleansing debris free and away

nature nurtures a cure
moves upwards from curled toes 

to soften heart
 bend mind
heal soul

Never underestimate the power of something as simple as sand between your toes. Pedicures are nice, this cure is nicer. Guess how I know? 

This was prompted by Bridget's hilarious post about dual his/her pedicures. I was out at the river barefoot for the first time, horrified at my winter feet and simultaneously delighted anyways, in spite of them. :) 

Spring Scrabble

Birthday Book by Sue

Susan made this wonderful chipboard book for my birthday. 

I want to share the loveliness. 

She is an artist. Also a poet, although she doesn't know this yet. 

We have been friends since we were nineteen. We are both 50 now.

We are complete opposites in every way; this is good. 

We are committed to being girlfriends forever. 

Seeing

Simply ask to see?
I did.
I do.
 I will keep asking this one thing.
Help me see.
Grass has little fuzzy hairs along its edges.
 I never knew this until today.
Today, again, I saw.
Thank you, my Love.

My heart also saw beauty in something plain.  

Driftwood

Driftwood speaks 

a seeing story 

pictures look back 

telling tales of

journeys not chosen

 thrust upon her 

travel such as this

makes

rough edges smooth 

sharp corners round

skin of satin 

she gathered

strength to

float the storm

resilience 

permanently

ingrained

resting while waiting

sometimes looks

as if 

beached

it is not so-

take her home

a treasure 
now wanted
the story 

not wasted 

Playing Chase

  

With Cream    

Thick velvet foam

frothy leavings   

churned by a wave

crashing against

solid

buttress of rock

morning latte's

signature topping

proffered gratis 

on the house

generous

talented

barista

Playing Chase 

Spreading over 

 sheet cake 

relic 

left over from

giant 

sand castle

play 

creamy frosting 

comes 

oozing thick towards me

tricking me

soaking me

playing chase

before knowing

 a game had started 

tagged!

looks like

I'm 

it

Will my shadow 

sit or run? 

Sand Dollars

There

is a place

where

sand dollars

are found

resting whole

gently

washed by waves

others wear

broken beauty

still lovely

while

slowly being

crushed

into

sand

Found Joy

What 

I hold in my hand

often brings simple joy

soft edged joy

glistening joy

found joy

before I open

my hand to 

let it go

one last 

caress must

tickle my cheek 

a soft touch 

to

engrave

the memory

stretch 

my heart 

to carry extra 

joy for the desert

places

rations to live

rations to give

                                                                               

Spring at Hand

Pussy willows~ 

like lamplighters 

putting out darkness~

give winter 

the boot

trumpeting

spring

face scrunched 

in surprise

fur mussed

night cap awry

yawning at its

abrupt 

burst 

into tangy air

Flustered Sparkles

The lens in my soul 

caught what I

and my camera

failed to 

Light

skittering

 bouncing

skipping

 dancing 

skimming the surface

with joy and freedom

Flustered tears

made prisms

on the edge

of my eyes

hindering

even more

My heart 

remembers it

clear and crisp

playful as

a newborn calf

leaping 

springing

imagine it 

with me

please try