Wild and Wilder Woods

not-quite Journaling, 69

 Wishes of doom steal hope
from all.

 12/5/2023: Some truths are that simple. Wishes of gloom and doom infect every heart involved. The opposite is also true, positivity and goodwill can be delightfully contagious--so, let the kindness spread.

 

Dark days wither,
not love.

12/13/2023: This one tells me that, every now and again, when pain seems interminable and hope feels like a myth, we must remind ourselves of the sweeter aspects of our reality. What does it say to you?

 

All I want is you
and wild and wilder woods.

 4/30/2024: All right, so that’s a HUGE fib--I also want to garden under the sun, to run 13 miles a week, to sleep through the night, to read printed books for hours, to travel to the Dominican Republic, to spend the whole day cleaning my home, to swim in a clean river (it’s been forever!), to eat grapefruit, to visit secondhand bookshops, to sip a tiny glass of peach wine, to dance all night long, to… well, you get my drift. The closer I get to the end of my current treatment (this summer 🤞🏾), the more hopeful (and impatient) I get about being able to do so many seemingly trivial things (again).

– for Poets and Storytellers United (Friday Writings #127: All I want is…)

Enticing Souls and Quickening Soil

not-quite Journaling, 67

3/17/2024: My enthusiasm for starting avocado seeds might’ve gone slightly wild. Also, I’m wondering if Crazy Sh*t Presidents Said (in 1^st photo), The Thackery T. Lambshead Pocket Guide to Eccentric & Discredited Diseases (in 2^nd photo), and Cien años de soledad/One Hundred Years of Solitude (in 3^rd photo) have any effect on avocado seeds’ sprouting cycles. Then again, there is a chance that this is just my brain playing the let’s-think-about-anything-else-but-this-freaking-pain-in-your-joints old game. What do you think? 🤔

 

Spring has arrived,

blooming warmth
and sprouting

kisses,
to entice souls
and quicken soil.

3/19/2024: To celebrate the first day of spring, my potted mini-orange grove and I enjoyed the sunrise together. It’s still too chilly for tender seedlings, so I didn’t keep the pot outside for long. Since my coffee and I are made of hotter stuff, we stayed until my cup was empty (and the hostile looks on several blue jays’ eyes suggested that enough was enough, they wanted time alone with their birdfeeder). May this spring bring you warmth, health, growth, smiles (and, perhaps, birds that aren’t so greedy).

 

(i) still the monster
with writing.

3/26/2024: Also with doodling, stitching, letting my muse ink wild, planting every seed in sight, obsessively reorganizing my books… Whatever works, right?

The morning stretches awake to the song of gut and bone wailing echoes of pain. The universe living in my skull wonders if the rest of my flesh is ready to carry a new day. Then I see him smile for me, his lips feed me a kiss, and the beats under my ribs roar, “We can do anything!”

3/29/2024: Some days (all right, most days) a smile, a kiss, a hug, a bit of gossip, a picture of a plant, a hysterical meme, a new book, an old song, a “You’ve been in my thoughts, Ms. Wicked”, and pretty much any gesture, from the ones we love and are loved by, can be the best painkiller.

– for Poets and Storytellers United (Friday Writings #120: A Touch of Formality)

Violently Cheery

not-quite Journaling, 65

1/16/2024: Winter has spread a snowy blanket over New York City. Inside my home, an amaryllis gets ready to spring. Don’t you just love how Nature balances herself?

 

1/25/2024: New York City has been stuck on Stephen King weather (thick fog and wet gloom) for a day or five. Things are supposed to stay that way for about another week. So, here is a violently cheery Montauk daisy (blooming in self-defense). Climate change? What climate change? *cough *

 

Neglect is a sickness,
and it spreads.

1/29/2024: I spent some time with a friend I hadn’t seen in years. We ran into one of her relatives, and the person told her that she should “stop wasting time running her mouth and go home”. At first, I thought the other individual was joking. When my friend just lowered her eyes, I was shocked at how little of the strong woman I used to know remained in her.

Since tact and I barely exist in the same reality, I asked her: “What happened to you?” She sighed and said, “I get more peace when I let her have her way.” She grabbed her bag and left, so I didn’t have time to contradict her statement. But the whole thing left me thinking about how self-neglect can tear the spirit to bloody pieces. And after the spirit is crushed, dreams, confidence, joy, hope, and self-love begin to die.

 

Art is
not just for show.

1/31/2024: Right after my mastectomy (some years ago), I was craving fresh fruit. My surgeon was of the nasty jello-and-even-more-disgusting-hospital-food school of thought. Since my Piano Man knows me better, he smuggled some of my favorites: lychee, longan, strawberries… so fresh you could taste sunlight in every bite. The green ‘flower’ in the blackout is the calyx from one of the strawberries. The memory still leaves me smiling (and craving strawberries).

 

30 extra pounds:
my own gym of flesh and bone
for calisthenics

2/1/2024: Some silver linings are difficult to appreciate. So, I wasn’t surprised that a workout buddy failed to see the benefits, when I told her, “Look on the bright side, these days I don’t need dumbbells for strength training--my weights are built-in”.

– for Poets and Storytellers United (Friday Writings #112: Silver Lining)