Emailing at Work. And Tweeting to the Universe.

I leave unnamed the party with whom I email eighty million times at work.  But I share a bit of today's unproductivity.

Me: I have a random stranger follower on Twitter.  Weird.  And cool.
She:  I saw that... at least I thought I did.  Or maybe it was a different blog.
Me:  twitter is not blog
She:  I thought Twitter was a blog type thing.  What would you call it then?
Me:  twitter

She:  My (tax) stuff is in two places, my blue filing thingie and that maple leaf hanging madness on my wall.
Me:  you hang your madness on the wall for all to admire.  I admire that.


Also, note to Universe: Sending one old lady into the bank to tell me this wind will be nice during the summer just isn't clever.  Therefore, you are a little bit sucky at showing me why I should love wind.  I am disappointed. 

Love, light and bubbles.

Because It's Pretty. And Summer is Coming

A Gluten-Free Puddle

Shortly after Christmas (oh, delicious Christmas...) I realized I had to take another close look at my dietary habits. I was feeling that slump of energy, constantly. I was familiar with some food intolerances, as I had been doing lots of reading for a course in Herbalism. I learned wheat and cow's milk products are not easily digested by many people who aren't even aware of the sensitivity. Could I be one of the unaware?

So I removed bagels and ice cream from my grocery list. Along with the other wheaty and milky treats I love. A challenge, yes, but wow... I soon noticed that I was no longer falling asleep amid little nests of cheques and deposit slips at work!

Eventually cheese and bread found me again. I don't know how, because I sure wasn't looking for them. Multiple loaves of sourdough bread, fresh from Ida's oven. Cheese curds which I made myself on a farm in British Columbia. Toasty cinnamon buns, with melted butter. Hot caramel sundaes. Muffins of the week at my favourite tea hang-out place. And a recently discovered recipe for soft pretzels. (Seriously, so good that these pretzels were the entire meal once!)

Which brings us to my recent visit to a doctor of naturopathy. She has a similar hunch as I did back in January about wheat. Only she's taking it a step further. Not just wheat-free, but now entirely gluten-free! FOR THREE WEEKS! *Sigh* At least milk gets a green light.

I would like to able to report that I have been a diligent little foodie. However, I may have sampled a bit of bruschetta on Thursday. And I may have accidentally ordered a chickpea enchilada yesterday (which only had chickpeas IN it, and the wrap itself was NOT made of chickpeas) at the spa. And I may have just had a beer. Dammit. Barley.

Oh yeah, so the spa yesterday...... Le Nordik. Bathing cycles of hot, cold and relaxing. Repeating. No talking. Sounds of nature filling the air. After my fourth round of eucalyptus steam, I realized I was probably impaired. Yes, I ended the day as a puddle of melted butter. A puddle with slightly limited mental facilities. And no room for worries. Weird smell coming from my car? No problem, we have CAA if it explodes. Gas tank almost empty by Gananoque? That's okay, we'll see how far we get before the light goes on. Maybe I shouldn't have been driving after all.

Which reminds me - I had a dream last night that my car had no brakes. I should call my dad the mechanic now. And I should build my own steam room. And I really love eucalyptus.

Cannot Look Up

Mishear my meaning to walk a longer way.
The revolutions of your disc blur my already uncertain focus. Puffs of butterscotch and lies.
Leave it all to me, to make it something pleasing.
Those subtle sounds.
The beat is solo strong, readily shared. Flung.
The trick is whispering common sense syllables into old ears.
What you think you hear deep within is leaving no surface scratch.
No trace that I am here.
Hunker down and stand tall.
Work your way into a fish tail fall.
My underwater breathing fears return, when I remember what I am.
One that sinks.
Far.
So I whisper when they no longer hear my shouting.
In darkness I dive again.

Fully, Fast and Hard

Tucked in together.

Sharing a twisted breath.

I saved mine for one like this.

Does it really hurt less in the tall grass hiss?

I rose, to have my toes compose a soft curl.

Fully, fast and hard.

Left a useless shell.

My insides poured into you, and I like them there, as their burden was great.

Thinking about us that have not been.

Clenching you inside me yet.

Looking in.

Phenomenon Specific to my Cut

Dust blows in my hazy star-gazing eyes.
Tell me which songs you play over and over.
Quietly marching in long grasses, these gazelle legs.
I ask for nothing more than to be held up, without asking.
Safe with your watching husk.
You are fuelled by mine, my universe, my one.
Our dream tempo drones on and we tilt a little nearer.
Play that demo once more, or for as long as others still exist.
Making me drift clearly, alert to incoming birdsong.
In it, in it, in it and not all together.
Belief in some furiously romantic thing is easily bruised.
Repeat this soundtrack back to me.

Little Pictures and the Big Unclear One

Without sounding too judgey, I state: online "dating" is the weirdest lollipop I haven't licked. Obviously the crazies go fishing for love just as frequently as anyone else, and they are easy to weed out. I'm not looking for anything in particular, just to connect with people. No expectation. One man asked me (prior to meeting in person) if I was ready to settle down and take care of him and his son. Uh, really no. And one guy told me that he is a "starchild", but didn't stick around long enough to substantiate his claim. Yet another guy wrote to me, only to say that my profile was "messed" and "weird". And his profile picture was gross and shirtless.

All this gets me thinking again about The Twelve Tribes. And that if I didn't mind living a wholesome life lacking inquisitiveness and debate then I could very well settle snugly into a pretty piece of land, making cheese and following the teachings of Yahshua for the rest of my mortal days. Hmm, close. So close to seeing an even bigger picture. So I keep looking. I remain open, receptive to what the universe is whispering in my ear.

Looking at where I am, I see that I am in the centre. I am the centre. Giving birth to the world between my hands. I create. And of course, although there are plenty of crazies, there are also plenty of lovelies.

Loving every step of this journey.

Oh yeah, and Jesus is over on Lava. Serious.

Seaweed Stalking

Lurking in the depths, my heart is blinking, moving over.
Hard hit from the beginning.
Time stopped in the night and I do not know how to keep it.
Adjust my position as passenger for this bit.
Let us leap-dance-fly by the shallow, or sink far into the time banks.
We idle on a low flame, not clogged for long.
Sit nearby; we can watch the catastrophes co-mingle.
Safe for this moment.
My choice is a handpicked conversation and soft voices blowing by.
You whittle me down, collared up to die.
Then I feel that leap and surge back to the top.
Drum-holler comfort.
Moving boulders by arrow point.
Twisting above my mat and leaping from that cushiony spot.
I will be littered with golden meaning, in it fully.
Far-seeing goal, this journey and how I love each step.
Glad this script has been written, since I don’t mind throwing myself from that snowy summit.

Burnt Cinnamon

This silent soliloquy I share with the vivid one.
All ears taking it in, but no eyes to judge.

You hear me shuffling in the dark, you offer up your light.
You make the maples lift me up, we dance in secondary colours.
You smell my sweet spicy mix, but can’t remember what you used to have.
You follow my trail of smoke, and wonder what keeps me burning.

I saw what kept you tall when it was so easy to fall.
I bruise and cry for its strength.

Plus another day without, and I greet it warmly.
The woods, your autumn kiss reaching.
Golden questions, stretching and reasoning.
I smile and embrace this spinning place.