. muse .

Oh, Muse... where have you gone?
Cincinnati?

working hard on this year's RPM challenge.
Just posted 2 tunes on the site.

North
An anthem for the immigrant. Okay, it's really about me and my love of Canada. It is still my home. Yes, I stole a few words from the national anthem but it was necessary to quote it, in my opinion...AND, as my dear Joni once said, "I stole a lot of lines to sing..." (from the song California), I think I can live with it.

Man on the Bus (Sage Song)
This is actually part of a journal entry I made over a year ago while on the bus people watching. This man was wonderful. Old, full of wisdom, with eyes of sunset and wind. The recording that I did for RPM vexes me only in the way that I sang too quickly the word Duwamish. I told myself not to labour over it since this will be one that I will likely want to rerecord anyway. So I hope that I do not offend anyone with this.

okay.
enough play time.
back to writing...

here.. musey, musey , musey!
♥

teach street

I'm a Voice Lessons teacher in Seattle, WA.

song of shilshole

autumn leaves swirl 'round my feet while the crows squawk, 'how now!?' rain looms in the sky, perfectly perched in the silver and gray hiding in the beard of the winter man who watches over the summer's smile summer's souvenirs dance from cottonwoods and maple trees little love notes dangling in the shorter days and shivering in the longer nights the empty sea, the fog, and sanctuary kiss the sky with its blue lips wet with love and loss tears collected from sky and souls from boatman's wives, children's sighs and wild heron's cries and in the distance... a swirl of smoke a wood fire stove a kettle whistling disturbing a sleeply cat curled in comfort by the old man's boots the smell of pipe tobacco and black currant tea a open volume of Whitman singing the songs of self and longevity shadows flickering from a candle near its end skipping and snickering at the line between death and born again the wind sweeps in and one by one the drops make wake on the waters calm opaque seabirds fly, swoop and hide in the tiptop tuffs of the arbutus cooing and cawing at the cold a train in the distance makes sound as it rounds the seaside mountain town and my footprints can be found along the shilshole smile. 13 oct 2009 -fae a moment from my walk...

autumn is whispering...

the great northern sky is blanketed in clouds the sun is sleeping in curled up with the moon. the birds are quietly stirring chirping, conversing with autumn's whisperings the fire is lit, it dances a slight kiss of rain advances the cotton woods and maple trees begin to slightly blush from the courtings of the wild harvest goddess's golden touch all with autumn's whisperings and the wind it swishes and swirls the cedars and firs their laughter unfurls and i stand with my palms to the sky as i say my soft goodbye to the summer's fair face and its full warm embrace as i listen to autumn's whisperings.

. prakrti .

. prakrti . under a jasmine coloured moon the river dances slow kissing tides/time white lotus awaiting the breath of morn garlands of butterfly wings ascend to the waters calm night sounds stir to day's break beak songs deep indigo slithers soft into blue honey hands reach the expanse of sky as the warm exhales of dawn sigh glistening in new light an apple tree of free thought and wisdom shining and ripe dig in. aim guru-saraswatyai namaha

. sprung .

dirt earthen fingers tangle weave and pull search bit of leaf ancestral roots a lost little lady bug dig clumpy clay slippery sod slimy echos of the slug fiddlehead fold flash fin and fern sprinkle seeds scatter dreams cover closely a lilting lullaby . . . i saw my soul awaken in the sun

spring is coming...

in the forest there is a place
where the moss has blanketed the ground
with a most soft embrace.
this place, this sacred space,
where wind and snow nor blow or know
the coldness..
sprouts a dream!
a tiny green dancing queen
that sings and believes in springs wanderings
unfurls / uncurl (ing)
her leafy soul to catch the winter's daydreams,
each perfect snowflake, on her brow
just to shake them to and fro
to let the winter know...
her power is growing.

may spring find your winter path and inspire you to dance in the sunlight falling through the trees.

. Project Scarf .

Not too long ago, I was strolling around Ballard with Captain and Doug. The wind was just wickedly cold and the rain sent a chill right to the center of my body. All I could think about was going home to my warm apartment and putting on the kettle. And then I saw a woman, one who i have seen many times before, huddled under an umbrella at her park bench on NW Market. I suddenly felt terrible. She had no home to return to, no place to put the kettle on. Her address is the 3rd park bench on NW market. And i felt compelled to do something. Just that week I had heard the latest news of the city fining a church for having a second tent city established. I was appalled! They wanted to kick out the homeless people in the second tent city because it sent a negative image on the neighbourhood! That's ridiculous! Those are people, not lawn ornaments! Obviously, the first tent city was over populated so a second one was established. *grrrr* With all the money that is out there, why isn't the city doing more to make the situation better for people like her? *sigh*

what can one person do?
i battle with this phrase so often.

we haven't a lot of money, and I know that i cant change the fact that thousands of people sleep every night on the streets; but i know, that perhaps i can make one or maybe a few feel less forgotten.

I am crocheting scarves for those who I see on the street.
I don't know their stories, and perhaps one day I will.
I don't know if they will like them, use them, etc... I just want them to know that someone cares.
I haven't an agenda.
I will not preach the gospel or make them join a 12 step program.
I don't want anything from them nor am I storing up karma points.
I cannot walk by them time after time and put on blinders like most do. They are human beings that have had some experience that left them homeless.
It could happen to me and my husband.
It could happen to you!
Life doesn't always have a silver lining, a backup plan, or a safety net.
It's all just to uncertain.

I do hope that perhaps my gift to them might start a silver lining in their life.. if even for a second... just to let them know that someone cares.
...a silver lining made from wool.

I urge all of you to do something for someone in need.
Even if it's a smile.
Please do not forget that we are all human and that some times all we need is to know that someone out there cares.

thanks for listening..
have a beautiful holiday season.

. nostalgia .

.. so with the dancing leaves and the light playing hide and seek with the clouds, i find myself falling back into piles of freshly raked memories of youth and candy corn and cold air inhaled on crisp pear picking mornings.

i google earthed my old home and noticed that the pear tree that lived in my back yard had been cut down. made me sad to see my old friend gone from the place where we had so many adventures. i would sit next to it and watch the leaves swirl in the breeze. they danced with the sky as the cardinal sang its song. my dog would bark at the squirrel hiding in its branches only to suddenly hear a THOP! usually, at a fairly significant velocity, a pear would come hurdling out at my canine companion. made me laugh every time. crazy squirrels!

ah.. girl scouts! we would head out to the apple orchard and eat more apples than i think we really picked. our afternoons would sometimes lead to horseback riding adventures and crazy folktales about ghosts in old abandon barns.. or the hitchhiking lady near the cemetery.. yep, gave me nightmares every time.

then there was my mom. she would work so hard on my costume. i remember nights watching her sew on her old sewing machine. it made such a hypnotic sound like the ones you hear near a train yard.. ch-chsh ch-chsh...

Oh! and trick or treating! wow. candy candy! taffy apples and rain.. it almost always rained on halloween. it was always so perfect to end early and come home to catch "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown" on the TV. Dad and i would sit on the couch while i held my Snoopy tight as he battled the Red Baron.

a time to talk about thanks and pilgrims, to wonder what all those funky shaped gords were that mom dressed the table with, a time to gather leaves for a leaf book.... i still keep the first leaf i find every year. my hardback books are dressed with little memories of oak and maple..

autumn has always been my favourite time of year. perhaps it's the comfy sweaters or the hot apple cider, maybe the smell of pumpkin pie or the sound of swirling leaves on the sidewalk..

whatever it is, i always feel about 10 years old again. my creativity is sparked and my heart is light. autumn feels like how it feels to be home. a light in the window on a dark day that invites my soul to sit long and sip tea slowly.

. listen to the dancing leaves .
. tell tales and sing songs .
. remember how you felt as a child .

happy autumn!

happiness just isn't a word...

... its a whole lot of words!!

visit http://wordle.net/

. index .

we scattered our seeds at the base of the mountain
each with a new dream attached with a thread
of soul's breath and raven's dreams.

the tree brigade whispered, 'not long now'
as the horses murmured with impatience.
the periwinkles ogled the poppies.
so coyly they often play.
dance with me, forget-me-nots, and find
our better days

our sunworn fingers plucked up our past
and made offering to the
last of the snow's great child.
the cold tears rained down the mountain's face
the joys, the winds, the life, the death
of each spring and winter's embrace.
the rush, the breath, the pulse raced on
along the stony lane, past our bygones
to the place where peace welled full and clear
a time of change, the eagle's whisper.

and we cooled our brows
in the waters of the past,
crystalline with futures dancing at last.
and out to the deep, where pure truth lives
swims the sun's golden fingers
urging to forgive.

08.22.08

. texas yeehaw .

my good friend is about to embark on a new exciting adventure in a small town just outside of Dallas, Texas. wow. i remember my impression of Dallas...

here is a poem i wrote during my stay there...

wandering, wondering on starlight sparkle pathways
lined with the coo coo ca-choos and fallen ice cream smiles
i pass the ladder to the clouds and wonder why
someone has locked up the gardens from my child-eyed frolic

blue monday
art seems to sleep
sirens wail, grackles squeal
and pulse is kept in time with the clip-clop of feet
diverging on pigeon part time pathways
the seas rage/flow
the waves of blue and red
black Pontiac with white Subaru
zipping like schools of fish
in this big time southern ocean
i hold my breath and dive between
the steel sharks and fiberglass fins
joining the rush of this city tide
ebbing to the west end...

Elvis stops and passes me a flower.

the memorial sits in the late afternoon caress
white and neatly boxed
housing yet another curious creation
marked with nothing but a name.
the book depository has changed hands
the rumble of the passing cars that flood
the Elm and Houston crossroads fade
the city scene loses focus and the movie begins to play...
... a motorcade and celebration
a waving beacon of hope casting love
and youth cheering, children, picnic baskets, balloons...
an American afternoon buzzing towards the light
but moths cry out when they get burned
and four casts of light take over the beacon
the tower of Camelot crumbles into Guinevere's white hands
November day, chilly sun filled
births shadows a hopeful era
and in slow motion
history is changed forever
the lense closes
and pans to the sun
condensation to cheekbones
the vision is blinding.

i sigh.

and Elvis tries to sell me a newspaper.

02 may 2005

Zen and the Art of Lawnmowing

the push of the blade
'gainst the grain of the hillside
rests the heavy heart
and the overactive mind

beyond the hospital smells
and the hand sanitizer
to the buzzing of bees
and the blistering of palms

it's only the third day..
and my soul is old.
how good it is to work.

winter

the frailty of the limb in winter
like the hand of a lover once so true
so delicate so white...
if only they knew..

that within the root, love grew

the spring time spark long past winter's dark
kiss of night to daylight's plight
and dreams drift softly in the clouds...

such fingers dance touching the sky
wondering why the birds have all gone
and yet, though whispering winds, a magic begins
sweetly singing a naked tune.

. we walked in song .

the freight train has gone
without a sound.

the abandoned, old station
sits in whispers
and hisses of the little legged
creatures who sing in present tenses

dancing flowers and nectar finders
buzz the long rusted iron lane
where the night train would come
and the whistle would sound
as the passengers waited
for the misty cloud storm

cases from places so far
from these parts riddled
the path with colourful arts
as the goodbyes held long
and the winds shshshhhhhhhhhed
a great sigh would song
its night lullaby

from out of these mists
into light of the day
from travelers gone so far, far away
a kind old remembrance that
lives on this path
where the nectar finders buzz
and the flowers now dance

. love and loss .

. love and loss .

i have always been the type of person who appreciates what is happening while it happens... savours flavours, and remembers silly details about the day.
i associate music with people i love or loath... i even get an emotional recall when the atmosphere outside is a certain stillness, or grayness...or tickles my nose with the play of rain...

my mom called me yesterday right before we were embarking on our whidby island expedition... she called with a quiver in her voice and told me that it had been time for LJ, one of our family dogs, to be put down. funny how sentimental i am. how i get sooo wrapped up in animals as being more as family members than pets...

she had been going down hill for awhile, but the last three days my parents did all that they could for her. i know that it was sooo hard for them to have to deal with this kind of thing. my mom told me it was like having one of her own kids die.. she's strong.. yet broken up by it.

so the last day or so i have been a bit uneasy.. i am fully rational and have accepted the passing of LJ, even happy that her suffering has ended and that her spirit can play and run without any limitations; but, what has been leaving me with anxiety is how Hooch, LJ's sister, will deal with the loss of her sibling. i worry about my dad and his attachment to them... i guess i just feel so far away from them and wish i could do more to help them mourn and cope. i know that we have to process such feelings and in time they hurt less.. but i wish that i could do more.

i talked to my mom for almost an hour and 45 mins today.. and we left with a bit of lightness on the phone. we had chuckled about old times and how life goes by so quickly. we made a little pact that we would try to live fully each day. drink in the sun, and savour our relations with others.


so this is a reminder those who read this, and perhaps myself too.. that we need to live each day being devoted to that day and not in the past or lost in the future. savor the moment when you notice that the afternoon sun is kissing the trees that try to touch the stars.. be present with your families.. even when miles are between you and listen to their words rather than interject the occasional uh huhs.. while you are multitasking...

the moment is real.
i enjoyed each moment with my old friend LJ.. i will miss her soo much. but i know that i truly was in the moment the times i spent with her.

savour each breath.

..Pirates stay Crunchy in Milk..

It's national talk like a Pirate day and since I havent the time to come up with anything witty at 7am.. i am posting a story that i wrote ages ago about meeting my hubbie!

When last we met, th' Syren had been listing near to scuppers.
Blimey! She was done with the dankness of scurvy scalleywags. All she be needing was th' stars above, shanties to sing, and a thirst for the briny deep. Alas, th' winds decided to set a squiffy course. She found herself marooned and disguised as a landlubber. "'Twas the hempen halter," she thought. "I am sunk." Sink me! What treasure she was about to find!

This landlocked port was dull, full of messdeck lawyers and sprogs. She was in need of a new crew. Mates! Corsair Jacks to help her hoist th' colours. Arr, a treacherous chase indeed!

On th' turn of th' new moon, she dropped anchor at the Gypsy CoffeeHouse to inquire about working her Syren ways. Th' barmaid whispered , "Speak o' th' Captain," and pointed to a dark painted buccaneer in the corner. Her deadlights fixed on the Jack Tar and curiousity filled her sails. The Syren downed a glass o' grog, needin' a bit o' th' Dutch Courage, and floated on th' doldrums to him. With a wink and a knock o' th' table, she nodded at th' Captain. "Ahoy" said she in a voice o' th' wind. He looked up at th' she-pirate as if the he had been ensnared by a mermaid. "That rum from PaddyLack Jim runs a jig!" he thought to himself. Snapping up with a deep blink and a shake, th' old seadog stood up to only to tumble back into his chair as if hit by a rogue wave. Shiver Me Timbers!

"Seems th' clap o' thunder has ye." she laughed extending her arm to help him gather his sealegs. "Arrr, ye be the stars I set sail by," he whispered. And by the powers of Poseidon, before ye could even say 'Walk th' Plank', he scooped her up and pirated the Syren!

Aye, smartly to the crow's nest they weighed anchor for a bit o' rum & um... things that would catch th' sunset in ye cheeks!

Th' two set sail aboard the swift and mighty Phoenix . Stories are told, over many a mead, of two who'd come and go leaving a wake of lemon poppyseed muffins. It is thought that th' old Cap' and th' Syren are now The Dread Pirate Poppyseed and Black Charity.

So says th' legends......

. quatre ans .

on the 17th of august, we celebrated the four year anniversary of our meeting...

:)

like a treasure on the shore, one finds the most amazing things when one is not looking.

the summer of 2003, my life was dismal at best.
i had just moved my entire life to tulsa, oklahoma from the beauties of victoria, british columbia. i went from cool and groovy to stagnant and suffocating.

my best gurl elizabeth came to visit me 2 weeks after i had moved.
we spent the weekend partying hard in the 108 degree temp, drinking much, and experience the ever so awful night club scene. on the hung over sunday, we decided to head over to the gypsy coffeehouse for a tamer night of coffee and tea and because i had heard that there was an open mike there. I asked the girl behind the counter about the festivities and she told me that i needed to speak with Captain. it was rumored that he might be in tonight.

well with luck, he did arrive. he had decided to pop in before heading out to see autumn shade play at a bar down the way. we talked for about an hour and i felt that he was the first normal person that i had found in tulsa. i definitely needed to know him better...

and on tuesday i went to the open mike, heard him read poetry... asked him if i could buy a chatbook from him and he said, i would like to buy you a drink...
so that thursday, was the day.
i was photographing the HOPE benefit at the PAC and told him that i would meet him after at this place called Caz's...
my sister came with me! OY! but she was worried.. and when i said. .. it's okay, i can take a cab home.. she was hesistant, but complied.
:)

that night we talked and talked and talked!
we walked to the center of the universe...
we danced in ballerina park..
and we kissed on a bridge under the stars..

he asked if i believed in spontanious living..
and i said yes

he's been by my side ever since.

:)














i love being in love.
:)
especially with my best friend.

summer's last breath...

.. we run to the water
we're lighter than air ...

tonight is the summer bonfire

we will be running to the water
drumming to the full moon
fire dancing under mars
embracing the last of summer's golden hair

it all goes so fast...

suddenly the strawberries were pining to be picked
and now the blackberries wave and wain

such a gift
to embrace the day.

.

.

drift into dreams ...

. wearsunscreen .
. breathe .
. be.

. f i l t e r s .

when i lived in chicago, things in life, possessions, had certain society levels that one tried to keep up with or top. purchasing new clothes, 400 count ralph lauren sheets and pier one furniture seems to be important.

funny how these things mean nothing to me.