Today’s word comes from the gorgeous book, Dreaming My Animal Selves by Hélène Cardona which, incidentally I never would have found without the magic of the internet. I’m so glad I did because it’s a glorious book of poetry. The word I chose randomly is whimsical! Yay!
I am not sure whimsy ever got squeezed out of me in my youth. I’m fortunate to have children and friends who help keep this alive in my heart. Something I love about my city is the whimsical things that are often waiting to be found. I remember being acquainted with the Toy-Box Trio at the Seattle Art Museum and fell just a little in love with their sound. It’s common to happen upon little art installations, fairy houses, or stacked rocks in local parks. It’s lovely to live in a world where such joy waits for me stumble upon it.
Today’s quote comes from Yoko Ono. It’s more of a directive but I was drawn to it because of the word whimsical. The book it comes from, Acorn, is filled with delightful prompts that can only enrich one’s life.
Wishing Tree at Carkeek Park
Make a wish. Write it down on a piece of paper.
Fold it and tie it around a branch of a Wish Tree.
Ask your friends to do the same.
Keep wishing until the branches are covered with wishes.
Finally, I can’t think of whimsy without thinking of my fabulous friend, Rob D’Arc who makes glorious puppets for the stage as well as puppets you can take home. You can also find him at the Pike Place Market selling his puppets. The holidays are coming…
unlearning in an unclassroom One of many boxes created to contain the uncontainable. (the vastness of the universe defiantly sneers at these structures) Brave, beautiful souls baring of self in our chromatic splendor. (we are brighter than these glaring lights that cast false shadows on flat surfaces) Space within space within space.
What sower strode across the earth, Which hands sowed The heart’s seeds of fire? Like rainbow’s bands they went out from his fists To the frozen ground, young earth, hot sand And there shall they sleep Greedy, and drink up our life And break it into pieces For the sake of a sunflower you don’t…
A spoken word piece that I wrote for a performance poetry class at Freehold. A smattering of what I find holy. Here’s the text if you like that sort of thing: Holy is the heart-shaped divet at the top of a mountain in New Mexico and the snowflakes that let me see its outline. That…
My day began in darkness. I padded out to the kitchen to put the water on for coffee, noticing the blanket of stillness tucked all around the morning. As I waited for the water to boil, I let my skin drink in the moonlight that was eagerly gushing through the windows and let my mind…
