Image by Pinterest
HAIKU
O my days in Paris
curiously walking the promenade
now writing about it
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“If you are lucky enough to have seen Paris then wherever you go for the rest of your life it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.” –Ernest Hemingway
The West Wind by Tom Thomson
Canoe Lake Algonquin Park Ontario Canada
ARTFUL WRITING
At first I thought this lonely tree came from an oriental landscape. Instead it originates in Canada. Thomson painted many versions of this West Wind using deep plum, purple and brown hues to offset white clouds and yellow foamy waves. The forceful west breeze distorts the frail pine tree anchored around large boulders covered with moss at the shore of the lake. The lonely pine, thrashing waves and distant island seem to have put a spell on him. Tom, what was it that appealed to your mind…to die drowning in the lake you had just painted in 1917? Historians still ask this question. Tragically, the painting remains an enigma, yet offers a sultry glimpse of a Canadian Autumn.
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“I’ll stick to painting as long as I can.” –to his father
“Take everything as it comes; the wave passes, deal with the next one.”
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Known as Canada’s Van Gogh, Tom Thomson’s death at age 39 is still shrouded in mystery as to murder or suicide. He suffered from depression.
Today delights me to highlight a post from Georgia Peach at Holy Writing Blog, my benefactor who got me started with writing and blogging. Below is her latest story; hope you enjoy it.
For a few days, I have had a small journal by my bedside. As soon as I wake up, I write down the things that fill me with gratitude. It does start the day better, but I noticed something unusual that happened today. Instead of the near things: sleep, comfy bed, spouse, etc., I was flooded with memories of my Mother’s flowers. It was a trip I was taken on rather than one that I chose.
I never saw my Mother garden but sometime before I was born, the lilacs were planted. If you have never enjoyed the scent of May blooming purple lilacs, you are terribly deprived. They grew on the east side and were as tall as the second floor of our house. The lily of the valley almost beat the lilacs in the swooning scent contest. The azaleas, white, red, salmon, pink, were faithful every year. Dogwood and daffodils, these are the gifts that surrounded me in the Spring on Long Island. I miss them.
Then came a different memory. I was laying on a gurney in 2010, waiting for my first colonoscopy. I was afraid and not too proud to admit it. Alone as I waited, I felt this: my beloved deceased dog Cooper was laying by my side next to my left arm. There was just enough room and I knew it was him. I was comforted beyond measure.
Ah, you say, nice memory but you conjured it to feel better. Maybe, but then there is this: When I got home and went online to Facebook, the most curious thing happened. On that day, a co-worker of my son’s posted a picture of he and Cooper taken at the camp where they both spent the summers. He had taken it a few years before and posted it that day.
So, this was the second memory that surfaced to bless the beginning of my day. One miracle left. I wanted so much to see that picture again and had no idea how to find it. I went to Facebook and found it with ease on my son’s timeline. I couldn’t believe that I located that 9-year old post. God finds ways to let us know He is with us in whatever form He knows we are able to accept. Bouquets of flowers and a faithful dog. I am grateful.
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What an amazing story!
Are you ready to keep a journal at your bedside and jot down your first thoughts of the morning to discover moments of gratitude?
I have that good habit, so grateful to Georgia Peach who is my ‘Delight’ mentor.
Thank you, Amira for this splendid post!
sincerely, yourscribeforlove
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Painting by Henri Matisse and Pascal
I say “Art & Writing are my Bouquet of Joy.”
Brenda Ueland continues to inspire me:
“Why should we all use our creative power?
Because there is nothing that makes people so generous, joyful, bold and compassionate
Because the best way to know the truth and beauty is to try to express it.
and
The purpose of existence here and yonder is to discover truth and beauty and express it, i.e., share it with others.”
I say “Creativity takes courage…just as in life. Maximize your creativity today.”
Painting by Henri Matisse
OFF THE CUFF Writing
Today I decide to veer from my first morning impulse to go walking; instead I sit gazing at my backyard and hear the birds sing their concert. I’m thinking: What is God up to??? The verdant view around me hasn’t changed overnight. I soak in the loveliness of calm and peace. My spiritual nature comforts me. The hell with the world’s political barrage of vitriol. Jean Paul Sartre said: “Man is the creature who wants to be God.” Man is stupid to think he can get away with that.
HAIKU
Alone with my thoughts
Heart and soul thirsting for truth
Sipping bon cafe’
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“Spirituality goes beyond our ordinary existence. Described as breath and wind and we cannot contain it. The spirit is not a commodity to be bartered with.”
–Meister Eckhart
Happy Monday – Make it a great day!
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