The girl who was once from NYC unintentionally transplanted to the sticky trap of the CT countryside nearly three decades ago. Teacher, singer, writer, photog. Dancer along the path through the dark.
~May words and music and laughter light the way to kindred spirits, kind of heart~
Also a Mommy. That's the most important thing that's happened along the way, but not what this blog will be about.

Words and music and more brought to you by merisongbird.

©2010

 

Along the way/we stop/and herald the merits of/taking our time

Along the way/we stop/and herald the merits of/taking our time

On a Monday

what lasts forever,

what falls to the wayside

pieces and practice of love true to heart

defender of values of nothing I’m backing

and all open-minded it’s back to the start

for follows and foolish and wasted and constant

for up on a pedestal I’ll never climb

and the notes from the keys I am touching reign over

the puddle of yesterdays, all in my mind

The brain appears to possess a special area which we might call poetic memory and which records everything that charms or touches us, that makes our lives beautiful.

Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being (via wordsnquotes)

Overcast day,

so good for so many things. Kids are home from camp, so oodles and piles of laundry, but also lounging, and bagels in bed, and a little flower arranging, some bins of pics and clothes from the basement to go through and organize. Inspired. Trying to be energized today despite the asthma setback of the past few days. And Ed being away with his gf in the Cape doesn’t bother me at all, and that feels really good. That kind of love is a good kind of love. It feels warm and good. It doesn’t feel like eggshells anymore, and though I still might cry and I do when I think of signing those papers in a week or two and those pictures of us getting married that day become more of the past than ever. I’m okay.

I think a lot about kindness again these days and difference between clever and kind and how I prefer one more than the other. Like even my daughter said last night how the kids at camp are so much nicer than her friends here in our small town. How when she starts to sing sometimes here, someone might put their hand out and cover her mouth and say stop, but at camp her friends tell her to keep going, and how one boy pointed at her and said “Angel”.

But I grow tangential again, and really this was just about my morning-into-afternoon, my slow and quiet observation, the calm and warm I cultivate, the flowers, and the soft air, and knowing. I am not so clever and quippy, but I am kind.

Floral leftovers/reconstructed and renewed

Floral leftovers/reconstructed and renewed

cherry-and-also-bomb:

"Be soft. Do not let the world make you hard. Do not let the pain make you hate. Do not let the bitterness steal your sweetness" Kurt Vonnegut (at etsy: lemonsaltcrafts)


Agree.

cherry-and-also-bomb:

"Be soft. Do not let the world make you hard. Do not let the pain make you hate. Do not let the bitterness steal your sweetness" Kurt Vonnegut (at etsy: lemonsaltcrafts)

Agree.

I read awhile (that led to write)
the rain pours down and a cool breeze blows across my bed as I grow tired
the kind of sleepy where eyes grow heavy and hips and legs and ass and all feel glued unto the mattress, lying here beneath my sheets…
perhaps I’ll read a little more
or let my eyes close, drifting off
and maybe in my land of dreams
I’ll see some things I’d love to see
and feel some things I’d love to feel
as lightning plays outside

Writing under morning clouds

the morning sounds surround me now
and in my head/still full of webs
those broken bits of half-way dreams
the images so full and clear
that toss and turn provides so much
for scattered thoughts I might not want
And as I wake up more and more
the sun peeks through reminding me to keep on shining with the day
and all that lies ahead of me
and birds and cars/my background sounds
my bare feet resting on warm ground
I plan, I hope, I let unfold
this brand new story to be told…

10 Quotes to Turn you & me On.

This is so great. So what I believe in. Truly. The good things in life are not superficial, are not constructed. They are the simple, the genuine, the everyday real we experience and feel in those moments that are here and then gone. They are words and measure. They are note for note. They are harmony without even needing to try. That feeling when you just let go and believe.

I kind of re-fell-in-love with this song after not hearing it for a while. Vocally, such a fun song to sing.