aglow

I've met an angel of understanding 

that lights my path with love,

peace and 

pieces of me

gently given back

all aglow

~

Ocean's Kiss

I couldn’t resist. I slipped my shoes off so that I could wiggle my toes in the sand. It was delicious and extremely therapeutic for my aching soul. I was alone, but not lonely with my company. I was in the desert! The Atlantic Ocean stretched out before me and behind me the Namib Desert shifted and drifted, as far as the eye could see. Life surrounded me and it was beautiful.

The lapping waves reminded me that home was closer than ever. The mighty Atlantic Ocean kissed my feet here, then travelled to the East coast of Canada to deliver my love to the wind. Perhaps it would whisper its secret message to my Mother, as she stepped out of her car on arriving home that evening? Who knows? But its music filled me with the peace in this moment, making us as one. I lifted my face to the sky with a smile.

As I listened to the Earth speak to me, poetry surged through my mind. My Grandfather lingered there and offered me his blessings. With a tear, I picked up a pen and offered thanks.

Now all I hold is a polished stone

And a picture in my hand

But your loving glow

Pumps my heart to go

Eternity is yours for all time

-Love in a circle-

Every day is a good day, in the fact that it has been. 

Promise

* Photo courtesy of Jinksy

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Look into  this  fountain
of an inner soul's cusp
with  soft  waves 
lapping slowly
as I gaze
into 
everlasting
lilts of peace
and promise for 
tomorrow  to  blow
yesterday's debris away
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Trying to be a little more upbeat with an entry for this week's In Tandem. Jinksy has some colourful stuff on offer. Go check it out!

Summer Nights

Cricket song washes over me
A shooting star teases -
You have a wish?
Silence

Night

No need to 

Capture anything

That can't fill my heart

~

Spare Me a Towel

The sun rose warm on another beautiful day in Malawi. I pushed the mosquito net aside from my sleepy cocoon and wandered out to join Brett for coffee on the verandah. Joey heard our muted conversation and hurried over to serve us our breakfast. I felt like royalty as I sipped on my freshly squeezed orange juice served by our attentive minion.  Nothing in life was as sweet as this day and I savoured every moment of it.

My day continued in a tranquil vein, as I headed out to the beach to catch up in my journal. I laid my towel in the shade, aware that the day would get hot soon enough. The hope was for a lazy day of swimming, writing and nothing more strenuous than that. My time in Mwaya Beach was coming to a close and I wanted to soak in every nuance of it.

I laid my handful of possessions down and strode into the gentle waters that lapped at my skin.  I dove into the warm lake and popped up for air, only to strikeout for the distant shore.

Aw, who was I kidding though? After several strong strokes, I paused to tread water and look around. A wisp of wind touched stately palms on shore and I caught sight of the housekeeper wandering over to clean our hut. I rolled onto my back and lazily kicked my feet, as I traced cloud shapes in the Malawian sky. A bird flew overhead gliding towards shore.  Life was perfect in this moment and I wanted it to last forever. My sun-warmed  smile filled the universe and I was at peace.

Eventually my fingers began to pickle though and I made my way back to shore. I laid down on my towel and picked up my pen to capture life around me. I became engrossed in recounting my experiences at school the day before and only looked up when I noticed a man walking by me on the beach. I looked up with a smile in greeting.

“Jambo”, he said.  “Hello”

“Hello,” I replied. “Beautiful day today.”

I noticed the net thrown over his shoulder and asked him if he was going fishing. He looked confused, so I pointed to the stringy bundle on his back.

“No,” he said. “I work at the Matete post office. This is my towel.”

His towel was nothing more than a few threads loosely strung together. He then proceeded to ask me for my towel. While my heart lurched, I had to say no. It was my only towel and a possession that I would continue to have need of for the foreseeable future. While I could afford to go and purchase a new one, I was still on a tight budget.  Comparatively, I was rich in their eyes. Just by my presence there alone. Handing them anything and everything would do little good in the greater scheme of things though. In Mozambique, the widespread aid organizations that handed out alms only helped to create a beggar society. I loathed the thought of the friendly people of Malawi following in those same footsteps.

My visitor took his leave with a smile. He wandered off to enjoy a bath in the lake and I was left to contemplate the economics of wealth in a continent largely unfamiliar with it. Back home, I had clothes and towels aplenty. More than enough to spare and share. I knew that hand-outs took their toll in pride though. I offered my good-will and that was enough for the day. I prayed that the warm heart of Africa could keep its special nature, and perhaps one day be able to proudly have more wealth to share with its people. Today though, it shared what it was able and I was grateful for all that Malawi was.

The Hush of Nightfall

A little late, but I post 160 for Sunday night at Monkey Man's place.

The hush of nightfall

fills  the  house

and mind

with

a  calm

that  I hope

continues into sleep

and my week

of new ad-

venture

into writing

for  my bread

and butter living

A Stolen Heart

“Sheets,” I exclaimed. “Look, there is actual sheets on the beds!”

“And mosquito nets too,” I added, fingering the delicate gauze material that hung from the roof of the thatch hut.

“Pretty sweet mate,” Brett nodded as he dropped his back pack onto the matching twin bed on his side of the hut.

A man materialized at the door with the lemonade we had requested.

“Thanks Joey,” I said as he placed the tray on the sturdy wooden table and set the two tall glasses down.

“Can I get you anything else?” he asked yet again. We had been here a handful of  minutes, yet Joey had already taken our dinner orders, retrieved pillows for our luxurious looking beds and shown us every courtesy he could. I could tell that our 50 kwacha a night was going to be the best money I had ever spent.  

After double checking that we had everything we needed yet again, Joey bowed, then quietly walked back in the direction of the kitchen. I caught sight of the swish of a colourful sarong disappearing around a corner, then turned back to our room.

“This is going to be awesome,” Brett declared as he bounced on the bed with a laugh. “What should we do first?”

“I need to jump in the lake,” I declared.

The sparkling lake beckoned just a stone’s throw from our hut. Brett stepped onto the porch to give me a minute to change, then we headed down to the beach. Dropping my towel, sunglasses, journal and pen, I ran to the lake’s edge and splashed in to my thighs, before diving head long into the warm waters of Lake Malawi.

I burst through the water’s surface and smiled my face up to the sun. In a pure moment of joy, I kicked out and drifted on my back gazing at the Malawian sky that surrounded me. The sandy beach lay behind me, with its cluster of neat little huts tucked amongst green palm trees. Looking further out into the lake, I saw men in mokoros fishing for the myriad of fish that called this place home. I idly drifted my legs back and forth to gently propel myself along and luxuriated in the moment.

There was no place I had to go. There was nothing pressing that I had to do. I did not even have to worry about what to scrounge up for dinner, as Joey was presenting us with seafood crepes that evening. Later, he would trek across the sandy expanse from the kitchen to our hut, with delightful home-made cuisine on a covered silver platter, but right now there was just me and a serenity that I cherished with all my heart. The warm heart of Africa had stolen mine.

Joey’s Seafood Crepes (for one)

·         2 small eggs

·         ¾  cup flour

·         Pinch of salt

·         ¾  cup  milk

·         1 tsp baking powder

·         1 Tbsp oil

*Beat the eggs until smooth, then add flour and salt stirring

*Add milk and oil until smooth

*cook crepes and set aside

Filling:

·         Cut-up pieces of kampango or chambo (fish)

·         1 clove of Garlic

·         1 cup of milk

·         1 Tbsp of cheese (white sauce)

·         1 ½ Tbsp butter

·         1 medium onion

*Fry fish and set aside(can substitute chicken or meat)

*Cook remaining ingredients, then add fish back in and simmer for 10-15 min

*pour filling onto crepe, wrap it up and serve

Delicious!

peace

sleepy cat close
snuggled tight against my thigh
unspoken bonding

~purr~

meditative tones
drift gentle through night air
spiritual cleanse

~ohm~

silences in heart
encourage thoughts trickling down
from now weightless soul

~sigh~

were it all easy
to release day's lessons long
life would be complete

~peace~

Peace

There are waffling spirits that swirl around. A crease furrows my brow that I do not like. So I will counter with a little bit of peace sent out via an old song about Peace. I surround me in a colour bath and drift off to dreams of family and love and togetherness.

~Peace to you ~

The Walking Man

His face turned to the rising sun. Eyes closed, he soaked in the sun's rays feeling the warmth on his skin. Each breath was savoured; every movement, a blessing. It was a gift.  Every day was a gift. 

He pulled the shirt off his back. Every part of his being reached towards the sky. His feet moved in the direction of the vast ascending orb. It was a glorious day. Blue skies promised life. The shirt dangled forgotten in his loose grasp. Sunshine bounced off his round belly, as he strode along the road way. The passing cars did little to shake the euphoria he felt in this moment. He breathed in the life that fairly vibrated around him. Destination was of no concern. Peace flowed through him and shot in waves off of his gently swaying form. It would be the same tomorrow. 

As I made a wide arc around him, I could not help but smile. His energy was strong and had caught me. Many mornings, I watched as he strode down the street bare-chested. His sight always giving me a smile. I carried this bliss with me into the day. My smiles reverberated to those around me. I could see them and felt them cradle me. Blessed be to the Walking Man. His love of life carries sweet contagious feelers. I turn my face up to the sun, smile and thank the Earth for the day I have been offered again. That sunshine holds life and peace for the Walking Man, myself, and you as well.

Holiday pause

   I have finally had a chance to read a few blogs that I have not had a chance to peruse over the hectic holidays. It is almost like not having time for dear friends or myself. I love getting together with family, but I have a kinship with the people that let me into their lives via a blog. The blogs I read inspire me to be creative, touch me in a spiritual manner, help me appreciate nature, bring forth the camaraderie of Motherhood and friendship. Blog-world has become a new friend in my life and I am happy when I get to see someone with a new post or new pictures to share or I discover someone new that makes me laugh. That kinship was unexpected when someone suggested writing a blog back in the spring. All I wanted was to write, perhaps make some money at it if I was lucky. Well, I have made no money, but I have found a voice. I rather enjoy the words that flow out of me. They are not always awe-inspiring, but I know that they do get read by the occasional person. That is kind of cool. I like it.
   My thoughts originally were going to be about the sadness that people feel at this time of year. So many gather together and feast and frolic. When a face is missing around the table we have pause. Their presence is felt and missed. We certainly have a few seats missing around our festive feasts. No one can replace my Bradley that was in charge of "flipping the bird" at Leslie's and of course the carving of said bird afterwards. No offence Jamie, but you don't hold a candle to him in my books. I almost grabbed the knife myself, as I often feel Brad's presence within me, but I let it go and faded into another room. Brad's spirit lives on and he was seen in my mind's eye in all the spaces where I had seen him before. You are not forgotten Brad and never will be.
   My cousin was also active in thoughts at her second Christmas visiting in spirit, but not body. I slept in her room and had her smiling face looking over me and  filling my dreams. Her parents still have tears in their eyes, but at the back of them if you look. It is hard to not see the cherished ones that we love and will love forever. They are still at our elbows and in our hearts. I left a small bottle of rye for my hubby and told him to "rip it up and give em hell" on Christmas Eve. I can smile at him now, but feel for the friends that I have that are going through their first Christmas without their significant others. A coffee date a few days before Christmas with a friend that lost his common-law wife a few months ago reminded me to be kind over the holidays. Life is precious and brief. His eyes still hold disbelief of what his life looks like and feels like. It is not right or fair, but it is what is meant to be for whatever reason. Peace will come eventually, but it takes time, patience and love.
   My tears came when I had the pleasure to see a friend in town for the holidays. The holidays always speed up into a chaotic whirlwind. I was able to meet my girlfriend for dinner and a movie and was thrilled to see her smiling face. We openly held hands and embraced constantly. She is a dear friend that touched my soul with her unquestioning love and the support she offered while my husband was sick and dying. She can laugh and be crude one moment and drop everything to hold my hand so I can cry the next. When she moved away after my husband died I was devastated and mourn her loss still. She is a pure soul. I held her with tears streaming down my checks as we parted in the parking lot of a movie theatre. She is still alive and still a friend, but our time has changed. Our brief window with which to visit highlighted for both of us the sometimes cruel passing of time. We held each other and missed each other as our eyes feasted for the lean times that we know lie ahead. That is the mystery of Christmas that brings the smiles and feeds the sorrows. We rejoice for what we have and remiss for what we have lost.
   So I close with a cheers to friends and family no longer with us, but also with love and peace offered to the friends that I still have. May you find your peace  and love my blogging friends and thank you for letting me into your lives.