The way back...and spider cannibalism.

Well, I made it back to Ohio from Florida and have been back for a little over a week.  I didn't end up getting a car but I was able to road trip back with a girl that lived across the hall from me.  It was awesome.  Turns out that we use to race against each other in college; oh the irony.  Let me tell you about the kind of people we are...on the way North we relaxed in the grass at a rest stop in Georgia, memorized the presidents in order by number and randomly shouted out numbers to pop quiz each other, almost ended up sleeping in the car in a parking lot in Corbin Kentucky (we managed to get into the country in; score!) and read aloud from a book called "homework for grown ups".  It was great.  We are also now contemplating writing a children's book together 'cause we both have some great ideas.  So, in short the ride back was quite an adventure!  After a few days of being home I finally made it out to a family member's property to go fishing.  Not having the heart to bait a hook I opted to take out the canoe on their lake.  I am truly blessed to have such an awesome family.  But the point is that I flipped the canoe over to take it out on the water and of course after being turned down for so long it was full of miniature life such as ants, those little rolly polly lots of legs bugs and spiders.  I am not bothered by any of this so I get what I can of them safely on the shore and then set out on the water.  There were of course all sorts of mini life still working their way out of under the seats of the canoe and I noticed that there was a dead spider that fell out of somewhere and I remember thinking "Awe, poor little guy...thus is the course of life I guess".  So, I continued to make my little circles and figure eights and other meditative motions through the water.  Finally, I sat and put the paddle across the gunwales in front of me so I could observe my family on shore fishing and running around.  My cousin's children who are two, five and six were fishing with my cousin's fiance...well, the littlest thought he was fishing, he had a little baby fishing pole with no line hook or sinker, which was adorable.  My Aunt was in the gazebo rocking back and forth on the swing.  My mom and sister were fishing and my cousin (who trains fighters and such) was helping them fish.  My uncle was inside the house, probably relaxing, drinking wine and watching some sort of sports game.  Everyone was happy and I could still feel the camp fire on my skin and its smell imbibed in my clothes.  Everything about that one moment in that little green canoe was perfect.  Something has to give right? I glanced down into my little canoe which delivered to me my moment of perfection and saw a rather horrific and perfectly natural scene, the circle of life if you will.  The little spider that I thought was playing dead was being paralyzed, drug and later devoured by a bigger black spider, I was devastated into just sitting there.  What was I suppose to do?  I have been known to jump into pools to save moths stuck on the surface of the water.   Part of me wished that I would have kept my gaze on the shore.  But the part of me that saw this brutal act of reality, however natural it is, as a reminder that elsewhere in the world not everyone is as blessed as I am.  Was I suppose to see it?  I have been meditating on both moments since they happened.  Not everyone gets that fleeting moment of seeing love.  Some people only know spiders.  Would that spider have lived if I had not gone out in the canoe? Maybe.  I still felt bad.  But if I didn't take out the canoe I would not have witnessed those moments of peace that I did.  In my family a scene like this needs to be cherished.  I am still thinking about it and pondering it.  Both the love and the spiders.  I mean it wasn't an act of hate, the one spider eating the other, it was just the bitter reality of life.  No matter how small it is that bitterness is still a part of life on some scale.  On that day it was a subtle reminder from nature that was greatly outdone by the love on the shore.  I hope to have many more days where I only witness it in this fashion.

Love, Life and Light~ Hamsa

Color Wheels and Cupcakes

Another poem for the little ones...


The color wheel don't mean a thing to cupcakes:


Use your mind little one.
What do you see?
Purple elephants
and bright blue honey bees.
Cats can talk
and walk through walls.
That way you know you're never alone.
Your art work is famous
and hangs in great big halls.
The grass may be a rainbow
and there are fairies with butterfly wings.
Use your imagination little one
and realize the color wheel don't mean a thing.
In that place no one can tell you no
and everything exists.
Most of it you can bring to life
and you can discard the rest.
People may tell you no.
Elephants aren't purple
and honey bees can't be blue.
So they tell the color blind man he is wrong
and order him a list of things to do.
Why should he be wrong
just because he sees
things a little differently?
But be there little one, one day, 
to remind him of creativity.
Tell him what you see.
In a cookie cutter world
be a cupcake with sprinkles on top.
Royalty of your own little land.
Let the cookies be boring.
Just see what you see
and know that it is yours, 
the world in the palm of your hand.
Know that we love you
and support all that you do.
No matter what happens.
Any time you are down or feeling a little blue
we'll have a party on our cupcake stand
and worry not little one 
we support the purple elephants too.

Little Eyes and Small Steps

I am creating a gift for my friend who is getting ready to have a baby.  I am putting together a little booklet of fun small poems, illustrations, etc.


Here are the first two:


Lullabies for Little Eyes


Full was our day
so we sing our lullabies
for little eyes
so that they may slowly close
and rest their minds.
A gentle wind blows
and brings to mind exactly
what the day was like.
Busy breakfast
busy snacks and little adventures
busy as bees
sometimes like the stormy seas.
We went here
and we flew there
and sometimes we just sat to know that we be.
So as you see little eyes
you need the lullabies
so we can all go about our busy way
with each other day after day.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Small Steps


Blink baby blink,
little eyes focus.
The first small steps to seeing.


Seeing the crayons in the box.


Scribble baby scribble,
holding the crayon in little hands.
The first small steps to moving.


Moving arms and moving legs.


Crawl baby crawl,
you, little one are getting strong.
The first small steps to standing.


Standing your ground,
hearing the sounds.


Listen baby listen,
soon enough little one the sun will rise
and you'll open your eyes.
Feet will hit the floor,
off you'll go,
taking small steps no more.

Prayers of Night

Double shift over,
late in the evening
and apron tied behind her back.
Stove is warm
hot soup simmers
a colorful melody
brings blissful therapy
the rich spices in the air.
A moon hanging in the sky
stars held up on invisible strings
the meal is on but now for the ones she loves.
Their fortunate ignorant laughter
spills onto the coloring pages
of purple giraffes and tye dyed lions
while the voice on the television 
brings more ill news.
Shutdowns, the deaf leading the blind.
Soup is in the bowl
bread is on the table
flat lived in and clothes slightly out of touch
but school seems to be going well and they have friends.
Its the best she can do for now
the careworn warmed by the happy youth
'cause they know no pain
as long as the blue stays blue
and the red stays red
to them its all the same.
Tree branches still for climbing
the sun still brings smiles 
and lunches still at school
skinned knees and boogey men; 
their only worries.
Their mother's perfect timing
band aids and hot soup to clear away
everyone's little troubles.
Television off for the night
kids tucked in bed.
Her prayers that tomorrow he will make things right
and the light flickers off to another restless sleep.  

March

They've had enough,
the crowd marched by,
in their numbers a message to send.
Violence no more,
Rape never again.
Leader speaking, calling
for people to unite
and take back the night.
Followers doing their job well.
Emotions run high
through hot spring air
hinting at the heat of summer.
Wind carries their voices
into the distance.
The music from the band
a warm welcome back.
I witness from the fountain
Cheers and internal satisfaction.
Passion on Her face.
It makes Her feel like it truly matters.
The movement will go beyond the night.
The wind carrying it on.
Somewhere there is a man who batters.
He will get what is coming to him
and deserve it too.
One day she'll hear the voices
and take it no longer.
The day will dim
and she will lead the crowd
like the one that marched tonight.
Voices will be heard again.
3/24/2011

Firecracker Cores

He loved his roman candles,
Jack shambled after them.
And I after him
a lifetime later.
We all shamble after each other.
Its a strange sort of dance.
Pushing, pulling, daring to see who can do more.
Much left up to chance.
Bright lights
and wandering minds
we're firecrackers at the core.
A common thread
we're seeking to roam
not knowing what we're looking for.
Truth for sure,
the passion is in our heart.
There we've always grown.
A greater ideology.
Having it all out,
making it all count,
the best that we can.
I guess that is what we're living for.

untitled ramblings

Paper planes fall out of the sky.
Silly boys wearing cow boy hats jump fences.
Girls teach them dances.
On the boardwalk,
in the middle of the wods,
surrounded by a town,
they flirt and set dates.
In the prime of their youth.
Cigarettes and cheap alcohol will scent the air
star dotted skies left outside.
Falling or not the youth won't care.
Their life is only about planned parties.
For now no one cries in the sunshine
but just you wait for the next morning.
3/24/2011

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Smiles fell on blind eyes
and slowly melt away
but I know you sense feel it.
Into the distance
the air thickens with pollen and heat
melting tension as it diffuses.
Petals fall away from stamens
left on the ground to whither and crinkle.
You may be able to feel it.
The pages in the book have yellowed in time
but the ink remains black in the moonlight.
None of it you can see.
The music carries its beat on,
a rhythm permeates the atmosphere,
you still have your ears.
3/24/2011