Thursday, January 28, 2016

Steam dream

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I have to add a new wish to my wishlist. This one could possibly be the most self indulgent one of them all. Yes, I know the world is falling apart. And that I ought to keep the frivolity where it belongs. But, but...when you have a steam room experience like I did, you might understand.

A good friend took me to through this experience. She "who is bold and brave" first insisted that underneath the white fluffy towel that preserved modesty, only the birth suit need be present. I "who view the world from behind whatever is in front" refused to let go of my underthings.

"They are going to get soaked." she said.

"I can't!" I squeaked as she shook her head and marched toward a door with tinted glass.

*Image 1
I shuffled back to the lockers, barefoot and completely embarrassed. As I tried to do a "flashdance"-esque divestment of underthings, two women floated over to the neighboring lockers, chattering away. They gave me a once over as I focused on holding the edges of the towel between my teeth. I tried not to move too much, lest the towel flaps reveal flabby hairpin curves.

I scurried out, glad to see my friend holding the door open with glee.

That first hit...aaaah!!! I think I said, "I see!!!" and then, "Actually I don't..." because my glasses fogged over. She had set the steam on high so that the entire room had warm mist tinged with alpine scents soaking into everything.

I had a moment of panic thinking that maybe I couldn't breathe. But no, I could breathe easier and all that steam seemed to have the effect of a massage without touch. We talked and talked...and I occasionally forgot my train of thought. Pine-y, mentholated steam came in from all over and I wish I'd been brave enough to allow all of me unrestricted access to that steam. Some day when I feel brave and bold. But that is for another time.

So my wish is to have a steam room in my house, where ever that will be. With jets and nozzles lining the lock on the door so I don't panic, and ledges just the same as in the magical steam room I had the opportunity to use. I'd take my body brushes and a big fluffy towel, and just veg out. No need for those glasses. I'd peer into warm steam and celebrate the here and now in a completely unique fashion. I mean, what does one do if one can't look past the steam? Give up happily I suppose.

**Image 2
I'm going to have to discuss this with Him.

*Image 1 - Scrub Brush Set Stock Photo by antpkr at
**Image 2 - "Young Woman In Relaxation Pose" by imagerymajestic at

Wednesday, January 13, 2016


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distant and green,
knowing and belonging,
pic 1*
more with a hurried spider spinning away,
less with talk
and more with a cacophony as strange as a new language
yet, dearer for it's timely interjection.

Where my heart would fear the night
only because of a sudden slither
and death would be inevitable
but not so bad,
Where morning would
herald great hope
for a disobedient sun ray streaming past forbidding clouds
or hope for perfect juicy berries as a snack
or hope for serendipitous dinner discoveries
made while walking an un chartered course.

Where time would wait for
a sparrow to find it's chirp
and hours would be pinned by the traveling sun
where the moon would entertain
introducing stars and their entourage
and disappear to reappear again,
the best kind of magic.

A place where,
knowing within and without would be
the same, and my body the shell,
just a slight barrier
to eternity.

pic 1* - "Waterfall and Snowdrops at Dawyck Botanic Garden Scotland" by Keattikorn sourced from

Friday, March 20, 2015


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Moss softens edges
jagged points cloaked and pretending
smooth refinement
persistent moisture's soft focus
Image 1
reveal grey with burrows
home to a sudden caterpillar

Rooted sentinel soar
a play for each pulse of light
each reaching tendril willing green into
shades of emerald down below
-- a dappled forest

A breath warps
cumulative vapor that saturates
life under the canopy
misty fortress of green and fog
coddling the odd urge
to abandon the vacuous beyond.

Nurturing womb never burning bright
or darkly lifeless
rustling, bird call or slither
underscoring silence and
illuminating pathways within...

photo credit -; "Forest" by dan

Secure Chaos

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Michel de Montaigne - "My life is full of terrible misfortunes, most of which never happened..."

The above quote sums up my daily musings. The stress I must put my mind, body and spirit under while journeying to the conclusion of every "worst possible outcome" must be comical in the face of my rather mundane life.

Image 1
I do live a very adventurous's all in my mind though. I run down steep slopes that would set my knees quaking in real life and I say outrageous things that I would never dare to other wise. The loss of the happiness of a loved one, or losing the love of a loved one and everything in between is imagined and accessorized with blazing emotion that leaves me wrung out. Wrung out while sitting on a sofa in the morning.

I had a roller coaster year and a half and finally have some time to do things other than pressing chores. It appears that this is what my mind wants to do first. It wants to do SOMETHING...and so that is to cook up melodrama with my insecurities playing the central, pivotal roles.

I let this happen for a week or so. Every time I sat down thinking that I needed some quiet time after the prolonged buzz, my mind carefully spun tragedies, disappointments and doomsday scenarios. Try reading the news at this point. The creativity that evil uses to assert itself these days will give the brain a definitive shove toward entropy.

Then I stopped sitting down and found peace and quiet while allowing my body to move. When I had to sit down, it was with stern lectures to myself about how there is another aspect to life that needs focus. Namely learning...gardening, poetry, building things...just seems to stop all negative translation.

That is my new focus now. This allows me a breath of fresh air and hope in the constructed misery that seems such an unfortunate part of my thought process. Create love, create hope, create follows that I must think along these lines, and my mind must spin hope and love and possibilities to move away from emotionally chaotic thoughts.

It appears that it is all about being present in the moment. Being here. As opposed to grabbing at a past or imagining a detailed future.

Image 1 -; Red Yellow Texture Isolated On White Background by Sommai

Saturday, October 11, 2014

Hair my bug bear

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It's mid October and another year nearly over. I can't believe it! Him says that I utter the same thing every year. It's been only 14 years since we've been married, so it can't be too bad. But honestly...the years fly by so fast, and each and every year has had revelations that I've sat with or run with.

The biggest reveal this year has been a bunch of grey hair. My grey hair. The trouble makers were lurking all these years I'll bet, right under my scalp, waiting to spring out when I got too busy to notice. And truly, I have been so busy that the last thing I remember about this year, was the winter from last year. When we were forced to slow down. And now it's nearly winter again! Back to the point, I have never had quite such an explosion of grey hair before. And before you point out the obvious, I've had grey hair since I was 10. A few strands here and there, that my mother tried desperately to cover up. She imagined traumatic recesses when classmates would point at my head and treat themselves to a laugh. She would smear home made pastes, some sort of pencil, and she would comb it artfully so the 4-5 strands would stay hidden.

I grew up not caring, and when I went to college, my hair stayed black with suspicious glints, but never more than the wisdom conferring few that showed only if you really looked. (Just like my supposed wisdom, try hard to see...) It was rather nice looking, not thick, but healthy and bouncy and all those adjectives once ascribes to youth. After Mini-Him was born, things changed. The greys still stayed outta sight. The texture changed, but enough home remedies kept the youthfulness locked in. After Mini-Baby's birth, the nose dive that my hair took could be compared to a swallow's dive...only it wasn't nearly as graceful. In addition to scantily dressed scalp, there were stringy greys and many strands that looked like the thinnest filament of cotton wool. Apparently it was a bad case of telogen effluvium. And it would auto-correct at some point. That particular time line is tricky. Because, as I discovered two years and many stresses and frustrations (not related to hair) later, I had to bring about that point.

Research, hair pulling and many vitamins later, it appears that sleep, exercise, nutrition, low stress, and lots of hair food beats any miracle cure. It's pretty much what my father told me all my life. And what my mother still does.

I began doing what I should have done in the first place. Even as the texture etc got better, the greys won't quit. And so I was at a dilemma. What could I possibly do, short of using one of those deeply moisturizing colors? And make trips every 2-3 weeks to a salon, or DIMyself at home?

Over the weeks that I pondered this, there were worlds falling apart. There was never a day without news that highlighted just how many people's worlds shattered from war, disease and generally something terrifying and unreal at once.

And then, I looked at my household. I have such a loooong way to go. Such a darned looong way when all I really want to do is play a little. And read, and do silly things. But I don't think I'll have that luxury for a long time to come.

I asked Him if it mattered to him that in a couple of years, I'll have more grey than black. He didn't look up from his laptop as he said, "huh? No...why would I mind? Do what you like..."

And so what I'd like is to quit worrying about a natural turn of events. And accept this as who I will be from now on and move on to do what needs to be done. I don't want to be bothered with hair color appointments, and hair changes and skin reactions from using color. No. I'll take care of it, and give it what it needs. I don't think color is it.

Though a really dark brown henna doesn't sound too bad with jet black hair does it???

*Image : "Young Girl Looking At Watch" by iosphere through