ODE TO BOOKS

Once upon a time,

before amazon.com,

I went to libraries,

where I learned to love books.

 This blog is my Ode.

Oh, Shug and Celie

you taught me to

pick myself up again.

Thank you, Alice Walker

for making me love again

with a different eye.

Flannery, you made

me love Georgia folks

with all their misfit ways.

Your writing style and

character descriptions

are a joy to read.

Oh, Scott Peck, from you

I learned that life is difficult,

that love is an action.

It is love that makes life bearable.

I learned about grace

and the courage to take

the road less traveled.

Marsha Sinetar, your book gave me

 the perfect support

 when I left a corporate job

to live a different life.

Oh, Eugen Herrigel,

 you introduced me

to Eastern Religion,

 the beauty of Zen,

 the power of the mind

when focused and relaxed.

J.D. Salinger, I was introduced to you

through your Nine Stories

one of which,

A Perfect Day for Bananafish,

we staged in 1958

for Reader’s Theater

at UGA Drama Dept.

Holden Caulfield will

live in my heart.

Your writing style is one I admire.

~ ~ ~

I must mention Thomas Hardy
whose naturalistic style
 first captured my interest
 in Return of the Native.
I've read all of his books.


I took more photos

made a little music video

entitled Ode to Books

Please take a look

and see the rest of the books!

Please press arrow in photo to play 


Ode to Books
~ ~ ~


stay tuned. . .

THE RIGHT PASSAGE

THE RIGHT PASSAGE

I feel strangely peaceful

this morning

like the muddy pond

which left alone

becomes clear.

I pick up Eternal Echoes

a book I have not read for 

a long time.

The page opens to this:

One of the most tender images

is the human person at prayer.

When the body gathers itself

before the Divine,

a stillness deepens.

The blaring din of distraction ceases,

and the deeper tranquillity

within the heart envelops the body.

To see people at prayer

is a touching sight.

For a while,

they have become unmoored

from the grip of society, work, and role.

It is as if they have chosen

to enter into a secret belonging

carried within the soul;

they rest in that inner temple

impervious to outer control or claiming.

A person at prayer also evokes

the sense of vulnerability and fragility.

Their prayer reminds us

that we are mere guests on the earth,

pilgrims who always walk on unsteady ground, carrying in earthen vessels

multitudes of longing.

 --Eternal Echoes, John O’Donohue

~ ~ ~

Happiness is . . .

being unmoored with longing

 and

finding the right passage.

I am blessed.

And so are you.

And so are we all.

HAPPINESS IS . . .

Happiness is . . .

Having a garden in the rain

and writing a blog from

the bedroom view.

Happiness is . . .

Playing live jazz on my

keyboard for an art reception

at the Lyndon House for friends,

and 

having my sons, 

Todd and Troy

and Bambi and Shelby-Joan

show up to hear me for a while.

That was Thursday and

then I was back editing

my final draft.

I learned this weekend that

when you send a manuscript

to a Self Publisher like IUniverse

they ask you to select your tag words

Here’s what I’ve come up with

love, loneliness, heartache,

Mother, movies, music

hopes, dreams, longing,

separation, broken heart, songs,

50’s, gloves, girdle, 

death, disappointment, drama,

romance, jazz, blues

Hollywood, entertainer, 

The South, Georgia, Atlanta,

It was an exercise that led

to deciding 

NOT to publish.

Too Public!

So now what?

It’s a strange feeling,

to be unmoored from the tether

of writing for a reason,

and, thus,

 having a reason to live.

I have a slight worry 

of being or becoming depressed.

But, Saturday, after a lovely wedding, 

I noticed the beauty

of the water lily in the pool

of our Fellowship.

And checking in with myself 

on this rainy Monday

I feel good enough to pick

up the camera again to take

a photo of my favorite rosebush.

From the deck I noticed

the huge fig swollen with rain.

My garden of Eden fig bush

bore fruit this early

because of a hot spring.

Happiness is . . .

 plucking it, as it's within arm's reach.

and eating two delicious bites,

then

 staging one more photo

to immortalize something

I cannot seem to do

for myself.

wait . . !

Happiness is . . .

having my own

 Blue Tomato Journal realm

to post a blog

stay tuned . . .

HOLY TOMATOES!

HOLY TOMATOES!

Here’s two new holy tomato plants.

I say Holy Tomatoes, because I’ve been

working in the garden I love so much.

I’ve planted tomatoes every year

I can remember.

From two years ago in my Earth Box.

This morning I brought coffee outside

and sat in my favorite chair

and wrote in my journal.

How wonderful to sit

under the Kousa dogwood again,

under it’s ever spreading 

umbrella of shade

that protects me from the sun.

It’s the perfect setting to wax poetic,

to reflect,

to remember,

to rejoice,

in the wonder of life’s offerings.

Like this Lenten rose bloom

I photographed last month,

 a gift from Suzanne's garden. 

It’s great to take photos of the hostas.

The garden reminds me

that a glorious awakening is

always just around the bend.

like a Buddha napping under

a frilly young Japanese maple. 

Lord, have I ever missed posting a blog,

I’ve been without internet from

a friendly neighbor, summert,

who has apparently moved away.

The good news, though, is that I

have been steadily writing on the fifth

draft of my Memoir

Confessions of a Blue Tomato

I am still longing to catch a wave, 

 or the brass ring,

 before that final bell tolls.

stay tuned . . .