Verbs are doing words

Reading - Poetry from Allen Ginsberg. It's wonderful, wonderful writing, it captures the wildness and desperation of such an incredible time in the modern history of America. And the best part is that when I read it, I can hear Ginsberg's voice!

 

Contemplating - the mood board that has been the same since December. I think I need a little fresh inspiration!

 

Shifting - chairs and such around the place. Do you get bored with things really quickly? Living in such a tiny house means space is at a premium, and every available corner is filled with things. Sometimes, I just long for a bit of empty space! (You wouldn't believe we contemplated living in a bus to travel around, would you?)

 

Who's that cutie patootie in the photo? It's me! At the tender age of 19, modelling for my dear friend Alison. Seems like a million years ago, but I can still remember how much fun it was.

The road to where is paved with what?

I recently stated my intention to write everyday, and to post at least once a week, and while this sounds like an achievable goal, it isn't as easy as I thought it would be. There are a million reasons I could give, but that would be so boring!
Let's just say, I'm sticking with it. And with my 27 readers! I appreciate you all very much, and love it to bits when you comment.

Cool to be kind

image from infinite smiles via happy things

But I think you look beautiful every day.

Self image is something that keeps popping up in conversation lately, and it's always the same conclusion.

As young women, we are so hard on ourselves (I can't speak of young men - I haven't thought to ask any. Do men think about this stuff?) , but looking back on our lives, photographs that might have seemed so cringe-worthy at the time are now precious reminders of how we glowed in our youth, our innocence.

We're quite cruel to ourselves, and I think it's a dreadful waste of time. If I could go back, I'd shake myself by the shoulders and tell myself  "Stop it! This time you're wasting on self-critique - you'll never get it back!"

And I wonder if, when I am 80, I'll look back on the me of now, and think the same thing?

I'm going to save myself a little time, and quit the cruelty now. There's just too much cool stuff I could be doing instead.

Strawberries

Strawberry shortcake by redcruiser

There were never strawberries like the ones we had that sultry afternoon sitting on the step of the open french window facing each other your knees held in mine the blue plates in our laps the strawberries glistening in the hot sunlight we dipped them in sugar looking at each other not hurrying the feast for one to come the empty plates laid on the stone together with the two forks crossed and I bent towards you sweet in that air in my arms abandoned like a child from your eager mouth the taste of strawberries in my memory lean back again let me love you let the sun beat on our forgetfulness one hour of all the heat intense and summer lightning on the Kilpatrick hills let the storm wash the plates Edwin Morgan

I do love a giveaway...

Kel from my new favourite green tea and red nails is holding a giveaway, ending at midnight tonight. You should take a peek at her blog while you are there - she has a vintage appeal and a fun approach to life.
And don't you love the late notice? It's in keeping with my general approach to life, but honestly, I am trying to be more organised. This generally manifests as scads of to-do lists which are lost almost immediately, but now that the entire household has escaped the clutches of a foul and long-lasting flu, I am energised and ready to get serious.
A wise person, Tara of the awesome Scoutie Girl recently said that accountability forces the hand of creativity. Which I took to mean if you speak your goals aloud, you become accountable for seeing them through. Rather than being some hazy, day-dreamy idea which is allowed to evaporate like mist on a sunny morning, you are obliged to honour your plan.
I find this idea appealing, and a touch confronting, but I'm ready to put it to the test.
Here and now, I'm stating my intention to you:

I will write everyday
I will post a quality piece of writing once a week

Phew. I was about to write a third intention, but maybe I should walk before I run.

A little morning sunlight

The kitchen windowsill with morning sunlight streaming in. The purple flowers are called Batchelors Buttons - how cute is that?

In Rome there is a small and picturesque cemetary tucked away behind a pyramid. I won't start with a history lesson about the pyramid and the graveyard, you can google the hell out of Rome, the amount of history at every turn is almost overwhelming. What I loved about this quiet place (which we dubbed 'the heathen cemetary' for the non-Catholic status of those within) apart from finding possibly the cleanest public toilet in Rome, was the gravestone of the poet John Keats. Near to the pyramid and an expanse of lawn peppered with little white flowers, engraved with such bitter words, it brought tears to my eyes. "...Here lies one whose name was writ in water."
I felt despair at the hopeless anger of one who had died young, thinking himself a failure in his craft. I turned from the gravestone, heart-wrenched, to find a memorial on the stone wall nearby, written by Sir Vincent Eyre.

Keats! if thy cherished name be "writ in water"
Each drop has fallen from some mourner's cheek;
A sacred tribute; such as heroes seek,
Though oft in vain - for dazzling deeds of slaughter
Sleep on! Not honoured less for Epitaph so meek!

I know poetry isn't everyones cup of tea, but this story makes me think about how we value ourselves, and the importance that we place on being valued by others. Isn't it enough to honour our hearts and our crafts? To live truly? Must we have the critics nod before we are ok with our creations?