it's no longer an adventure i am sad

 I come alive when I am down island.
 I find myself and I have strength in every step.

 Oh! Qualicum, thank you that there was a Farmers Market on that day. Thank you for the lovely sweet vendor selling macreme plants who talked about how stories pour out as people remember when once macreme was everywhere before. I thought about my Mom and wondered then about her Mother and the whole handmade world that was around her. I thought about how I am certain that everything funky I love about the 70's is a recreation of the world where I was little and safe and seen and alive yet invisible all at once. Where a carpets feel and colour was as great as a forest now, and I could twirl a little curly bit of it around my finger in timeless revelry. I wonder if children are even remembering or is it just such a deep experience of the present that they are lost in.

I think it is the latter and that undoes me with happiness.

Oh! Qualicum, thank you for your waters always so warm and wavy. Thank you that I wadded much deeper than I'd planned and ended up floating on my back.

Thank you for the feeling of being a painting. I don't think I've felt that before.
Thank you that I thought to memorize that moment. Thank you that is wasn't fleeting.

Thank you for ripples on the sand. Clear white jelly fish. Grasses under water.
Large dark shadows that could be giant crabs or nothing at all.

It is not only the children. Not only the friends.
There is something even deeper that binds me to this island.
This down island, island.

This place not only of Mountains and Oceans but of Farms and animals too.
This place of living well and living fully.

Where there is music.
An ever changing flow of musicians.
Some that seem part of the land and others that are so unexpected.

Visitors and Locals, and some Travelling Locals. All at home, all drawn together.

Yes, I could learn an instrument. Wear silver sparkles beneath my eyes and eat tomatoes from my garden. But it feels like an invisible practice and silent celebration.

It is like I can live all the wonderful, but I'm muffled.
There is no echoe - no reply.

I know that all we need is ourselves, especially in a world of trees and water.
but i exist when i am seen and i am happy when the happiness is shared and i find the magic when it is revealed to me.

I want to see outside myself all that is within me.
I want to live in strange and mystical patterns.

I tried for so long to just follow what came, to listen, to re-birth slowly and deliberately..
but i lost the thread i was holding.. it blew away when i fell asleep.. and though i know it is somewhere.. caught on a branch or carried off by a bug.. 

I don't know if i have the strength to begin looking.

Whatever breeze carried it off will have to carry it back or else I will walk this earth lost, and while the poet in me loves what comes of that, the earthling just wants to be found.

In the Pink

I am So excited and i did not think it would feel this way.
We bought a house!!

What?!
Who am I ? Why here? Why now?

I never thought it mattered, really. Renting is fine. I never found a place where I could stay forever. A home was to be forever: it would be where I gave birth and raised kids and lived out my days. There were a few times along the way, Osaka Japan. We thought that was it. Courtenay, Bc. Yup. I had my forever school family and Alastair was pretty figured out. There I was landed in the hippie land of lovers I had dreamed of but didn't know was real . . . . . . .this side of sleeping.

Here.
Where I am nervous about the Cougars? Where I worry for the safety of myself and others? Where my eyes have been opened and heart filled with horrors. In 38 years, I never knew such pain could be part of someone's life. Where I have no best friend.

This small town.

Where there is the Ocean and a cat called Moon.
Where I am me because there is no one to copy and I can no longer hide the torrents in my soul.

Here
When my by marriage - sister has just had a baby boy, her first and my cousin too.
When I know I miss my sister every moment of the day, and when I know we can finish each others sentences.

Here where I often don't get the joke.
Here where I wonder when I'll laugh and if I'll ever find the magic I once was surrounded by, this magic that was as dependable as the rain.

Here.
Where I might play the Cello? The small Celtic harp? Here where I have found myself, the ten year old, the teenager, where all I want to do is write to those who have formed me over the years.

Where I have time and space to create and dream and say thank you.
Where I see my flaws. Where I feel my own anger and see my mistakes.

Where I'm far from the children that were almost mine.  xox
Here I will stay?

With the house saying clearly, it makes no sense - not yet, but we are suppose to be together. Just trust this feeling and let your life begin.

It's like having a child - it is worth announcing, it is a journey of tears and hopes. It has been so meant to be from the home owners having in their home the map of Mundi to them having home schooled because they get what it is to raise a child.

I was drawn because of the rust-red colour in the kitchen..when we arrived, it was gone as they felt it was time for a change. So strange. The only thing i knew i liked, what drew me there, is no more.

But because they were changing the colours, I was asked what ones i might like. I said I would like a pink house.. thankfully Alastair felt that one room would be enough. He was right. It's a lot of pink.It makes me laugh, it doesn't matter, I'm apparently sweet to the core.

Here I thought I would get a tattoo and septum piercing.. but maybe I'll have a tea party and wear a pouffy dress instead.. sigh.. #neverthecoolkid

Pink symbolizes Hope and Everlasting Love. Pink is a colour of comfort.
And there's the french-door window where morning sun comes in.

When I'm a little less new to all this, I'll share the reason we got it. The tremendous mushroom and tall tall trees in the back right corner of our yard. xo  Pretty much a mini filberg.

    whoops! xox