Day 4

  Today we went golfing!  I didn’t do so badly, but had a couple rotten holes and ended with a 43….. still not a bad score if it mattered to me  haha   😉

  What was neat though were the little bonuses on the course: there was a roseate spoonbill hangin out on Hole 6, a tree with a large, active bees’ nest, and that tree itself was neat because it had some sort of hanging tubers that had lumps that appeared to open into a flower….. very very strange.  Wow!  Just out of curiosity (and not expecting such a quick result), I did a quick search for “tropical tree”, went to the first site, and guessed at a name that might fit — sausage tree.  http://mgonline.com/Sausage_Tree.html  Would you believe it?  I think it may have actually been that kind of tree!  Ahh, the internet is a wonderful thing.

  After golfing, we went to our friends’ place for a pizza lunch.  Very tasty, very fun.  I had a tickle in my throat that I couldn’t get rid of though, so I was going nuts trying not to cough every two seconds.  A couple funny jokes were told, let me see if I can remember any.

  Two men got up to the gates of Heaven and were addressed by Saint Peter.  Saint Peter asked the first man, dressed in a leather jacket, shades, and slicked back hair, “…..and who are you?”  The man replied, “I’m Derek Smith, and I’ve been a pilot for 31 years.”  Saint Peter looks at his list, exclaims, “Ah!  There you are,” and gives him a golden staff, a silk robe, and lets him through the gates.  The second man walks up to Saint Peter and is also asked who he is, to which he replies, “I’m John Brown, and I’ve been a priest for 31 years.”  Saint Peter consults his list, exclaims, “Ah!  There you are,” and gives him a wooden staff, and a cotton robe.  The man pauses a moment, then asks, “Why, Saint Peter, I can’t help but notice a discrepancy here….. that man was a pilot and got a golden staff and a silk robe, while I was a priest and only got a wooden staff and a cotton robe!”  Saint Peter replies, “Ah, yes.  Well, here in Heaven, we go by results.  You were a priest, and have made people fall asleep for 31 years, but he was a pilot and made people pray!”

hee hee.    🙂

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Moon Dog Numb

I took solace in the tears the moon gave me
pretending they were for you
it was full tonight and I passed the site
the cruel arena
I couldn’t find a plan so I kept going
and wouldn’t you know? I slept
while my tears dried on my cheeks
while I stood there staring at the moon
yes, I slept,
everything reduced to numbness
all the passion and anger
slept tonight in my pain
reciting my own words and those of ____
just so I can swallow some air
I’ve been breathing dirt for days now
I can’t feel anymore but that’s okay
it’s better than feeling awake
would you settle near me and watch me
so when I choke there’s a reason
since the scene never plays itself out
if it makes any sense at all

may I be removed? I thought I saw a star
I’m sure I did in my eyes
and the long clouds dripping dip through the moon
I watch behind the dead tree
magnificent as the Seven’s and just as achingly cursed

spelling my letters as I read them
I couldn’t find the keys in the scramble
the door was wide open and I walked into it
beginning with my mind
and ending with my feet

I can’t cry for you
I used to be much better
can’t slow my eyes getting wetter
so let me cry for the moon

Finished: 6:20 a.m., Sunday, November 25th, 2007.
Copyright L.M. 2007.

Beautiful Blue, Beautiful You

In high school, I came up with a shade of blue.

It was beautiful — a combination of sky blue, light mauve, baby blue.

Every day as I’d walk through the hallways, I’d look up through the windows as I passed to see if today was a Beautiful Blue day, and, if it was, it was a good day.  It became difficult in winter to keep my spirits up, as the cold depresses me sometimes, but if there was a patch where I saw Beautiful Blue skies, it would lift me up and give me strength.

I love nature like others love religion.  In fact, to a certain degree, I equate the two.  This is really very personal but why not…… in my egotistical mind, I would see the colour showing up as a sign, a spiritual offering of a hand to help me stand again — or, if I was already standing, would help lift me to happiness — or, if I was already happy, would help lift me to elation.  Natural beauty is something that never replicates; each instance really is a moment in time to treasure.  You will never have that exact opportunity again to feel its presence, its power, your part in it all.  All you can hope for, if you shun that moment, is another chance.  It is likely for this reason that I have become a fervent advocate of spontaneity; part of carpe diem requires the ability to forgo plans and live for the moment as it presents itself.  Part of beauty is unpredictability.

Beautiful Blue might look different to others.  As much as I describe it, I will never know if anyone else sees the exact shade I do — not that I believe myself to be the only one capable, but when you take into account differences of perception, differences of colour receptor cones in the eyes, differences perhaps of data transmission between cones and the brain?…… but this Beautiful Blue, to me, is nothing less than hope itself, embodied in a shade of pure beauty.

    

A couple years after I’d begun this tradition of sky-searching at school and elsewhere, I was listening to the radio and heard the DJ mention a new song was going to be played by an artist whose songs I knew and liked.  The artist: Holly McNarland.  The title: Beautiful Blue.  This initially stunned me.  Then, my senses came around and I realized: to others, they were simply two words strung together, and could be used to describe a multitude of things…… I suppose.  This is what she has to say about her song:

“The big song [on the cd], ‘Beautiful Blue,’ came a week before the
last time we went into the studio,” she says. “That was shortly
after September 11.  It’s not about that, but the whole vibe, the
whole doomsday thing, was pretty apparent, and I was just
hanging out with my son.  In the middle of all of this tragedy,
I would wake up and have this perfect little angel by my side.”¹

It’s a beautiful song; I loved it immediately, and not simply for the connection I had with it.   One day I’d like to perform it live — in a way, to realize another dream of mine, as I’ve already recently been given the opportunity to realize one of my life dreams of being part of a band.  I don’t want to suggest it, as it’s not particularly in the style we perform, but I figure that the opportunity will somehow present itself at some point in my life — just like the song did initially — if it is meant to be interpreted by my (in comparison) highly unqualified voice.  This is not a case for carpe diem, after all; this is a chance to see just where my Beautiful Blue will guide me next.

      

So, my dear readers, after I expose my vulnerable nature to all your mysteriously faceless souls, I ask you: what is your Beautiful Blue?

      

      

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¹ (http://umusic.ca/hollymcnarland/)