#1: Trains and Tracks; More than Just That

Trains have become a real symbolic metaphor for me. A train can take you from town to town, state to state, or country to country. Even underwater. They travel hundreds to thousands of miles climbing through mountains and sailing across long endless flat lands or even across the English Channel.

Wood burning or coal rains have become a thing of the past and most have switched to electric three rail trains. Efficiency has triumphed.

So trains have become more efficient. This is true of many things today; no surprise, the world has become a very fast-paced place.

And, dare I say, too fast.

I remember when I was a child traveling to Colorado Springs on an overnight train. I just remember flickers of that trip. It seems my memory of, before the wreck, is similar to a candle, sometimes flickering in so vividly I can almost remember the feel of the train jolting and the fascination I had prancing through the cars.

Then I remember the heat rising from the Springs.

It was a beautiful trip!

 

Bubbles on my Latte and Pink Polish

My pastel pink nails clink against my coffee mug as I tap out the melody coming over the radio. I boldly face all the controversy and problems that lay ahead one word at a time.

The letters fall across my keyboard like a scrabble board game.

I look down at my notebook that has a quote by Benjamin Franklin. “Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing.” I really like this quote and try to live a bold life.

Yesterday, was the Assumption of Our Lady, one of my favorite feast days. When the mother of God wails in pain as she gives birth to a Son that will rule the nations. But meanwhile, there’s a red 12-headed dragon, ready to swallow the baby. Quite a

So I take this to mean, in my life, that there are certain things that I want greatly but also come with great sacrifices. Including my hope to go back to college. As I sip my coffee I think about the possibilities. I think about my words, written and spoken.

Dreams often have a way of blotting up your life. Like a loaded calligraphy pen, pressed too hard against the paper. Making a line but blurring in a hundred off spurts: directions. That’s what it seems like at least. Bizarre and Beautiful as long as you can see the beauty in simple things.

Today is Saint Stephen of Hungary’s feast day. St. Stephen led many battles and was married to King Henry II’s sister, Gisella of Ungarn. He founded monasteries and dioceses. He patron saint against the death of children and of stone cutters.

So with dapples of Catholicism and big dreams,received_626271504545193.jpeg I step boldly into my day.

 

God Bless my readers walk with courage and strength!

Magnificient27

The Pressing Solitude of Decisions

A decision pressed closely against the glass

Reverberates a prism of thought

Of connection.

Of dissonance.

A decision of solitude.

A decision of birth or denial.

A decision pressed closely against the glass

Strains its ugly ear to find you.

Strains into your deepest thoughts.

Listening, pressing close.

Making a crowd or closing in solitude.

A decision,

A decision.

Some say there’s choice.

I say there’s a decision.

Shakespeare said, “Life’s a play and we’re all but actors.”

A decision pressed closely against the glass. 

 

Here the truth lies bound up in thought.

A decision made.

A decision wrought.

Holding Tight

A letter slides from my desk. Containing painfully sad thoughts. Drawn up with an ink stamp insignia.

When you hold tight to this insignia, this name of known love.

Grasp it with all your life.

Sometimes it responds and sometimes it just belies.

Belies the time it was crafted.

Belies the scribes hand.

As a woman of love

I hold tight to that insignia.

Hoping, wishing,

It to return.

Will it see past all my heartache

To rekindle and burn?

I wish for those moments when we didn’t say a word.

The insignia.

We fought.

We loved.

The letters twisting to and fro.

Now it’s all I want

Now it’s all I’ve know.

How to press that insignia bright and curling to and fro.

When you hold tight to this insignia, this name you know and love.

Grasp it with all your life.

Going through turmoil and strife.

The insignia is your future.

Carefully wrought.

Carefully wrought and made, you wait.

Holding tight and wishing for it’s return.

A Dove and a Mirror

As I gazed in the mirror at my wood wicked chair I wondered what was is to come. A dove flighted off a branch and I wondered; wondered deep.

Wandering through the paths of all the “could be’s” and the “might’s.”
To a deep wonder.
I stood gazing back at my old life.
Had I achieved enough in the past?
I briefly will look back as I walk down the graduation aisle.
Did I do enough?
Did I stay the path?

As I extend my arm to toss my cap.

The dove fly’s on.

Rattlesnake Ridge, Snoqualmie Falls

My foot heaved over the ruddy roots as Ruby sprang ahead of me. Ruby is my sister’s dog. I was climbing Rattlesnake Ridge not 6 months after my surgery. It was an amazing feeling of triumph. One of those feelings you get after doing something to the max. Pushing yourself to your limits. As the ruddy mountain path twisted and gnarled ahead of me I kept my eyes on the ground. Glancing up to see the trees arching and casting shadows over the misty trees. The trees sprawling with lichens nestled deep into the tree’s bones. Resembling something fixed and unmoving fooling the common onlooker like an ancient Uruk mosaic, tiny fragments making a whole.

Washington mountain trees

Trees with lichens.

The mountains breaking off into a river and gushing with cold tears. Streaming down and foaming into the deep. The ancient Snoqualmie Indian tribes once lived and drank from these waters. This tribe is still in existence and is federally recognized.

Waterfall
Through these trees, I can see Mt. Rainier, awash with snow. Its heights disappearing into a fog of unknown. I recently became acquainted with someone who indeed was training to hike Rainier’s “fog of unknown.” I’ve heard the training is quite an arduous process. Though how freakin’ amazing that would be?! The mountains really are mysterious and somehow probe into your mind with that adventurous intrigue.

The mountains are calling!

My time in Washington was amazing! The mountains were charming and the coffee shops full of espresso and good books. I visited one of the cutest little bookshops called Ada’s Technical Books and Cafe. Quite a charming little place where I had an amazing Kenyan roast of coffee. And I met a delightful Seattlite who I had a lively conversation about the Peace Corps with. He had toured in Zimbabwe and even learned the language! Peace Corps has always piqued my interest. Seattlites seemed mostly friendly to me.
In my time there I also had my first Japanese massage. Oh my! Let me tell you, that was quite different but it was relaxing in China town. I had some amazing Japanese food too! Here’s a picture of my dessert.

Japanese dessert

Delicious eclectic dessert at International district.

Ah, Endroit Magnifique, how delightful it was!