Archives for posts with tag: morning page
Summer Flowers – Photo from July

It’s funny how whether you have a plan or not, sometimes, the day has a plan for you. It could be the Universe talking or Mother Nature, or maybe the Earth has reached its capacity to maintain balance. It’s as though some higher power has run a finger and swished the yin-yang of this world into chaos. It’s as though we are in a state of pause….and from this chaos, there is light, there is hope.

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This is where my fingers stop tapping. They hover above the keyboard, ready to say more, but at the moment this may be it, and that’s OK.

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Yesterday I went to a nearby thrift store to drop off some donations. Mostly clothes and a few books. I wasn’t planning on going into the store. The donation drop-off is at the back of the store. I pulled the car up and gave the lady my bags. She was on the phone and said that she was talking to a friend that has to move out of her home to live closer to her grown kids so that they can help take care of her. She was having trouble letting go of all that she’d accumulated during her lifetime. I nodded in understanding. We are all headed in that direction. Collectors of memories and stuff.

I walked away, got into my car, ready to circle out of there; instead, I pulled into a parking spot in the back and decided to head into the store to see if there were any treasures I could find. As I walked past the lady toward the front entrance of the building, she smiled at me and said, “your our best type of customer; you start in the back and end in the front.” I gave a wide smile, and bid her good day. I liked her words. I hadn’t thought of it quite that way, but it was true, and it made me want to find something that much more. I didn’t make it past the books, but I did leave there with a pile of books and a surprise that I saw at check out. A bright pink box: 20 Poems: Cards which use Rhyme and Rhythm to Make Words Stick by The School of Life.

As I reach the end of today’s journal page, I am open to what the day brings. I try to keep my optimism hat on, but at the same time, I acknowledge whatever emotions I may be feeling at any moment.

I breathe in deeply…letting my breath out slowly, as I sign off, leaving a trail of peace.

img_2734It’s my Monday off. Hubby is tending to the backyard plants, the garden, our little sanctuary that his father began, and he, his son continues. I’m listening to the water fall from the hose, the scratch of the dog’s feet as he explores the morning sights, sounds, and smells. I hear the mockingbird that’s been quite active in the wee hours of the morning on other occasions; I hear feathered friends peeping and tweeting, whistling their happy tunes.

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Seahorses dance through the
cloud tracks in the sky…tight buds
waiting to bloom into pink puffs
of delight. Sun shines a warm smile
into my being, a happy step to my gait.

The heater hums, or rather it rattles–
yet it brings a sense of…something–then it stops;
the sounds of the morning push through,
the thump of the newspaper,
the clank of working trucks.
my mind buzzing around.
I take a moment to soak in the quiet,
breathing in and out…longer next time.
one breath at a time, moment by moment.
The time has come, the day is calling.

Lucy’s back at the Dollar Tree in search of more puzzles. She has as many suitable 24 piece puzzles as she can find. In line behind her, a mother and her three young daughters of varying ages are filled with spunk and curiosity.

The mother starts to put her items on the conveyer belt as she says to her daughters, “Looks like someone’s having a birthday party!”

Lucy keeps her eyes fixed ahead, thinking to herself that if the mother engaged her in conversation about the puzzles, she would lie and say, yes, that’s right…a birthday party.

With hot chocolate in hand, I start the engine, gaze at the thick fog before me. Audio book streams in the background as my attention follows a group of seagulls circling above. At that moment, I’m taken to the ocean. One seagull continues to circle and I can see the grace and strength of his wings as the audio book becomes mere sound, my attention elsewhere, following the joy of the seagull in flight. I reach for my phone; the seagull makes one last pass, then departs, leaving me with a feeling of fullness and appreciation for the moment.

I’ve always noticed and appreciated sculptures that greet visitors of public libraries.

But lately whenever I visit a different library, I am in awe; and even when I visit the same library over and over again, I stop to admire the sculptures and how they capture the beauty of reading and the library itself–a special home open to all to share and receive that which lies within the library walls.

Recently, I visited a library that was new (to me). I’m on a mission to obtain as many library cards as I can whenever we go to a nearby city and it makes sense. Although, it may not be convenient to physically check the books out from certain more distant locations, I gain a new library card, and online access to e-books and audio books. I enjoy visiting each of the library webpages to learn about new books and librarian recommendations.

These are just a couple of the sculptures from two different libraries. It’s always fun to see the vast differences in how an artist captures the magic of reading and the libraries.

A book that comes to mind is Know the Past, Find the Future: The New York Public Library at 100. It was one of my first free downloads, when it was available for free, when I purchased my first Kindle reader. I still need to come back to it and finish reading the reflections by various people on their favorite books from the collection.

Here I sit at the local coffee shop,
a circular construction, tables all around,
waterfalls in the background, trees reach
wide around the space, making me feel as
though I’m in a treehouse, and for these moments,
I feel free, at ease, childlike–
in my element.

This morning, I knew that when I left the house, I would be stopping at the coffee shop before work. I knew I would attempt to write something on my blog, and I knew that there was a book that I wanted to share before so much time went by, that the thought fell away. 

At this particular coffee shop, there is a waterfall in the background, trees, and large cement structures that hold bright pink and white flowers and other textured shrubbery. Usually, if I stop for coffee, it’s in and out, then off to work. It feels like my little piece of Zen–the soothing sound of the water swooshing out, bees buzzing here and there, and the canopy of trees that makes me feel like I’m in a tree house–these beauties get my day going in a peaceful direction.

This morning, as I sat at the table, before I opened my iPad, I stretched to the left to help alleviate some muscle stiffness and what did I spy, but a heart shape on one of the red bricks. This brought a great smile to my being; and it felt like that feeling you get when you feel like the Universe is speaking to you–as though the Universe is smiling or tickling your funny bone. Here I was sharing a heart yesterday, a heart that I had taken a photo of a long while ago; and here, this morning, another heart appears in the present moment. Such a wonderful feeling.

The book that I’d like to share that is written for young readers and the young at heart is The Poet’s Dog by Patricia MacLachlan. I was lucky enough to come across this when my mother-in-law came across it in one of her book catalogs. She passed it along to me and said how much she loved it. I happily accepted it and put it on a nearby shelf to be read when I felt in the mood. It’s a very short story that can easily be read in a short sitting. I chose to read half in July and was drawn to finish it recently. I was taken with its beauty, with the love on those pages. It’s a special book to be read and shared. For anyone that loves dog’s, children, poetry–they will especially appreciate this book.  

This morning I saw a woman kneeling down with her phone camera in hand, honing in on something in the crevices of one of those large metal grates that you often run into on the sidewalks. I tried to sneak a glance as I walked by. I think she was capturing some sort of greenery that was growing, unnoticed. 

It was nice seeing someone doing that. I know there are many others out there capturing these small moments, things that are hidden from us until we stop to look. I know I’m not the only one; and that’s why it’s nice to see someone else in action, as I might be on a day I’m leaning over some small beauty that’s growing through the cracks of the world. 

So far the one-word, five minute writing prompts are working for me. Sometimes I don’t have a lot to write in my notebook with this one word, but always it brings me somewhere-eventually; sometimes, I write past the five minute mark. I’ve always appreciated Julia Cameron’s insistence on writing “morning pages.” I can’t say that I’ve been diligent in following through, but I do realize their place and importance in keeping the writing hand and creative mind moving. I like to think of these one word daily prompts as an alternative. It’s a bite size that fits perfectly and is a nice way to get the day started if you need a gentle nudge. 

Magnetic poetry words have also been helpful and I keep keep them tucked away in case I’m in need of further nudging. 

I settled on using Google Docs to record my daily prompts. It’s great that I can login from anywhere and also use the App across my devices. Then I don’t have to worry about collecting yet another paper journal! And there’s consistency in knowing where to go and not trying to remember which journal had what. 

Before I know it, five minutes, turned to, ten; once it reached my journal blog, an hour has passed…a quick, enjoyable hour that really does feel like five minutes. 

Smudged: Today’s word is from the writing prompt book I mentioned in a previous post. Below is the direction that my fingers tapped it out.


She erased the drawing but in her haste, she left a giant smudge on the page. The more she looked at it, she thought she heard a faint voice coming from the page, from the smudge itself. She put her ear down toward the smudge; the voice was clearly talking to her.

“Why did it take you so long?”

She brought her head back up to see if the smudge had taken shape. She heard it. Or was she mad? Had she been sitting with her pencils and erasers far too long?

She decided to respond to the smudge but instead of talking aloud, she started to write words at the bottom of her drawing, and then she began drawing ferociously; she didn’t think about it any longer, she was becoming at one with the drawing before her.

As the drawing began to take shape, the smudge had become a beautiful table outside a cafe somewhere far away along cobblestoned streets, a day filled with sun and people zigging and zagging through the market admiring the handcrafted goods.

The artist sat with her sketchbook at the table, recording the happenings, soaking in the sights, happy to be alive.