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beach
Beautiful World
There is so, so much that is beautiful in this world.
My work, my life, my dream, is about helping people. About taking something that's not so great, and healing it. Sometimes all I can do is listen to someone hurting, but contrary to the implied definition, even that's not a passive experience. Unless I'm having a selfish day, I'm always looking for something to give, something to do, some way to help.
Until the moment when I break out of the trees, and my words are stolen by a painted sky, over a forest so dark it's been reduced to two dimensions. The lake carries deep secrets of beauty under a glassy surface, a surface that permits no entry because disturbing it would be beyond criminal. There's a line of amber in the middle of the shadows, revealing that part of that flat black treeline is an island. Beauty and darkness blending into something beyond the definitions of each.
The morning I go out for a walk in the mist on the shore. The waves are crashing, running in and out as though searching for something in the gravel. The brightly wet rocks slide from under my weight, and the sky is impassively gray, too great to be aware of the tiny crustaceans that skitter and slide higher up the shore, demanding safety. The whole world seems to be waiting for something, and maybe it's just for me to leave, so that it can celebrate in its riotous joy. A promise of a terrific storm later. Can a storm have emotion? It seems to promise beauty and emotion, but in such a way to defy both terms.
The hushed open-air cathedral of the trees, with the long grass that invites all and tells nothing. High enough on the hills that the wind is your companion, and only a hawk soars over you. Dusty leaves enjoy their new settings, and the smell of the woods dances tantalizingly past your eyes. Lying down in that long soft grass, the earth accepting your weight, gazing up at the tall pale trees. There's a song here from before we knew notation, and so we'll never be able to take down the notes. Elusive and welcoming. Beautiful.
Only fifteen feet from the surface, and it's a totally different world. The floor is carved by a different master, the ceiling is in constant motion. A valley so deep that darkness seems to bleed out of it, reaching to pull you in and hide you forever, whispering the secrets that will make you forget the sun. Startled life that darts away from your form into better hiding. Sound you can't remember when you break the surface again. Beautiful. Beautiful.
There's nothing I can do, no words I can say. This was a place where I'm not going to be serving, where I'm not going to be helping or making anything better. The only thing I can possibly do here is view, drink, perceive. I'll be something of a holding receptacle for this moment.
That's all I can do - sit, listen with my eyes. Why? I won't have the words to tell anyone else about it later. I can't capture the sound, the taste of the air and convert it. I'm not a painter or a sculptor, to be able to convey this. Even the act of taking a picture would seem to interrupt something, to turn the focus back on the little person down here.
I'm not sure I know why. Maybe it's something I need to see to be all right. Maybe it's just because to see this and walk away without taking it in would be completely wrong. Maybe I'll be able to come back here and bring someone else with me. Maybe it's something that will teach me to love better, somehow. I don't know. I just know that this is beautiful, and I need to take it in.
My work, my life, my dream, is about helping people. About taking something that's not so great, and healing it. Sometimes all I can do is listen to someone hurting, but contrary to the implied definition, even that's not a passive experience. Unless I'm having a selfish day, I'm always looking for something to give, something to do, some way to help.
Until the moment when I break out of the trees, and my words are stolen by a painted sky, over a forest so dark it's been reduced to two dimensions. The lake carries deep secrets of beauty under a glassy surface, a surface that permits no entry because disturbing it would be beyond criminal. There's a line of amber in the middle of the shadows, revealing that part of that flat black treeline is an island. Beauty and darkness blending into something beyond the definitions of each.
The morning I go out for a walk in the mist on the shore. The waves are crashing, running in and out as though searching for something in the gravel. The brightly wet rocks slide from under my weight, and the sky is impassively gray, too great to be aware of the tiny crustaceans that skitter and slide higher up the shore, demanding safety. The whole world seems to be waiting for something, and maybe it's just for me to leave, so that it can celebrate in its riotous joy. A promise of a terrific storm later. Can a storm have emotion? It seems to promise beauty and emotion, but in such a way to defy both terms.
The hushed open-air cathedral of the trees, with the long grass that invites all and tells nothing. High enough on the hills that the wind is your companion, and only a hawk soars over you. Dusty leaves enjoy their new settings, and the smell of the woods dances tantalizingly past your eyes. Lying down in that long soft grass, the earth accepting your weight, gazing up at the tall pale trees. There's a song here from before we knew notation, and so we'll never be able to take down the notes. Elusive and welcoming. Beautiful.
Only fifteen feet from the surface, and it's a totally different world. The floor is carved by a different master, the ceiling is in constant motion. A valley so deep that darkness seems to bleed out of it, reaching to pull you in and hide you forever, whispering the secrets that will make you forget the sun. Startled life that darts away from your form into better hiding. Sound you can't remember when you break the surface again. Beautiful. Beautiful.
There's nothing I can do, no words I can say. This was a place where I'm not going to be serving, where I'm not going to be helping or making anything better. The only thing I can possibly do here is view, drink, perceive. I'll be something of a holding receptacle for this moment.
That's all I can do - sit, listen with my eyes. Why? I won't have the words to tell anyone else about it later. I can't capture the sound, the taste of the air and convert it. I'm not a painter or a sculptor, to be able to convey this. Even the act of taking a picture would seem to interrupt something, to turn the focus back on the little person down here.
I'm not sure I know why. Maybe it's something I need to see to be all right. Maybe it's just because to see this and walk away without taking it in would be completely wrong. Maybe I'll be able to come back here and bring someone else with me. Maybe it's something that will teach me to love better, somehow. I don't know. I just know that this is beautiful, and I need to take it in.
i'll be your forever
And as your scent wanes away, as your voice echoes through my soul, I no longer find comfort in your arms - I reach out into emptyness, and emptyness takes hold.
I drown.
I drown in an ocean of questions. I kick my way through doubts and memories. I struggle for air, only to realize the air is your scent, and I am confused.
I wake up, suddenly, realizing it was no more than a dream, and the ocean was an ocean of tears. My tears.
Afraid to fall asleep, I lie in my bed, staring in to darkness, and I remember how the thought of you always colored the shadows. I take a few breaths, cautiously, as I expect to find your scent as my air. I reach a false state of calm - a gray zone that I have been walking through since you've been gone.
I organize my thoughts. I line them up in my mind - my army of questions, ready for inspection. I shudder as I feel each one pierce me like a dagger. But then I realize that it is only one question in my mind, one weight pulling at my heart:
Why are you in such a hurry to forget?
It is the same question over and over, circling me as I lie in my bed. It taunts me, and tortures me with each possible answer.
I do not understand. I find no logic. Logic ran away when pain settled in. But I do not miss it; I know that logic will not feel like a moment in your arms.
And these questions only eliminate the remains of your voice and what's left of your scent. In the war inside my soul, the questions kill off the memories.
But then again, why remember?
Memories keep us bound to the past, blinding us to what happens in the present. But if the present isn't exactly what we had hoped for in the past, is it such a crime to wish to keep living something we liked?.. Is it such a crime to wish to keep something we loved? Love is so rare and precious, it's worth fighting for. Can you not see that?
And as tears once again run down my face, each one falling and whispering "why", I am startled as I hear a familiar sound.
My cellphone. As the ringtone grows louder, I am amazed to hear my heartbeat drown it out. I look at the screen, and there you are, summoned from the depths of my desires.
I answer, and your voice once again colors the shadows. You tell me you love me, and my heart believes you. You assure me that I am the one, and I can detect no lie as I see your voice in my mind.
I do not want to think. I am just grateful that my tears have stopped. As I hang up, I can breathe your scent once again, and your voice still sings to me. There is no pain. There is no logic. There's only the feeling of your arms wrapped around me as I am finally able to go to sleep. I embrace my dreams fearlessly, for I know that whenever I reach out, I will find your hands this time, if only in my dream. I am content for what's left of the night, even though I know that tomorrow, I will greet the day soaked in an ocean of doubts and memories once again.
I drown.
I drown in an ocean of questions. I kick my way through doubts and memories. I struggle for air, only to realize the air is your scent, and I am confused.
I wake up, suddenly, realizing it was no more than a dream, and the ocean was an ocean of tears. My tears.
Afraid to fall asleep, I lie in my bed, staring in to darkness, and I remember how the thought of you always colored the shadows. I take a few breaths, cautiously, as I expect to find your scent as my air. I reach a false state of calm - a gray zone that I have been walking through since you've been gone.
I organize my thoughts. I line them up in my mind - my army of questions, ready for inspection. I shudder as I feel each one pierce me like a dagger. But then I realize that it is only one question in my mind, one weight pulling at my heart:
Why are you in such a hurry to forget?
It is the same question over and over, circling me as I lie in my bed. It taunts me, and tortures me with each possible answer.
I do not understand. I find no logic. Logic ran away when pain settled in. But I do not miss it; I know that logic will not feel like a moment in your arms.
And these questions only eliminate the remains of your voice and what's left of your scent. In the war inside my soul, the questions kill off the memories.
But then again, why remember?
Memories keep us bound to the past, blinding us to what happens in the present. But if the present isn't exactly what we had hoped for in the past, is it such a crime to wish to keep living something we liked?.. Is it such a crime to wish to keep something we loved? Love is so rare and precious, it's worth fighting for. Can you not see that?
And as tears once again run down my face, each one falling and whispering "why", I am startled as I hear a familiar sound.
My cellphone. As the ringtone grows louder, I am amazed to hear my heartbeat drown it out. I look at the screen, and there you are, summoned from the depths of my desires.
I answer, and your voice once again colors the shadows. You tell me you love me, and my heart believes you. You assure me that I am the one, and I can detect no lie as I see your voice in my mind.
I do not want to think. I am just grateful that my tears have stopped. As I hang up, I can breathe your scent once again, and your voice still sings to me. There is no pain. There is no logic. There's only the feeling of your arms wrapped around me as I am finally able to go to sleep. I embrace my dreams fearlessly, for I know that whenever I reach out, I will find your hands this time, if only in my dream. I am content for what's left of the night, even though I know that tomorrow, I will greet the day soaked in an ocean of doubts and memories once again.
tasty 好食 好吃 好开胃 15/6/08
tasty 好食 好吃 好开胃
Pacific Ocean Food Court 海洋飲食中心
文华石斑鱼头鱼肉火炭爐 (火锅)
grouper steamboat Grouper (石斑魚爐) steamboat
at the back of Farlim Bhd at Farlim, Air Itam, Penang, behind the padang
文华
pacific ocean food court 001700605-X loke boon wah
http://www.chilema.cn/ping/default.aspx?select3=2&txtitle=Dorathy
ooi han hooi 000233390-A
豆干,牛排
15/6/08 sunday ooia
Our Visit With lauralew, infinityedge, tattooedjen and intrepid28 ...... YAY!
Home again ....
What a nice reprieve from life here ..... let me tell you!
Once again tattooedjen and intrepid28 were the ultimate hostess and host! Dave and I can't thank them enough for allowing us to stay with them. These two have seriously become part of our family. Speaking of family ..... lauralew and her new beau infinityedge met up with us on Thursday day and we spent some quality time with them. They joined us for dinner at Jen and Justin's and it was just one fun time full of laughter and good food.
We love this man that has come into our granddaughters life. They are adorable together and it is obvious that Christopher adores Laura and visa versa. They seem to just "fit" and compliment each other so well. He is a welcome addition to this family of nuts.
The SUN CAME OUT!
We had a wonderful lunch with Laura and Christopher and then walked around the Plaza in Arcata. When we returned to our cars ..... we were met with parking tickets ..... sign? What sign? OH .... THAT SIGN ..... shit ..... teach us to pay attention. Its only $25.00 which was less than I thought it was going to be. Then we headed down to the beach ..... the sun was out (on and off) ..... the sand was warm on the bare feet ..... the wind was freezing on the rest of the body ..... but it was all beautiful just the same. Was just a plain old great day. Then off to Jen and Justin's for dinner and a fantastic evening !!
Jen and I finally played our third game of a two out of thee match of Cribbage that was never completed from our last visit. It was close. I was getting the better hands and by all means should of kicked her butt ..... but it was not meant to be. She kept coming back with a vengeance ..... then passing me in the final stretch to home. It was her deal ..... her crib. I would get first count. BUT ..... first I had to stop her from pegging out ..... and I could NOT! Yes, Jen took the official title of CHAMP ...... but there will be a rematch ..... you can't keep a desperate Cribbage player down .... no sir!
Although I was supposed to help with dinner ..... I did dishes instead. Dave and Justin did a MARVELOUS job with dinner ..... Cod, grilled zucchini, garlic bread, salad ...... yummy!
When it was time for Christopher and Laura to go it was sad. But we were all exhausted. With a parting gift of some awesome homemade sauce, made with fresh herbs and spices from Christopher for Dave and I (which I'm sure we will savor on the river
) we gave our hugs and said our goodbyes. And we look forward to our next visit with them. Thanks you two for everything ..... the day was awesome!
The ride home today beautiful. It would of been great to stay another day, but Dave is getting very anxious to get the little trailer finished and get out of here as am I. And Justin and Jennifer have promised to come and visit us on the claim. This is a HUGE step for Jen ..... but I am so honored that she would come out and give it a go. WHAT A TROOPER!
Enjoy the pictures ..... Dave did not use the flash inside last nigh so most of the pictures have been edited the best I could to brighten them up .... and the ones that I had a really hard time with are in B/W ...... I could not get the color right to save my butt ..... but I love B/W .....
Anyway, enjoy ...
What a nice reprieve from life here ..... let me tell you!
Once again tattooedjen and intrepid28 were the ultimate hostess and host! Dave and I can't thank them enough for allowing us to stay with them. These two have seriously become part of our family. Speaking of family ..... lauralew and her new beau infinityedge met up with us on Thursday day and we spent some quality time with them. They joined us for dinner at Jen and Justin's and it was just one fun time full of laughter and good food.
We love this man that has come into our granddaughters life. They are adorable together and it is obvious that Christopher adores Laura and visa versa. They seem to just "fit" and compliment each other so well. He is a welcome addition to this family of nuts.
The SUN CAME OUT!
We had a wonderful lunch with Laura and Christopher and then walked around the Plaza in Arcata. When we returned to our cars ..... we were met with parking tickets ..... sign? What sign? OH .... THAT SIGN ..... shit ..... teach us to pay attention. Its only $25.00 which was less than I thought it was going to be. Then we headed down to the beach ..... the sun was out (on and off) ..... the sand was warm on the bare feet ..... the wind was freezing on the rest of the body ..... but it was all beautiful just the same. Was just a plain old great day. Then off to Jen and Justin's for dinner and a fantastic evening !! Jen and I finally played our third game of a two out of thee match of Cribbage that was never completed from our last visit. It was close. I was getting the better hands and by all means should of kicked her butt ..... but it was not meant to be. She kept coming back with a vengeance ..... then passing me in the final stretch to home. It was her deal ..... her crib. I would get first count. BUT ..... first I had to stop her from pegging out ..... and I could NOT! Yes, Jen took the official title of CHAMP ...... but there will be a rematch ..... you can't keep a desperate Cribbage player down .... no sir!
Although I was supposed to help with dinner ..... I did dishes instead. Dave and Justin did a MARVELOUS job with dinner ..... Cod, grilled zucchini, garlic bread, salad ...... yummy!
When it was time for Christopher and Laura to go it was sad. But we were all exhausted. With a parting gift of some awesome homemade sauce, made with fresh herbs and spices from Christopher for Dave and I (which I'm sure we will savor on the river
) we gave our hugs and said our goodbyes. And we look forward to our next visit with them. Thanks you two for everything ..... the day was awesome! The ride home today beautiful. It would of been great to stay another day, but Dave is getting very anxious to get the little trailer finished and get out of here as am I. And Justin and Jennifer have promised to come and visit us on the claim. This is a HUGE step for Jen ..... but I am so honored that she would come out and give it a go. WHAT A TROOPER!
Enjoy the pictures ..... Dave did not use the flash inside last nigh so most of the pictures have been edited the best I could to brighten them up .... and the ones that I had a really hard time with are in B/W ...... I could not get the color right to save my butt ..... but I love B/W .....
Anyway, enjoy ...
And verily do I say, Bleagh!
Walking, feet protected by sandals from the rocks, but the little breaking splashes still roll over them. Tuck my hair behind one ear - the wind keeps tugging it free and playing with it, swirling it into happy little tangles in the breeze. The foghorn from the lighthouse a half-mile away booms out, and I look up, squinting to see it. In this mist, I can't make it out. Gulls crying and wheeling overhead, but rarely visible. Big round rocks that slide a bit as I put my weight down, but I'm happy to be here. You can taste the air here - taste the salt marsh back around the bend that the undertow drains, taste the sea that's been crashing these rocks since before people walked this shore, taste the sky clouded over.
Breeze tugs at the light skirt I'm wearing over my suit. My grandmother would fret to no end if I went out swimming by myself when the visibility's this low, but walking along the shore is fine - particularly if I don't tell her. It's a delicious time - the sun hasn't yet melted the mist, and while I can see the rocks and the little breakers clearly, the rest of the world is shrouded. The busy streets of the town don't exist, the irritated residents and the clueless tourists are not awake to enter this sphere of visibility. The sounds are the waves breaking and crashing out beyond where I can see, their boom against the island that stands as a distant smudge in the fog, the gulls, the foghorn, and the crunch of the rocks.
I smile, happy to be out here, and walk on.
------
A couple of people I love are sick.
And I'm sick. I can't tell you what my temperature is, because I found out that whether it's in my mouth, the crook of my elbow, my closed fist, or the inside joint of my knee, the thermometer reads 98.0. This could explain why, to my memory, I never once had a fever in high school. But I've been leaking all day, head feels heavy (at some point, I told my friend that my cheekbones felt full - right beside my ears. She laughed at me.), headache's been roaming between a 3 and a 4, and I'm dog-tired. Similar to the drunk and his toilet bowl, the Kleenex box seems like my dearest friend at the moment.
You can tell I'm feeling little and vulnerable. I had a moment of deep disappointment when I discovered that someone had snarfed my apples-and-caramel cup out of the fridge, and my main thought right now is, "I want my Dad."
Kick-butt warrior girl never wants anybody as plaintively as that. This girl happens to know exactly whose Sugar Bear she is, and still believes in the inherent ability of the Dad to make it all better.
But until he gets here, I'm taking the suggestion of a friend from when I was "deathly ill" in the beginning of my freshman year, and taking a walk along the beach. It did start as the North Shore, but the salt crept its way in there, and it didn't take long to realize I'd relocated.
Breeze tugs at the light skirt I'm wearing over my suit. My grandmother would fret to no end if I went out swimming by myself when the visibility's this low, but walking along the shore is fine - particularly if I don't tell her. It's a delicious time - the sun hasn't yet melted the mist, and while I can see the rocks and the little breakers clearly, the rest of the world is shrouded. The busy streets of the town don't exist, the irritated residents and the clueless tourists are not awake to enter this sphere of visibility. The sounds are the waves breaking and crashing out beyond where I can see, their boom against the island that stands as a distant smudge in the fog, the gulls, the foghorn, and the crunch of the rocks.
I smile, happy to be out here, and walk on.
------
A couple of people I love are sick.
And I'm sick. I can't tell you what my temperature is, because I found out that whether it's in my mouth, the crook of my elbow, my closed fist, or the inside joint of my knee, the thermometer reads 98.0. This could explain why, to my memory, I never once had a fever in high school. But I've been leaking all day, head feels heavy (at some point, I told my friend that my cheekbones felt full - right beside my ears. She laughed at me.), headache's been roaming between a 3 and a 4, and I'm dog-tired. Similar to the drunk and his toilet bowl, the Kleenex box seems like my dearest friend at the moment.
You can tell I'm feeling little and vulnerable. I had a moment of deep disappointment when I discovered that someone had snarfed my apples-and-caramel cup out of the fridge, and my main thought right now is, "I want my Dad."
Kick-butt warrior girl never wants anybody as plaintively as that. This girl happens to know exactly whose Sugar Bear she is, and still believes in the inherent ability of the Dad to make it all better.
But until he gets here, I'm taking the suggestion of a friend from when I was "deathly ill" in the beginning of my freshman year, and taking a walk along the beach. It did start as the North Shore, but the salt crept its way in there, and it didn't take long to realize I'd relocated.
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