The Moon's consort gives Her the gift of a world rich and vibrant. A world alive with the sights and sounds of joy, of happiness, and of love. He places at Her feet the promise of another bloom, another breeze, another kiss form lips parted, loving, and patient. He bows respectfully before Her beauty, and lifts Her up into the night sky for all to see, all to admire, and all to worship. He commands the world under His reign to love in Her name, and He looks longingly upon Her face with lifetimes of adoration. The lovers eternally chasing, striving for those moments when Their love will touch and the world will be cast in Their shadow.
Long live the Oak King.
Blessed Solstice, my friends.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Songs for the Day
Something a little different from yours truly today. The first time I heard this song, I cried. It made me think of my father for no other reason than I wished dearly that he had been consistent enough as a man to actually pass something like this down to me as a boy. There are so many images in this song that DO remind me of my dad, though. He went down the road in the rain and snow, and if ever there were a car I *would* associate with my dad, it would actually be an El Camino.
My father left me many things that I did not expect to receive. I know how to turn a wrench because of him. I got his temper when I was a younger man, as well as his short fuse that has taken a long time to mellow. I learned (indirectly) that it's okay to seek out something better for yourself if it benefits your family. He showed me that you should never underestimate how many peoples' lives you touch. And he taught me (although it has taken me along time to realize, appreciate, and understand that he did) that sacrificing one's *self* can add so much to your own life. And that he did in spades. Giving makes your own life better.
My father is gone. The standing joke with him was that his funeral would be empty. We always thought otherwise, but you know how that really goes, right? you just never know. When he died, we finally understood how many people my father's gifts touched. The stream of people was almost comical, and the wake was standing-room-only. I remember my mother, weeping, leaning into my shoulder and whispering to me "If he could only have seen this..."
I believe that what happens to us in the afterlife is entirely dependent on our beliefs. So in that case, Dad, Did you see?
And we love you, miss you, and wish you were here.
*I* wish you were here.
<3 <3
"Watched it coming up Winslow
Down South Park Boulevard
Yeah it was looking good from tail to hood
Great big fins and painted steel
Man it looked just like the Batmobile
With my old man behind the wheel
Well you could hardly even see him
In all of that chrome
The man with the plan and the pocket comb
But every night it carried him home
And I could hear him sayin'...
Don't gimme no Buick
Son you must take my word
If there's a God in heaven
He's got a Silver Thunderbird
You can keep your Eldorados
And the foreign car's absurd
Me I wanna go down
In a Silver Thunderbird
He got up every morning
While i was still asleep
But I remember the sound of him shuffling around
Then right before the crack of dawn
I heard him turn the motor on
But when I got up they were gone
Down the road in the rain and snow
The man and his machine would go
Oh the secrets that old car would know
Sometimes I hear him sayin'...
Don't gimme no Buick
Son you must take my word
If there's a God in heaven
He's got a Silver Thunderbird
You can keep your Eldorados
And the foreign car's absurd
Me I wanna go down
In a Silver Thunderbird"
Silver Thunderbird
Marc Cohn
My father left me many things that I did not expect to receive. I know how to turn a wrench because of him. I got his temper when I was a younger man, as well as his short fuse that has taken a long time to mellow. I learned (indirectly) that it's okay to seek out something better for yourself if it benefits your family. He showed me that you should never underestimate how many peoples' lives you touch. And he taught me (although it has taken me along time to realize, appreciate, and understand that he did) that sacrificing one's *self* can add so much to your own life. And that he did in spades. Giving makes your own life better.
My father is gone. The standing joke with him was that his funeral would be empty. We always thought otherwise, but you know how that really goes, right? you just never know. When he died, we finally understood how many people my father's gifts touched. The stream of people was almost comical, and the wake was standing-room-only. I remember my mother, weeping, leaning into my shoulder and whispering to me "If he could only have seen this..."
I believe that what happens to us in the afterlife is entirely dependent on our beliefs. So in that case, Dad, Did you see?
And we love you, miss you, and wish you were here.
*I* wish you were here.
<3 <3
"Watched it coming up Winslow
Down South Park Boulevard
Yeah it was looking good from tail to hood
Great big fins and painted steel
Man it looked just like the Batmobile
With my old man behind the wheel
Well you could hardly even see him
In all of that chrome
The man with the plan and the pocket comb
But every night it carried him home
And I could hear him sayin'...
Don't gimme no Buick
Son you must take my word
If there's a God in heaven
He's got a Silver Thunderbird
You can keep your Eldorados
And the foreign car's absurd
Me I wanna go down
In a Silver Thunderbird
He got up every morning
While i was still asleep
But I remember the sound of him shuffling around
Then right before the crack of dawn
I heard him turn the motor on
But when I got up they were gone
Down the road in the rain and snow
The man and his machine would go
Oh the secrets that old car would know
Sometimes I hear him sayin'...
Don't gimme no Buick
Son you must take my word
If there's a God in heaven
He's got a Silver Thunderbird
You can keep your Eldorados
And the foreign car's absurd
Me I wanna go down
In a Silver Thunderbird"
Silver Thunderbird
Marc Cohn
Saturday, June 11, 2011
With Pride (For My Son)
In the watery years under the bridge you grew
and though the years
fairly flew
you never lost your smile
Your paths changed and branched and twisted round
they reached towards the sky
and deep in the ground
where you learned to stand
You found your place amongst your peers
and in the crowd of strangers
your fears
but hope is what you kept
And tomorrow brightens a whole new day
With treasures to find
In your own way
and you carry your years in your heart
So today my son begins journeys new
But with you I shall leave
I Love You
You carry home wherever you go.
My Son.
Graduate.
Burrillville High School Class of 2011
Congratulations.
and though the years
fairly flew
you never lost your smile
Your paths changed and branched and twisted round
they reached towards the sky
and deep in the ground
where you learned to stand
You found your place amongst your peers
and in the crowd of strangers
your fears
but hope is what you kept
And tomorrow brightens a whole new day
With treasures to find
In your own way
and you carry your years in your heart
So today my son begins journeys new
But with you I shall leave
I Love You
You carry home wherever you go.
My Son.
Graduate.
Burrillville High School Class of 2011
Congratulations.
From Left to Right
My son graduated high school yesterday. He marched so steadily with all his classmates, he moved with that air of pride that can only come from someone who is deeply happy with what they have accomplished. He sat there, on the stage, beside not only so many of his peers, but alongside his girlfriend and just beamed. He was excited. He graduated.We laughed at each other and made faces back and forth from the stage to the crowd, We listened to the speeches his class officers gave and the strangeness from one of the guest speakers as she read from "Curious You" (A Curious George book!). I heard a few beautiful nuggets that might actually appear in my own writings someday.
But eventually, we came to that point where they called the names.
Then they called HIS name.
Weyland Connor LaBelle
And it was a very big deal to hear.
He beamed, his world open before him. No endeavor too great. His chest swelled with pride and with joy. He laughed with the crowd, he shook hands and high-fived his classmates. He became a member of the Class of 2011. He belonged. And when the time came, the class, in unison, moved their tassels from left to right, and the cheers and the shouts and the explosion of silly string became quite the spectacle. A beautiful expression of the pressures that build up inside a class that had to deal with so many challenges.
And somewhere, deep inside, I thought of many of you. I thought of how it felt when WE walked across that stage. And I remembered how easily I walked away and vanished into the land of "Where are they now?" I have tried to stress to my son how very important it is to nurture the relationships that he holds dear to his heart. I have made every effort to point out the fulfillment that comes from having good people in your life. And I recognize that it is going to be difficult for him when he leaves for Florida on Sunday.
To you, my only son, I raise the mug today. To you for feeling pride and accomplishment To you for making a tough decision to continue in a relationship with Jill regardless of the miles. To you for seeing the road ahead and being both excited and fearful.
To you, Welyand Connor LaBelle, for a bright and beautiful future.
Huzzah.
<clink>
But eventually, we came to that point where they called the names.
Then they called HIS name.
Weyland Connor LaBelle
And it was a very big deal to hear.
He beamed, his world open before him. No endeavor too great. His chest swelled with pride and with joy. He laughed with the crowd, he shook hands and high-fived his classmates. He became a member of the Class of 2011. He belonged. And when the time came, the class, in unison, moved their tassels from left to right, and the cheers and the shouts and the explosion of silly string became quite the spectacle. A beautiful expression of the pressures that build up inside a class that had to deal with so many challenges.
And somewhere, deep inside, I thought of many of you. I thought of how it felt when WE walked across that stage. And I remembered how easily I walked away and vanished into the land of "Where are they now?" I have tried to stress to my son how very important it is to nurture the relationships that he holds dear to his heart. I have made every effort to point out the fulfillment that comes from having good people in your life. And I recognize that it is going to be difficult for him when he leaves for Florida on Sunday.
To you, my only son, I raise the mug today. To you for feeling pride and accomplishment To you for making a tough decision to continue in a relationship with Jill regardless of the miles. To you for seeing the road ahead and being both excited and fearful.
To you, Welyand Connor LaBelle, for a bright and beautiful future.
Huzzah.
<clink>
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Love, The Creature
A creature waits to be fed
Softly beside your bed
And when time grows near
You face your deep fear
And plunge headlong instead
Love IS a creature, waiting for you to sacrifice yourself to it, become One with it... To see the beauty inside it's gullet, and the wonders that those who give all to the Alter of the Beast realize. It is worth the sacrifice of self to become one with a beast so powerfully in control of your heart. It makes life more interesting, it makes giving more rewarding, and it makes pain deeper and more cutting. But the pain is worth the tenderness that often accompanies it.
Your heart wants to give in.
Let it.
Lie naked in the jaws of the beast and let it take you wholly, completely, and passionately.
Love, itself, becomes the reward, your heart and soul the investments. And worth Every. Single. Tear.
<3 <3
Indeed.
Softly beside your bed
And when time grows near
You face your deep fear
And plunge headlong instead
Love IS a creature, waiting for you to sacrifice yourself to it, become One with it... To see the beauty inside it's gullet, and the wonders that those who give all to the Alter of the Beast realize. It is worth the sacrifice of self to become one with a beast so powerfully in control of your heart. It makes life more interesting, it makes giving more rewarding, and it makes pain deeper and more cutting. But the pain is worth the tenderness that often accompanies it.
Your heart wants to give in.
Let it.
Lie naked in the jaws of the beast and let it take you wholly, completely, and passionately.
Love, itself, becomes the reward, your heart and soul the investments. And worth Every. Single. Tear.
<3 <3
Indeed.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Reflections in the Asphalt Sky
I hit a milestone today. Actually, it was the Ten Mile Stone. It felt good, and while I was out there roasting happily under the Mighty Sun like some wafer-thin pan filled with batter lying inside an EZ Bake Oven, my mind happily wandered through several (okay, more than several) paths. Here's a glimpse that I am more than happy to share with all of you.
Enjoy.
I am a Runner.
I don't know how much I really qualify for that title, but I am. I feel it. No, I don't shop at the right places or wear the latest running fashions, but inside, where it counts, I have an affinity for all those who run. And it feels pretty damned good to me. Running has helped me in so many ways... I have lost weight (I have no idea how much, since I treat a scale like a television - an extraneous appendage with little use in my life these days), I have a means by which I can sort things out quietly when I need to, I can set personal goals and meet them at my own pace - thereby maintaining my self esteem, and I have yet another subject to use when conversation with others is lacking. In my heart, I am a runner. Someday, I just might look the part, but that matters little to me.
I am a Writer.
Hm. This one took some time to work through, since labels are already a touchy point for me. But I am. I write. I see the world through words, and I WANT to express the beauty I see openly and with care. It makes choosing the words so important. It also means that I pay attention to words when they are used... I like to learn new ones, and I guess at some point in my life I should actually invest some time into reading one of those "Improve your vocabulary" books that are so very prevalent in the writing section of most book stores. But back to the topic... I AM a writer. One of these days, maybe I'll get my butt published for real, if it ever gets to be that important to me. I doubt it. But you never know. Maybe after I part these waters, one of you will gather me up and place me between good leather covers to share. But that's your call. I will eventually have to decide who gets the rights to do that... hm. Funny how my brain works.
Any volunteers?
On that note... while I was out there (no giggling, yes... I am out there...) I had a little ditty pop into my head.
The City lives on without you still
Yet feels your sweet touch upon every hill
And in noisy tubes far down below
Keeps your heart beating and letting it grow
And in busy streets bustling above
The City throbs with your powerful love
From cacophonous harbors to those college halls
Your city remembers you and waits for your call
In cloudy skies above towering glass frames
A City in love whispers your name
So yeah. My mind wanders sometimes. Deal with it.
On that note (pun sort of intended) I will include that I seem to be a songwriter as well. No, I'm not kidding, although I never EVER thought I'd say that. I am also a Poet. Not the most profitable of trades, but hey... it sure is wonderful.
I am an Artist.
Holy Hell. This one was probably toughest of all to accept. I mean, Runner? sure. Writer? Well, okay... but an Artist? Yes. I am. I have produced small pieces, I have some photography out there, and I am trying (slowly and desperately) to play music. All in the name of Art. My sweet Gina is my connection to the professional art world, and I appreciate her greatly. She is such a wonder to watch as her mind wraps around things from the perspective of a trained artist... amazing. Also, my very wonderful friend Randy is my connection to the world of unexpected passions. He looks the part of a tradesman, as many of us do, but speaks of music as if it were a beautiful woman. I am SO taken when he begins to work his mind around a project, when his Muse reaches into his heart and begins to draw from him the essence of what inspiration is meant to do. It's amazing. Not to say that many of my other friends aren't artists. Rob, who taught me what it was to write... to appreciate the written word... and to make love to a page. And so many others... Even Tom who will probably never even read this. Tom taught me that you do not have to be a photographer to appreciate the world through a lens. To all of you I have slighted by not mentioning, know that your influence is here, in my heart. Always.
I Am a Friend.
This I know to be true. No matter what else I am in life, this is my greatest goal. Need something? I'm there, Baby. Need a hand to hold? An ear to listen? A shoulder to cry on or to hang furniture from? How about a babysitter, a doormat, a strongarm? Gotcha covered. Anything you need, I am here for you. All of you. Every. Single. One.
And I am glad for it.
I try so hard to be a friend. Sometimes it's easy, sometimes, not so much, but
I am here. Honestly. I am.
Thanks for letting me be.
I am ME.
Here I am. See me? This is exactly what you get. No surprises, no nonsense. I'm here. Want to know something? Ask. I'll tell you.
SO.
That's all for now. It was a long 10 miles, but well worth the investment. Maybe next time, I'll see if I can add a few more.
Time to rest.
Love to all of you.
M
6-4-11
Enjoy.
I am a Runner.
I don't know how much I really qualify for that title, but I am. I feel it. No, I don't shop at the right places or wear the latest running fashions, but inside, where it counts, I have an affinity for all those who run. And it feels pretty damned good to me. Running has helped me in so many ways... I have lost weight (I have no idea how much, since I treat a scale like a television - an extraneous appendage with little use in my life these days), I have a means by which I can sort things out quietly when I need to, I can set personal goals and meet them at my own pace - thereby maintaining my self esteem, and I have yet another subject to use when conversation with others is lacking. In my heart, I am a runner. Someday, I just might look the part, but that matters little to me.
I am a Writer.
Hm. This one took some time to work through, since labels are already a touchy point for me. But I am. I write. I see the world through words, and I WANT to express the beauty I see openly and with care. It makes choosing the words so important. It also means that I pay attention to words when they are used... I like to learn new ones, and I guess at some point in my life I should actually invest some time into reading one of those "Improve your vocabulary" books that are so very prevalent in the writing section of most book stores. But back to the topic... I AM a writer. One of these days, maybe I'll get my butt published for real, if it ever gets to be that important to me. I doubt it. But you never know. Maybe after I part these waters, one of you will gather me up and place me between good leather covers to share. But that's your call. I will eventually have to decide who gets the rights to do that... hm. Funny how my brain works.
Any volunteers?
On that note... while I was out there (no giggling, yes... I am out there...) I had a little ditty pop into my head.
The City lives on without you still
Yet feels your sweet touch upon every hill
And in noisy tubes far down below
Keeps your heart beating and letting it grow
And in busy streets bustling above
The City throbs with your powerful love
From cacophonous harbors to those college halls
Your city remembers you and waits for your call
In cloudy skies above towering glass frames
A City in love whispers your name
So yeah. My mind wanders sometimes. Deal with it.
On that note (pun sort of intended) I will include that I seem to be a songwriter as well. No, I'm not kidding, although I never EVER thought I'd say that. I am also a Poet. Not the most profitable of trades, but hey... it sure is wonderful.
I am an Artist.
Holy Hell. This one was probably toughest of all to accept. I mean, Runner? sure. Writer? Well, okay... but an Artist? Yes. I am. I have produced small pieces, I have some photography out there, and I am trying (slowly and desperately) to play music. All in the name of Art. My sweet Gina is my connection to the professional art world, and I appreciate her greatly. She is such a wonder to watch as her mind wraps around things from the perspective of a trained artist... amazing. Also, my very wonderful friend Randy is my connection to the world of unexpected passions. He looks the part of a tradesman, as many of us do, but speaks of music as if it were a beautiful woman. I am SO taken when he begins to work his mind around a project, when his Muse reaches into his heart and begins to draw from him the essence of what inspiration is meant to do. It's amazing. Not to say that many of my other friends aren't artists. Rob, who taught me what it was to write... to appreciate the written word... and to make love to a page. And so many others... Even Tom who will probably never even read this. Tom taught me that you do not have to be a photographer to appreciate the world through a lens. To all of you I have slighted by not mentioning, know that your influence is here, in my heart. Always.
I Am a Friend.
This I know to be true. No matter what else I am in life, this is my greatest goal. Need something? I'm there, Baby. Need a hand to hold? An ear to listen? A shoulder to cry on or to hang furniture from? How about a babysitter, a doormat, a strongarm? Gotcha covered. Anything you need, I am here for you. All of you. Every. Single. One.
And I am glad for it.
I try so hard to be a friend. Sometimes it's easy, sometimes, not so much, but
I am here. Honestly. I am.
Thanks for letting me be.
I am ME.
Here I am. See me? This is exactly what you get. No surprises, no nonsense. I'm here. Want to know something? Ask. I'll tell you.
SO.
That's all for now. It was a long 10 miles, but well worth the investment. Maybe next time, I'll see if I can add a few more.
Time to rest.
Love to all of you.
M
6-4-11
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Ache
Stroking soft the lovely skin
Vaulted Goddess in the night
The ache within my heart a din
Kissed cheeks doth make it right
But whence the pain within the heart
Sings a distant teary song
A single voice a tender part
Wanting desire becoming strong
To hold her head again my grasp
Reach'd out through dreamy eyes
Her hair through fingers deftly pass'd
I weepingly missed surprise
And as she lie upon the bed
In glowing morning light
I kneel before and bow my head
To this Queen of Starry Night
Oh Slumber take from me this ache
And give to me thine kiss
To keep mine heart from trembling quake
For the dreaming love I miss
Once alone, never again
Whence we touch my heart will mend
Vaulted Goddess in the night
The ache within my heart a din
Kissed cheeks doth make it right
But whence the pain within the heart
Sings a distant teary song
A single voice a tender part
Wanting desire becoming strong
To hold her head again my grasp
Reach'd out through dreamy eyes
Her hair through fingers deftly pass'd
I weepingly missed surprise
And as she lie upon the bed
In glowing morning light
I kneel before and bow my head
To this Queen of Starry Night
Oh Slumber take from me this ache
And give to me thine kiss
To keep mine heart from trembling quake
For the dreaming love I miss
Once alone, never again
Whence we touch my heart will mend
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