Tumbleword

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There are symbolic gestures all around us--the world full of "signs"-- some intentional and others waiting to be opened by our inner dialogue with ideas, memories, culture and education.

So much of what goes on in us is private dialogue. The nail above means different things to anyone; to a culture, a religion, depending on what's layered inside the mind and heart. There are personal and public ideas in us about everything.  

I stepped on three nails in one day while exploring the woods with my brother when I was about 7. If I feel my way back into that moment the nail goes through the rubber soul of my sneaker and into my flesh.  I don't always indulge in traveling into memories but with concentration one can almost "be" there again. Vividly, like a photograph that feels and thinks from that age. Can you spell what happens next ... Tetnus shot?
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Memory is divine. The smallest gesture of one stranger moving past the lens of our senses (a tone of voice, a specific smell, an elegant motion of hand or neck; a color or fabric against the skin, slants of light--anything can suddenly open up rooms of powerful psychic content. So much art comes out of there.

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Link to I Met the Walrus: John Lennon interview and visual.  A sort of Peace talk.

Really don't know where I got this link, but "knowing how way leads on to way" 
as the poet Robert Frost says ... I should never find the path back
to find or figure it out to say -- all your blogs seem alive,
a tangled shifting window display of light and possible connection.

You have to be a Jazz musician to figure it all out. :)
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Peace to all.
Link to Tumbleword's Blogger site... which isn't so sloggy sometimes at Blog. :0
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 at Home : Boston Marathon
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The Boston Marathon is running today. Now (photos).

My buddy Boston B is helping with crowd control, and the runners (some of whom will pass out and get sick).  The Marathon is opening mark of Spring in Beantown for me (though some believe Spring begins on opening day at Fenway Park built in 1912 where the Red Sox play).

How many times we walked from the house, through a small park, to watch the runners of this marathon? Heartbreak hill just to the right (the hardest hill).  On Com Ave, with Boylston Street, the end of the race almost visible, but still far off. College students hanging on all the balconies, drinking, cheering, people all up and down the streets. The night before the race, everyone eating mounds of pasta out at all the restaurants. "Carb"ing up (filling their body with carbohydrates = fuel.)

Some people won't finish the race; broken on the side of the road, hurt, cry, trying not to pass out. The body has its own ideas. The mind... has its dreams.  Others just take their time; and you can see people running the route way after the crowds die back; people who may have promised themselves to to finish if they have to walk it, or crawl. It doesn't matter, people cheer them on, pass them Gator aid drinks.  There is so much emotion in the air. The famous runners, the Olympians, the wheelchairs, the everyone and anyone person (all of us)--people who run and/or believe in setting goals, meeting dreams. 

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We've all been talking here how fast the past 4 months passed! In exactly 5 months, the Autumn season opens. Five (5) months... then into the Holidays. 2008 running fast.  Maybe it is signed up for the marathon, too. If you see it go past, tell it to slow down. :)
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Wish you were here: Pink floyd
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lil sweet dress


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Its too beautiful a day today
to believe in anything less--
not one crumb or crud. : )

Perspective is everything anyway.

Out around 8:30 am walking with my dog
its one of those days that you know marks
the end of winter and the opening of summer.

Everything shines in a clear warm light.
How is it where you are?
Hope for you a similiar feeling.
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Nature is a Haunted House -- but Art --
a House that tries to be haunted.

~(Emily Dickinson, Letter to T.W. Higginson)
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Tumbleword's sister site

street sun
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rain-bow-pale_s (time
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Awesome! For all of us bird lovers, The Nature Conservancy (here) set a webcam to watch newly hatched Eagle chicks way up, up in places most of us dare not climb.  Thank You Bookbabie!

Another tenderness in action, like that seen here, and yes here.  
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Sat up late, reading Alexsander Wat, a postwar Polish Poet-- some quotes:

Our world. So small
that one guitar
is enough
to populate it with sounds--
if played with Love.
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Everything that lies in rubble
reaches tenderly at me.
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 ... Nothing will tear Chaos
apart. It tears itself apart.  Eating into
itself, piece after piece, insa-
tiable.
           And there's nothing I can do about it,
dear friend. --Paris. July 1963
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But the experienced one sees the watermark.
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 Listening also to Coldplay:.

1. See you soon 
2. where do we go, nobody knows
3. Green Eyes--  (for you ms. d, and pie) And to all of you, too, who hold anyone up. Ever. Thank you. We're all dependent on each other's strength and tenderness. Aren't we?  Who do you lean on?
4. a rush of blood to the head. etc.

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Path to Tumbleword's other site
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