Sand Piles and Fingerpaints

Grand experiments often begin 

in sand piles with dump trucks 

on beaches with castles and moats

at home with mud pies and finger painting. 

Children are sure of success

always wanting to try

knowing intuitively 

learning stuff while they play. 

Mud pies and castles 

don’t garner great wealth, 

but are definite reasons for 

tea parties and defending forts. 

Play is messy, creative and brilliant. 

The experiments? Painting flowers or rainbows!

If it doesn’t look like either one ~ 

crumple it up, knock it down and try something else. 

Grand experiments are often 

in the eyes of the scientist or architect

whether a curious four or forty, 

because the work is exciting and creative.

Grand experiments often grow and blossom

into the grandest of experiments ~

each day playing with precious moments 

building castles or painting flowers and rainbows.

“Life is more fun if you play games.”

~ Roald Dahl, My Uncle Oswald

Brilliant!!

Brilliant!!

“Eccentricities become me, darling! Don’t you agree? I look fabulous, my dear! All my life, I’ve had to be conventional and ordinary. Now that I’m retired from that corporate ‘climb the ladder faster’ world, I’m just ready to jump out of their box. Isn’t that what those corporate guys say? Think outside the box? And they’ve just kept building bigger boxes all looking exactly the same with all the same pressures to conform differently. I want to wear flamboyant colours, broad brimmed hats with flowers or feathers ~ maybe both ~ blue jeans that aren’t blue, studded with rhinestones down the sides. I want my eccentricities to shine because they've always been there. I’ve just had to keep them quiet, like a sweet toddler who wants to run and jump and play. Well, that toddler has been bored for years! And it’s play time, darling! So put on your patent leather dancing shoes, grab your top hat and cane and let’s dance!!”

“You’re mad, bonkers, completely or your head. But 

I’ll tell you a secret. All the best people are.”

~ Lewis Carroll

Throwing Paint

Later on, they went on an adventure. Four long time friends had braved the morning ferry traffic, joining the determined caravan of cars just to go for lunch on the ferry. A morning jaunt past ripening fields and tidy homes from Victoria to Swartz Bay. Boarding a BC ferry, these young seniors were set to go for lunch aboard the ferry, do a little shopping at the gift shop, and have lunch at the buffet, all the while chatting and enjoying the ride. On their return to Vancouver Island, they stepped outside in the brilliant sun to watch the rippling blue, blue water. Before boarding, one of the four said: ‘If we’re lucky there will be a presentation by a Marine biology student about the waters in the strait.” Once at Tsawwassen, and without leaving the ferry, they had returned home to Swartz Bay. A morning adventure well spent!

“Life is a blank canvas, and you need to throw all the paint on it you can.”

~ Danny Kaye

Both?

Important beliefs are 

seeded into our very core ~

qualities of human love and kindness

to be warped and distorted

 

or

nurtured and tended carefully.
Our only choice?

Which direction to follow  ~

or do both directions have value?

“The world isn’t split into good people and Death Eaters.

We’ve all got both light and dark inside of us.”

~ J.K.Rowling, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

(spoken by Sirius Black)

Living Villages

Villages are where we go 

when urban life becomes too hectic

and rural life feels too isolated.

We poke into shops and stores,

have coffee or tea in small cafes.

We stroll the sidewalks rather than 

striding with harried purpose.

Villages are where,

in spring, summer and fall,

we go to find a smaller world.

Cold rains or icy snows of winter 

signal time for villages to blossom inside

growing new strengths and plans for 

the scores of people that cherish them.

Villages are where we can be friendly,

chatting with friends or strangers from

countless villages and neighbourhoods ~ 

travellers from around the corner or across the globe

join together, remain or return home. 

Villages are where urban densities have grown

as roads and bridges have gathered them together

into one big urban landscape although

villages, like the individuals that make up humanity,

have made up that whole daunting city.

Villages are where all roads meet

sharing cultures and beliefs until 

we each find a niche that allows 

safety and comfort to envelop us.

Villages are where we all meet and live.

“Even if you live in a big city, everybody lives in a small town. 

We identify ourselves by our neighbourhoods - 

‘I live in the Village, or in Chelsea.”

~ Karin Slaughter

Inspired Writing ~1

Inspiration evolves 

when I slow down and think

when I look up a word to find a

synonym, when I can't remember a

sound and don’t know the ‘just right’

words to describe it.

Inspiration evolves from 

my experiences

my preferences

my abilities and

   the world I enjoy.

  Inspiration evolves when 

  a marching band swings past 

   with the scurl of bagpipes, 

   the steady beat of drums and 

   the swing of kilts. 

Inspiration evolves when 

the colours and dress of 

children and families, 

lovers and friends 

curl their way through 

lawn, sidewalks and streets

Inspiration evolves when 

I see children dancing and spinning to the grand music of Victoria Symphony, using their circles of light toys, as they would scarves, to swing through the air.

Inspiration evolves when 

a lone multihued light sabre, 

hidden behind a gigantic Douglas fir, conducts the Symphony floating on a barge in the Inner Harbour.

Inspiration evolves like a balloon

filling with air so that it floats

above the surface of the earth 

to be seen, felt, and touched

until it goes higher than I can reach

but floats away and all I remember 

is it’s beauty but not the words

“A symphony must be like the world. It must contain everything.”

~ Gustav Mahler

Mirage ~ 1

Reshaping the past 

gilds our memories with honey ~ details waver where only warm feelings remain from one lost summer walking barefoot along a dirt road lined with ditches filled with heavy headed grasses, powdery soft dirt dusting my toes with warmth, 

afternoon sun on my hair and shoulders,

a dribble of perspiration rolling down my back. 

the feeling of being alone and free ~

united with the wide spread land.

a single human child walking pensively with 

only the lowering sun, a grumbling distant tractor,
the rustle and rattle of ripening wheat and 
a single meadowlark bidding good night to the land.

A singular oneness never felt in the crowded cities. 

Even as evening folds into night,

when the streetlights hurt my eyes,,

never ending traffic ruffles the pavement,
a distant fog horn sounds it's watery presence

I long for the starlight and silence of the prairies.

“These are the quicksilver moments of my childhood 

I cannot remember entirely. Irresistible and emblematic, 

I can recall them only in fragments and shivers of the heart.”

~ Pat Conroy, The Prince of Tides