Intention blossoms
as in a fog ~
I plan and resolve,
I set goals and plant ideas.
Something is missing….
Looking around,
digging in drawers
and behind cupboard doors
to find the magic something
for intention to be good and true,
Enjoying the search,
the organizing
the imagining
the missing something
is at my fingertips.
“Dance…enjoy each step along the way.”
~ Wayne Dyer
(1940~ 2015)
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| Screen shot |
Mary Poppins: as I was scrolling through my TV choices, that charming film showed that it would be playing in a few minutes. I had other writing projects to work on, but, after a moments hesitation, pushed them aside. I have seen this movies three and now four times. Although it is dated 1964, it never is old for me. Magic (although Mary Poppins would not agree), singing, dancing, playing on roof tops with chimney sweeps, two children (Jane and Michael) are charmed and entertained by this quirky nanny who came to them from the sky. She carried an umbrella and a carpet bag. The head of the umbrella was a talking parrot. The carpet bag held a floor lamp, a great broad leafed plant, her clothes, a measuring tape and whatever else she needed. The measuring tape showed character not inches. Michael: ‘stubborn and suspicious’; his sister Jane: ‘rather inclined to giggle and doesn’t put things away’ and when the children asked about Mary Poppins: ‘Practically Perfect in Every Way’
I was charmed again, laughed out loud and certainly will watch this film again. Both Julie Andrews and Dick van Dyke are white headed now but still living life and working in film.
“First of all, I would like to make one thing clear: I never explain anything.”
~ Mary Poppins
Directed by: Robert Stevenson
Based on: The “Mary Poppins” books
Screen play by : Bill Walsh and Don Da Gradi
Abbreviated Cast:
Julie Andrews: Mary Poppins
Dick Van Dyke: Bert/Mr. Dawes Senior
Karen Dotrice: Jane Banks
Matthew Garber: Michael Banks:
Glynis Johns: Mrs Banks:
David Tomlinson: Mr. Banks
Hermione Baddeley: Ellen - maid
Reta Shaw: Mrs. Brill - Cook
Elsa Lancaster: Katie Nanna
Arthur Treacher: The Constable
Reginald Owen: Admiral Boom
Ed Wynn: Uncle Albert
Jane Darwell: The Bird Woman
Arthur Malet: Mr. Dawes, Junior
Only after the work has been done,
can harmony be felt and enjoyed.
Just as it does not appear magically,
so it will disappear in the fog without
the creative work of humanity.
“It is only when I lose contact with the painting that the result is a mess.”
~ Jackson Pollock
Magic.
The meaning lost,
yet playing on my mind?
Definitions hold no magic,
merely words on a page.
When a bird trills a song,
I cock my head and smile.
When a baby gurgles,
even from a TV commercial, I smile.
When a story is simple,
yet poignant, I cry.
When music decorates the air,
my toes tap, I sway, and my heart swells
A shimmer of magic crosses
space and time to unlatch a
wee door in my soul and I am
paralyzed with the joy of it all.
“Believe in yourself and believe in magic.”
~ Theophilus London, musician
I was tempted, but I would be lost. Lost in imagined memories of a magic forest, spinning around, kicking up crispy coloured leaves and just playing. My adult self apparently knew better and I walked past and around this leafy oasis behind Regina’s Legislative buildings. My childhood temptation was shared by the friends I met at Bliss Bistro for a Christmas in September evening. Turkey, stuffing, cranberries, mashed potatoes and crunchy/tender brussell sprouts served to us outside on a little porch by active tennis courts. Our meal was topped off with pie ~ pecan, pumpkin, or apple. The warmth of an autumn afternoon settled into the crisp chill of an autumn evening as we laughed, we visited and enjoyed a lovely evening together.
“Another belief of mine; that everyone else my age
is an adult, whereas I am merely in disguise.”
~ Margaret Atwood
This little tree all leafed out as though ready to dance would be a perfect date for the wise old story tree sitting with his friend owl on my grandfather’s desk. But the little tree, all dressed for the dance, was a real, honest to goodness tree, rooted firmly in the ground on a wide green lawn. Grandfather’s story tree was very old and dusty, the pages in its story book never turning.
What no one ever knew, was that in the midnight hours, they met in someone’s dreams as a Lord and his Lady. Owl flew ahead of their handsome carriage to a great ball in a forest. They danced the night away with their many friends that came from lawns, gardens and bookshelves; kitchen cupboards and sideboards. All transformed for the ball until just before dawn, when they disappeared back to their places. She rooted once more on the wide green lawn, and he to my grandfather’s desk. Their friends to their homes across the world.
I only knew about these midnight trysts because one night I dreamed it. But only once. In their finery, he bowed and she curtsied and said: “Tonight, m’lord, we have chosen to dance in your dreams. Tomorrow, Sir Owl will lead us to another.”
“The world is full of magic things patiently waiting
for our senses to grow sharper.”
~ W.B.Yeats
Incandescent mirages are magic, scenes of far away lifted by the sun from the heat of the land and the heat of the sun
When the heat of the land has cooled, only a butterflies wing will glow with the soft warmth of the sun.
“Just living isn’t enough,” said the butterfly,
“one must have sunshine, freedom and
a little flower.”- Hans Christian Anderson”
~ Louisa Thomsen Brits, The Book of Hygge:
The Danish Art of Living Well
*Author’s note: because of the sun lighting up the little butterfly, I couldn’t tell what kind, but I suspect it was an ordinary white butterfly.
Wishful thinking is magical
~ plans take a nibble
Knowing when to fly
~ changes everything
“Knowing too much of your future is never a good thing.”
~ Rick Riordan, The Lightning Thief
Risen above the rooftops
sunshine and frost
greet one another gently.
“The poetry of earth is never dead.”
~ John Keats
First time ideas
flash brilliantly
but at the speed of light
zip into the distance
seldom caught
always magical ~
as life breathes,
those first time ideas
grow a softer brilliance
“I think that if I had had to slow down the ideas so that
I could capture them on paper I might have stifled some of them.”
~ J.K.Rowling
A January smile is difficult to catch
when wind blows cold and icicles
melt turning to muddy skating rinks tempting to huddle and sulk
about weather’s ups and downs but,
with reading, writing and
Louis Armstrong, smiles appear as if by magic ~ calming within the storm.
“You are the sky. Everything else ~ it’s just the weather.”
~ Pema Chödrön
Slowly, slowly over the past week,
decorations have been taken down,
stacked haphazardly awaiting proper packing ~ a long good night til next Christmas; breakables in separate boxes.
pretty Christmas balls in cellophane tubes; books on the bottom shelves of book cases; embroidered linens folded and put away; lights unplugged, wedged into aging boxes; Christmas tree taken apart, stowed in a box.
Christmas music faded in the distance
but my living room returns!
a bitter sweet return because
all the magic of Christmas is a joy
welcomed in my home again next year.
“Christmas magic is silent. You don’t hear it -
You feel it. You know it. You believe it.”
~ Kevin Alan Milne
Snow Magic
Saying goodnight to Samuel and Elizabeth was like letting out a last breath of air. The silence that fell had a hint of loneliness to it. The sisters went back into the kitchen, looked at the destruction they had wrought to Cook’s kitchen and sighed in unison. “That’s only the half of it, Em. We’ve got all the dishes in the dumbwaiter from upstairs.” Dez paused, ran her fingers through her hair and said. “Weren’t we going to clean up as we went so we wouldn’t have all this to do?” Em put the kettle for tea. “That was the plan, Dez. We got a start by loading the dishwasher before supper, but we were having too much fun upstairs. Who did win that game of Monopoly? It sounded pretty rowdy!” With a clean dishcloth, Em was washing the stove top and cupboards. She stopped, leaned on the counter and looked around at her sister. “Where are Jeremy and Matt? It’s awfully quiet up there.” As if they had heard her calling their names, the two men burst in the back door, stomping their feet and laughing. “Girls! Come quick! It’s snowing!” Snow on Vancouver Island wasn’t all that unusual in December. It never lasted long and so was treated as the most exciting event of the year. Dez and Em stopped what they were doing, looked at each other. The dishcloths they were using were wrung out and hung on the sink. “We can do this later.” Coats, boots and mitts on, cleaning the kitchen forgotten, they joined the men. “Hurry. It’s coming down pretty steady. Forecast today warned that we’d get a lot of snow but I didn’t believe it. Looks like they were right.”
By the time the four of them got outside, snow had covered the still green lawn, weighed down branches of even the tallest tree and softened sharp edges of fences, rocks and roof. While Em was standing stock still transfixed by the beauty of it all, Dez was patting handfuls of snow, eyeing Matt who was doing the same. Jeremy didn’t know what to do ~ stay with his love, or get in on the snowball fight. His mind made up, he called softly to her. “Em.” No answer. A little louder and more insistent. “Em!” Over her shoulder she said “What is it, Jeremy?” Turning she said “Isn’t it beauti………” Splat. Right in the middle of her forehead. “Jeremy Crawford! Don’t you think you can get away with that.” Scooping up a handful of snow, giving it enough pats to hold the snow together, she fired the snow ball at her husband. He ducked and it caught Matt in the back of the head just as he had lobbed one at Dez.” These so called adults played until exhausted, but didn’t want to go in. Having too much fun, they hadn’t noticed that the snow was coming down heavier and the temperature was dipping. Dez had slipped and fallen into the ever deepening white blanket. Instead of getting up, she looked up, opened her mouth and caught snowflakes on her tongue. “Make a snow angel, Dez! You remember. We used to do that whenever we had snow like this. Here let me make one beside you.” Em lay down beside her sister and they shushed their arms and legs through the snow. “Let’s look.” She pulled her sister to her feet. “It’s not easy getting up without wrecking them, but we did pretty good. Brrrr. I’m getting cold!” Dez, brushing the snow from her coat, shivered and was heading back to the house. She heard Matt call her. “Hey, Dez, look what Jeremy and I have done!” She was ready to ignore him and get into the warmth, but she turned back and saw the two men looking as proud as two peacocks. “Great snowman! But where’s his hat and pipe and……” Matt cut her off. “I know, I know, Here I’ll give him my toque. The snow has covered up any twigs, do you think Cook would get mad if we pulled some bristles from her broom for arms?” Em had already been in the house. She came out with a carrot for his nose. “I dug through Martha’s sewing things and found these two big buttons for eyes. Here’s an old scarf of mine, but I don’t know about the arms.” Jeremy had gone onto the porch, where there was a stack of brush waiting to be dried and burned in the fireplace. “Here’s his arms, Matt. A bit skinny but I’m sure he’ll be ok with them. He hasn’t been much for words. Maybe he’ll come to life after we’ve all gone in.”
~~~~~
The change from children to adults was miraculous. The men rolled up their sleeves and unloaded the dumbwaiter without being asked. The women finished polishing up Cook’s kitchen. Instead of tea, they had hot chocolate covered in marshmallows with just a nip of brandy added. This time the quiet of the kitchen wasn’t tinged with loneliness, but with the togetherness of coming in from the cold, working to restore order and warming with hot chocolate.
No one saw Sarah float out of the upstairs window wearing a shadowy coat and carrying her father’s pipe. As soon as she put it where the Snowman’s mouth should have been, he winked one of his buttoned eyes at her and said ‘Thanks’. Her swing hung cold and lonely on the biggest tree in the yard, the seat puffed with snow. Sarah's ghostly weight barely disturbed the snow flakes. In whispers like the wind brushing the snow around, the two new friends chatted through the night.
“I love snow for the same reason I love Christmas.
It brings people together while time stands still.”
~ Rachel Cohen
