Out there in the world we encounter all shades and shapes and flavors; and the variety might be tempting if one fails to recognize the value of what‘s right here…

Right here

In my heart

I know

I have all I need.

I have you.

Deep and dark and true

Intense, complex,

Sometimes tannic, sometimes sweet,

Layered, luscious, ambrosial, complete.

Sumptuous and scrumptious,

 Exceptional,

Delectable.

I take you

Into every inch of me.

~ Heaven ~

Hold on!

This passion, this obsession, this commitment to the “we “

Promises to be

Sensual, artisanal,

Synchronously bittersweet.

A love affair.

Or a box of chocolates.

*Both collages were made entirely of chocolate packaging and Sharpies©

Dear Readers… Have a look, have a read, give it some thought, and then share yours. { ♥! }

~Α↔Ω~

I AM the Creator.

The Creator?  He is me.

Together we developed

This form

Of divinity.

A spark of life,

The journey’s strife,

Each lesson learned therein,

Uncover beauty unrevealed

Yet nestled in the plan.

I AM divine.

I do create.

You, too, conspire with me.

Together

We

Essentially

Create Eternity.

And we’re doing a damn good job.

Creator:

• one that creates usually by bringing something new or original into being
• a person who grows or makes or invents things
• one who creates

To Create:

• To cause to exist; bring into being.
• To give rise to; produce.
• To produce through artistic or imaginative effort. 

Create:

cause, lead to, hatch, occasion, give life to, install, bring about, make, form, produce, invent, develop, coin, design, initiate, generate, formulate, compose, establish, devise, originate, give birth to, spawn, dream up, appoint, make, found,  concoct, set up, beget, invest, bring into being or existence… 

Last week I watched an oriole in the wildflower garden and tried to photograph him. The results were abyssmal. To satisfy my need for an image capturing the moment, I plucked some of the amaranth he nibbled on, pressed them and incorporated the  dried blossoms into a collage.

Fun!

Yesterday The Good Husband and I spent hours in the garden cleaning, preening, trimming and skimming. We wore our swimsuits and hopped in the pool to cool. Gentle breezes rustled mesquite beans from their branches and clouds spread themselves thinly between the bright desert sun and us. Rain would come. Lovely!

In the Mission Garden I ate several late strawberries, trimmed back the mint (I have more than a dozen varieties), and harvested a lovely cache of figs. FIGS! Now there’s a fruit that’s inspired lots of love. And is it ever revered. Historically, the fig tree’s been considered sacred in all parts of Southwestern Asia, Egypt, Greece, and Italy. And now, of course, in Tucson.

Pliny The Elder, the noted Roman writer and natural philosopher, said “Figs are restorative. They increase the strength of young people, preserve the elderly in better health and make them look younger with fewer wrinkles.”

Bring on the figs!

Figs symbolize abundance, fertility, sweetness. Like a ripe and ready, fecund woman. The most mentioned fruits in the bible, figs also played key roles in ancient tales of love and seduction. Not surprising. Figs are sexy. Consider the words used to describe figs… Fleshy, Luscious, Rosy, Satiny, Smooth, Succulent. You get the picture.

Figs. I love them. Have I made you think twice? If so, take a look at some of mine:

Inspiration:

The Fig

by Gabriela Mistral, as translated from the Spanish by Maria Jacketti

Touch me: it is softness of good satin, and when you open me, what an unexpected rose! Do you not remember some king’s black cloak under which a redness burned?

I bloom inside myself to enjoy myself with an inward gaze, scarcely for a week.

Afterward, the satin opens generously in a great fold of Congolese laughter.

Poets have not know the color of night, nor the figs of Palestine. We are both the most ancient blue, a passionate blue, richly concentrating itself because of its ardor.

I spill my pressed flowers into your hand. I create a deaf meadow for your pleasure. I shower you with the meadow’s bouquet until covering your feet. No. I keep the flowers tied – they make me itch; the resting rose also knows this sensation.

I am also the pulp of the Rose-of-Sharon, bruised.

Allow my praise to be made: I nourished the Greeks, and they have praised me less than Juno, who gave them nothing.

Bright, bold blues bouncing in the breeze

My personal staircase disguised as rip rock

Baby, bronzing pomegranates

Basil pretending to be purely decorative

Grapevines flowing from olive jars

Restless

And the truth is

That the day has just begun

Time to do it all remains

There’s much yet to be done

Opportunities present

Live,  love,  give

Soothe

Be balm

In the midst of chaos

Choose.

Create the calm.

Begin within.

 THE PATH?

LIFE EMBRACED?

LOVE IS?  

LEGACY OF LOVE?

LOVE ENDURES?

NURTURE?

NEW BEGINNINGS?

LOVES CREATION?

What would you call it? What does it say to you? Let me know!

We take it all so literally. Let’s consider the story metaphorically, universally…

It’s iconic.

Ironic.

This repeated passion play.

I could prostrate myself,

Allow your scourge to freely flay.

It would not be enough.

You’d come back another day.

Angry.

I could struggle through the darkness

Of our shared Gethsemane,

Let you revile, defile, deny me.

It would not be enough.

You still would fail to see.

Resentful.

I could walk to Golgotha,

Accept your jabs and barbs,

Wear your crown of thorns.

It would not be enough.

You’d still want more.

Vengeful.

I could climb the mount to Calvary,

Hang there upon the crux,

Naked, mocked and doomed.

It would not be enough.

You’d rub salt in my wounds.

Righteous.

It’s useless, this processional, repeated passion play.

Then, Aha!

Perhaps the change to make’s not yours,

But mine.

Okay…

I’ll completely shift my focus.

Look inside.

My will be thine. ‡

*Footnote:  Here’s the thing… I let it, allowed it, chose it. Freely. Now that’s ironic.

 

Anxiety

Returned to me.

Why?

We had an agreement,

You and I.

We worked it through, we made a deal, I figured you’d be gone.

But no.

Recognizing destination, path and plan ~ you came along.

WTH?

Habit? Memory? Trauma exacted long ago?

Irrelevant!

Damn you and be warned:

You’re unwelcome.

Your tricks and games, old news.

I’m movin’ on no matter how you coax and woo.

I don’t need you.

Get it?

GO.

I AM in control.

Tell me... How do you react to, banish, deal with anxiety?

Share what works, what doesn't, your thoughts on the topic.

I AM  Loving, Strong, Smart, Creative, Honest, Contented, Serene (most of the time ;-) )

What wonders reside within you?

Let me know!