very much alive.

a friend phoned
the other day

and i happened to answer.

{isn't that a pleasant surprise?}.

well it was.

within our opening breaths of 

greeting and salutations

she teased,

"i've been wondering about you,

are you alive?

where have you been??"

to which i promptly replied a, 

"why yes indeed i am.

i am very much alive. 
too sorry

for the distance! 
coffee Sunday??"

as the day trickled by,

the question

lingered 

with me.

as well as my immediate

answer.

yes i am 
so very much 
alive.

you see, i've been:

.... ignoring the uncooperative weather
and just camping anyway. 

.... exploring cities 

are that not my own.

{and liking it.

quite a bit.}

.... walking instead of driving,
because sometimes you can 
and it's wonderful.

.... making time to create.

.... and i've been looking up.

so no need to hold my calls.
i'll answer.
because
yes. 
i am very much alive.


xo.
- n.

admiring their greenness.

i have two succulents 

living with me

on 2701 grand avenue south.

one is tall and sure and stretching.

the other is full and ample and branching.

these past few weeks, 

as the temperatures

bite

and mornings mean 

leaving the comfy cave 

of rest that’s kindly held me 

during the blackness of night,

to enter the air of chill 

that hovers and hangs in my room.

and this morning, 

as my head peaks out

to test the gelid temps

i wondered about my resident succulents.

outside icicles cling to

buildings, garages,

rubbish bins, tree branches.

coldness envelops us

as it often does this time of year.

and this morning, 

I worry for my 2 resident succulents.

when the sun comes out

{only ever so rarely}

i rush them to that sun soaked spot.

my resident succulents

speak their appreciation because they

continue to grow.

Green.

despite the cold.

taller & wider they reach.

when the shine comes out

i too rush to rearrange myself accordingly.

i also crave the sun’s warm attention.

when you are meant for warmth

how can you grow in the depths of winter?

i appreciate their Greenness.

maybe, I am even a bit envious of it.

no color is like Green. None.

Green is the perfect color to allow 

absorbing & defining 

of oneself.

it’s gentle yet firm.

it’s inviting yet knowing.

it’s comforting and never overwhelming.

it not afraid to adjust according to seasons

all the while always remaining itself.

this morning i wonder 

for my 2 green resident succulents.

how can you grow, keep growing, keep reaching

when the climate engulfs, inhaling the life

when the air is less than ideal

when the surroundings confuse your core

when what’s home becomes foreign

when you can hardly breathe

how can you?

grow.

today i brought them to the warmest

most comfortable part of 2701 grand avenue south.

to the center of all things.

the kitchen table.

today they will sit

side by side.

in the shine of the sun.

with their green leafs stretching.

touching.

despite the imperfect space,

the confusion, the thin and fragile air,

even if gasping for air is the best

you can do

know this.

there is more in you

than you think.

and despite the enveloping circumstances

your green will still shine.

your roots will still dig.

and that small patch of sun 

will touch something 

deep inside

& you will be reminded that

all will indeed be well.

it will.

growing.

reaching.

stretching.

even in the harshness of circumstances

cold & winter.

Life is here.

- n.

another world.

shhhh.


can you hear it?
can you hear the
moving
shifting
coming
turning...?

in the coffee brewing.

in the snow melting drip by melodic drip.

in the sun finally showing himself.

in the lights of morning traffic.

in the rhythm of typing keys.

can't you?
can't you hear it?


in the spontaneous purchased flowers.
in the friend's honest answer.
in the shaky 'no' exercised today.
in your newest idea.
in the chance encounter.

yes. 
there it is now.
you can feel it.
you can.

in that moment with the radio.
in your boy's innocent question.
in the rhythm of typing keys.
in the brighten candle.
in the rise and fall of your breath.

another world.
it's brewing.
if you listen
{and you must listen}
we can hear her breathing . . .

 - n.

post inspired by one of my favorite novelist, Arundhati Roy.

little bit of everything

so the Dawes inspired me.

and i couldn't help it.

| it's a little bit of everything |
it's the sunshine | it's the breeze

| it's the stacks of reading |

| it's the hope for a friend |

| it's believing the words around me | 

| it's the trusting when i can't |

 | it's the little bit of everything |

- n.

ask a good question, please.

From a very early age we learn there is no such thing as a bad or stupid question. This is truly a shame, because we all know that this is a completely preposterous notion. 


Of course there are horrid questions. People practice asking them routinely. These sneaky little buggers of bad questions seem to show themselves frequently when encountering an individual just returning from travel. They don't mean to come out, but they do. They just can't help it.


Typically they go something like this:


"So, how was it?"
"Did you have fun?"
"What was your favorite part?"
"You went somewhere, right?"


And for this kind of question asking, I must repent. Because I, and probably like you, am guilty.


So what to do? How can one know what to ask anyway? It is not often, after all, that one has been the recipient of a perfect question.


Perfection can be so tricky.


So, when my friend saddled up to me, just days after returning from my most recent Spain adventures, and offered a:


"So tell me! What were the colors of Spain?"


I knew, with slight envy and complete admiration . . . she had done it. 
Perfection in question asking.


I knew it was that elusive perfection of question in a moment, why? Because I couldn't answer right away. 


So after a deep breath and a long thought . . . 
I told her all about the colors I saw.




r e d . . . .
walls stucco walls. closely tucked together buildings. winter coats worn by locals. santa claus' hanging from balconies.

o r a n g e . . . .
decorative tiled every-things. blooming, boasting, beaming flowers. juice drank in the mornings.

w h i t e . . . .
loafs and loafs of bread consumed. stacks and stacks of cheese enjoyed. blinking and twinkling lights of Christmas. seashells.

b l a c k . . . .

late nights of dancing. discussing. debating. and drinking Spanish wines.

y e l l o w . . . .
beach chairs and tea mugs. the morning light. the siesta sun. and the beams proceeding dusk. all gathering in my lens.

b l u e . . . .
the sky meeting the ocean. the sky meeting the ocean. the sky meeting the ocean.

See? The perfect question could take you anywhere.
May we learn how to ask . . .


- n.