Tag Archives: sun

Today is October 4, 2015. I am alive and well.

The light is on in the corner, blinking rhythmically. The light in front of me is steady; it keeps the blinking light from becoming irritating. I would change the bulb, but that would require a trip to the grocery store and for the moment, I am ill prepared to walk out of my house. I have yet to brush my teeth and I fear the sunshine would sting. Sunshine and I have a weird relationship. I know it is beautiful and fresh, but I don’t care for it soaking into my skin. I prefer the warmth coming from the concrete, waking my soles.

As a kid, I loved the sun. I spent a great amount of time outside and bare foot, running in the grass just for the sake of motion. I am white, but I was so tan that I looked either Hispanic or Native American, my features tentative, but with a ready smile. I climbed trees, picked their leaves creating fall as I let them slip through my fingers. I brought pans from the kitchen and made mud with water from the hose and dirt. From the mud, I shaped little mud men and women, placed them on chairs I created from grass and let them dry in the sun. Once dry, I dressed them in strips of white cotton that had been torn from an old sheet.

Light then seemed always outside of myself. I didn’t mind because I unconsciously radiated. Now, as I am fifty-two, I am glad I sense the light within, the light that holds fast to my soul allowing me to breathe in love and exhale love. Spirit is good to me. Spirit allows me to stand tall in the warmth of the world, recognizing that all is not violent outside of my body. The world is a violent place, but not always. There are always moments of bright light even in a dim hall. Eventually, I will walk out of the house today, knowing the sun won’t burn me, knowing that light is lighter than dark, but not fearing the depth that dark might play. I shine; for this I am grateful

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Today is December 20, 2014. I am alive and well.

It is important to write moon, write sun, write day. The day begins when the moon tires and the sun magnifies ants.

I smell wood burning. Even in Arizona there are fireplaces. It is a chilly 60. I have yet to turn on the heat. I opt for sweaters.

Some insect has attached nests to the corners of my patio. THe nests, gray, round masses with holes in them. I would think wasp, but the nests are too small.

The ants have tunneled their way into the dirt. Do they too get cold?

The sun slips, the moon comes up. I am a lone figure standing at my bedroom window with no curtains. The dark curls around my waist. It is not dark enough that I can’t see my boots even though they are black. My reflection falls forward. I am in full view of anyone standing on the sidewalk outside my window. I do not worry about this. Why no worry? What is one to do with the sight of a lone figure…continue walking.

It has been a day filled with silent conversation I manufacture on my own. I drink water in between periods. End the sentence and say goodnight. I will sleep to the patter of feet on my bed kneading their way to nowhere. Eventually, the cats will settle down. I want for nothing. The moon is nice, is calming. It will tire again and I will have a new day in which to eat French toast; heavy on the syrup. I want for nothing.