still-life

today marks the end of my fifty-second transit 'round the sun. i was born that long ago. i was born at 8:30 pm. it was a monday. a holiday! (but not for my mum, who was in labour off-and-on with me for two days!)

so i'd be grateful if those of you who have connections to people (whose understanding of the sun, the moon, and the stars is more refined and purposeful than mine) could squeeze them just enough

to have them come up with a chart or a sense of what might be.

i had a birth chart done many years ago.

i remember the words grand trine.

i remember the word conjunction.

but the chart has gone.

but hey!!!

don't run away!!!

find out if you will if i'm in for some goodness or if i should start stocking my mind's emergency-shelter!!!

~

anyhow.

thankyou bloggy friends for your many kindnesses. your comments, your own blogs, your incredible and often transformative insights, passions, acknowledgement of life passages, and celebrations that have contributed towards making this point in my journey so amazing!

thankyou for all that you are and do.

as walt whitman says . . .

"you have done such good to me,

i would do the same to you."

to celebrate, i've put together an imaginary walk to the seaside in the summer in impressionist france.

the text is a mixture of words written by famous and clever writers, alongside a few of my own.

have a peaceful day!

__________________________steven___________________________

early morning.

the air was warm and thick with dust and the buzzing of bees.

"i'll tell you how the sun rose, a ribbon at a time. the steeples swam in amethyst."

emily dickinson

(house in rueil edouard manet)

after dressing and sharing morning greetings,

we spent time in the garden gathering the best blooms.

(camille in the garden of the house in argenteuil monet)

flowers were gathered and then scattered in vases throughout the house.

"beloved, thou hast brought me many flowers,

plucked in the garden, all the summer through."

elizabeth barrett browning

(carnations and clematis in a crystal vase edouard manet)

i talk to my plants sometimes - and i certainly listen - i think they listen as well!

there was one that said:

"as i awaken i stare at the sun, which is the only eye of the day.

i drink dew for wine,

and hearken to the voices of the birds,

and dance to the rhythmic swaying of the grass.

but i look up high to see only the light,

and never look down to see my shadow.

this is wisdom which man must learn."

kahlil gibran

(two vases with chrysanthemums monet)

on this day,

breakfast was eaten on the veranda overlooking the distant hills.

it was decided that we would make our way to the coast.

(juan les pins monet)

our journey was to be slow and considered.

we packed a basket for lunch.

leaving the town behind i looked back.

"it was a lovely day. shires-long of pearled cloud under cloud,

with a grey stroke underneath marking each row;

beautiful blushing yellow in the straw of the uncut ryefields,

the wheat look white and all the ears making a delicate

and very true crisping along the top

and with just enough air stirring

for them to come and go gently."

gerard manley hopkins

(sentier ile saint-martin monet)

'cross golden fields buzzing with the sweetness of

sunwarmed clover and wild grasses. . .

i looked upwards to see ...

"an unbroken blue flooding the whole sky;

a single cloudlet upon it, half floating,

half fading away. windlessness, warmth ...

air like new milk!

larks are trilling; pouter-pigeons cooing;

noiselessly the swallows dart to and fro;

horses are neighing and munching;

the dogs do not bark and stand peaceably wagging their tails.

a smell of smoke and of hay, and a little of tar, too,

and a little of hides.

the hemp,

now in full bloom,

sheds its heavy, pleasant fragrance."

ivan turgenev

(poppy field in summer monet)

later, as we passed over a slight rise i saw ...

"a deep but sloping ravine.

along its sides willows in rows, with big heads above, trunks cleft below.

through the ravine runs a river;

the tiny pebbles at its bottom are all aquiver through its clear eddies.

in the distance, on the border-line between earth and heaven,

the bluish streak of a great river."

ivan turgenev

(a bend in the epte monet)

like a slow warm breeze . . .

"we go from house to house, from town to town,

and fill the distance full of smiles and words;

we take all pleasure that our strength affords

and care not if the sun be up or down."

william stanley braithwaite

(the road bridge, argenteuil monet)

"o the opal and the sapphire of that wandering western sea,

and the woman riding high above with bright hair flapping free-

the woman whom i loved so,

and who loyally loved me.

the pale mews plained below us,

and the waves seemed far away,

in a nether sky."

thomas hardy

(umbrella monet)

the sea wind was sharp and salty, tugging at our clothes.

yet we stopped to watch the sailboat's dance from wave to wave,

breeze to breeze . . .

"on this wondrous sea . . . sailing silently"

emily dickinson

(walk on the cliffs monet)

rounding the cliff's-edge we saw a small rough cottage below us . . .

"i inhale great draughts of space; the east and the west are mine,

and the north and the south are mine.

i am larger, better than i thought;

i did not know i held so much goodness.

all seems beautiful to me;

i can repeat over to men and women,

you have done such good to me,

i would do the same to you."

walt whitman

(fisherman's lodge at varengeville monet)

descending to the ocean side, we followed the beaches -

sometimes stony,

sometimes sandy,

sometimes a flooded cove -

until we reached our destination.

"brilliance of cloudless days,

with broad bellying sails they glide to the wind tossing green water from their sharp prows,

releasing,

making fast as they turn,

lean far over and having caught the wind again,

side by side, head for the mark.

they appear youthful,

rare as the light of a happy eye,

live with the grace of all that in the mind is fleckless,

free and naturally to be desired."

william carlos williams

(port of trouville monet)

like the afternoon,

we arrived rich and filled with warmth and light . . .

"the place i leave is beautiful: the sea repeats the winds’ far swell in its long sound,

and, there beside it, houses solemnly shine with the modest courage of the land,

while swimmers try the verge of what they see."

edgar bowers

(on the beach edouard manet)

soon it was time to return to our home. the breezes off the ocean turned chill.

"the night came quickly,

the hills turned purple and the valleys flooded with heavy shadow.

only the sky and ocean stayed alive,

running with immense streams of flame."

(sunset on the seine monet)

"light the first light of evening,

in which we rest and,

for small reason,

think,

the world imagined is the ultimate good.

out of this same light,

out of the central mind,

we make a dwelling in the evening air,

in which being there together is enough."

wallace stevens

(house in rueil edouard manet)