Love wants not to be defined.
Love defies explanations.
Love is feeling, knowing without interpretation nor clarification.
The more you try to imprison love in walls of words, the faster it will run away from you.
Trust is the food of love.
Trust! You will know love when you have it, will know when it is given to you.
Acknowledge it when it comes to you, then share it. Bestow it freely, in joyous abundance.
Love given away will never deplete the love you have.
Love grows when you give it away.
Love is sharing, not saving.
Love thrives in light, withers in darkness.
There is but one kind of love. Its expressions vary, but love itself does not.
Someone asked me to write about whether or not I wish I’d acted less from my brain and more from my heart in relationships.
Au contraire, my friends. I fervently wish I’d used more brain and less of everything else.When I look at the big picture, I’m not sure there was any difference between “thinking with my heart” and not thinking at all.
Men are accused of being in thrall to lust, but women are no less irrational when chemistry takes over. Women’s behavior may be more subtle (or not), but sexual attraction — old-fashioned lust — remains the root of many of our most horrible choices. I suspect women are somewhat more inclined to marry their mistakes which doesn’t improve anything and usually sets the stage for lots of drama in the future. Maybe that is changing, but cultural conditioning goes deep. It’s a lot harder to escape your conditioning than you imagine. Just when you think you’re free, you discover you’re doing exactly what you swore you’d never do.
Through a combination of a lust, loneliness and more than a little hubris, I achieved a hormonally induced prefrontal lobotomy. Staying determinedly stupid, I wound up married to the wrongest possible person in a country where women can’t initiate divorce. Good show Marilyn!
It took years and a lot of blood under the bridge to get my life back. It was ugly, expensive and painful — and completely avoidable. I made a moronic decision against all advice. Even many years later, I have trouble believing I did that.
Some people need to loosen up. Others need to tighten up. I’ve been on both sides at different times in my life … and my conclusion? There is a very good reason our heads are at the top of our bodies. The brain is supposed to be the boss.
You’re going to get in a lot less trouble with your brain at the helm. If your head is saying “Whoa, pal … don’t do that!” you really should listen.
It was a visit worthy of Jane Austin. We were fed and fed again. Entertained, charmed, chatted and entertained some more. I took pictures of the house, the land, the snow, the stream.
We watched the Oscars, and we saw almost all the movies that had been nominated (except the ones we didn’t want to see and Les Mis, which we didn’t get to).
We had already seen Lincoln in the movies. We watched Argo, Skyfall, The Hobbit, Flight, Ted (not nominated, but after Flight, we needed a comedy) and Life of Pi. A veritable movie banquet.
And OH the food. Such good food. Our host and hostess cooked up a storm. It was movie maven and gourmet heaven, not to mention a great house and land perfect for photography.
Good friends, good food, great movies, beautiful scenery … It was an award-winning weekend.
Good morning. Coffee? Canon Powershot S100
Late winter snow in a Connecticut woods. The frozen stream waits for a bit of sunshine.
Melting snow runs down from high peaks, into creeks,
over flowing waters, carry off layers of the forest floor,
nutrients, twigs, leafs and insects are all swept clean,
little creeks bulge into violent streams, and mighty rivers
churning, tumbling, and roaring down waves, into the ocean’s mouth.
Melting snow on the forest floor uncovers chains of small islands,
spreading under pines and oaks and elms, low lands and high lands,
contrasting, the dark colored ground against the white melting snow,
the season of change calls to awaken the forest floor,
with a splash of melting snow, and a degree of heat,
natures cycle is complete.
A few hours later, the stream is flowing. Sluggishly, still a bit icy but moving, the little waterfall flows down the rocks between still snowy banks.
The big snow from early this month is melting. It’s good because that’s what has to happen, especially is the weather is not finished with us. If more snow is to come, better there be less snow and ice on the ground when if does.
Melt-off is messy. It seeps into foundations and basements, makes the rivers and streams overflow. Everything and everyone feels damp. Old bones ache in sympathy. The world is sodden and chilly.
Today, though the rain is falling heavily accompanied by wind and occasional dollops of sleet, we have to drive home. Like it or not, we’ve been away longer than we intended and it’s time to go home. Here in central Connecticut, the stream that was frozen when we arrived last Sunday has broken free of winter’s grip.
It’s flowing enthusiastically … more so with each passing hour as I watch it from the windows here in the kitchen. Spring will come. Soon or sooner, but it will come.
All taken with the Canon Powershot S100. It’s the only camera I brought with me and it has done the job splendidly.
Roxbury fire escape, Canon Powershot S100