my poplars

Wednesday, August 20, 2014

my favourite stand of giant, very old poplar trees - I love them, I love the way their leaves rustle in the wind 

When we are stricken and cannot bear our lives any longer, then a tree has something to say to us: Be still! Be still! Look at me! Life is not easy, life is not difficult. Home is neither here nor there. Home is within you, or home is nowhere at all. 

A longing to wander tears my heart when I hear trees rustling in the wind at evening. If one listens to them silently for a long time, this longing reveals its kernel, its meaning. It is not so much a matter of escaping from one's suffering, though it may seem to be so. It is a longing for home, for a memory, for new metaphors for life. It leads home. Every path leads homeward, every step is birth, every step is death. 

So the tree rustles in the evening, when we stand uneasy before our own thoughts: Trees have long thoughts, long-breathing and restful, just as they have longer lives than ours. They are wiser than we are, as long as we do not listen to them. But when we have learned how to listen to trees, then the brevity and the quickness and the childlike hastiness of our thoughts achieve an incomparable joy. 

Whoever has learned how to listen to trees no longer wants to be a tree. He wants to be nothing except what he is & that is home. Hermann Hesse

it's a brand new day

Monday, August 18, 2014

found on my beloved Pinterest - such a gorgeous image & and such an absolute true fact ... especially now, for me

She knew that this day, this feeling, couldn't last forever. Everything passed; that was partly why it was so beautiful. Things would get difficult again. But that was okay too. The bravery was in moving forward, no matter what. Lauren Oliver / Panic

It's pouring rain, we need rain and it matches my mood of late - dark, grey & gloomy. Nothing a big to-do list can't mend, or distract, a pile of new audio books from the library to listen to (including David Sedaris - When You Are Engulfed in Flames, a little non fiction, & a  little murder mystery). Productivity is like medicine to me, the catch is making yourself be productive when you feel you'd much rather be tucked away in your fleece lined cave - with a cat or 2 and a Miss W Dixon.

Hey ! it's a brand new day 

reminds me of the 80's anthem of the heartbroken - Annie Lenox by the same name - listen here

Thank you Dianne, John & Claire for your sweet words when I need it most xoxo Susan