Happiness is not an emotional high, joy is, though. To live a grand life in a small way is my preference. I prefer a smaller footprint with finely done details where the ambiance and the love exudes from the space integrated between the outside and the inside. Beauty, classic or break through, is living life as art.
When I had too much I seemed to have far too little time to actually be still of heart and soak in the wonders. Now, my life is far different. Monkeys wake me up and keep me company while I sip my coffee sitting on the veranda watching the world live in peace and oneness. I no longer have to answer to a schedule or someone’s demands. Romance is not present, and like most writer’s romance is ingrained in my boohoo spirit. Yet, time fractally heals. The selection of a life partner is God’s handiwork. My responsibility is to be me, true to myself, and accept nothing less in another.
The noise of contemporary life is fraught with derailments and obligations. Here at Finca Vigia, my existence is simple not because my options are limited, rather as a defender of Earth for decades on sabbatical. Today the plan is once removed from the action of social policy. Yes, I miss the inter-dynamics, at times, but I am never bored. How could one be in the revealing resonating rainforest so alive and fertile?
My fantasies continue and I maintain life is wondrous even though I witnessed too much of the god awful crap we do to each other and this planet. There are an ever increasing number of human shit storms and body politic disgusting events. Somehow, my life is in contrast awesome in its serenity and exploratory Sufi perspective.
Security is an inside job with God taking the splinters and applying salve to soothe. I learned to ask for a higher power’s help and this was a meta-change for this fat ego.
Relevancy is what all creatives seek. We may not admit it to ourselves let alone others. Too many who are not of the creative bent perceive we are hungry for affirmation. This is a shallow viewpoint by those who have not grown enough to seek life as art or are trapped in ugly spirals of inner bounds and fascist shackles.
What I want is to continue to be happy, to make a difference for the greater good, and to leave behind a legacy of compassion. Lofty goals for this aging kid from Napa Valley yet doable if nothing else because I one determined woman.
Wholistic far reaching solutions for strung out human life – prevalent across the planet – is beyond my realm of activities. I am a merely a writer. I use to be a realistic painter/illustrator. I was a damn good small businesswoman. I continue to muck around in politics, but as an observer no longer a participant or needing the podium. The magnitude of being a journo is on the grassy down slope.
My attractions are to poetry, kindness, mindfulness, gentleness, music, peace, dark penetrating eyes, wild places, wild creatures, the cosmos, flowers, sweet scents, clear waters, and the peace sign. Truth is relative and certainly vastly interpreted through individualistic lens.
Last fall, especially October, was a wall banger – the first anniversary of my husband’s memorial. This Valentine’s Day, a second anniversary as a widow, I will not be along side a lover as a treasure chest of a compassionate brilliant man. It will be okay. Affection flows in the air – unseen – yet vibrant. What was, will be again with different lighting and probably additional modifications to the furniture arrangement.
I wish you, one and all, a Valentine’s Day of red hearts and chocolates with bouquets of long stem roses and perfumes of jasmine. Now, go out and procure what you need for your loved one, because I am here to inform you such a manifested living love can disappear in an instant.
#valentine’sday #love #widowhood #peace #lifeasart