A Light Touch / A Touch of Light

This phrase kept playing around in my head this week.

I like the play on the word “light”. A light touch. A gentle touch. Feather-soft. Tender touch. The brush of one hand on another saying “happy to see you”. A tough of light. A sharing between two friends, between two people who care about each other. Sharing soul food for thought. Sharing thoughts of love. Sharing something that warms your heart and soul. Bringing some light into your daily life.

I experienced both this week in so many small yet wonderful ways.

I ran into someone I hadn’t seen in many months during one of my weekly outings and we were both so happy to see each other. She took her hand in mine and smiled as she told me how good it was to see me again, as I told her the same. We exchanged numbers and suggested going for coffee.

This week, I ran into another friend online, a friend I hadn’t chatted with in months as well. What a wonderful thing it is to hear a friend tell you, “I really miss you my friend” and “Love you”. How I missed him too, this extraordinary, wise young man who had brought some beautiful light into my life, and still does.

And then I received a very special touch of light in my day: a letter from my dad.

Yes, a real, hand-written, airmailed letter from my dad that came from far across an ocean. I hadn’t received a letter from my dad in ages. I had called my dad a few weeks ago, after not having talked in some time. And I had asked my dad to write me a letter, as I know he’s not one to call. So I was super happy to see my dad had followed up.

My dad’s letter was such a special treat for me, that I carried it around all day, not wanting to open it just yet because I wanted to prolong the anticipation and excitement it gave me to open it.

My dad’s letter, filled with light and filled with love.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about the special people I know who live far away, who have touched my life and who have a special place in my heart. Maybe that thought has been my mind because of these light connections this week. But also because a dear friend of mine told me recently she will be moving away, due to a great opportunity that crossed her path. I know that we will do our very best to maintain and nurture our connection. She’s someone special who has brought light into my life every time I’ve seen her, talked to her or emailed her. She’s just that kind of lightbearer who makes the people around her feel that way.

It’s such a gift to have a light touch and a touch of light in our lives, n’est-ce-pas?

Anima Blue

Friendship, Light and Appreciation

“What is to give light must endure burning. “
~ Viktor Frankl

I was thinking this week about mistakes. I made some mistakes and did some things I wasn’t happy I did and was just looking at the why of it.

Some people when you make mistakes are not kind and attach a label to you. But that doesn’t belong to me.

I’m focused on me and accepting that I’m human. I’m happy to close a very small part of a chapter, and to simply heal and forget. To relearn to appreciate myself and all that I am and the goodness in me, the goodness that comes out of being an imperfect human being.

A great friend told me a great thing. How I was a great person and to look at all the friends in my life who appreciate the light that shines within me and are happy that I share it with others. And that’s what I did. Thought about all the great and amazing friends and friendships in my life.

It made me think of a birthday party I went to recently. I was a bit sad and just wanted to be around some positive people. And I had a such a great time. It was something so simple. To see great people who I hadn’t seen in  awhile and see how happy they were to see me. All those people who appreciate the light in me. The people who have such a light of their own as well. And meeting friends of friends who I was happy to meet and who were happy to meet me too.

It’s funny I never know what people in the blogosphere may think when they come across my blog. I write thoughts that I feel to need to share with the world and set them free out here in my blog.

Recently, someone wrote me to let me know that something I wrote in my blog had touched them and resonated, and that it comforted them in their own journey. That was a wow moment to me. To have impacted someone like that in some small way. That sharing my journey can enrichen someone’s else path. That was a blessing in my day, to hear that. What a remarkable thing. And how wonderful life is that it brings such moments and such people in my life. Sometimes from the most unexpected sources.

My goal right now is to simply appreciate my life and everything in it, and everyone in it. To appreciate my self, with my many flaws, but also inner goodness. To appreciate the person I am today, in this moment.

Every lesson in life has a blessing in it.

A Girl And A Poem

“And it was at that age…Poetry arrived
in search of me. I don’t know, I don’t know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I don’t know how or when,
no, they were not voices, they were not
words, nor silence,
but from a street I was summoned,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires
or returning alone,
there I was without a face
and it touched me.

I did not know what to say, my mouth
had no way
with names
my eyes were blind,
and something started in my soul,
fever or forgotten wings,
and I made my own way,
deciphering
that fire
and I wrote the first faint line,
faint, without substance, pure
nonsense,
pure wisdom
of someone who knows nothing,
and suddenly I saw
the heavens
unfastened
and open,
planets,
palpitating planations,
shadow perforated,
riddled
with arrows, fire and flowers,
the winding night, the universe.

And I, infinitesimal being,
drunk with the great starry
void,
likeness, image of
mystery,
I felt myself a pure part
of the abyss,
I wheeled with the stars,
my heart broke free on the open sky.”

~ Pablo Neruda

I was thinking the other day about how I first started to write poetry.
Or rather, was trying to figure out when or how or why it started.

I love Pablo Neruda’s poem about the poetic process because it describes the roots of how poetry is born so well.

Why does a poet write a poem? Just because.

Because you need to and you have to.
Because the song sings inside you and needs to fly up and out of you.
Because you have this emotion crashing inside your heart, your brain, your soul and you want to share it.
Because it’s part of the healing process.
Because it’s a piece of heaven yearning to go back where it came from.
Because it’s a gift that someone out there needs to hear.
Because it’s a celebration of life and death.
Because it’s a universe of possibilities and timescapes:
what was, what is, what will be, what might become.
Because it’s a way to move on.
Because it’s any kind of release, joyous or sad, elated or anguished, that is necessary.
Because it’s true life, fiction, and every form in between.
Because it’s a story shaped by how it makes you feel.

It would be a hard thing for me to tell you at what age I started to write poetry.

It was the first form of creative writing I learned in school and as soon as I saw it, felt it, savoured it, I had to do it myself.

I do remember my first poetic love: the haiku.
I still love haikus, the challenge of their structure, and their evocative dance.

I’ve gone on to write other things and other styles in my life. Articles, short stories, blogs (of course), and even the three books I’ve started and never quite finished.

But the poetry will always live in me and need to be set free.

Changes

I was just thinking how how many changes there have been in my life.
And about how much I have changed.

The people in my life have come and gone. Friends, family, loves.
People have come back into my life from the past.

Different jobs and careers, different interests and hobbies.
Different life experiences.

I was having a coffee with a friend I’ve known for over 10 years today and made a comment to her about how much my life has changed in the past 2 years, 5 years, 10 years.

So very much change.

Many of the anchors in my life are gone.
The touchstones and the guiding lights.

This past week I found out someone I went out with in the past had passed away.

I can’t seem to escape this surreal feeling, that somehow the life I have today is such a different thing. Something in the state of flux, evolving.

I ask myself, what do I want out of life?
In some ways, the answers have not changed.

It is about the simple things.
The blessed shared moments with people I care about.
Having the basics to get by.

Thinking about this wonderfully mysterious thing called life.

I don’t take life for granted because I have seen the tough & nitty gritty side of life.

I often thank God for the miracle of each day I draw breath.
For the very many simple blessings and graces of my life.

I even thank God for the hard lessons, the tough times when I try to find the lesson I need to learn. There is value in everything.

But there has always been change and there will always be change.
My life has never been static, but a moving and flowing and ever-changing creation.

Sometimes I am thrilled with change.
And sometimes the changes make me sad.

I have been feeling a mix of both lately.
And wondering what it all means.

The jury is still out.

But like Bowie says :
Time can change us – but we can’t change time.

Waiting Time Meditations

You know those moments when you´re waiting somewhere?

Waiting to see a doctor, get some government document, waiting in line, waiting waiting waiting?

I consider those little inconsequential moments to be little blessings in my life.

Why?

Because I use those moments in my life to meditate.

I check in on me and say hello self, how are things with you?

I check in on myself in those moments and think of my life and the meaning of it. Sometimes I think about where I want to go – the next step. Sometimes I use those moments to count every single blessing in my day. Sometimes I just send love out into the universe, to all those people around me, also waiting.

Sometimes I just breathe.

I treasure those little waiting time meditations because they are like a mini little mental vacation in the middle of my very busy life.

Waiting time meditations.

Can´t wait for my next appointment!

Anima Blue

free-falling notes

the flow

moby peter gabriel youssou n´dour youssou n´dour & peter gabriel
bono & the police u2 u2 & luciano pavarotti luciano pavarotti & lucio dalla
maria callas & enigma geoffrey oryema robbie robertson

the flow

Beautiful Day

I have never had so many people tell me I was beautiful in the space of 24 hours. Honestly.

On Friday, April 25, I made a change in my life that was 10 years coming.

I cut my hair. Short.

For the past 10 years, I grew my hair long & longer.
And then one day, I said that’s enough. So I cut my hair.

It took me awhile to write this blog, but thought I would share this momentous occasion in my life.

Now why is cutting my hair so remarkable?

Because I want to make changes in my life.
Change how I feel about myself & how I look out at the world.

So I cut my hair one day and people have just not stopped complimenting me on it.

Now I am not a supermodel. I am a real woman who has a real woman’s body.

And it felt great to hear all these men & women telling me how beautiful I looked with my new hair. To literally have men & women do a double-take at the sight of me. I’ve never had so many male friends & acquaintances take a different look at me….seeing me in a different light like this.

And it feels great.

It feels great inside & out.
I feel literally so much lighter.
Free.
Happy in the way a little kid can be happy.
I feel 10 years younger and then some.

It feels great to make a radical change in my life.
And other things have been changing in my life as well.
I have been making lots of changes.

And it’s a beautiful day to be me.
It’s a beautiful day.

Anima Blue

Great Songs From The Poets: Maya Angelou & Irving Layton

There are so many poets whose poetry I have loved reading over the years.

The first poetry I read was Canadian poetry, which makes sense since I am Canadian.

There are 2 poems in particular that have gone round & round in my head over the years, because they both touched my heart & spirit truly, madly, deeply. Simply put, they resonate.

A long time ago, I had the very good fortune of hearing Irving Layton read out loud at a poetry reading in Concordia University’s Hall building. Much has been said about Irving Layton, his infamous love life (with his 5 wives and sundry other lovers) and his very healthy ego.

But how the man could read! You could hear a pin drop in the cavernous university auditorium. The power of his voice just reverberated & reverberated through-out the hall. And the poem that touched me most was the ode to his sister, titled Senile My Sister Sings.

Another powerful poet I hope to hear live one day is Maya Angelou. I´ve heard recordings of her beautiful poems, but I just know there is a special magic to hearing her poetic voice live. One of my favorite of her poems is I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings.

Two very different songs, from two very different yet powerfully compelling poets.

I thought I would share both poems with you today.

Enjoy,
Anima Blue

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings
~ Maya Angelou

The free bird leaps
on the back of the win
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and is tune is heard
on the distant hillfor the caged bird
sings of freedom

The free bird thinks of another breeze
an the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing

The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Senile, My Sister Sings
~ Irving Layton

Senile, my sister sings. She sings
the same snatch of song over and over
in a quivering voice, her lips trembling
when she tries for the high notes. Her white
hair close-cropped like a prisoner’s
and her unobstructed tongue lolling
over her furrowed lip while her dentures
grin at us through a glass of water,
my sister is some kind of vocal chicken,
especially when her small raisin eyes dart
from visitor to visitor as though about
to pluck worms out of their garments.
My heart breaks remembering her beauty
and wit, the full mouth with a tale in it
she finally exploded in our ears.
Is this my sister so frail and emaciated,
whose valour and go were family legends,
her smiles so dazzling they made the roaches
leisurely roaming the walls of our kitchen
scurry behind the torn wallpaper
to hide there till the incandescence had passed?

Sing, my dear sister, sing
though your trembling lips break my heart
and I turn away from you to sob
and let the tears course down my cheeks,
my grief held back by pride and even a kind
of exultance. You do not moan or whimper,
you do not grovel before the Holy Butcher
and beg Him to spare you days; or rock
silently like the other white-haired biddies
waiting to be plucked from their stoops. No,
though His emissary ominously flaps his wings
to enfold you in their darkness, you sing.
Your high-pitched note must rile him
more than rage or defiance. You sing him
no welcome, and if your voice trembles
it’s not fear or resignation he hears
but the cracked voice of the élan vital
whose loudest chorister you are, abashing Death
and making him sulk in his own shadow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Gift of Compassion Received

I am so used to feeling compassion for others who cross my path,  in my daily life.

This week I was so surprised to receive compassion, from a totally unexpected direction.

What a beautiful & miraculous thing that can be….the grace of compassion received.

What a gift. What a blessing.

Everything Is Possible Beyond The Invisible

There is a bright invisible thread that has run through my life through-out the years.

It has given a bold richness to the brightest of times & soothed my soul in the darkest of times. It was a happy dancing presence in my daily life.

That presence is MUSIC.

All kinds of music. My taste in music is rather….eclectic. Unique. At times, bizarre in its range.

World music. Music from the 80s. Dance, electronica, techno. Rap ( but only a very select kind of rap). Opera. Classical music. Reggae. Blues. Pop. Kurtans. Good old fashioned rock & roll. Almost everything & anything, except for Country & Western. Shania Twain being the noticeable exception to that last one.

My taste has run from Les Negresses Vertes to U2. Eros Ramazotti to Kate Bush. Coldplay to Nina Simone.

And then there is one musical project closest to my heart.

The music of Enigma.

A musical creation hard to define by any genre, because it encompasses so many genres. The creative brainchild of a mysterious – one might say enigmatic – man by the name of Michael Cretu.

There are many albums from Enigma, and each one has been a new evolution in a new, completely different direction. But yet, there is a link from one to the next. Each one is a chapter in a curious story. A story that inspires, that makes one stop to think.

I´ve been following Enigma since the late 80s, early 90s.
When I first heard one their songs on their radio, I had to have the album.
But the album wasn’t even out yet in Canada.

Luckily, I happened to head out for a day in Plattsburgh, just across the border in the US, and snatched up a precious copy of MCMXC a.D., Enigma’s first album.

I brought it home like it was the most delicious & secret of treasures. And it was. It made me fall in love with Enigma, a love-affair that has continued ever since.

I wanted to share with you all one of my very favorite Enigma songs.

Beyond The Invisible has been a beacon for me.
A spiritual background to my meditation sessions.
An inspiration for my poetry & writing.

Quite simply, it makes me dream.
And I wanted to share this dream with you all today.

Above, you will see the video.

Below are the song lyrics.

This song & video are all about how everything is possible – beyond the invisible.

I hope it makes you dream, too.

Enjoy,

Anima Blue

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Enigma ~ Beyond The Invisible ~ Song Lyrics
(Michael Cretu/David David Fairstein)
.
I look into the mirror
See myself, I’m over me
I need space for my desires
Have to dive into my fantasies
.
I know as soon as I’ll arrive
Everything is possible
Cause no one has to hide
Beyond the invisible
.
Latvian Chant
Sajaja bramani totari ta, raitata raitata, radu ridu raitata, rota
(Translation
The brave and wise men came together on horse)
Close your eyes
Just feel and realize
It is real and not a dream
I’m in you and you’re in me
.
It is time
To break the chains of life
If you follow you will see
What’s beyond reality
.
Ne irascaris Domine,
ne ultra memineris iniquitatis:
ecce civitas Sancti facta est deserta:
Sion deserta facta est:
Ierusalem desolata est:
domus sanctificationis tuae et gloriae tuae
(Translation
Do not be angry Lord,
or remember iniquity forever:
behold the Holy City is a desert:
Sion is mad a desert:
Jerusalem is desolate:
the house of your holiness and glory )