Saturday, April 24, 2010

jumping jacks in the next room.

This is Rebecca.
What a big heart she possesses.
Went wandering today
with two beautiful souls.
captured many memories.
i'll do jumping jacks in the next room
and wash my muddy feet.
Dear Idiot,
I can't stop.
Let's be comfortable.
Sincerely, mecie

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

measured in coffee spoons

London Eye

Big Ben
would you be so kind
as to lend me
some self control?
i frequently find myself
with my heart on my sleeve.
but truth.
and then when i have a hurt
i put it away for safe keeping.
but it always finds its way back out.
i think yes.

Monday, April 12, 2010

a teaspoon full of london. more to come. . .

double decker.

anne hathaway's garden. (the shakespeare's wife kind)

on the plane.
london was magical
it felt right.
to be there.
i wish i could have stayed there forever.
want to go back one day.
i'm extremely exhausted.
and very confused.
sometimes it is difficult to have friends
who are all so different and opinionated.
i try to go with my own gut.
but my gut says to put myself in their place.
so I end up just agreeing and being pulled into
different pieces of mecie.
oh dear.

Sunday, April 4, 2010

read and absorb

my mother is
one of my favorite people on this earth.
she is steady, wise, and chill.
she knows me better than anyone.
these are her words.
they came to her immediately after waking up
this morning
easter morning.
these are my mother's words:
"Much has been written about Jesus’ experience of the crucifixion as a man, fully human. His physical suffering, his final hours. The body’s response to such a slow, tortured death.
But what about his experience of resurrection? He still had a physical body. When did his awareness of life begin as he came back from death? Was it like slowly awakening from the veil of sleep, walking in from the corners of dreams until he was in the moment of the big day? Or was there a sharp intake of breath, lungs suddenly filled with air, burning, gasping.
Could he feel the bands of cloth around his feet, his arms, his face? Was there a clawing feeling of desperation to be released, free from the restriction of movement, wanting up off this hard stone?
Could he smell the burial herbs and spices, strong and pungent in their mixture, to both honor and cover death? The cave, mildew and stale, his nose searching for release to openness.
And what did he hear? His own breath whooshing, in and out, his heart beating in his ears, and then nothing – the quiet of the tomb. Maybe the distant conversation of men standing guard.
His mouth must have been full of the sticking, staleness of long sleep, dry and tight, reluctant movement. Did he have morning breath? Bitter taste of burial herbs seeping through tight, closed lips.
How did he first sit up, stand up? Who folded the cloths? Where did his clothes come from? And did he stand patiently silently as he waited for the stone to move? Did he help, pushing weakly, hands pressed to cold, damp granite? When did the light of sun hit his eyes? Squinting in to the day after long, long night. The fresh, cool air of morning, hazy with fog. Colors opaque with dew and smoky, heavy air.
Did he stand still for a moment enjoying the newness and familiarity of what had been lost to him? As he looked down at himself, did he recognize this new body, familiar parts but new appearance?

When did the man step in?"

she really needs to get a blog.

Saturday, April 3, 2010

they keep fluttering

in there
with my lunch.
i'm not completely sure why.
but they keep colliding with the walls
of my stomach.
their wings flapping
to stay airborne.
nevertheless, today has been calm and lovely.

Things that made today a lovely day:
-sewing buttons
-new yellow coat
-breeze from the fan
-no blinds
-rain (sound, smell, sight)
-time with mom
-pasting many things into my journal
-KBCO cd
-packing for London