Dark Dense Clouds and a Raindrop

Raindrop under the dense clouds
A raindrop against the dark dense clouds. Monochrome # 015

The heart flutters with excitement
As the seasons change guard
Ever since it did in a lil’ girls backyard
It rained and rained. Then it rained some more
And awoke the buds after a peaceful slumber
Flirting, in the half- asleep, half -awake stupor
With a raindrop, that stayed as long as it could
And then bid adieu to the sombre bud
The dark dense clouds still so heavy with love
A raindrop too many’d soon descend from above…

In response to the The Daily Post: Weekly Photo Challenge – ‘Dense

All I ask, the Heaven above..

The Daily Post Weekly Photo Challenge:  The Road Taken

Enroute to Macknac Island, Michigan. Skyscspe # 010. #nofilter

All I Ask Is Heaven Above…

LUMINOUS sapphire skies

Woolgathering in glee

Blowing thinking-clouds

Bubbles of fantasy…

IN amber fairy dust

Blooms n’ buzzing bees

Racing to the horizon

The rolling emerald fields

THIS wanderlust I love

Nothing more I seek

All I ask, the heaven above

And the road below me…

********

Road Trip. 2016. To Mackinac Island. Some iPhone pictures of the road, taken on the road. No filter or enhancing was needed for the stunning blues and greens.

Blue sky white clouds green fields Upper Pure Michigan UP madame-zenista.com summer
Rolling fields in somewhere in northern Michigan. Skyscape # 011. #nofitler

On reaching the Mackinaw City, we took a ferry to the Mackinac Island all bikes no motor vehicles.

Mackinac Island Street Biking Upper Pure Michigan UP madame-zenista.com summer
The road in Mackinac Island where only bikes are allowed. Summer 2016.
Mackinac Island Lilac Tree Hotel madame-Zenistacom summer bikes
This ‘Lilac Tree Hotel’ by the roadside sporting lilac flower baskets. Mackinac Island.

Ever since I read it the first time in high school, R.L. Stevenson’s The Vagabond stayed with as a beautiful memory appealing my ‘wanderer self’.  I LOVE this poem. I cant help but reproduce it here and see if you feel it speak to your soul as it did to mine.

The Vagabond by Robert Louis Stevenson

Give to me the life I love,
Let the lave go by me,
Give the jolly heaven above
And the byway night me.
Bed in the bush with stars to see,
Bread I dip in the river —
There’s the life for a man like me,
There’s the life for ever.
Let the blow fall soon or late,
Let what will be o’er me;
Give the face of earth around
And the road before me.
Wealth I seek not, hope nor love,
Nor a friend to know me;
All I seek, the heaven above
And the road below me.
Or let autumn fall on me
Where afield I linger,
Silencing the bird on tree,
Biting the blue finger;
White as meal the frosty field —
Warm the fireside haven —
Not to autumn will I yield,
Not to winter even!
Let the blow fall soon or late,
Let what will be o’er me;
Give the face of earth around,
And the road before me.
Wealth I ask not, hope, nor love,
Nor a friend to know me.
All I ask, the heaven above
And the road below me.

 

 

My Solitude, sunset, the sea

The Daily Post: A Good Match -Photo Challenge. The sunset and the sea is better than a good match for my solitude at the final hours of the day…

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I watch the sunset at the South Padre Islands in 2015. Skyscape # 008


Eyes wide shut under the flying veil of hair

Rumbling ocean reverberates, flushing the day’s wear

Gulls forlorn cawing, split the brined air

Emotions shudder helpless, on a wing ‘n a prayer

Encompassing solitude deepens, skins my soul bare

By the calming sea, ‘n the darkening glare

Of the crimson sunset, I feel so aware…

 

 

Anger: the monk’s little story

 

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An evening in Rancho Viejo, Texas. The ambience– so dramatic and beautiful. None can beat Nature’s own filter! Just like being in a 3 dimensional painting … #nofilter (Skyscape # 007)

The Little Story: To meditate alone with no interruptions, a monk decided to go to a nearby lake. He took a boat and moored it in the middle of the lake, closed his eyes and began meditating. After a few hours of uninterrupted solitude passed and he was in a deep meditative state, when suddenly, he felt the bump of another boat colliding with his own. His eyes were closed still, but he was agitated, and felt his anger rising.  By the time he opened his eyes, he was about to scream at the boatman who had so carelessly disturbed his meditation. On opening his eyes, however, he was startled to find that it was just another empty boat that probably got untethered and floated to the middle of the lake.

That moment the monk had a profound realization: all the anger was within him; it merely needed the bump of an external object to provoke it out of him. And that moment on, whenever he came across someone who irritated or provoked him to anger, he reminded himself that the other person was merely an empty boat; it is he who has the choice to react independent of the whatever the other person did.

There have been times when I would feel frustrated and hopeless about things and myself, and it gave way to so much anger I didn’t know I was capable of. It is easy when you think you have a wrongdoer in your life to blame. But in absence any villains, one confronts the stark reality of one’s own nature. After the fact, realizing how it was making others feel would kill me. I felt powerless and at mercy of this intensity of the emotion I had no explanation for. Thats when I stumbled upon this story.

It hit me in the head like a brick. Past the cleverness of the story and the intellectual stimulation such stories might give, a space needs to be created for a lot of work to be done on self: take it in, assimilate the knowledge, contemplate on it until it shines back out as wisdom, becoming a part of one’s nature.

I wonder if you can relate to it…

The Spirit of the Kites…

I stumbled upon this interesting WordPress weekly photo challenge. Check it out here to participate.

Mackinac Island, Michigan. Kites. Skyscape # 006. #nofilter.

THE SPIRIT OF THE KITES, AGAINST THE ODDS!

BEFORE we came, and after we arrived

The mountains moved, and the waters realigned

But gravity stayed, rigid, un-compromised.

 

FOUR kingdoms subservient to the Gravity gods

Yet these puny kites, how they soar ‘n how they drop

The spirit of the kites, flying against the odds

 

(The above picture shows summer skies of 2016 in Mackinac Island, Michigan. While the island and the waters and the people, all earthbound, were enjoying the the sunshine from down below, a dozen kites took flight and dared for the skies…)