onto my screen "querencia" saunters announcing herself fresh like an ocean breeze and like the lightest foam on this sea's shore she is the trending word she is trailing her footsteps all across the social media sand dunes "querencia querencia querencia" i repeat after the computer-generated voice google translated "querencia"—its quick to softness melts in my mouth i'm caught i like it and i succumb like butter to the sun "Gotcha!" she laughs with a wry wink and a wave and saunters again, this time off towards some shimmering coral-pink horizon beyond my screen querencia~querencia~querencia* my love my heart untamed roses and my diamond in the sky *a Spanish metaphysical concept on the place from which one's strength and/or inspiration is drawn; where one feels most authentic, safe, and at home
philocalist: a person who loves beauty; one who sees and appreciates beauty in all things.
What is beauty? Like love, beauty is some kind of nameable uncontainable, some kind of innate and immediate and intrinsic nature of our humanness. And like love, beauty eludes definition the way sunlight escapes boxes and the shadows. We cannot live without the light. We cannot live without love and we cannot live without beauty.
Beauty might be a rose, or a stranger who comes to our rescue. It could be that smooth shiny surface of wooden floor boards worn step after step after step after step—a million times over. Or sparkles dancing on water. Dew in the morning light. A friendly smile. Honey. And sweetness.
In one way or the other, beauty is everything that is good. Like a natural point of rest, beauty is the default setting for our most essential selves. The Navajo word for it is Hózhó. Harmony balance reciprocity peace.
So in your moments of darkness, of hurt or of despair, look into the mirror and remember that not only are you beautiful—but that you are beauty itself… beauty reflecting beauty. Say not “I am beautiful”, but declare “I Am Beauty”. And everything else in this tumultuous life shall fall into place—step after step after step after step—you shall Walk in Beauty. Hózhó.
philocalist: a person who knows themself as beauty; one who walks in beauty.
Life is a field of dreams growing with the wind and weather patterns of thoughts feelings and voices Voices from the soil of memory past loves and sorrows past joys and triumphs and remorse They take root and grow into our field of dreams And whether asleep or awake we all walk our field of dreams on pathways of hope or of despair to horizons unknown But surely on a pathway of love love itself is the horizon and the infinitely wild beautiful blue sky above
this love is gold light in wild flowers and bold skies beauty everywhere
~a short meditation on flight, four~
Flight, for all its exhilaration and glory, always comes home. Every bird lands, eventually. And it is this very moment of landing—a touchdown full of sweetness, which gives flight its freedom. For without landing, the sky would be abyss. Without landing, flight would be exile. It is the inevitability of landing which gives wings to dreams… to our wildest, our sweetest, and our most beautiful dreams.
flight is an embrace of sky wings spread wide caressing wind as it streams by flight is a love of the sky song whispered in tendrils of crimson clouds and golden light and flight is the heart’s journey home weaving dawn and dusk into luster love and soft landing
~a short meditation on flight, three~
When you see birds flying in the sky, does your heart not also soar?
love is love is deeper than the deepest ocean which, in the end has a bottom a finite place of rest and love is brighter even than the brightest and most brilliant star which, although still visible billions and billions of light years away will twinkle out some day love is more beautiful than even the most beautiful red rose which, held too tightly pierces the heart thorns sharp and steep searing love is love which, has no end no void and no restraint love is infinite boundless and like birds flying into the wild blue sky free
~a short meditation on flight, two~
Who does not dream about flying?
Although our actual physical bodies are essentially tethered to this earth, it seems that flight is somehow intrinsic to our souls. Somehow, I really do know what it is to fly, in this human body… I can feel it in my bones, and on the surface of my skin caressed by wind—my entire being buoyed by its light power. Soaring.
Do you? Too, like me, know flight?
Does your heart lift, with the first rays of sunrise—taking you out beyond the horizons? When the birds circle overhead, can you meet them up there in the blue sky—seeing eye to eye, and the dancing tree tops below? As the soft pads of your bare feet sink into earth, gently with each step on the path, are you not also drawn upwards and a little closer to those not so distant cloud bottoms? And at night when the stars twinkle so invitingly, do you dance there too among all the glitter? Gloriously?
Maybe we are all angels, after all?
We’re just walking this earth awhile—for the grand adventure of it all… for dreaming dreams, for the thrill and for the mania, for sleeping and awakening, for creating something beautiful or fantastic and then reveling in it too… But above all, maybe we are here for love—simply, to love and to be loved. Love.
Who can tell me, what is the source of love?
Not the whos nor whats which we love, not our dreams nor passions. But like rain from the clouds, rivers from the high mountains, song from morning birds, from where does love come?
Like this body made up of trillions of cells, and cells made up of biomolecules, and biomolecules made up of… ah, um, let’s just skip right to the part where matter essentially breaks down into nothingness… where this body is nothing but empty space.
And what of love? What are its elemental parts and particles? Like the body falling into a microverse of emptiness, into what space does love fall, eventually? Like trying to locate physical origins of consciousness itself, trying to locate the same for love may very well be futile—an endeavor best left to the poets among us.
(It is apparent, yes, that science is not my forte!) But surely, there are no grand laws of physics, quantum physics, or other physics for that matter, which can tell us how love arises into our hearts and minds, and bursts so brightly, into our souls.
So let the poet in me humbly suggest a theory.
Love, like light, comes from the sun. Yes, that’s right. All those millions and gazillions of stars out there? They are actually love-generating furnaces!
It makes sense does it not? Physical matter breaks down into emptiness, so we are actually bodies of empty space being filled with light. Or is light only a result of a collision of particles and waves between the sun and our vastly empty bodies? I think that light too, like love, cannot truly be contained in the mind.
These uncontainables, and these apparent immaterials… are like wind which can only be seen in the swirl of desert sand. Or water, in the long and slow curves of canyon walls. Sound, in the reverberation of strings.
And love, seen in the light of a smile or felt in a remembered birthday, arises in the betweenness of things. In relationship. A mother and child. A butterfly and an irresistible flower. Shimmering rainbows of water and light in the sky. A spider and her web. Love is light. Like how we come to see the sun—in the collision of particles and waves. A reverberation felt in the deep space of the heart.
In the photo above, do you not see the heart shining out from the sun? I offer you this, my empirical evidence that the source of love is indeed, the sun.
So the next time you gaze up into the starry night sky, perhaps you will feel the overwhelming presence of love shining everywhere there… And your heart, your one precious heart, flooded with light.
today i found my heart in the spirit of a wild flower wrapped around this love this singular and this sweet love delicately and yet, and yet, and yet and yet ever so inextricably
What love courses through every fiber, cell, and mitochondria of your body?
What is the one precious love you hold on to?
LOVE is light which like the SUN has no place to hide.
Once upon a very, very long time ago, the world was suddenly thrown into utter darkness and chaos. The notorious Susanoo, god of storms and the younger brother of the sun goddess Amaterasu-Omikami, wrecked havoc in the goddess’s rice fields and committed other acts of flagrant violence which so angered Amaterasu-Omikami that she hid herself inside a cave and barricaded the entrance with a boulder too heavy for anyone to move. She would not respond to any appeals to come out of the cave.
Faced with this dire situation, all eight million deities of Japan convened in front of the cave and devised a plan to convince Amaterasu-Omikami to come out of hiding. A large mirror was placed in a tree just outside the cave’s entrance and another goddess, Ame-no-Uzume-no-mikoto, proceeded to dance atop an overturned bucket. Dancing with abandon and stamping upon the bucket, Ame-no-Uzume-no-mikoto danced and danced and danced and then tore off her clothes all at once, causing the other deities to laugh uproariously.
Hearing all the commotion from inside the cave, Amaterasu-Omikami could not contain her curiosity. What on earth could all the deities be laughing about in her absence? And so she opened the cave a tiny bit to peek out and saw her own brilliant reflection shining back at her in the mirror! Bedazzled just long enough, the strong god who had been patiently waiting there at the cave’s entrance then pushed the great boulder aside and pulled Amaterasu-Omikami out from the cave. A shimenawa, sacred rope, was placed in front of the cave, preventing the goddess from going back inside.
And at last, light was restored to the world.
no place to hide Do not hide your love, little one. Like the sun, be bedazzled by the brilliance of your own light, of your beauty, and your love. Go ahead now, step out, boldly and brightly into every sky, Shining. Dancing, all naked, raw, and real. For not a single day goes by, that does not need your light and your love, that does not need you.