And then she stumbled into an enchanted garden where just ahead on the path sat a little wild rabbit, cute and captivating stone-still but unlike Alice she flew up into worlds with endless sunlight and fields of flowers for as far as she could see Her rabbit, being sometimes a stag or a dragon or a jaguar an angel or polaris itself, holds her hand and together they venture further out and beyond and further still into this garden into this deep well of light where all the paths converge, andwhere only love itself shines in the darkness
(this is something of a sequel to my last post, “rolling stone”)
i want to break open my heart at dawn, and at dusk with the flight of a thousand birds rising wind streaming over my body—skin bare, like bones, i feel the shadows trailing wingtips of ravens and their silent caress across the bleached stones below
i want to dissolve the day into these rushing waves as they run up onto this sandy shore kissing my toes and pulling earth from underneath my feet i fall into their sea sinking and drowning all the heaviness of my heart
and in the glimmering darkness of night i want to dance here in the secret garden of wild roses together with my love with sweetness and with honey, and with a belly full of dreams i want to plant each one in this soil in this soft sacred ground growing worlds
here and now sailing this river with you silence is serene like the warm sun traveling over my skin like silk and the darkness is sanctuary is peace is free from every day cataclysm from the deluge of chaos and turmoil here with you this river is wide and deep and gold and sailing underneath a canopy of sparkling stars i find myself home in your enveloping arms home in your everywhere love
steaming bright and bold i am black bitter coffee with the sun, rising
In this crazy world of ours… I want to be peace and to be love—and a little bit of whimsy. Anything else simply hurts too much. Aren’t we all beyond tired of the violence by now? Exhausted, really. We’ve seen world wars traumatize generations and we’ve watched empires rise and fall like storm systems shifting across the globe. Where does it all come from? I do not understand its fuel nor this pathology of self-destruction. I am not sold on a superficial history defined by battles between so-called heroes and villains, saviors and sinners, the haves and the have-nots, and the blessed and the damned. All life is sacred. We are all worthy and beautiful.
I sit in the morning. Groggy, with recalled terrors from yesterday’s news—these persistent, ongoing nightmares of abductions, starvation, theft, genocide… and the suffering of children. Mania of distorted powers. And i try to just breathe and sip my hot, black coffee. We are steaming. With the sun, we rise again for a new day.
somewhere there is an ocean of beyond an ocean beyond good & bad beyond light & dark and love & hate and black & white beyond, there is an ocean of rising and falling breathing in and out an inhale and an exhale threaded, soft, and connected together inseparable actually, and one
this ocean of beyond is beautiful—wide and deep and infinite will you meet me there?
Whoever you are and wherever you are, I hope that your path and your days are grounded in peace. I hope you find in the outer world around you, beauty that brings solace to your heart… and in your heart, an inexhaustible wellspring of joy.
walking along the seashore i heard my dragon breathing wave after wave after endless wave of love timeless and boundless infinite like every sun in the dancing blue dazzling its light and there too i saw him in a threaded flight of swans homebound, and, one thousand strong singing all his ballads to me and just waiting for my soul to fly together hand in hand with his all throughout this numinous sky
like water i want to know all life to seep into the soil and soften stones and under even scorching suns rise into a sky where i billow buoyant all throughout the light blue
and like water i will fall, steadfast, and surrendered to gravity give in to fate to this unknown yet inevitable destiny
streaming and rushing i will run, i will run like the water to my sea to my beautiful dragon calling me calling me to come home
in this garden where you and i meet one mysterious flower grows quietly, and unseen in bright broad daylight more fragrant and far sweeter, more velvet than all these colorful flowers pink and yellow that come and go with a cyclical sun
this flower is a rarity it is the sun’s flower, and it is called— The Flower of Forever Love it blossoms in this garden where storm clouds dance and calm seas steep the light, where rain, busy in the skies, forgets to fall and fires sometimes fail to spark…..
this one mysteriously flowering forever love grows in this garden where rainbows are red, and white roses scatter upon the beach while dolphins swim along my shore side strolls even hawks gift their feathers to me and hearts write themselves into a vivid blue sky….. all because, and, just because here in this garden you are together with me
…p.s. it is said that the sun, the moon, Saturn, and every single star aligns whenever and wherever The Flower of Forever Love blossoms Have you ever seen the flower of forever love?
transplanted in LA i discover delicate sakura and tall palm trees blossoming together
It is now sakura season in Kyoto, Japan. And unexpectedly, to me, sakura are blossoming at the same time here, far away across the Pacific Ocean in Los Angeles, where the tall palm trees are emblematic. Am I right to say that sakura will be the last thing to come to mind when thinking of LA? This city conjures three things: Hollywood, beaches, and palm tree lined boulevards. But quietly, sakura are here too, pink and light in this sprawling City of Angels.
When writing Japanese words in romaji, the Roman alphabet, we use the letter R to spell words that include the syllables: ra-ri-ru-re-ro (らりるれろ). For example, cherry blossom or sakura. But the sound is not a straight R-sound, like rah, ree, roo, reh, roe. It’s closer to something of an LR-sound, like lrah, lree, lroo, lreh, lroe… So it would be better to write sakulra, but then it would be mispronounced as sa-kul-ra. So maybe it is actually better to write sakula, and specifically for cherry blossoms in LA, sakuLA! Saku means to blossom. So sakula or sakuLA could have a double meaning: LA cherry blossom, or blossom LA—a unique variety of sakura only to be found in LA!
We are transplanted… in flowers, as peoples and languages, as ever changing and creative expressions of culture brought together by chance or by fate. Perhaps by love. It is something beautiful in the soil and it is something beautiful in the sky. SakuLA and palm trees blossoming together. Holding hands, we dance in the wind, pink and light.
Below is a flower-photo montage created by my phone, magically just on the day I started writing on the theme of being transplanted in LA and blossoming like sakura/sakuLA together with the LA-local palm tree. I did not choose any of the photos nor their sequence, yet the last photo is the same as the featured one above, which I had already selected earlier. Maybe it’s accidental coincidence. Or maybe it’s all the work of an angel—here in LA, in this sprawling city of angels.
i am flower deep in this love tipsy-sweet and delicate-pink dancing warm sunlight and sparkles bright…… and deep into the night dreaming you & me together all throughout these grassy-green fields of forever
Michiru Adrienne 