I’d not the
But I must
a poetic prose
excerpted from the poem
By D. H. Lawrence
The proper way to eat a fig, in society,
Is to split it in four, holding it by the stump,
And open it, so that it is a glittering, rosy, moist, honied,
heavy-petalled four-petalled flower.
Then you throw away the skin
Which is just like a four-sepalled calyx,
After you have taken off the blossom with your lips.
But the vulgar way
Is just to put your mouth to the crack,
and take out the flesh in one bite.
Every fruit has its secret.
The fig is a very secretive fruit.
As you see it standing growing,
you feel at once it is symbolic:
And it seems male.
But when you come to know it better,
you agree with the Romans,
it is female.
The Italians vulgarly say, it stands for
the female part; the fig-fruit:
The fissure, the yoni,
The wonderful moist conductivity
towards the centre.
The flowering all inward and womb-fibrilled;
And but one orifice.
The fig, the horse-shoe, the squash-blossom.
There was a flower that flowered inward, womb-ward;
Now there is a fruit like a ripe womb.
It was always a secret.
That’s how it should be,
should always be
And for even more fascinating information about this sacred, and sultry fruit :
Ever notice that sometimes friends show up at just the right moment…
offering encouragement and inspiration,
not by doing anything specific,
but rather, by simply
Last Thursday while I was venturing out to run an errand, following a rather difficult and isolating week,
my cell- phone rang and it was Meryl… a dear long-time friend who resides in my community.
Meryl also happens to be a member of our cherished blogsphere.
We have been friends here since my mid 20s, sharing in so many important
transitional periods of each other’s lives.
We decided to meet, and hang out for a bit on a comfy bench facing our favorite Lily Pond.
It was such a delight to relish in some old-fashioned “girl-power” that day–a few giggles and tears,
reflections and hugs…And as we gazed at the emerging Lilies, I shot this photo of our adjoined shadows.
Later that evening, Meryl composed a heartwarming poem and created a
special post honoring our bond of friendship. I am so thrilled to share
this with each of you today.
from the east
There’s nothing like bonding with
a girlfriend. Here’s me and Robyn Lee
hanging out on a bench with some lily pads.
Yep, we go way back… when our girls were
romping (sometimes butt naked ) on the beach.
We met at a day care center… new moms and
newcomers in this breathtaking yet lonely
place…both looking for a friend.
Then life and illness got in the way.
We had rarely spoken or seen one another
for years and years until Robyn came over for tea to
celebrate my birthday this past March. That day she shared
how she had discovered photography via her new blog—
Through The Healing Lens—how it was helping her
reconnect with the world after being isolated due
to her medical challenges and chronic pain.
Ironic, since I’m a photographer yet it…
View original post 70 more words
Reflecting back on days of old,
Adorned in high heels: bright, sexy and bold
Goddess and princess all tied into one
I was Queen of Sea, and Maiden of Sun
With spine and hip woes directing the show
the shoes I embrace now are stable and low
So here I spend time, with my mirrors and lens
And fondle old shoes stitched with dreams, and pretend.
Our toes, our noses
Take hold on the loam,
Acquire the air.
Nobody sees us,
Stops us, betrays us;
The small grains make room.
Soft fists insist on
Heaving the needles,
The leafy bedding,
Even the paving.
Our hammers, our rams,
Earless and eyeless,
Widen the crannies,
Shoulder through holes.We
Diet on water,
On crumbs of shadow,
Little or nothing.
So many of us!
So many of us!
We are shelves, we are
Tables, we are meek,
We are edible,
Nudgers and shovers
In spite of ourselves.
Our kind multiplies:
We shall by morning
Inherit the earth.
Our foot’s in the door.
their reasons are always different.”