image: Christie Cochrell, Santa Fe
poetry&prose
creative ramblings & reverie
Reading, like tracing
fossils, ancient marine life
in white chalk cliffs,
remains or impressions
of thoughts and dreams
cast into immutable form.
Like stone maybe, but
always giving, carrying
forwards and back.
Fluent in voice and time.
image: Blanche-Augustine Camus, woman reading
Old recipes: hand-written tales on stained pages telling of kitchens past, and some of them on parchment paper, torn sheets folded maybe into neat packets. Stolen biographies of far-away places and times, of grandmothers or unknown chefs in New Orleans or the countryside of Normandy, a friend nearby, a friend across the world but always in your heart. Sensual stories from distinctive cultural settings, written again while mincing garlic and not mincing words. That expressive ambiance of spices, those life-changing/life-commemorating stories in every ingredient and every taste to come.
This afternoon’s writing was in ancho chile powder, paprika, cumin, a rainbow of little tomatoes sprinkled with oregano (Mexican rather than Turkish), caramelized onions, snow peas, baby lettuces. Black beans will show up in the final paragraph, as well as salsa fresca and that oven-roasted evergreen poblano which will have so much to say.
image: Pixabay, Bru-nO
Words, how I loved you
Then—when I
Was young
And you led me
Out of the dark!
How I love you now
Even more,
As the dark approaches.
(#14 of 15 parts, Gregory Orr, “Ode to Words”)
image: Christie B. Cochrell, Ashmolean Museum
A ti leaf offering is a sacred package wrapped in ti leaves and placed at a significant location to honor ancestors, loved ones, or scared beings.
But for those who are not conversant with what’s appropriate in context, in Native Hawaiian culture,
“The most appropriate offering that any person can make can be made without any tangible item being left behind. The most perfect offering is one’s aloha, ha, and olelo. To love a place, and breathe out that love in the form of a spoken promise to cherish and protect it, that is the most perfect offering.”
(Leilehua Yuen, from “Ho`okupu – Offerings”)
QUERENCIA: (noun) a place
from which one's strength is drawn,
where one feels at home; the place
where you are your most authentic self.
images: source unknown
James Merrill wrote in his memoir, A Different Person (1993), about visiting a doctor about his depression, saying that he didn't know how to live or how to love, he just knew how to write a poem. The doctor, he said, "listened closely, then acted with undreamed-of kindness and dispatch. 'Come with me,' he said, in a flash ushering me out of his downtown office and onto the back seat of a smart little pale-green motorscooter. I put my arms, as instructed, about his stout, gray-suited person, and off we went in sunlight, through traffic, under trees, past architecture, over the muddy river to lunch." (The Writer’s Almanac, 3/3/3)Our hope is that this collection of writing will give readers the same je ne sais quois that brief but immense lunchtime voyage gave us—encouragement for going on; inspiration to do something simply good for ourselves each ordinary day; a smile; a moment of respite or recognition; time out from global numbing; a pause for weirdness, wonder, and delight. We want to share what gives us pleasure or some keener satisfaction putting down as well as picking up.