I think you choose a life with only half a vision.....the second half of the vision then comes forth once you are in the life you are living. A life of default, perhaps! You move through it!

running / emotion / meditation

The one non emotional confident I tell all of my differences to, all of my solitudes and solace to, all of my biblical pain to, has grown a set of emotions of their own....my sneakers
Now what is a girl to do? They seem to answer me back, reason me out, place footing of their own needed choosing before me, methodically work me in the direction they want me to go.....they have become rude and abrupt, passionate and endearing, happy and sad, contrived and misconducted, simple and complicated, nurtured and grieving, panicked and pained, and all with my feet stuck inside of them with an Elmer's glue type of grip. The friction of it all has given risen to blisters!

Summer / solace / meditation / yoga

So, here it is, ending of August, and summer is fading fast. This is the time I get lost, want to stop the clock, stop fall from ever arriving at all. I am the summer girl, never have I ever been much more than that. In my teen years it meant pretty clothes, flowers, suntan lines, bikinis and salads. In my adult married years it meant the ending of yet another unforgiving winter spent in a house where the walls always shook with my husband's rage.

When the kids went off to college, it meant, them coming home again, or myself, driving to them. It meant writing and poetry, music and dancing, and the warmth of the sun rolling off of my back, as my painted red toenails played peek - a - boo amid the straps of my sandals.

 Even later on than that, it meant watching my roses bloom, morning glory vines draped across a self made fence, the quartz of rocks in my garden sparkling amid the midday sun. It meant peace, solace, solitude and comfort all in the same breath.

It meant sweat dripping down my arms, as my sneakers hit the pavement just at the cusp of dawn.  It meant yoga on my patio or deck, in undies, where always birds in flight gave a come hither look as they flew by.  I already miss the summer, and it has not even evaporated yet from my doorstep. I miss the simplicity it stands for, and the joy it brings to my life.

I miss the shells I have gathered, as they perch themselves on a shelf, waiting for their placement in a glass bowl they will soon call their own. I miss the blooming of flowers, that will soon draw themselves back and inward, dropping petals to the ground as a bed for the leaves soon to be falling atop of them. I miss the shelter of sun that drives my thoughts and my physical.

I want of a fairytale I have envisioned since childhood, where the lemonade keeps flowing and periwinkles keep rolling over my toes amid the crashing of the shoreline. I miss my flip-flops, the black, the pink, and the silver ones, that will soon be up on a shelf in darkness. Each year I almost forget how sad the ending of summer feels, until, once again, I am reminded, as it once again, draws near. I think we all have our particular season of life, a season we cherish for this reason or that, a season we flourish in, for this reason or that...watermelon was always my season...the season I thrived in...

running / meditation

The encroaching of leaves draped in last night's wetness brushed up against my skin as I ran past them. My sneakers thirst brought a salty precipice to skin already unfolding under August heat. Raindrops fell and mixed with sweat beads formed across my breastbone.  It was silent, it was solitude, it was almost perfect.... the humming of a lawnmower broke the barrier, shattering my thoughts to bits, each letter and vowel falling onto the dirt road, laces scrambling to attach themselves into structure.... the heave of my sneakers beginning at ground zero, to once again find their place of contentment, moments of pure inner dialogue, and nothing more...

running / erotic / yoga / lost

The man has all but swallowed her alive, as the feel of her flesh against his body part has the mouth of the rivers of their tongues swimming in a collision of tide, leaving them both now exhausted and breathless. Doused in sweat, belonging to one another, crossing leg over leg, arm over arm; until they are one frenzied body no longer separate human structures. The act more immense and powerful than either ever imagined. In a calm assertive voice, he gives direction, she takes it, slowly, fully, wrapping her hand around it. 

Sometimes, in running, you just get lost in salty thought, and you go with it....erotic thought emerges, as you squint towards the sun! 

Eyes/ Faces / Meditation

Sometimes we handle things well in life, and other times, we don't. Then there are the times; we find it even hard to breath, without choking back the tears. I do not think any of us are immune, but rather, some of us are better at the disguise. I think that faces are not real; you need to look way behind the eyes. The eyes always give way to the hurt, the pain, the sadness, the love, the joy, the holding back.

 I think we all hold back, because for most of us, life is too much to bear, in some moments of memory we simply disappear. It is easier for our thoughts to not be shared, so we hold them tightly to our chest, to keep from becoming too jaded or hurt. No matter what most say, I do believe that the 'art of life' is not without difficulty for any, and all of us. We compromise, just to hide that fact. Our struggles become our own, our nuances become very colored. I think burdens we hold, are usually more than each of us can withstand, and, yet, we do not ask for help, as the promoting of that such weakness would damn near kill us, so we think.

 If I walk down the street, you neither know me, nor do I know you, nor either of us know, what the other grieves for, or has been through. We just see faces, as we each fail to look behind and deeper into the eyes...

You / Love / Yoga / Surrendar

You are nestled
you see me not
I watch as you lay in slumber
I crawl in
your skin touches mine
your breath faint on the pillow
I look in amazement
at the scroll of your body
across the bed
your feet
touching mine
your hand
gentle and calm
I lay in stillness
in the awe of you
the emotion of tear
drips down my cheek
in disbelief
that love could feel so
peaceful, so silent,
so deliberate
as we lay in silence
unspoken words
written across our pillows
I turn off the light
close my eyes
and press myself to you
falling asleep, as one......surrendering to all emotion, raindrops fall from both my eyes....
CK
 

running / serenity / pure

Running in Sarasota/ Siesta Key Florida  for a few days. Waves and periwinkles rolling over my feet. The crush of the whitest beach sand under foot, Siesta Key is just this way. The white and black tiniest shells crunch as my feet place down between them....pearls I say, pearls in the sand.

 The greenest bluish water for as far as the eye can see, I love it I say. Serenity at the palm of my hand. My laces in wildest fantasy. My eyes in pure glory. Heaven I say. There is something simple and pure which I see in the Gulf of Mexico water I am so in love with. I watch as the waves roll in, and all of my worries roll out. In that water I see accomplished beauty, a work of art. My life, not in fragments, but as a whole story......my run, amazing!

Run / Freedom / Peace / Yoga

 I wanted to finally run through fields, and just be happy.
 I wanted everything,
 and then,
 I wanted nothing at all.

 I may have wanted you, but, really, I needed me most of all.

You must have forgotten my number
I must have missed all of your calls

Life happens that way, and you move on.....
~CK

I ran five miles today. Got lost in the comfort of my sneakers, the arc of my sweat. The influence and remnants of concentrated peace, has lingered long after I untied my laces...

seduction / yoga / grace / pose / glass

my latest creation on glass

It's thoughts that beg for description, as the transparency of the muted glass runs a collision course with grace and pose. Drenched in texture and sensation, it will seduce you, with eyes wide open.

renderings/ poetry / yoga / running

the drops on my eyelashes, are broken promises from another time and place. A place so desperate, I no longer allow the drops to fall. They sit as ice, never quite evaporating, even in summer's heat. The ice begins to melt, begins a slow progression towards the tip of each lash, I catch it from the fall. Holding each ice sculpture as a portrait on the tip of each lash, a time and place I run from. I am building an ice garden, an exhibit I choose not to see. Hoping summer melts the pieces, and waters my roses...pinks, purples, crimson..........the colors, are all that I bleed...

 

raindrops/ meditation / yoga

Mirrored in the rain, looking out the study window, drops cascading down the glass, in each one, a memory held, so isolated they make their own little island on the window pane. Feeling myself cohere around one droplet, eyes fixed, dramatic, it reaches out to me in a kiss. The flood now, as the kiss runs the length of the glass down the windowsill, running until it runs out of breath, where glass and raindrop now barely touch. It disappears, like many others lovers, and I am left peering out the wet glass into the stillness of the barest tree, as it diagrams an entrance into my heart.

 My body, just a cover for my soul, my flesh keeping the passion contained, as my eyes fixate on the bareness of the tree. The stillness, something shifts inside of me, scoops past my chin, my neck, further down, until I am holding the tree's bareness in the palm of my hand. Falling into my instant escape, the world a million miles away, the rain now a cobweb for my writing. The slow tap of rain music, a slow methodical beat, as my face profiles in the glistening of  the wetness. 

tap, tap ,tap, tap of my keyboard, as another chapter of life completes and ends, and a new one meanders along.....I call it progress!

poetry / rendering / loss / yoga

Lost in a moment

Right in the center of the teardrop

Where the wet of you clings to my eyelash

I blink

Just to hold back the river..
CK