Who We Love
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Posted:Dec 11, 2024 12:34 pm
Last Updated:Feb 10, 2026 1:44 am 23429 Views
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Write on a piece of paper what you are most grateful for, what you are closing out, and even what you hope to rededicate yourself to. Bind this with a blue ribbon for truth and hang in your doorway, embodying the air energy of Gemini, and a reminder that nothing ever really ends - but transforms into something new.
Color the empty space
Kiss in a crowded place
Stand in the summer rain
Tangled in awkward shapes
A new, but familiar taste
You’re feeling it all again
It’s not wrong
To want the world for someone
It’s not a feeling you can run from
‘Cause we love who we love
So let go
You don’t know better than your heart knows
Whether they’re here or long gone
We love who we love
Yeah, we love who we love
Footprints along the sand
Whispers of sweet romance
Sound of a wedding band (hmm-mm)
Holding hands in the street
No need to be discreet
Finally feeling free
It’s not wrong
To want the world for someone
It’s not a feeling you can run from
‘Cause we love who we love
So let go
You don’t know better than your heart knows
Whether they’re here or long gone
Yeah, we love who we love
Yeah, we love who we love
The Universe has pulled us closer
I trust whatever’s brought me here to you
You can never lose
If love is what you feel then
It’s not wrong
To want the world for someone
It’s not a feeling you can run from
‘Cause we love who we love
So let go (so let go, my love)
You know better than your heart knows
Whether they’re here or long gone
We love who we love
Yeah, we love who we love
Ed Sheeran and Sam Smith
Who We Love
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Autumn Vibes
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Posted:Oct 5, 2024 5:42 pm
Last Updated:Oct 8, 2024 2:42 am 52668 Views
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If a year was tucked inside of a clock, then Autumn would be the magic hour.
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The Darkest Road
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Posted:Sep 29, 2024 7:50 am
Last Updated:Sep 29, 2024 7:54 am 41343 Views
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The reason you fall for the villain over the hero of the story, is because the hero will choose the world over their love. The villain will burn it down for her.
It’s crazy when
The thing you love the most is the detriment
Let that sink in
You can think again
When the hand you wanna hold is a weapon and
You’re nothin’ but skin
Oh, ‘cause I keep diggin’ myself down deeper
I won’t stop ‘til I get where you are
I keep running, I keep running, I keep running
They say I may be making a mistake
I would’ve followed all the way, no matter how far
I know when you go down all your darkest roads
I would’ve followed all the way to the graveyard
Oh, ‘cause I keep diggin’ myself down deeper
I won’t stop ‘til I get where you are
I keep running when both my feet hurt
I won’t stop ‘til I get where you are
Oh, when you go down all your darkest roads
I would’ve followed all the way to the graveyard (no,oh)
You look at me (look at me)
With eyes so dark, don’t know how you even see
You push right through me (push right through me)
It’s gettin’ real
You lock the door, you’re drunk at the steering wheel
And I can’t conceal
Oh, ‘cause I’ve been diggin’ myself down deeper
I won’t stop ‘til I get where you are
I keep running, I keep running, I keep running
They say I may be making a mistake
I would’ve followed all the way, no matter how far
I know when you go down all your darkest roads
I would’ve followed all the way to the graveyard
Oh, ‘cause I keep diggin’ myself down deeper
I won’t stop ‘til I get where you are
I keep running when both my feet hurt
I won’t stop ‘til I get where you are
Oh, when you go down all your darkest roads
I would’ve followed all the way to the graveyard
Oh, it’s funny how
The warning signs can feel like they’re butterflies
Oh, ‘cause I keep diggin’ myself down deeper
I won’t stop ‘til I get where you are
I keep running when both my feet hurt
I won’t stop ‘til I get where you are
Oh, when you go down all your darkest roads
I would’ve followed all the way to the graveyard
Graveyard
Halsey
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Thunder and Lightning
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Posted:Sep 27, 2024 10:50 am
Last Updated:Sep 28, 2024 6:03 am 41577 Views
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Our story tonight is called Thunder and Lightning, and it’s a story about slowing down and getting comfortable as the rain comes down. It’s also about cinnamon and clove, a candle’s flame reflected in a windowpane, a sofa turned into a nest for afternoon napping and the calm and quiet that comes when Mother Nature takes over.
I don’t like to step on a seasons toes. I try to wait for a snowy day to bake Christmas cookies. I don’t visit the pumpkin patch when it’s still 80 degrees out and I don’t plant pansies until we are fairly sure that the hard frosts are over. I’m not always patient enough to wait, especially when the pull of a new season is strong. But when I do, what a feeling of harmony when my need for a day at home lines up with a street closing snowstorm or my desire for full body Vitamin D replenishment lands on a bright, cloudless day to spend sprawled at the beach. So today, when I found myself overstretched from a week full of work and small talk and showing up, when I felt a deep need to be quiet and inside myself and I began to hear the rain falling outside my window, I sighed with a deep automatic relief. I might have even whispered aloud “oh, thank you!”
I’d been at my desk, my planner open on the blotter in front of me, struggling to switch between a pencil and a pen, both clumsily held in my writing hand. It was something I did at the end of each work week. To look over the week coming up and lay out needful chores and goals, to pencil in some things and ink in others. I was just smoothing the page and jotting down a plan for the following Wednesday to spend the morning at the library and the afternoon clearing out the shed at the back of the garden when the rain began. The window beside me was pushed as wide as it would go and as the drops fell, I noticed the zing in the air of ozone, the scent rising up from the dry grass and dying perennials in the yard. I’d read that the lovely smell of petrichor comes from the oils and minerals released from the plants which settle in dry times over stones and soil and pavement and then are dispersed into the air when struck by rain drops. Compounds changed a bit with the seasons, so this early autumn rain smelled differently from its sister in the spring. This one was spicy and darker .. like amber and ashes and pine and I let it rain in on me for a few moments.
I slid a ribbon into my journal and closed it for the week and set my pen and pencil down on the desk. I stepped over to feel the breeze and mist coming through. The skies all around the house were dark grey, like curtains pulled across a wide window. I felt my shoulders softening away from my ears and my jaw relaxing. I took a few deep breaths of the fresh cool air before easing the window shut and walking through the house to close the others. From the hall upstairs where I climbed into the window seat to nudge one shut, I looked down and spotted my next door neighbour shaking his umbrella out on his front step. He stopped before going through the door to take his own deep breaths and I wondered if the whole neighbourhood, the whole village was glad for this rain. By the look of the clouds there would be lightning and thunder soon. Games would be cancelled at the fields by the high school and the pond in the park at the edge of downtown might swell and run into the walking path. And I guessed that no one minded.
Downstairs I closed the last window and opened the cabinet to take down a big round mug. The kind for afternoon tea or hot chocolate. It held enough to savour for a good long time. In the fridge I had a beautiful glass bottle bought at the farmer’s market. It was chai concentrate and when I’d sampled it, my arms had been full of bags of tomatoes and red onions with an awkward stem of brussels sprouts poking out. I’d been on my way out, sure that my shopping was complete, but when I passed the tea stand and smelled the cinnamon and cloves, I’d shifted my shopping in my arms and found a way to sip a sample. The man who made it told me it was a family recipe, one that had been handed down to him. It was rich, less sweet than the kind in a coffee shop with black pepper and cardamom and it warmed me through. I had to have a bottle to take home. And now I warmed it on the stove with the same amount of oat milk, letting it steam in the quiet kitchen. When my cup was full, I went into the living room. I needed maximum comfort today. I needed the rest of this afternoon and well into the evening to be full of my favourite sensations. I already had the sound of the rain, the smell of the chai, now I needed the sofa to be laid out just right. I pushed the ottoman up against the edge of the sofa so that it almost made a bed .. then went to my room because I wanted my favourite pillows and my comforter and plumped them into place, tossing the comforter out over the sofa. I found the remote and set it beside my cup of chai and was just about to climb into my nest when I saw a flash of lightning in the backyard. I stepped over to the windows and watched the rain barreling down now, bringing acorns and loose leaves down from the trees to carpet the lawn. I counted slowly, waiting for the rumble. When it came, a slow crescendo of sound rising from somewhere out there, I was at 17. I remembered to divide by 5 and estimated that the strike was between 3 and 4 miles away. I was glad to be safe in my house while the storm rolled through.
I only had a few lights on, the dark was so soothing to me right now. I didn’t want to spoil it, but on my way back to the sofa I saw the reading lamp beside the bookcase flicker. I paused mid step, watching the light over the stove likewise guttering. After a moment everything went out and then a few moments later came back on. And I decided that while I didn’t mind losing power today it might be wise to light a few candles. I took the box of green tipped “strike anywheres” from the drawer beside the stove and fished a match out. I liked the feeling of the grit on the striking surface, the smell of the antimony as it came to life. I lit the candle on the kitchen windowsill and watched the reflection of its flame flickering in the glass. Beside the sofa was another candle which smelled like fallen leaves raked into piles, and finally I lit the one by my bed which was lavender mixed with rosemary. Once the matches were back in the drawer, I climbed into the soft Airy that was my sofa. I arranged my pillows, stretched out long with my legs on the ottoman and pulled the blankets up to my chin. My cup of chai was now the perfect temperature for sipping. More lightning, more thunder, more time curled up in this safe, soft space. I had everything I wanted.
Kathryn Nicolai
Nothing Much Happens
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Moments in Time
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Posted:Sep 18, 2024 7:16 pm
Last Updated:Sep 21, 2024 7:49 am 47708 Views
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It is very quiet here. There is still sound however; the tick tock of a clock in the library, the rush of the steady northern wind pushing at the glass in the window behind my head and the ice cubes settling in the tumbler on the table to my left. There are still sounds in all this quiet. You just have to sit very still to find them all. I like having to sit still. I only blink if I have to.
I have been busy these past few months. Flying around madly - adding to my already large carbon imprint. (Apparently for a few thousand dollars, you can make them just go away?) I’ll have to look into that. Or not.
I have been criss crossing Canada - west, east, north, south. Back and forth like a pendulum. The airports bleed into each other like they are one giant terminal with a revolving door. I go in one side and come out the other in an entirely different place, yet somehow they are the same place. The same people. Maybe it’s the sky that unites me to everything - that and the sun which is a huge comfort.
Nonetheless I am witness to a great many people saying hello and goodbye. Neither of which are pleasant for those concerned. The teary eyes that follow their loved ones as far as they possibly can - before they finally slip into the massive security lines filled with tangled arms and legs and carry on bags stuffed to the brim with useless things that no one really needs. We bring our lives with us wherever we go, or we try to anyway. The faint waves that cut through the air with a hopeless desperation. Always the burning question of when will they see each other again. The “hello’s” seem sad to me sometimes as well. The embraces that make everything and everyone around them disappear. It is those moments that I take the time to soak in. I will stand off to the side and watch them pour themselves into each other like falling rain into a flower pot full of a thousand colours.
Love is the one thing that can transcend any border.
It is quiet here today indeed. Old memories drift up and dance around the room trying to draw attention to themselves. I don’t know which one to look at first. They are all trying so hard to stand out. Remember me they say. Remember me the most. I don’t mind this quiet at all. To sit and just be right where I am.
Jann Arden
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9
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After All
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Posted:Sep 8, 2024 5:24 pm
Last Updated:Dec 29, 2024 8:52 am 47084 Views
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Another summer, another story.
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8
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Frozen in Time
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Posted:Sep 2, 2024 9:08 am
Last Updated:Sep 12, 2024 2:29 am 48058 Views
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I’m like the water when your ship rolled in that night
Ships on waters so inviting, I almost jump in
My waves meet your shore, ever and evermore
Reaching across the sea, that you put between you and me
And when I was shipwrecked, I thought of you
Hey September, guess I’m feeling unmoored.
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16
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So Good
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Posted:Aug 11, 2024 8:09 am
Last Updated:Aug 12, 2024 2:31 am 47721 Views
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Lookin’ right, looking like
All the stars are faded
I remember the night
I was so frustrated
I touch your hand for the first time
I see it on your face, then
Another lifetime’s flashin’ by
I’m here
Standin’ in the same dress
You’re in your apartment
I’m already gone
When you left, I bet you held her body closer
And I was hoping you would tell her it was over
You’re all I think about and everywhere I look
I know it’s bad, but we could be so good
Couple years flashin’ by
And I’m doin’ okay
In the back of my mind
All I hear is your name
I bet you’re happy and that’s fine
But I regret just one thing
I never got to change your mind
I’m here
Standin’ in the same dress
You’re in your apartment
I’m already gone
Talkin’ wildly out of context
I wish things were different
But I’ll never know
When you left, I bet you held her body closer
And I was hopin’ you would tell her it was over
You’re all I think about and everywhere I look
I know it’s bad, but we could be so good
Maria calls me and she says she’s getting married
She asked me if there’s any extra weight I carry
And do I think about the one that got away?
I know his name, I think about him everyday
When you left, I thought you held her body closer
I never knew that you would tell her it was over
‘Cause I’m all you think about and everywhere you look
I know it’s bad, but we could be so good
So Good
Halsey
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Flights of Fancy
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Posted:Aug 11, 2024 7:56 am
Last Updated:Aug 25, 2024 12:22 pm 49724 Views
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”Once you have tasted flight, you will walk the Earth with your eyes turned skywards; for there you have been, there you will long to return.”
Leonardo da Vinci
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13
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Random Thoughts
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Posted:Jul 31, 2024 12:42 pm
Last Updated:Aug 1, 2024 2:50 am 80697 Views
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Summer is like a dream. It was a flash of adventure when I was 12, and it’s that same flash of joy and excitement all these years later.
Almost August.
I can already see my pansies and my geraniums straining to bloom. I can feel cool air in the morning pour into my open bedroom window. The mosquitos are sparse - finally!! The odd rogue warrior still zips about - one such demon planted its razor sharp stinger into my forehead. I cannot believe the large lump that formed under my skin, as hard as an apple.
Summer is brief. I am savouring the bright sun every morning that streaks across my kitchen floor. Poppy always follows the beam and makes sure to grab a few quick naps. Animals know the value of sunlight.
I have a set of fawns that have been making regular visits to the yard. They have discovered the salt block and take turns lapping up its goodness. Their mother is always near, parked quietly in the trees watching their every move. I worry about them being big enough and strong enough for the -30 degree weather that is probably only 5 months away. They still have their creamy white spots all over their backs. Nature is smarter than me, so I’m sure they’ll be fine.
I’m working on another novel, I have been for 6 months. I am hoping to hand in the first draft the end of September. It’s so different from the Bittlemores. I’m loving it so far - the story, the characters. It’s fantastic getting up early and working on an entirely new concept. There are always problems that need solving and time lines that need correcting. It’s maddening but rewarding.
People always ask me what I enjoy more, writing music or writing books, and I love them both the same - although very differently. I would imagine it being similar to having many and loving them in completely different ways. Love is never ending, always expanding, always reaching out further into who we are. You learn as you get older, that loving yourself is the whole secret to everything.
We spend so much time hating who we are. How we look. What we feel. So much time resenting our short comings, our failures. We have to celebrate everything. All the ugly. All the bad. All the loss. All the sorrow. The best of ourselves depends so much on the worst of ourselves.
We cannot always be summer, and we never stay in the hardness of winter either. Our entire lives bend back and forth between the two. It’s the magical part of being a person.
I hope you remember summer when winter is pushing down on you. I hope you remember birdsong when there is a hard wind pushing you back. I hope you can be polite when grief comes to visit, inviting it in for tea and cake and a good long chat.
You’re going to fail and that’s the only way you’ll ever end up truly winning. Summer is always coming.
Jann Arden
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