We are experiencing a heat wave! Not unlike the one in 1977 where every day you wake up to the promise of a scorcher and where being either in or by water is the best solution to beat the heat as they say. By yesterday afternoon I was convinced that if I returned here to my shoe box apartment I would continue to feel nauseous so I got myself down to the river where people park on the side of the highway and trek down short paths at the end of a large bridge to the rivers' shore.
I had a day like no other in my experience. The river was long and only in a couple of places over my head. The current was just the right velocity so that I felt safe simply lying on my back and floating down the river in a perfectly relaxed condition. I followed the river either floating, bumping my bum on rocks as the current carried me or walking on land right down to where it empties into the ocean! I wore a pair of roomy Capri's and a long sleeved rayon shirt along with my rubber soled beach shoes. The perfect attire for me to enjoy the river long hours, have some protection from injury from rocks and to avoid painful and damaging sunburn. There were times my shirt ballooned out with water causing me to appear like a sumo wrestler. Evidently I even inspired a women who had forgotten her bathing suit to at least wade into the water with her summer dress on!
The water itself was quite clean except from the organic debris collected on the rocks that would get disturbed when stepped on and end up floating as visible pieces in the river. When I ended my adventure I felt quite clean though.
The other good feature was that there were enough people and families strewn along the banks and huddled together at the swimming holes that I felt safe. I even left my back pack on the shore by a small shrub and lo it was still there when I returned a couple of hours later. It was great exercise too walking and swimming at times against the current which usually left me in the same spot I started in when making the effort to swim against it.
Laura Lee, 60 years old.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
The Primrose (adapted from the Swedish)
It's evening here on the beach
the sun is going down,
and over the sparkling waters
the colours play
When I go home in the dark
and I kneel and I pray
The place the primrose blooms
is the place my soul gets to stay
See how quickly buds come to trees
See how the oaks are covered in leaves.
I'll pick a bouquet
to make you happy
Light and perfume it will bring
before you sleep.
When the primrose blossoms
you get peace in your soul
It's great to build things
placing stone upon stone
Feel the branch bending
with the weight of its fruit
Let the flame of life burn
Tho' the hour is late
But you small and you simple
that I hide in my heart
and are wondrous as friends
have a place from the start
In the days of their childhood
No one turns to look back
But once in life's middle
and for a golden old age
There are moments to secret
in your deep woodland lakes
As the primrose that blossoms
gives a moment that aches
This spark will go out
This life will pass by
But it helps some to know
for generations behind
and generations before
When the primrose blossoms
there's comfort and more
It's great to make houses
placing stone upon stone
Feel the branch bend with its edible weight
Let the flame of life burn tho' the hour is late
But you small and you simple that I hide from the start
And are wondrous as friends,
have a place in my heart.
the sun is going down,
and over the sparkling waters
the colours play
When I go home in the dark
and I kneel and I pray
The place the primrose blooms
is the place my soul gets to stay
See how quickly buds come to trees
See how the oaks are covered in leaves.
I'll pick a bouquet
to make you happy
Light and perfume it will bring
before you sleep.
When the primrose blossoms
you get peace in your soul
It's great to build things
placing stone upon stone
Feel the branch bending
with the weight of its fruit
Let the flame of life burn
Tho' the hour is late
But you small and you simple
that I hide in my heart
and are wondrous as friends
have a place from the start
In the days of their childhood
No one turns to look back
But once in life's middle
and for a golden old age
There are moments to secret
in your deep woodland lakes
As the primrose that blossoms
gives a moment that aches
This spark will go out
This life will pass by
But it helps some to know
for generations behind
and generations before
When the primrose blossoms
there's comfort and more
It's great to make houses
placing stone upon stone
Feel the branch bend with its edible weight
Let the flame of life burn tho' the hour is late
But you small and you simple that I hide from the start
And are wondrous as friends,
have a place in my heart.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Lora and Helenas Amelia Earhart Myth - based on the January'98 article in National Geographic Magazine
Her plane disappears.
She lands on an island. It is small. It is green. A tribe of harmonious people lives there. Amelia finds it restful - a state she has been longing for.
She has to sacrifice the life she had with her man. It hurts but she chooses a life among the islanders. For a while.
A freighter parks nearby. The natives purchase canned ham and cease their cannabilism. Amelia feels they have lost their charm. She hops the freighter. It lands in New York where she takes nurses' training. She works until she retires and then opens a night club.
"Pair 'o' Dice", she calls it. There's Craps, Black Jack, Roulette - and a pleasing ambience. New jazz artists play on stage as well as stand-up comedians and once a month, there's Womens' Night Out.
Many people are regulars like Earnest Hemingway and later his daughter Muriel especially when she, Muriel, is feeling a bit lost. Most of the customers are feeling a bit lost but once they leave, they feel better.
On the island, Amelia drank the secret water. She didn't know that - she was just thirsty. But it extended her life span which was fortunate since she has no lack of new ideas to try out.
Like producing a film about a young, female pilot.
The myth goes on.
She lands on an island. It is small. It is green. A tribe of harmonious people lives there. Amelia finds it restful - a state she has been longing for.
She has to sacrifice the life she had with her man. It hurts but she chooses a life among the islanders. For a while.
A freighter parks nearby. The natives purchase canned ham and cease their cannabilism. Amelia feels they have lost their charm. She hops the freighter. It lands in New York where she takes nurses' training. She works until she retires and then opens a night club.
"Pair 'o' Dice", she calls it. There's Craps, Black Jack, Roulette - and a pleasing ambience. New jazz artists play on stage as well as stand-up comedians and once a month, there's Womens' Night Out.
Many people are regulars like Earnest Hemingway and later his daughter Muriel especially when she, Muriel, is feeling a bit lost. Most of the customers are feeling a bit lost but once they leave, they feel better.
On the island, Amelia drank the secret water. She didn't know that - she was just thirsty. But it extended her life span which was fortunate since she has no lack of new ideas to try out.
Like producing a film about a young, female pilot.
The myth goes on.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Local Hero
It took me over 30 years to sign up at a womens' gym and see what part of becoming The Hulk, I could achieve.
First, I had to get over being a couch potatoe. I did it in small steps, spending lots of time in the sauna in between. I talked with anyone who would talk with me and the first person was Angie, a woman well on her way to being 80 years old.
Angie used a walker as she was prone to strokes. She arrived often with her face bruised, having survived another stroke during the past weekend. She walked up the 30 steps to the main floor of the gym, lifting her walker one step at a time. And she inspired me. When my muscles complained at the new rigours they were being subjected to, I told them "If Angie's muscles can do it, so can you."
The second person I talked with was Gunhild. She was a gymnast in her youth and exercising came naturally to her, she said. She was in her mid-seventies. She said if she hadn't started coming to the gym 20 years earlier she wouldn't be able to do half of what she's able to do now. Gunhild showed me how to do some of the stretches as I am a slow learner.
There were younger women whose concentration I admired. And middle-aged women like me who were as surprised as I was at finding myself in an artificial environment for keeping in shape. One of them had damaged knees as I do. She talked with me about the leg exercises she uses to compensate for the muscles and joints that don't work so well.
There was a burnout survivor who had quit her stressful job and worked part-time at the gym instead. She and I talked about life with burnout.
But the source of inspiration for each of these amazing women was Karin, the owner.
Karin had started out in tourism, got tired of all the travel, settled down in town and worked at a womens' gym. After ten years, she bought the entire business and has been running it ever since.
Karin's daughter is severely handicapped. I don't know if this is what contributes to the amazing variety of women who come to this place to have a better life. I have seen a blind woman there with her assistant describing how to use the machines. I have seen several over-weight women who feel comfortable and at home in a gym for the first time in their lives. I have seen groups of Muslim women who normally wouldn't be seen in this sort of situation. I have seen groups of teenage girls getting fit for soccer matches and many groups of office workers working up a sweat to South American music.
Karin is my local hero. May she work long and well and with ever increasing circles of contact with women who only need the slightest encouragement for a better everyday life.
First, I had to get over being a couch potatoe. I did it in small steps, spending lots of time in the sauna in between. I talked with anyone who would talk with me and the first person was Angie, a woman well on her way to being 80 years old.
Angie used a walker as she was prone to strokes. She arrived often with her face bruised, having survived another stroke during the past weekend. She walked up the 30 steps to the main floor of the gym, lifting her walker one step at a time. And she inspired me. When my muscles complained at the new rigours they were being subjected to, I told them "If Angie's muscles can do it, so can you."
The second person I talked with was Gunhild. She was a gymnast in her youth and exercising came naturally to her, she said. She was in her mid-seventies. She said if she hadn't started coming to the gym 20 years earlier she wouldn't be able to do half of what she's able to do now. Gunhild showed me how to do some of the stretches as I am a slow learner.
There were younger women whose concentration I admired. And middle-aged women like me who were as surprised as I was at finding myself in an artificial environment for keeping in shape. One of them had damaged knees as I do. She talked with me about the leg exercises she uses to compensate for the muscles and joints that don't work so well.
There was a burnout survivor who had quit her stressful job and worked part-time at the gym instead. She and I talked about life with burnout.
But the source of inspiration for each of these amazing women was Karin, the owner.
Karin had started out in tourism, got tired of all the travel, settled down in town and worked at a womens' gym. After ten years, she bought the entire business and has been running it ever since.
Karin's daughter is severely handicapped. I don't know if this is what contributes to the amazing variety of women who come to this place to have a better life. I have seen a blind woman there with her assistant describing how to use the machines. I have seen several over-weight women who feel comfortable and at home in a gym for the first time in their lives. I have seen groups of Muslim women who normally wouldn't be seen in this sort of situation. I have seen groups of teenage girls getting fit for soccer matches and many groups of office workers working up a sweat to South American music.
Karin is my local hero. May she work long and well and with ever increasing circles of contact with women who only need the slightest encouragement for a better everyday life.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
How to Get Off the Mountain?
How to get off the mountain?
discs of slate
slipped, cut, cursed on the way down
wanna ride one down instead
and sit on it
and shove
and the whole mountain falls down
all around me
and behind me
and me with it
smell in the air
like lit gunpowder
I do it again
next time I want to come down.
-lora bennett, 2009-
discs of slate
slipped, cut, cursed on the way down
wanna ride one down instead
and sit on it
and shove
and the whole mountain falls down
all around me
and behind me
and me with it
smell in the air
like lit gunpowder
I do it again
next time I want to come down.
-lora bennett, 2009-
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Talking With Trees
my umbrella's a pinwheel of colour
my rainboots are over-sized and orange
2 cats and a dog
we paint the road
and turn into a track
bright with grass
disappearing in overhanging leaves
I'm booted and coated
the cats speed between trees
avoiding raindrops
the dog doesn't care
we walk and wild flowers curtsy
until the sky spills out
into a field
I wonder
if the herons
will rise from it?
not today
we take a trail
between the trees
step into the ditch, splashing
2 more steps
and we're into the meadow
the one
with the rock
in the middle
jacket under me
umbrella above
cat on each side
legs dangling
will I know
that I'm being greeted today?
I wait
today I imagine
my brain waves
gettting slower
like hammocks
holding sleepy bodies
now the trees
seem extra bright
daylight silhouettes
eyelids close
my mind cupped
resting but aware
my presence has been taken in
by 30 yr. old trees
still children
leaning how to speak
I bless them for
they've made me feel
at home.
-lora bennett, 1995.
my rainboots are over-sized and orange
2 cats and a dog
we paint the road
and turn into a track
bright with grass
disappearing in overhanging leaves
I'm booted and coated
the cats speed between trees
avoiding raindrops
the dog doesn't care
we walk and wild flowers curtsy
until the sky spills out
into a field
I wonder
if the herons
will rise from it?
not today
we take a trail
between the trees
step into the ditch, splashing
2 more steps
and we're into the meadow
the one
with the rock
in the middle
jacket under me
umbrella above
cat on each side
legs dangling
will I know
that I'm being greeted today?
I wait
today I imagine
my brain waves
gettting slower
like hammocks
holding sleepy bodies
now the trees
seem extra bright
daylight silhouettes
eyelids close
my mind cupped
resting but aware
my presence has been taken in
by 30 yr. old trees
still children
leaning how to speak
I bless them for
they've made me feel
at home.
-lora bennett, 1995.
Fire and Water in the Ball Park
There was an amazon in the ball park today.
I saw her.
She sent the earth rolling and foaming under her feet
The sun burning her image indelible
into the forever place behind my eyes
Some Wonderful is coming TOWARDS
air molecules parting in front
burned and splashed aside by steps as sure as arrows that cost breasts
a wave of movement three steps ahead of amazon legs
My scalp tingles and curls toll bells
through the afternoon
an amazon in the water, in motion, in the sun
wild manes of foam rising above her knees
hanging above her knees (it's magic)
Her hair burning to the shoulder
sun pushing from behind
water rising in front
amazon in motion, woman of the waves
What could I do but call your name out loud?
and wait for the burning and splashing of you
to converge about me in the afternoon sun.
-lora bennett, 1974.
I saw her.
She sent the earth rolling and foaming under her feet
The sun burning her image indelible
into the forever place behind my eyes
Some Wonderful is coming TOWARDS
air molecules parting in front
burned and splashed aside by steps as sure as arrows that cost breasts
a wave of movement three steps ahead of amazon legs
My scalp tingles and curls toll bells
through the afternoon
an amazon in the water, in motion, in the sun
wild manes of foam rising above her knees
hanging above her knees (it's magic)
Her hair burning to the shoulder
sun pushing from behind
water rising in front
amazon in motion, woman of the waves
What could I do but call your name out loud?
and wait for the burning and splashing of you
to converge about me in the afternoon sun.
-lora bennett, 1974.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
When Did the Settling Start?
Where were the beaches with shells?
Where was the climbing on the unicorn's back and flying into the night sky?
Where was the standing under a waterfall and letting the negative ions tumble in through the welcoming funnels - nourishment for the living cells much deeper than our WATERPROOF barrier?
Where was the dancing naked around a bonfire with heart burning in the centre like the flames?
Where was the passionate love making so intense a bond forged that we almost die unto bliss but know it can't be sustained?
When did the settling start?
Lynn Kirk
Where was the climbing on the unicorn's back and flying into the night sky?
Where was the standing under a waterfall and letting the negative ions tumble in through the welcoming funnels - nourishment for the living cells much deeper than our WATERPROOF barrier?
Where was the dancing naked around a bonfire with heart burning in the centre like the flames?
Where was the passionate love making so intense a bond forged that we almost die unto bliss but know it can't be sustained?
When did the settling start?
Lynn Kirk
Days of Thunder
what amazing warfare we conducted
on the miss canada beauty pageant
toronto 1975
dark rainy night
moon in scorpio
over mudfields
and barbed wire
we moved silently
stealthily
in formation
as our third world sisters must
with ammunition
faces hard set
purposeful and unrelenting
our energy converged
to burst upon the keepers of the alien
performance
custodians of bodies and mind
less gestures
shaking for an instant this repetition
our sisters!
lost in male definitions of "Beauty"
glamour dispelled
in one instant of profundity
before the looks of shock and horror
are replaced by feigned enchantment
once again
ruffled skirts and collars
remain of the disorder
a game disturbed at its climax
to be replayed
over and over again
until our forces multiply
they know we're around
international womens year
Ms Canada next year!
making us feel we owned a year
or rather trying
no charge it's free!
they buy our souls each year
Lynn Kirk (1975)
on the miss canada beauty pageant
toronto 1975
dark rainy night
moon in scorpio
over mudfields
and barbed wire
we moved silently
stealthily
in formation
as our third world sisters must
with ammunition
faces hard set
purposeful and unrelenting
our energy converged
to burst upon the keepers of the alien
performance
custodians of bodies and mind
less gestures
shaking for an instant this repetition
our sisters!
lost in male definitions of "Beauty"
glamour dispelled
in one instant of profundity
before the looks of shock and horror
are replaced by feigned enchantment
once again
ruffled skirts and collars
remain of the disorder
a game disturbed at its climax
to be replayed
over and over again
until our forces multiply
they know we're around
international womens year
Ms Canada next year!
making us feel we owned a year
or rather trying
no charge it's free!
they buy our souls each year
Lynn Kirk (1975)
Naomi and Ruth
In Ruth's Book we meet for the first time a woman who loves someone. Ruth sacrifices everything for love. When a biblical woman for the first time, loves someone,it is not one of the Bible's many patriarchs, heros or kings that is the object of her love. Ruth loved another woman.
Ruth and Naomi are not bound to one another against their will, nor are they under the authority of a man.They don't compete with one another for his favour or to be chosen to bear his son. The bonds between Ruth and Naomi are voluntary. Their relationship is characterized by thoughtfulness, collaboration and love.
Naomi migrates to the land of Moab together with her husband and two sons. They are fleeing a famine. Her husband dies and her sons marry two Moabite women named Orpa and Ruth. After ten years the sons die as well. And when Naomi hears that times are better in Bethlehem she decides to return. She implores Orpa and Ruth to return to the home of their childhood. Only there do they have a chance of remarriage. Naomi has her own bitter experiences. A woman can only survive if she has a man. But Ruth won't let herself be persuaded. She follows Naomi. Some researchers point out that Ruth's decision is the most radical in the entire Bible. Ruth who gives up her country, her family and her people in order to follow Naomi has taught Naomi that a woman can fill another woman's life with meaning, support and love. Ruth's Book teaches that love between women is possible and that it is of value.
Ruth says to Naomi:
”...where you go, I will go and where you lodge, I will lodge. Your people shall be my people and your God, my God.”
by
Lillemor Björling, chaplain, 2008.
Ruth and Naomi are not bound to one another against their will, nor are they under the authority of a man.They don't compete with one another for his favour or to be chosen to bear his son. The bonds between Ruth and Naomi are voluntary. Their relationship is characterized by thoughtfulness, collaboration and love.
Naomi migrates to the land of Moab together with her husband and two sons. They are fleeing a famine. Her husband dies and her sons marry two Moabite women named Orpa and Ruth. After ten years the sons die as well. And when Naomi hears that times are better in Bethlehem she decides to return. She implores Orpa and Ruth to return to the home of their childhood. Only there do they have a chance of remarriage. Naomi has her own bitter experiences. A woman can only survive if she has a man. But Ruth won't let herself be persuaded. She follows Naomi. Some researchers point out that Ruth's decision is the most radical in the entire Bible. Ruth who gives up her country, her family and her people in order to follow Naomi has taught Naomi that a woman can fill another woman's life with meaning, support and love. Ruth's Book teaches that love between women is possible and that it is of value.
Ruth says to Naomi:
”...where you go, I will go and where you lodge, I will lodge. Your people shall be my people and your God, my God.”
by
Lillemor Björling, chaplain, 2008.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Prayers of Water
I still remember the moment before opening the shutter on these waterscapes - each moment was like a prayer, a prayer of water.
There was clear water, so clear my heart soared and sang; water in rocky places, desert places; still water, neighbourly and reflective next to the larger moodiness of the Baltic Sea; stones like silent sentinels over water and through time; winter sunsets over the bay near my home.
The past year ended harshly, the world news jolting me into reflection about many things but also driving me outdoors to seek moments of natural beauty.
This seems like a good time to extend beauty into the homes of others.
I hope these images can be a prayer of water and a way to flow into the following year.
-lora bennett, 2002 (view images by clicking on the address below)
http://www.lotusandrose.com/photos_videos/waterscapes/lotusrose.html
There was clear water, so clear my heart soared and sang; water in rocky places, desert places; still water, neighbourly and reflective next to the larger moodiness of the Baltic Sea; stones like silent sentinels over water and through time; winter sunsets over the bay near my home.
The past year ended harshly, the world news jolting me into reflection about many things but also driving me outdoors to seek moments of natural beauty.
This seems like a good time to extend beauty into the homes of others.
I hope these images can be a prayer of water and a way to flow into the following year.
-lora bennett, 2002 (view images by clicking on the address below)
http://www.lotusandrose.com/photos_videos/waterscapes/lotusrose.html
Sunday, January 18, 2009
The Heaving, Healing Sea
the heaving healing sea came home with me,
as though I had come to rest beside a great chest of water,
convexing on the inhale,
exploding into storm at the outhale
and making me know my littleness as the natural thing it is.
-lora bennett,2008-
as though I had come to rest beside a great chest of water,
convexing on the inhale,
exploding into storm at the outhale
and making me know my littleness as the natural thing it is.
-lora bennett,2008-
Nasturtium Harvesting
It was nasturtium harvesting day.
First I snipped the cords with scissors then stopped and smelled fear. The drops collecting at the cut made me think hard.
I had failed to talk to the plant as I often do when I'm nervous. So I told the plant everything I had to say. Then I did some more thinking. Then I put away the scissors and furled the fruits away from the stalks with my fingers.
I separated the fruits thus - those are the orange fruits: these are the yellow.
They line the marble sill below the window until they dry and I can put them in envelopes until next spring.
As I pinch-held the fat, green bodies I asked myself, now what makes these fruits? Am I going to eat them like a fruit? They say you can - they say you can eat the whole plant. But no, even though they look good enough to eat, I'm not going to eat these ones.
Well, why aren't they seeds, then? Are you going to use them as seeds?
Yes, I'm going to plant as many as I can take care of in the spring.
So, why aren't these ones seeds?
I don't know, but I wanted to write about it.
There are two nasturtium plants this year. They are the result of four seeds from last year.
The year before, the mother plant came up an orphan out of someone else's soil - a petunia's, I think. I recognized it right away - those dime-shaped leaves, like the leaves of a lily pad, succulent and all grown up, already at the age of three days.
Save it or throw it away?
Save it, I thought and placing a spoon in the soil, pulled gently at the stalk.
The stalk snapped off in my fingers.
Horrors.
Save it, or throw it away?
Save it, I thought and placed the stalk with its pretty leaves in a glass of water in the window.
Four days later, there were roots and several weeks after that, roots to plant, so I planted it.
It gave me yellow flowers and orange flowers - my orphan nasturtium. And in the fall, it gave me four fat, round, juicy fruits that fell one after the other onto the balcony carpeting.
The two plants resulting from that have just delivered over fourty plump, promising,juicy fruits and I am agape.
I'm a grape.
I wonder why I wasn't agape before? I've planted carrots from 'invisible' seeds. And seen a handful of tomatoe seeds explode into a ruby fruit forest jungle.
What was it with this nasturtium?
I think it might have been the fact that it came from nowhere. Not from a paper envelope I bought at the gardening centre. It was just there, still warm, or so I thought of it. This whisper of the possibility of life turns my lights on - gets me going, gets me involved.
I think it might have been the fact that I got involved.
The destiny of the orphan nasturtium plant made a difference.
So I watched with more than just passing interest.
I was invested.
Engaged, you might say, in the matrimonial sense.
Blended, mixed, nasturtium blood in mine.
And above all, I was happy. I stepped into the sphere of my orphan nasturtium and knew happiness.
A "fruit" is so much more than a "seed". It's the culmination of a full season filled with hope. It's food until you get to the woody outer shell and the bitter inner explosion of next season's life. It's the pride and glory of any farmer.
And ain't I a farmer??
So I say fruit.
First I snipped the cords with scissors then stopped and smelled fear. The drops collecting at the cut made me think hard.
I had failed to talk to the plant as I often do when I'm nervous. So I told the plant everything I had to say. Then I did some more thinking. Then I put away the scissors and furled the fruits away from the stalks with my fingers.
I separated the fruits thus - those are the orange fruits: these are the yellow.
They line the marble sill below the window until they dry and I can put them in envelopes until next spring.
As I pinch-held the fat, green bodies I asked myself, now what makes these fruits? Am I going to eat them like a fruit? They say you can - they say you can eat the whole plant. But no, even though they look good enough to eat, I'm not going to eat these ones.
Well, why aren't they seeds, then? Are you going to use them as seeds?
Yes, I'm going to plant as many as I can take care of in the spring.
So, why aren't these ones seeds?
I don't know, but I wanted to write about it.
There are two nasturtium plants this year. They are the result of four seeds from last year.
The year before, the mother plant came up an orphan out of someone else's soil - a petunia's, I think. I recognized it right away - those dime-shaped leaves, like the leaves of a lily pad, succulent and all grown up, already at the age of three days.
Save it or throw it away?
Save it, I thought and placing a spoon in the soil, pulled gently at the stalk.
The stalk snapped off in my fingers.
Horrors.
Save it, or throw it away?
Save it, I thought and placed the stalk with its pretty leaves in a glass of water in the window.
Four days later, there were roots and several weeks after that, roots to plant, so I planted it.
It gave me yellow flowers and orange flowers - my orphan nasturtium. And in the fall, it gave me four fat, round, juicy fruits that fell one after the other onto the balcony carpeting.
The two plants resulting from that have just delivered over fourty plump, promising,juicy fruits and I am agape.
I'm a grape.
I wonder why I wasn't agape before? I've planted carrots from 'invisible' seeds. And seen a handful of tomatoe seeds explode into a ruby fruit forest jungle.
What was it with this nasturtium?
I think it might have been the fact that it came from nowhere. Not from a paper envelope I bought at the gardening centre. It was just there, still warm, or so I thought of it. This whisper of the possibility of life turns my lights on - gets me going, gets me involved.
I think it might have been the fact that I got involved.
The destiny of the orphan nasturtium plant made a difference.
So I watched with more than just passing interest.
I was invested.
Engaged, you might say, in the matrimonial sense.
Blended, mixed, nasturtium blood in mine.
And above all, I was happy. I stepped into the sphere of my orphan nasturtium and knew happiness.
A "fruit" is so much more than a "seed". It's the culmination of a full season filled with hope. It's food until you get to the woody outer shell and the bitter inner explosion of next season's life. It's the pride and glory of any farmer.
And ain't I a farmer??
So I say fruit.
But the Stars, 1996
I rough and tumbled
with everything
my brother, dogs, his friends
my friends
we rolled leaves and smoked them
woke up horses in the middle of the night
climbed roof tops
broke windows
stole hams from the super market
crashed an Italian wedding
hell on wheels
hell of a good time
nobody told me
it would change
what does Dennis-the-Menace in curls
do at 43?
everyone went away
went away to other places
went away and got married
got jobs got a house
got a schedule that they looked at first
when I asked if they'd come out and play
now my body doesn't want to anymore
and I look down, betrayed
when I went to university I listened to the mumble mumble
dead voices, dead thoughts
and did a dance on desk tops
in my mind
one of the best classes I ever went to
It doesn't prove nothing
doesn't prove thatI should have
should have played less
played more by the rules
or you come to this
Dennis-the-Menace holed up in the woods
doesn't prove that there's another way
a better way
a more-like-everybody-else way
doesn't prove that lawlessness
makes better humans or better lives
or even better freedom
but the stars know
nothing gets added
and nothing gets taken away
and above all
nothing gets wasted
with love
Lora, 1996.
with everything
my brother, dogs, his friends
my friends
we rolled leaves and smoked them
woke up horses in the middle of the night
climbed roof tops
broke windows
stole hams from the super market
crashed an Italian wedding
hell on wheels
hell of a good time
nobody told me
it would change
what does Dennis-the-Menace in curls
do at 43?
everyone went away
went away to other places
went away and got married
got jobs got a house
got a schedule that they looked at first
when I asked if they'd come out and play
now my body doesn't want to anymore
and I look down, betrayed
when I went to university I listened to the mumble mumble
dead voices, dead thoughts
and did a dance on desk tops
in my mind
one of the best classes I ever went to
It doesn't prove nothing
doesn't prove thatI should have
should have played less
played more by the rules
or you come to this
Dennis-the-Menace holed up in the woods
doesn't prove that there's another way
a better way
a more-like-everybody-else way
doesn't prove that lawlessness
makes better humans or better lives
or even better freedom
but the stars know
nothing gets added
and nothing gets taken away
and above all
nothing gets wasted
with love
Lora, 1996.
When Did the Settling Start?
Where were the beaches with shells?
Where was the climbing on the unicorn's back and flying into the night sky?
Where was the standing under a waterfall and letting the negative ions tumble in through the welcoming funnels - nourishment for the living cells much deeper than our WATERPROOF barrier?
Where was the dancing naked around a bonfire with heart burning in the centre like the flames?
Where was the passionate love making so intense a bond forged that we almost die unto bliss but know it can't be sustained?
When did the settling start?
Where was the climbing on the unicorn's back and flying into the night sky?
Where was the standing under a waterfall and letting the negative ions tumble in through the welcoming funnels - nourishment for the living cells much deeper than our WATERPROOF barrier?
Where was the dancing naked around a bonfire with heart burning in the centre like the flames?
Where was the passionate love making so intense a bond forged that we almost die unto bliss but know it can't be sustained?
When did the settling start?
Mirrored Trees, Old Tree, Young Tree
I had a great hike with my walking friend yesterday. We took the road beside the canal on a foggy day. Despite the fog, the trees were mirrored in the water. The reflections were clearer than the real trees.
The reflection looking more real than the real thing echoed what we were talking about.
Later we passed a young tree with an old stump in front of it. As we passed the young tree it appeared to be growing directly out of the stump.
-lora bennett-
The reflection looking more real than the real thing echoed what we were talking about.
Later we passed a young tree with an old stump in front of it. As we passed the young tree it appeared to be growing directly out of the stump.
-lora bennett-
Gertrude and Alice
Gertrude and Alice - a couple for 35 years spanning two world wars and with a sex life that was robust throughout their lives. The mere fact of sustaining love in a world that wasn't much public about women and their love impresses me no end. I went to the address of the apartment they shared when I was in Paris last year. And then to the Luxembourg Gardens where Gertrude took Alice on their first date. I viewed their resting place at Père-Lachaise cemetery.
People crack a lot of jokes about the 'odd couple' Gertrude-the-Mouth and Alice who-never-said-peep. But I've read a really excellent biography of their lives together and find that primarily they just seemed very happy to be in one another's company.
The biography is by Diana Souhami and is called, "Gertrude and Alice".
People crack a lot of jokes about the 'odd couple' Gertrude-the-Mouth and Alice who-never-said-peep. But I've read a really excellent biography of their lives together and find that primarily they just seemed very happy to be in one another's company.
The biography is by Diana Souhami and is called, "Gertrude and Alice".
Two Good BooksTurning into 2009
Turning into 2009 I burned a lot of firewood and read two good books. We solved lots of Sudoku puzzles and watched lots of movies. I read a great book "Gibbons Decline and Fall" by Sherri S Tepper where 7 women save life as we know it. And immediately after I started another that is separate but feels like a sequel, "The Colour of Distance" by Amy Thomson. They are both in the fantasy quarter of science and fantasy fiction. I so seldom find whole books that enthrall me anymore! -lora bennett-
Momo is the Girl Hero of the Story
The story of Momo shows how she lived alone in the ruins of an amphitheater. People would spend time with her and come away better acquainted with their real selves. She had two close friends - a twenty year old story teller and a sixty year old street sweeper. They were both stolen away by the grey gentlemen whose purpose was to steal time and smoke people's lives in the form of cigars. Momo found the host of time and his turtle, Cassiopeia and together, the three of them pulled the rug out from under the grey gentlemen and saved the day.
It's a lesser known story by Michael Ende and while The Never Ending Story has been translated into English as well as having been made into a film, this one has not.
-lora bennett-
It's a lesser known story by Michael Ende and while The Never Ending Story has been translated into English as well as having been made into a film, this one has not.
-lora bennett-
Advice That Moves Towards Love
I asked a friend how in the world she could have the strength to get into another relationship after so many break-ups. She just wrote back and said, "I have the strength because I want to have love in my live."
-lora bennett-
-lora bennett-
Woman Who Made Me Laugh
I met a woman who said she loves Iceland Ponies. They have five ways of moving forward. One of the ways is faster than a normal gallop but the pony moves each leg independantly. She shook around in her chair to show what that felt like and it looked like one of those vibrator machines. She made me laugh and laugh.
Horse Hero
I met a woman who had a way with horses. One horse came to her place to keep another horse company. One day this horse was not to be found. It had run away. No one had seen it. She phoned around the neighbourhood and drove up and down the backroads.
Finally, on the second day she saw the horse coming up the road toward her place. Behind her was a Shetland pony that could hardly walk. Its fur was in tangles. It's hooves were so overgrown that they curved under and backwards and the pony could only take a step and then stop before gathering itself for the next. The leading horse would also stop, look back, make encouraging sounds and together they made it back to Dina's place.
Dina manicured the Shetland and cleaned its matted coat. A veterinarian prohibited the pony from returning to its owner (by court order) and the Shetland lived out its days with Dina and her other animals. Dina left the room and came back with photographs at that point in her story and showed me the dear thing - "Before and After" pictures.
This is the sort of story I can get up early in the morning for.
-lora bennett-
Finally, on the second day she saw the horse coming up the road toward her place. Behind her was a Shetland pony that could hardly walk. Its fur was in tangles. It's hooves were so overgrown that they curved under and backwards and the pony could only take a step and then stop before gathering itself for the next. The leading horse would also stop, look back, make encouraging sounds and together they made it back to Dina's place.
Dina manicured the Shetland and cleaned its matted coat. A veterinarian prohibited the pony from returning to its owner (by court order) and the Shetland lived out its days with Dina and her other animals. Dina left the room and came back with photographs at that point in her story and showed me the dear thing - "Before and After" pictures.
This is the sort of story I can get up early in the morning for.
-lora bennett-
A Night at the Three of Cups Coffee Shop, 1976
"We are not worse revolutionaries if we remember
that the universe itself pulses like a heart.
....if we remember that a ritual of unity makes some
of what it pretends,
that everything is a part of something else."
-marge piercy, "The Three of Cups"
more than I
sung alone
is a shaking unto breaking
sung embracing
river flows
river, sun
making
the night of such a time
I was taking dollar bills
at the Three of Cups Coffee Shop
smoking Gauloise
reading Kierkegaard
checking membership cards
and stamping the backs of hands
there, far back of The Shop
three women huddling-
two guitars
one harmonica
music sung in the key of timid
a woman three stories tall
reached down
her gesture large in sharing
pulled the key of timid to its feet
and waved it into the heart of the evening
when the Artemidian arrow
landed at my side
urgent
I joined them
there was the timid first lick
of fire
the 3 story woman
(torch bearer)
the huntress
searching for fuel
the beginnings
there were spoons and thighs
and hand-slapped hands
embers for eyes
and cheeks on fire
dipping, rolling shoulders
and dancing feet
and, o
that thunderous, unfolding beat
let me tell you where it took me in its heat:
to a mountain top,
above the jungle steam
a proud and high cry thrown through the air
like a javelin
caught
and returned
and all through
the hub-bub of cultures
voices heard and unheard
a rhythm more than drums
a collected sound no less than thunder
a river turbulent and thick
a woman
black
and sun
and dust
her shoulders gleaming and muscular
the smell of sweat
terrible and lovely
tree limbs fingering the sky
her fingers
her feet
at each step, clouds
shadows, feet, shadows
one beat
many bodies
let us not stop
there were the women of first flame
and their carrier
the huntress
and fingers on strings
we congratualte one another independently
our observable parts
and more
let us not stop at giving away praise
take it back
being yours
take it, it is ours
give it away, it is Life's.
and don't cry
thinking
this will never happen again
a fire burns
when given flame
and fuel
here
now
where there is no shortage of either.
-lora bennett, who was there-
that the universe itself pulses like a heart.
....if we remember that a ritual of unity makes some
of what it pretends,
that everything is a part of something else."
-marge piercy, "The Three of Cups"
more than I
sung alone
is a shaking unto breaking
sung embracing
river flows
river, sun
making
the night of such a time
I was taking dollar bills
at the Three of Cups Coffee Shop
smoking Gauloise
reading Kierkegaard
checking membership cards
and stamping the backs of hands
there, far back of The Shop
three women huddling-
two guitars
one harmonica
music sung in the key of timid
a woman three stories tall
reached down
her gesture large in sharing
pulled the key of timid to its feet
and waved it into the heart of the evening
when the Artemidian arrow
landed at my side
urgent
I joined them
there was the timid first lick
of fire
the 3 story woman
(torch bearer)
the huntress
searching for fuel
the beginnings
there were spoons and thighs
and hand-slapped hands
embers for eyes
and cheeks on fire
dipping, rolling shoulders
and dancing feet
and, o
that thunderous, unfolding beat
let me tell you where it took me in its heat:
to a mountain top,
above the jungle steam
a proud and high cry thrown through the air
like a javelin
caught
and returned
and all through
the hub-bub of cultures
voices heard and unheard
a rhythm more than drums
a collected sound no less than thunder
a river turbulent and thick
a woman
black
and sun
and dust
her shoulders gleaming and muscular
the smell of sweat
terrible and lovely
tree limbs fingering the sky
her fingers
her feet
at each step, clouds
shadows, feet, shadows
one beat
many bodies
let us not stop
there were the women of first flame
and their carrier
the huntress
and fingers on strings
we congratualte one another independently
our observable parts
and more
let us not stop at giving away praise
take it back
being yours
take it, it is ours
give it away, it is Life's.
and don't cry
thinking
this will never happen again
a fire burns
when given flame
and fuel
here
now
where there is no shortage of either.
-lora bennett, who was there-
About "Waters"
WATERS
This site comes following a dream. There was a festival on both sides of a river. A wonderful boat, three stories high and five stories long had been built in the shape of a jade dragon. Her builder-designer was named ”Waters”. It made on-lookers gasp. Women were at their stalls busy with handcrafts and visitors; sharing, listening, going well and staying well.
It is because of this dream, celebrative and medicinal, that this site is called ”Waters”.
This site comes following a dream. There was a festival on both sides of a river. A wonderful boat, three stories high and five stories long had been built in the shape of a jade dragon. Her builder-designer was named ”Waters”. It made on-lookers gasp. Women were at their stalls busy with handcrafts and visitors; sharing, listening, going well and staying well.
It is because of this dream, celebrative and medicinal, that this site is called ”Waters”.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
