it must be the infectious weather. i am outside 12, 15 hours a day. I love the heat, the breeze and most of all being nearly naked on a wide expanse of beach and seemingly not seeing anyone, unless you consider the sky someone. The sky with its orange and blue clouds and and pink and purple highlights throughout, it makes you wonder, am i on another planet…is this too good to be true?
a little man with a very scruffy hat sit at the beach whittling palm branches into curious shapes. we he has a piece just right he uses a magnifying glass and the sun to etch and burn images and text onto these palm discards. I love that so much is actually used.
in addition to just being overjoyed with the activities and the pace of this world, i am engaged in becoming younger next year. why not? As my useful, productive exercises produce a nice, art-felt creative looking garden, my body is shedding pounds from the heat and the labor…i become hot and restless so I just into my car, park at the beach and within five minutes, I am a fish swimming against a wave, or a wanna-be surfer that comes riding in on a wave scraping bottom–in this case bottom being my protruding stomach. Another reason to stay in the ocean and swim off some more weight.
It is easy to be in love in this town, not because the men are beautiful and the woman are plentiful, but because everything is so romantic…small out of the way ethnic restaurants, a cove that appears private, so private you are tempted to swim bare. a bar filled with cowboy hats and men and women two-steppin. music from the plaza de la constitution, music from a rock club, music from a spanish guitar playing solo to no one in particular in the mournful key of A minor. fudge and popcorn in more flavors then I knew existed. good, good european coffee anywhere. and the churches still ring the angelus, and the choir is gregorian and the mass is high, and musical, and intellectually lectured sermons are interesting.
It is camelot, shangria-la, Don Quixote’s adventure, the Spanish inquisition, the year is 1567, the roads are cobble-stone, a house was recently stained with cranberries. house drawn carriages, small intimate theater, live Opera, a Picasso exhibit…….
then, i begin to crave co-creating and I start to see how I might have a different life here than I have up north. work in a landscape company? teach software art? write my book.
gardening is so good to me. i look at a square or a circle or a corner or a triangle and it begs to me to landscape it into something indigenous and beautiful. then the exercise of gathering the stone, the brick, the motor, digging up roots, raking level a section–dig some deep holes and line them with a quality grade composted top soil.
then there is the nursery. there the young people know plants like I know diagnostic categories. so i pick some long limb flowering bougainvillea that will fill a pot 4 feet high by maybe 3 feel wide. i picked up a trellis to help the youngster to grow right into the old giant oak that stands very tall just behind the fence. There will be an arch of bogies, and in front of the bogies, i planted a variety of flowering plants in the 4 to 8 feet range; and just in front of that is a row of rosemary that we hope to see grow into tall eatable herbs. and the out-door whirlpool sits in the middle of this jungle-like garden.
Getting ready to leave, st. augustine, but would sure like to have stayed on at least one more month, Perhaps soon.
I am manifesting many wishes and most are granted with no strings attached, except to be a good man; that is, to be accountable to an examined analytic matrix. The contents of a each man is different, because “each” means that it is onto itself that the values mush be evaluated and attached.
Here in St. Augustine where there are many imports, from other cities in America, we experience a conservative acceptance of each other–beneath the core, I can not tell yet if there is real soul. From the looks of it, it has to have soul; but I am too new here to thrown out any opinions. For now, the feeling is that of being in Love…this too shall pass, I presume; but until then I am going to photograph, paint, draw, write and pray full-out for my continued manifesting and my mission to help the world to see how much beauty there lies in the least excepted places.
Once again Deliberate Intent is here to suggest that we can let a great deal of beauty pass us by when our heads are buried in the sand. Beauty must be aggressively sought after. It is a component of drive and as such it has great powers that can lie dormant for a life time, if they are not awakened..
Like the nursery rhyme where sleeping beauty is woken by a kiss from a Prince…ok, so who would not wake up for that, beauty was the passion that sent the kiss. And what of Helen Of Troy, navies and armies were sent to fetch her home…we can go to no limits if the drive is strong enough….
To be in a place of beauty, a state of Grace, it is wise first to have examined who you are and why you like what you like and what you don’t like and why? We need that infusion of our own reality, our subjective world has to be touched by the instincts as well as by the over-bearing ego.
Deliberately Aim for Beauty.
Writing with Light: iphotoimpression.com 