#TheGetMyWirkOutThereChallenge #DaySeventeen #wind #plantlife #artineverydaylife #extraordinaryordinary
I love the color fuscia.
In my early twenties I wore either fuscia or bright read lipstick. Loved the color pop.
These cut flowers blew my mind. They were in a simple vase on a restaurant table in Indianapolis.
#TheGetMyWorkOutThereChallenge #fuscia #flowers #daynine #phonephotos
Yes, I admit it. I am a bit obsessed with the relationship between water and plant-life.
A morning dew, or after the rain, can capture my attention and keep it indefinitely.
I wonder who is holding who – are the leaves holding the water or is the water caressing the leaves? I think it is most likely a mutual embrace between good friends.
I wish we all could remember that we once had that kind of relationship with water and and all flower and plant-life. Maybe if we could better remember our relationship with and the incredible generosity of the earth and her flowers and plants, we’d be willing to take better care of our earth and her elements.
Next time it rains, perhaps stop for a moment and feel the droplets’ kiss on your skin…listen for the song that she sings…your body knows it well.
#TheGetMyWorkOutThereChallenge #Day Four #plantlife #water #earth #motherearth
They Call the Wind Maria
In the very mysterious and incredibly miraculous way that most of life’s best experiences happen, I had the opportunity of traveling to Greece a month ago. We stayed on the islands of Santorini and Mykonos. I could (and may) write numerous posts about my experiences there. But today, all I can think about is the wind of Mykonos.
Greece had never been on any list of mine, and yet I found myself drawn to go there for reasons that were unclear to me at the time. I was in need of ease and a low-key kind of trip when this decision to follow my “yes” to go to these islands made itself known to my heart, so I did not plan anything about this trip. I did not do any research (unusual for me,) and as for the travel details, I left it all in the hands of an amazing travel agent, Judy Likouris. (This was a first for me. It was terrific. She is a fantastic human and super good at travel arrangements!)
So when we left the languid heat of Santorini for Mykonos, disembarked from the boat and promptly lost our hats to the whipping wind, it was a total surprise. The “it” I am referring to is the wind of Mykonos.
I have never had an especially particular relationship to the Wind. I did grow up loving a song from the movie musical “Paint Your Wagon” called “They Call the Wind Maria.” Maybe it was gorgeous baritone and heartfelt rendition of Harve Presnell, the actor who sang it in the film. His voice held such longing for the woman he had lost — I wanted to know being loved with such a longing. I have carried that song with me ever since. It finds me at odd times here and there and I will find myself singing or humming it with a great nostalgia. If you’ve never seen his performance in the movie, you are welcome in advance.
That was my relationship to the wind until I stepped onto that island. The wind of Mykonos is famous, as it turns out. The island’s name “Mykonos” translates to “The Island of the Winds.” You have to experience it to believe it and understand it, but trust me when I say that this wind is powerful, fierce, mysterious and alive in a very special way.
Much of the detail I could give you about the wind would be sourced from this wonderful blog article by Rika Z. Vayianni on the very subject from the website “Greece Is.” It is so well-written I leave it to you to read, but I brought just a few tidbits to tempt you here:
Because, you see, there are many names and there are many winds. And then there is “The Wind.” The Meltemi is a mainly northern wind that often joins forces with its neighboring directions of the compass – mostly pairing with the east to create the Gregos, or slightly less often, with the western wind to produce the Maistros. The Meltemi itself is a child born of two extremes: Every summer, the low barometric pressure from the Balkans clashes with the higher, hot blasts from Africa. In this way the Meltemi is formed, fluctuating in force from playful to fierce, gaining strength as the sun rises and calming down as dusk falls.
This natural “air-conditioner,” as the locals call it, tames the heat and lowers humidity. Deeply Greek in its essence, it has shaped the geography, architecture and civilization in this corner of the world for millennia. From classic antiquity, when the etesians (“yearly winds”) were thus named after being studied by the great Aristotle himself, to this very day, the Meltemi (from mal tempo, or “bad weather” in Italian) still affects the lifestyle of both locals and visitors. It will ultimately leave its mark on your own Mykonos holiday album.
Some tourists who visit the island spend their time complaining of the wind. I can understand that. I am an aural person and can, at times, have hearing sensitivity. The wind in Mykonos is not just about texture, force or velocity. It doesn’t just blow around whatever is in its wake. It also has a voice.
The people I was visiting with were mostly irritated by the wind on its strongest days. It kept many indoors. It was incessant. It felt even dangerous at times. Granted, we were on the northernmost tip of the island where the winds were the strongest.
I felt at home in that wind in a way I cannot explain. I felt held, supported, encouraged, nourished, spoken to, given to. I felt the wind matched the internal character of my spirit. No one would ever look at me and think, “Oh, she seems like the Mykonos Wind!” But inside, I feel like it. So I suppose, in a way, I met my soulmate on Mykonos. The wind.
I would go off and sit on Mykonos’ craggy bluffs and whisper into the wind. I howled and raged into the wind. I sang into the wind. I pleaded and cried into the wind. I gave the wind my secrets, my heart’s dreams, my deepest wounds. And she generously took them all and gave me to hold in their place a knowing in my bones that I was more than enough as I am, that I already had all that I needed to do whatever it is I want to do, and that everything would always be alright. That I had finally found an essential part of myself that I had always been longing for.
It has been a month since I set foot there. But I carry that wind with me. It only takes an instant when I turn my mind to it for me to realize that I am hearing it, too. It calms me to connect with it. I feel less alone. I do not in any way understand this. I know I will be there again, someday. But more importantly, I know it is forever with me, too.
I am not the only one. The wind of Mykonos is a generous Goddess. As Vayianni says:
You might stay forever, you might leave and come back or you might never set foot on the island again. But the sound of sea and waves, the continuous murmur of the ever-present Meltemi, will leave a distant echo locked in memory.
I have a name for this phantom wind, too. I call it “Windmills of your Mind,” after a melody composed by Michel Legrand, for the film The Thomas Crown Affair. I liked the title and stole it to name my very own ghost Meltemi, my Mykonian wind of nostalgia.
I have not given my own personal name to the Mykonos wind. And I no longer call the wind Maria. Me and the Wind, we are beyond names somehow. We just know each other. And that is more enough for me.
#Mykonos #wind #soulmate #soul #elements #thegetmyworkouttherechallenge #dayone
When did I stop listening to – stop knowing –
The Truth that nature alone can claim
The wind is my sister
She reminds me who I am
The patterns in the ice are writ
With the wisdom of the waters
All I need to know, in the veins of a leaf
The trees are my elders
They council my concerns
Through birdsong, I am urged to sing
Especially after a storm
The stars are the map of a million once-human dreams
Mother Earth doubles my heart beat
And to her, my body will return one day
To become one with the land
My spirit to roam free once again
With my sister, through the leaves of the trees
And the flowing waters of the streams
In the running cheetah’s strong shoulders
And the caterpillar paths ‘cross the garden green
Through roots running deep into the ground
To become a butterfly, alight on a delicate petal
To swim with the sea turtles among the corral in the seas
I am a part of it all and all is a part of me
When did I forget this heritage, this lineage, this communion
I breathe in all that has ever lived
And my breathe will be breathed by all who come after
May I remain awoken for evermore
May I never forget again
I share my posts here.
There was an incredible full moon the other night. It stopped me in my tracks, in the way the moon often does. I reflected on why the moon holds such significance for me.
The moon holds my secrets
Bears witness to my tears
Bathes me in her magic glow
With the knowing of the years
The moon holds my secrets
I turn my face into her light
She whispers words of comfort
Through the darkness of the night
Does the moon speak to you?
I share my posts on Alan’s site:
And then, just like that,
The sky cracked open
And joy spilled out
I am on an adventure with my nephew.
When I graduated from high school, my Granma took me on a trip to England, Wales and Ireland. It was a generous gift.
She’d traveled extensively in her life, as had her mother, my Great-Grandmother Burns. They’d both lost their husbands early and ended up living quite rich and adventurous lives as widows.
My Gran had taken my two brothers before me as they each graduated. It was a tradition.
So when my brother’s first born graduated from high school, I had the impulse to carry on the tradition.
My Gran was long-since dead, and my Mom – her daughter – had died a few years’ past.
So I decided to do what I knew they’d have loved to do.
I took my niece on a trip to London and Paris in 2016. My sister-in-law came too, which was almost as good as my Mom being there. She is warm and loving, just like my Mom.
It was a wonderful trip. I cherished our time together and felt my parents’ presence (my father and other brother had recently died as well) with us.
And now here I am, my nephew and I on an adventure. And this time, we are all here together: my husband, my nephew, my brother, my sister-in-law and my niece.
My nephew chose Norway and Sweden to explore. None of us had ever thought of visiting either, but of course we were all game!
So here we all are, in Norway.
And it is heavenly.
The beauty of this country is just magnificent.
But of course, it is all really about being together. We feast our eyes on the landscapes. We laugh and laugh. We eat delicious food.
Once again, I sense my parents, and my brother somehow here, happy for us.
Maybe my niece and nephew will someday carry on the tradition and feel my presence there, too.
She walks daily amongst the elders of the forest
She is called to tend their wounds
She is one of them, but human, too
She listens, she sees, she hears
And reports back what she knows
But no one really listens to her
No one really believes the truths she shares
She sheds tears for the mighty and the fallen
For the ignorance that will be the end of us all
And dreams of a someday world where trees once again rule
Where we humans believe in their worth
I am the wind’s whisper of the night
I am the morning-song and her echo
You live off my bounty
I gave birth to your parents
And today, I am dying for you
It astonishes me –
this embrace with poison
The death dance she and I are in
I will die saving you
But you can’t live without me
Will you hear my silent cries
And remember me in time
Or will we destroy ourselves
And leave our decayed remains
To birth a new Mother
And will she create a new race
Or are we the last attempt