It's raining Christmas, karma, and kindred spirits.....

I pedaled my new- Old little bike to the Marina Post office....in search of some hummingbird spouts... we ordered them for the vintage soda bottles we found on the side of the road.... Feeders for our souls, and the tiny little winged spirits that flutter past us, around us, between us..... and then I did my usual spin...trip...up the steps...."How are you? and  "Fine, just fine, and how's your wife doing these days, and the dog, and the flowers you planted in the spring?"  Another blessed everyday moment in this Gift of Life.....

The tiny little box of spouts was waiting for me.  The cardboard box swathed in tape, and little birds stamped on the outside.  I smiled hugely.   And next to it... Another box.   Sharon smiled, and pushed it towards me.  "Merry Christmas"......she whispered..... How the hell she knew, I'll never know.... but....

She was right.  A gift of love, of sharing, of embracing, of dancing in a Moon Circle....was wrapped tightly in the decorated, stamped, addressed to ME  box, and when I opened it, nestled in paisley tissue paper,  A River of Friendship, of Old Souls spilled out..... The box was filled with a thousand trinkets touched by fate and fortune.... and more.....

It was filled with Love.....

Thank you Kelly .... hugely....

For reaching out...with the words and the arms of  a forever friend....

Merry Hippie Christmas.....Thank you for painting my world, our world, the forever world with the random Wild Love that makes this world the one that we cherish living in.  Peace~love, good, good vibes......

PS:  Yup, those are both my brand new ones:)  And yeah, they totally rock!

Will work for Peace.....for Love....for Beer....

It's raining.  Lazy rain.  It doesn't splash when it hits the pavement, it just sits there.  Making mud puddles the perfect size for tadpoles.  And daydreams.

I spend the morning sewing prayer flags on my rickety Singer at the kitchen table, Isadora in the windowsill, watching for the  sunshine.  And Him.  Waiting on the rattle tattle sound of his stickered up bicycle, clinking, clanking up to the house.  My little Hippie Maintenance Man peddling home for lunch, and later, for the night. For a beer.  To our crazy simple life. 

Funny, how less is so very much Better.....

My Little Gypsy Butterfly....

The room is quiet....the occasional sound of the Cuckoo's Nest behind the door....on the other side...and the whispering on the inside.  Mama speaks in another tongue, endless sentences macrame~ed together by her little fingers flying, kneading, pointing, reaching, touching ours....and we lean closer and listen.....every now and then gathering familiar words like heart shaped rocks, clinging to them like sentimental souvenirs. 

She cries.  Frets.  And talks to faces only she can see, spirits in the corners...And we shoo them like dusty cobwebs, because she's not ready, and they're dancing in our dirty laundry, stirring up too many memories or make~believes or gonna~be's.  They can join the parade later, but not today....

Today we're butterflies....
and we're gonna rest.  Flutter our wings every now and then, just a teensy tiny bit, and snuggle in a little closer....
When she's ready to fly....
She won't even need these silly ole wings....

She'll be Gypsy free.....

The Butterfly Effect

It rained.

From the sky...
a gabillion drops free falling, prancing like wild horses on my tin~can metal roof...
and  then leaping into sudden death...
or freedom...
flying face first into the muddy earth....
and tumbling wildly downhill
to the river....

Monsoons....

I took a shower.

Steadied my hand on the make-shift rail,  leaned up against the vintage vinyl and stood under the warm waterfall....
Crying.....

Maybe wailing.....

It 's the seven o'clock sadness....
It just happens...

Each new day is a gift...
and a Mountain....
and for just a moment,
I have weak knees...
the fleeting moment after you've been cold cocked, but just  before you stand up again,
spit blood,
and say "I'm OK".......

I should have known she'd be here...
     the encore after my hissy fit.....


The yellow Butterfly....
   

      reminding me

 to Believe.....