Lichens slowly release fresh pure air. A sacred place. Honored with flowers scented with grace gestures, you know. She knows. Love continues. you found the place. Honor it with your presence.
Life is absurd lately and we all need a pocket of peace, and then we return to the sleeping partner, or the sleeping world, or the crazy world as we try to hold on to that peace which is staring at us in our minds eye reminding us of our humanity.
So beautiful, Fotini. I feel as if I am walking with you, to the stones and beyond…
“The room feels empty without the flowers, the world hollow without mum. Yet all is full of love. As much as I try to recall the darkness of those early days, I cannot. It is already transmuted and solidified into something more substantial—life.”
As you know my friend I am not one for categories and rules, so poem or prose are of equal beauty, let them fly let, them fly, but I must say that this prose is exquisite and I should like to order another helping if I could. There's so much there, lightly sprinkled, quite beautifully delivered straight from the soul.
“ I, for a change, had a date with a rock, two actually, but that is a long story…” Ah, your date, I am so glad I am back, I did not want to miss this one. When place, becomes a part of who we are. For me, it is usually in the forest , a mountain , often a boulder, stream bed or tree. If you are like me, my entire being seems to smile as I approach, nourishment for the soul. Forever changing us, for a lifetime, and possibly beyond. Maybe then, we become a part of our special place. Timeless. It is a nice thought.
A sequel , what an exquisite thought. Like Jonathan, I would like a second helping please. Will be waiting for the day, or evening, whenever you decide to release your story to the wind. Truly, Fotini, I love how this story weaves through me in kindred familiarity. I wish there were a few more chapters coming. (Please pardon my greediness).
I bemoaned for many years my inability to live in a "special" place, you know, a forest or some other distant, enchanted wilderness. Such a fool I was, my dear Lor. I still long for a forest, but the magic came from the most ordinary places of all, the city I have been living in for twenty-six years... For nature is everywhere. No, strike that -- all is nature. When I took the time to look around me, the place opened up. I opened up. And now all kinds of things flow, although "things" is not the right word. It is quite difficult to articulate feelings and sensations, but I am trying, for I truly want to share this with the world.
I never really thought about how lucky I was growing up. I took for granted that I could hang from a thick grape vine, or lay across the smooth surface of a rock, absorbing its heat on a hot summer day, one foot dangling in the cold stream. Years laters, I still carry my places with me,
hiking and skiing in the mountains, is now a part of who I am. So true, it is difficult to find the right words. I can only say, it brings joy, a full body sensation .
How beautiful, to come to the conclusion that the ordinary really is the extraordinary. Being able to find your joy in nature , whether it is found in pristine forests or city streets, we need only to open our eyes,
You were lucky, you are lucky, Lor. Next time you go to one of your special places, say hello to the land from my behalf or throw a pebble in a stream and say my name. You are too far away, somewhere I will never be able to come. It is a big world we’re lining in :)
A joy, yes. A full body sensation, yes. It feels like home.
The synchronicity is uncanny. I have collected heart rocks for years. Each one seems to just show up, almost underfoot. Because we have discussed our moms; mine always signed every letter, card, or note, with a heart. I always felt, years later, it is her that places these heart rocks for me to find. Some, I take with me, while others tell me to leave them be, so I do. I have been known to whisper quietly, then toss one into the lake below me ( we spend summers by a lake). A metaphorical way of sending good thoughts and wishes. And who is to say, they might even reach their destination. Tomorrow morning, I promise to hold one in my hand, say your name along with a few good tidings, tossing it into the cold glacial water. From the very northern tip of Vermont, eventually Crystal ( the name of the lake) , empties into the St. Lawrence Seaway, heading northeast through Canada , and then out to the vast waters of the Atlantic. One never knows, you may hear your name riding on the wind, or wave, a smile suddenly appearing on your face, at least you’ll know where they came from.
Oh, dear... I read your message last night, but it was late, and overwhelmed by your words, I kept reading without knowing what to write in response. But I knew that I had to let something off my chest and publish my poem. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have dared it.
And now I dream of the cold, crystal waters and hold my breath as I plunge into the unknown. Where I will turn out eventually, I don't know, but be sure that at some point I'll find a place to whisper your name to.
“Of course he is not the only one; more of his clan lie scattered around the hill, loners or odd pairs, remnants of old time.”
Fotini, I feel so excited for you and for the journey you’ve begun. This is how I walk in the forest, pausing to check on all the trees whom I know and love. You’re so right—love magic is not for the faint-hearted. May your explorations bring you pockets of peace and joy that you can share with all of us. 💛💛💛
It took me a year and a half to acquaint myself with the place, dear Ann. And every time I walk on that hill, I get to experience something new may it be a a flower I have never see on a feeling I can’t put into words. I try though :)
I loved reading your 'walk'. It reminded me of the lovely forest walk I used to do when we had the cottage. There, we were surrounded by beautiful trees, moss, ferns, and plants that my mother-in-law had planted over 58 years ago! The sweet sound of the little creek always accompanied me on my walks. It has been 3 years since we sold it and my heart still yearns for those special places . Thank you for sharing your walk, your special place, it brought mine back to my heart.
Thank you for reading, Jeannine. I am truly happy that my words were able to stir the fond memories of your special place - a part of your heart is always there… one more reason to make the place special.
"bone is porous, so is skin, so is limestone”— woah, Fotini. That line evoked a feeling I can't name. Dread and awe at once? Also, I opened substack after do long today, and came directly to your profile because I knew I was going to find treasure hidden in plain sight, and I was right.
Your prose sends me. Sends roots down through my feet. Opens the pores of my bones. Thank you.
Oh my... Kimberly, I'm at a loss for words... THANK YOU! 🖤
Lichens slowly release fresh pure air. A sacred place. Honored with flowers scented with grace gestures, you know. She knows. Love continues. you found the place. Honor it with your presence.
I thought I found it, but then it occurred to me that maybe it was the place that found me. But I was wrong, dear Richard, we found each other.
Indeed. The meaning in both, meant for each other.
Beautiful ❤️
Thank you, dear Arnaly! 🙏
Life is absurd lately and we all need a pocket of peace, and then we return to the sleeping partner, or the sleeping world, or the crazy world as we try to hold on to that peace which is staring at us in our minds eye reminding us of our humanity.
We can stretch our pockets to cover more ground. A naive thought, maybe, but what more can we do?
So beautiful, Fotini. I feel as if I am walking with you, to the stones and beyond…
“The room feels empty without the flowers, the world hollow without mum. Yet all is full of love. As much as I try to recall the darkness of those early days, I cannot. It is already transmuted and solidified into something more substantial—life.”
Grateful for coming along with me, Angela. 🖤
As you know my friend I am not one for categories and rules, so poem or prose are of equal beauty, let them fly let, them fly, but I must say that this prose is exquisite and I should like to order another helping if I could. There's so much there, lightly sprinkled, quite beautifully delivered straight from the soul.
Order one for me , please!🙏
No problem pal :)
The next part will be slowly roasting for a week -- already 38°C. But my soul, this year, is at peace with summer. Patience, dear Jonathan :)
:)
I agree with you, Jonathan. I felt gently nudged along as Fotini took us up the hill to that quiet destination.
Hey Fotini,
In one of my beloved songs, Asaf Avidan’s Labyrinth Song, he says: “It’s more a feeling
Than a substance,”
And that’s how I feel about this
Following the words like following the ants home, as I did when a child naive to the vicissitudes of the world.
Perhaps we all hope to be reborn.
Love and peace,
Mahdi
Each day we begin anew, Mahdi.
Love and peace and gratitude, my friend
“ I, for a change, had a date with a rock, two actually, but that is a long story…” Ah, your date, I am so glad I am back, I did not want to miss this one. When place, becomes a part of who we are. For me, it is usually in the forest , a mountain , often a boulder, stream bed or tree. If you are like me, my entire being seems to smile as I approach, nourishment for the soul. Forever changing us, for a lifetime, and possibly beyond. Maybe then, we become a part of our special place. Timeless. It is a nice thought.
A sequel , what an exquisite thought. Like Jonathan, I would like a second helping please. Will be waiting for the day, or evening, whenever you decide to release your story to the wind. Truly, Fotini, I love how this story weaves through me in kindred familiarity. I wish there were a few more chapters coming. (Please pardon my greediness).
I bemoaned for many years my inability to live in a "special" place, you know, a forest or some other distant, enchanted wilderness. Such a fool I was, my dear Lor. I still long for a forest, but the magic came from the most ordinary places of all, the city I have been living in for twenty-six years... For nature is everywhere. No, strike that -- all is nature. When I took the time to look around me, the place opened up. I opened up. And now all kinds of things flow, although "things" is not the right word. It is quite difficult to articulate feelings and sensations, but I am trying, for I truly want to share this with the world.
Thank you for being here, wanting to know more.
I never really thought about how lucky I was growing up. I took for granted that I could hang from a thick grape vine, or lay across the smooth surface of a rock, absorbing its heat on a hot summer day, one foot dangling in the cold stream. Years laters, I still carry my places with me,
hiking and skiing in the mountains, is now a part of who I am. So true, it is difficult to find the right words. I can only say, it brings joy, a full body sensation .
How beautiful, to come to the conclusion that the ordinary really is the extraordinary. Being able to find your joy in nature , whether it is found in pristine forests or city streets, we need only to open our eyes,
and heart.
You were lucky, you are lucky, Lor. Next time you go to one of your special places, say hello to the land from my behalf or throw a pebble in a stream and say my name. You are too far away, somewhere I will never be able to come. It is a big world we’re lining in :)
A joy, yes. A full body sensation, yes. It feels like home.
💛
“…throw a pebble in a stream and say my name“
The synchronicity is uncanny. I have collected heart rocks for years. Each one seems to just show up, almost underfoot. Because we have discussed our moms; mine always signed every letter, card, or note, with a heart. I always felt, years later, it is her that places these heart rocks for me to find. Some, I take with me, while others tell me to leave them be, so I do. I have been known to whisper quietly, then toss one into the lake below me ( we spend summers by a lake). A metaphorical way of sending good thoughts and wishes. And who is to say, they might even reach their destination. Tomorrow morning, I promise to hold one in my hand, say your name along with a few good tidings, tossing it into the cold glacial water. From the very northern tip of Vermont, eventually Crystal ( the name of the lake) , empties into the St. Lawrence Seaway, heading northeast through Canada , and then out to the vast waters of the Atlantic. One never knows, you may hear your name riding on the wind, or wave, a smile suddenly appearing on your face, at least you’ll know where they came from.
Oh, dear... I read your message last night, but it was late, and overwhelmed by your words, I kept reading without knowing what to write in response. But I knew that I had to let something off my chest and publish my poem. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have dared it.
And now I dream of the cold, crystal waters and hold my breath as I plunge into the unknown. Where I will turn out eventually, I don't know, but be sure that at some point I'll find a place to whisper your name to.
What a walk. A gift.
A gift — your words. Thank you, Patris.
“Of course he is not the only one; more of his clan lie scattered around the hill, loners or odd pairs, remnants of old time.”
Fotini, I feel so excited for you and for the journey you’ve begun. This is how I walk in the forest, pausing to check on all the trees whom I know and love. You’re so right—love magic is not for the faint-hearted. May your explorations bring you pockets of peace and joy that you can share with all of us. 💛💛💛
It took me a year and a half to acquaint myself with the place, dear Ann. And every time I walk on that hill, I get to experience something new may it be a a flower I have never see on a feeling I can’t put into words. I try though :)
Thank you for coming along!
I loved reading your 'walk'. It reminded me of the lovely forest walk I used to do when we had the cottage. There, we were surrounded by beautiful trees, moss, ferns, and plants that my mother-in-law had planted over 58 years ago! The sweet sound of the little creek always accompanied me on my walks. It has been 3 years since we sold it and my heart still yearns for those special places . Thank you for sharing your walk, your special place, it brought mine back to my heart.
Thank you for reading, Jeannine. I am truly happy that my words were able to stir the fond memories of your special place - a part of your heart is always there… one more reason to make the place special.
Fantastic Fotini. I felt like I was there with you walking that trial. Your words soothing me in the same way, nature soothes the soul. :)
Oh my, that is the greatest compliment :) Thank you, Michael!!!
But of course, my friend. :)
*Patience, he tells me, they will leave soon, they always do. A pang of guilt makes me falter. I, too, will leave—how soon is soon for a rock?*
Wonderfully human and mysterious and world-in-world-ish, Fotini.
Thank you - you wonderful soul. 🙏
I loved climbing that hill to the Sentinel with you. Looking forward to the next installment.
I am getting there slowly… Thank you for coming along, LeeAnn! 🙏
I am catching up on the missed writing, love this prose and intrigue Fotini.
(More!!)
Oh dear, I also need to write a rather long email… a lot to catch up :)
🖤
"bone is porous, so is skin, so is limestone”— woah, Fotini. That line evoked a feeling I can't name. Dread and awe at once? Also, I opened substack after do long today, and came directly to your profile because I knew I was going to find treasure hidden in plain sight, and I was right.
I treasure your words, Haram 🖤