Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer · 1 Comment

Begin With the Divine…

That’s been my promise to myself, in a schedule that has me committed to much more mundane assignments. So I make an appointment with the extraordinary. Start my day in the wee hours with early morning writing. Spend some reverent time in nature.

I do this in order to give attention to the things I love the most. It fulfills me. Centers me. Brings inspiration to my days.

But this morning, no rules apply. I’m a rebel indoors. Sorting laundry, changing bed sheets, washing dishes. I return phone calls and reply to emails. Basically, I do my chores.

I gotta say that handling these tasks, the act of getting organized, it settles me. I find calm in gazing at a shelf of freshly folded towels. There is something sacred to be seen in a sink that’s empty, clean.

This morning no soul-shaking poems emerge. No rainbows arc over the ocean in this realm. No dolphin leaps at sea.

But my Inbox is cleared, voice mails deleted. My house is presentable. I’m breathing deeply in the scent of fluffed linens.

Tomorrow, I’ll be back to following the Muse around like a puppy at 4:30am. There’ll be sand between my toes by 8.

But for this morning, I’m at peace. Right here in the commonplace.

 

Jessica Dofflemyer ~ all rights reserved
Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer

Free Dive

courtesy of jayhem

I’m free diving
letting bubbled liquid
fill my ears
to heavy quiet
but for the tinkling
of sand
sifting
my body
moving
with the rocking sway
of currents

I float
through thick space
maneuvering in the blue
streaming sunlight
that casts holographic hallways
azure passageways
through which
I slowly swim

in the water world
there is weighted silence
and dazzling sights
prisms of light

courtesy of gnews

If I were to open my mouth
to tell you
I would be drinking a salty soup

in this bluish realm
I can only
slowly
make a gesture
toward the essence
of this calm

later will be the surfacing
a gasp for breath
teeth exposed to air in smile
rivulets of salt streaming
to an open mouth
a tongue to tell

courtesy of Shane Watson
Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer

Fishnet Stockings and Fresh-Cut Wood

Finding myself writing more privately in my journal than wanting to publicize every thought through WordPress, I’m wondering where to draw the line.

Like do I mention the image I woke with this morning?  The one that came as a bird’s-eye view while I sifted in that space just between sleeping and waking.

courtesy of Horia Varlan

It was a big sky place, like Wyoming.  Cotton clouds in wide open blue.  An ariel view of the back of a pick up truck.  Half of the truck bed was stacked with fresh-cut wood.  And resting just beside the pile were  legs, one bent at the knee, reclining freely in black, fishnet stockings.

This may be more information than anyone needs to know.  Freud is dead but I suppose here’s a time where one could conjure his analysis.  But let’s forget that.

The beauty of art is to let go of the mind.  Play in the realms where nothing makes sense.  Tap this source of possibility.  Enjoy the mysterious confusion.

art by Leo Fontan

Why not start the day with a picture of infinite sky, a well-stocked supply of wood and beautiful legs naturally taking in the scene?

What the heck.  Why not tell you about it?