Embracing the Summer Solstice

summer

invites one to stay home a little less.

days passing

on patios

 on beaches

 sun-kissed shoulders

in parks along farmer's markets

noses delighted by

scents of fresh flowers

baked goods & tomatoes eaten like autumn apples.

summer

invites one to delve into pages.

novels traipsing through the mind 

long after epilogues

 final words

& concluding messages conveyed.

summer 

invites one to passion.

sweaty sheets & beaded brows

hands caressing curves

curling pink painted toes

in the early dawn.

summer 

invites one to the road.

leaving work & unpaid bills 

beyond the rear view mirror

 laughter & leisure dancing on the air

as tire tread

presses against hot unfamiliar pavement.

summer invites you...

{it's official}

embrace.

---

Love summer?  

Click here to see how Underlined and Bold embraced summer in 2011.

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"And this too was Greece.."

First day in Byron Bay, Australia.
February 2012.

I love connecting travel to art and poetry.  Both powerful forms of expression harness how a new destination touches the mind, body, and spirit...how an unfamiliar environment invigorates the senses...how the intellect is stimulated and the heart transformed.

Another Island

by May Sarton

And this too was Greece: 

Water so clear

A jellyfish looked opaque;

Silence so transparent

A voice could scratch it

Like a pane of glass;

A long crescent of white sand

Where we found

Not a broken hand of Aphrodite

Nor a silver coin,

But small pink shells,

The rockrose

White as foam

Under the dark pines--

And across the translucent sea

Another island

Floating on a dark blue line.

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the last week of every year.

i think of all the events of the year. 

faces.

places. 

philosophies.

i think of connections;

intimate and close. 

i think of intermittent relationships;

my fallen autumn leaves.

i think of joy. 

smiles. 

compassion. 

glances; 

knowing and warm.

the moments that put the wind back into my sails...

i think of nail biting

anxiety.

vulnerability.

habits;

compulsively displayed and delivered

without change, despite yearning...

that this time might be different.

i think of boldness;
staring fear dead in the eyes.
i think of passivity;
cowering in the shadow of the unknown.

i think of goals. 

resolutions. 

predictions

from last January;

laughing at thoughts my mind conjured up.

i think of all the events of the year.

faces.

places.

philosophies.

Gratitude "that we are here"

yesterday i expressed gratitude. gratitude for holiday cheer. gratitude for the life i am blessed to live.

 below is a poem by Philip Booth. as the November days rolled by, i read it over & over. each time feeling more grateful than the last. read. savor. enjoy!

Presence
after George Oppen
by Philip Booth

That we are here: that we can question who
we are, where; that we relate to how deer

once small have grown bold in our back garden;
that we can ask, ask even ourselves, how

to the other we may appear, here in the always near place
we seem to ourselves to inhabit, who sleep toward

and wake from steeped hills, the sea opening into our eyes
the infinite possibility of infinity

we believe we're neither beyond nor shy of,
here as we are, without doubt, amid then, there,

and now, falling through dark into light, and back,
against which we cannot defend, wish as we might, as we do,

Still, the physicist said, the mystery is
that we are here, here at all, still bearing with,

and borne by, all we try to make sense of:
this evening two does and a fawn who browse

the head lettuce we once thought was ours.
But no. As we chase them off mildly, and make

and odd salad of what they left us, the old stars
come casually out, and we see near and far we own nothing:

it's us belong to all else; who, given this day,
are touched by, and touch, our tenderest knowing,

our lives incalculably dear as we feel for each other,
our skin no more or less thin than that of redwing,

rainbow, star-nose, or whitethroat, enfolded like us
in the valleys and waves of this irrefutable planet.

I would love to know your thoughts on Booth's poem! Please leave comments below!

Want to read another poem I love? Click here.

Image.

Northeast Adventure's Bits and Pieces Part 4

The Final Post.

There are no happier people on this planet than those who decide that they want something, define what they want, get hold of the feeling of it even before its manifestation and then joyously watch the unfolding as, piece by piece by piece, it begins to unfold. That's the feeling of your hands in the clay. 

- Abraham Hicks

I want to travel. 

I want to see the world;

its diverse landscapes and people.

I want to taste unknown fruit

and hear sounds for which I have no words. 

I want my nostrils to know confusion 

and eyes to stare in wonderment and awe.

I want faraway sands to filter

through my fingers

-- upon arrival home

find it swishing around in my shoe.

I want to witness the sunset 

at a thousand angles, 

slowly watching the night stars fill the sky 

with brightness. 

I want to listen to the rain make peculiar noises 

under an unfamiliar roof.

I want to travel

I want to see the world.

As an adult, I have found deciding what I want is not a simple task. 
For me it ceases to be simple because there is so much I want and yearn for. I only have so much time in a day. I only have so much money to spend. Understanding these facts, despite my best efforts to ignore them at times, I know decisions must be made. I know I must move certain interests aside, allowing others to take center stage and come to fruition.


One of those decisions I've made is to travel. A choice that involves scrimping and saving for such experiences. Forgoing luxuries of a car, new clothes, or even a fun night out with friends. And sometimes that is hard. But I know something harder. Not buying the plane ticket. Not climbing the mountain. Not visiting faraway friends. Not eating my first lobster roll. Not flipping the truth I've known on its head. Not seeing how others live out their day-to-day lives. That would be much harder for me.


So onward I continue.


Below are the last remaining highlights of my Northeast Adventures. 
If you missed my Northeast Adventures Bits and Pieces Part 1 click here , Part 2 click here, Part 3A click here, Part 3B click here, Part 3C click here.


And be sure to visit Underlined and Bold tomorrow as I reveal my next travel destination! 


Happy Wednesday Everyone!!


Light and love,
Abigail 


Local. Local. Local.
Unique small local businesses are on every corner of Portland, Maine. Placed prominently in front window displays are "buy local" signs. Guides books to "Keep Portland Independent" are easily located throughout the city. As American landscapes are taken over more and more by big corporations, Portland shows a strong stance against that norm.

I LOVE THIS!

Click here to see the work of a talented local artist.

Yoga is for everyone.

Yoga is an integral part of my life. A source of spiritual guidance. A light where darkness lingers mentally and physically. I believe it can serve as such in anyone's life.

My goal: to visit at least one yoga studio everywhere I travel.

In Boston I had a delightful experience with Back Bay Yoga Studio.

In Portland, I attended a one hour "Mixed Flow" class with Shannon at Lila East End Yoga. Shannon is a hands on teacher with strong cuing. Her presence is light and fun, making me feel right at home among her regular students. After class we spent an hour chatting about yoga, and her journey to becoming a yoga teacher. She truly has an amazing spirit! If you are in the area, drop into one of Shannon's classes and tell her I say "hi".

Shannon!

Camping with a porcupine.

As day slipped into night, a porcupine decided to join Betsy and I at our campsite on Hermit Island. Running around our tent with baby in tow, it eventually decided to sit on the branch directly above our tent. She kindly reminded us of her presence by pooping and dropping tree bark all night.

Embarrassing Fun Fact:  As Betsy and I hid in the car, I called my boyfriend Chris to ensure we were not going to be viciously attacked by a porcupine. He informed us, to our relief, that porcupines are docile creatures.

Bathroom Wisdom.

Henry Ford and I shared a meeting of the minds while I tinkled in the Hilltop Coffee Shop bathroom. 

Strengthening Friendships.

There is something truly magical about visiting friends who no longer live near. Details of their new locale may penetrate your imagination via phone, e-mail and/or Facebook. But there is nothing like seeing where they walk, where they sleep, and with whom they find companionship with in person.

I have had this experience repeatedly in my life.

 I feel immensely blessed.

Northeast Adventure's Bits and Pieces Part 3A

Travel is an avenue I've chosen. it shakes me loose of routines. cleanses my mind of assumptions. makes room for child-like awe of a world bursting with treasures. 

Travel is an avenue I've chosen. illuminated by poets, painters, and the printing press.

the human story of foreign geography. unveiled like the sun after mid-afternoon thunderstorms.

Amazing artists, journalists, and poets brought depth to my understanding of Maine's geography and people. One poem I fell in love with is featured below.

Inland

written by Edna Vincent Millay

born in Rockland, Maine (1892 -1950)

People that build their houses inland,

   People that buy a plot of ground
Shaped like a house, and build a house there,
   Far from the sea-board, far from the sound

Of water sucking the hollow ledges,
   Tons of water striking the shore,—
What do they long for, as I long for
   One salt smell of the sea once more?

People the waves have not awakened,
   Spanking the boats at the harbour's head,
What do they long for, as I long for,—
   Starting up in my inland bed,

Beating the narrow walls, and finding
   Neither a window nor a door,
Screaming to God for death by drowning,—

   One salt taste of the sea once more? 

If you missed my Northeast Adventures Bits and Pieces Part 1 click here or Part 2 click here.

Otherwise, check back in a few days for Part 3B.  

More reflections upon art and nature in Maine to come!

Day 27: Chicago Summer Solstice Countdown

I recently discovered the deliciousness of watermelon (especially on a hot day).
May all our summer's be filled with this tasty juicy refreshing treat!

Watermelons

by: Charles Simic

Green Buddhas

On the fruit stand.

We eat the smile

And spit out the teeth.

Day 22: Chicago Summer Solstice Countdown

I would be most content if my children grew up to be the kind of people who think decorating consists mostly of building enough bookshelves.

-Anna Quindlen 

"Enough Book Shelves," New York Times, 7 August 1991

As a young child, one element of summer I can remember being as prominent and important as swimming, soaking up rays of sunshine and grilling outiside was reading. I remember my mother always taking my brother and I routinely to the library where we participated in the summer reading program. The program required us to read a certain quantity of books from a variety of genres in order to win stamps on board games (aka, a kid friendly book log). The stamps would later lead to stickers and other treasured knick knacks qualifying as prizes in the eyes of children.

Despite the level of sophistication of the program or its prizes, I always deeply enjoyed this annual event. An event that encouraged me to get lost among the book shelves for hours, as I reveled in the possibilities of new naratives and characters that would captivate me for the next week or two.

As I grew older, my district school sent out summer reading lists. When I first started receiving these lists, recommendations were common and requirements were few.  But as I grew in maturity and grade level the freedom to choose was squashed. A one to two page letter fraught with a small list of required titles and book report guidelines would be mailed to my home. I never viewed these lists negatively. They were merely another fact of my sheltered suburban American life, like breathing air, eating dinner and riding in my mother's mini van.

As I reflect upon childhood library adventures and carefully constructed book reports, I am overwhelmed with gratitude. I am grateful to have a mother who cared about her children's education and had the time to take us on weekly library trips. I am grateful for all the enthusiastic children's librarians who put together the programs and met me each week with smiles as they looked over my board games with approval. I am grateful to have lived in a place during a time in history where I could have easy access to a building full of great books free of charge.

In the novel I most recently finished, The Help, the setting is Jackson, Mississippi. The time period is the 1960s. Skeeter, a twenty-three year old white girl, becomes friendly with an older black maid named Aibleen because of a weekly column she writes for the local paper. As their friendship blossoms and conversations become increasingly honest, Aibleen is forced to remind Skeeter that she does not have access to the library because of the color of her skin.

Aibleen's words, "You know colored folks ain't allowed in that library," forced me to place the book on my lap for a few moments. The thought of not having access to commonplace books and information became an increasingly disturbing thought. My mind began jumping rapidly between thoughts as I reflected upon how different life would be if it were void of diverse reading experiences.

Therefore, as I increase the number of lazy days I spend wrapped up in novels, books of poetry and essays this summer, I hope I can remember to cultivate a sense of gratitude. I hope I can remember not to take for granted the works of authors who enrich my life so deeply.

The first texts I will be reading this summer include Dandelion Wine by Ray Bradbury, Bossypants by Tina Fey and Wilderness Volume 1 --The Lost Writings of Jim Morrison (poetry). I would love to know what you're reading this summer so I can add to my list! Leave comments below!!