Tag Archives: love

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Confessions of a Transplant: Heat

Heat is molecules moving very, very fast. That’s how I remember from some science class. Heat turns water into steam and the lack of heat causes snow and ice.

The universe moves, we move and we move to new towns, cities for love and/or make a living. We move our eyes across this screen to see the words. An object in motion stays in motion. Yet another thing learned in high school science and currently on some advertisement for weight loss.

Nine years ago, this week, I moved to Austin, Texas after 43 years in New England. And while I looked back, I did not turn into a pillar of salt. Little by little the best of what I had moved with me and have come to our yellow house.

Never, ever thought I would feel this way: the heat of Texas feels like home. I felt it on my skin as I walked up the jet way from a flight from Denver. It was not a pleasure trip. It was yet another adventure in parenting, love and ‘damn why didn’t I think to ask that question‘. I felt the heat and the music and the culture of Austin fill me as I returned. A friend hugged and hugged me at the baggage claim (hubby working).

I am home in Texas.

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Space Scape: A Certain Frontier.

My first video. Created for a friend who said: “I want to see your creative space!”

Maybe next time, it will be much more interesting. Who know? Right now, I know I got unstuck because the desk no longer faces the neighbor’s new house, I no longer ‘stuck’ with the what-to-dos, and I’m dibbling in the digital video genre.

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Fractal: This morning’s meditation

Life is life. (no adjective needed)

Time is always.

Love unconditional, sustains.

It has taken three years of work, of letting go, of holding on, of work with two therapists, of dropped friendships, of fear, of argument, of medications, of writing, of walking through fears, of compassion, of passions, of discovery of this self. . . and I can now meditate again. 15 minutes of not thinking.

And no I cannot sit on a cushion on the floor. I do not pray for anyone one or anything. I swat the doings of life away with my eyes closed. And breathe the scent of our old furniture, the music of cars and bird song, focus on this one small blue glass berry in my ceiling light, and forgive myself, and breathe because I can.

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Confessions of a Transplant: Fractals Found on a Date

 

Truth be told, as a couple for almost 19 years now, we have to relearn what it is to date. The fractal project of mine is one of the first times my husband has been part of my creative process. We were told about a wonderful park here in Austin where there are peacocks and peahens wandering around and wide paths for running children and side, rocky, least taken. . .there we found together fractals, or ferns. Hubby appreciated the truth and the metaphor of us, always the same, always moving and a love that just clings to rocks.