Are we not peculiar?
A lyrical piece.
A song that hold hands fondly with this lyrical piece, listen with the reading, or soon after.
Are we not peculiar?
A pure oddity?
My lungs, full of clean cloudless air, when I’m lighting candles alone.
You, shimmering to life in the presence of company & rowdy conversation.
When I make it across the border line and see the mountain-scape, my entire body melts into home before I even reach the steps that are aisle to our front floor.
Are we not strange
curly
spectacular things—
longing only to be known
to have our heart sung back to us
when we might forget.
Recently I laughed with a friend because we shared how we were both offended by bad ambience, and it’s true, you won’t see a single damn light on in my home—only lamps and candles. I have chosen to let these kinds of things be the only offences of my heart, for life is too short to let my offences belong to people.
My lover and I—
we’ve been talking a lot lately,
talking about having ourselves some non-negotiables—
and whilst beholding them,
adding some contours & light,
water & salt,
and then living as best as we can—in the flowers.
Hopelessness will not have its last word on us.
Sometimes I simply indulge in all the feelings I have about you. Some days it’s the most hopeful thing I can do.
The other day I watched our daughters play for hours with an old lace tablecloth, I watched it became many things…
A picnic…
A dress…
a magic curtain hanging from their bedroom door,
a walkway into their own believed possibilities…
I could have easily poured this display into a bottle labeled ‘the meaning of life”.
And I love all the thinking we’ve been doing lately…
Spilling my own beans and thinking about our daughters and home and the mountains and how good the boring can be.
We have learnt that every mountaintop revelation requires a long, steep walk. A walk where summits are invitations for glorious reflections and brave shouts of testimony—honouring all that has been.
It is of importance to stop,
drink,
and make an occasion of it,
with our words, our stories, the clinking of vessels, and songs.
Breathing in the clean loving air, and exhaling—large and long,
whilst letting the light and creativity burn in our hands—
For we must not camp for too long,
but with eyes looking ahead, from the very mountaintop on which we stand is the valley floor alluding to the next capstone.
Lately I have been owning my own nature by collecting words and putting them insatiably in my pockets…
I’m writing about home…
I am writing about you…
I am writing every single day…
and while i’m looking or not looking for the words, it’s often true that the most articulate ones that are most honest to the feelings (not the narratives of them) don’t often come cheap or easy, nor without quiet treks through shadowed terrain; they are usually found in the residue of midnight tears, the longer showers and morning mulls over remedial caffeine
and so when the first light chooses me
I rise gently—
and with the sun
and her yellow & open hands
I receive my invitation to another day—
holding it
and before I hurry on in,
I ask
what of it,
is mine…
and what is not?
Are we not peculiar?
A pure oddity?
My lungs, full of clean cloudless air, when I’m lighting candles alone.
You, shimmering to life in the presence of company & rowdy conversation.
Are we not strange
curly
spectacular things—
longing only to be known
to have our heart sung back to us
when we might forget.
I have to wonder
if I no longer feel soft about things…
Where am I?
and where did I go?
Please sing what’s forgotten—back to me,
if this ever becomes so…
Some beautiful Recommendations…
Two pieces I have read and been moved by of late.
Prompts for Maintaining the Mystique by
I thought I was writing to my daughter by
Something that intrigued me.
Something I have signed up for recently (see upcoming classes)
Something I listened to that caused expansion in thinking
and Something that was honest
"I am earning more money than I expected to, and I feel emotional about it." by
with guest writer (who I adore)Something that brought cause to reflection
Something fun to engage with on
An invitation for you…
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Also, it feels to share something I wrote recently. A piece that gives the back story and deeper context to ‘Catching Shower Flowers’ as a beholder of my art and writing and why I find myself here.
I'm a full time paid writer now...
Sometimes we are given the opportunity to make a brave choice. A choice to surrender the things that have been great, in exchange for greater. It's here a soulful, lively, boom-boom, heart-out-of-chest, tears-on-cheeks,"I'm alive" kind of passion lives. It lives just around the corner from surrenders bend.
Thank you for sowing into my art over the past 8 months here on ‘Catching Shower Flowers’.
Gratitude from me and my nervous system,
Love Tess xo
xo
This is so lovely, Tess. Thank you for adding to the sum of beauty and wonder in the world.
Darling heart .. you speak to mine always. Relate to how good the boring can be and the bad ambience. Candles and making magic out of the ordinary. I'm right there with you 🫶🏼🫶🏼