The new healthy drink from coffee berries... SOZOOct 31, 2009
Oct 30, 2009
SMOKE SIGNALS
I was driving today, noticed these clouds in the horizon..thought about those Native American Smoke Signals I used to read in story books...
A gentle… almost magical… puff of smoke rises up toward the clouds and heavens, floating, suspended in space, lifting then gradually disappearing, being consumed by the earth surrounding it and the breath of the wind that carries it (Grandmother Selma).
Oct 27, 2009
Oct 25, 2009
Oct 24, 2009
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Oct 7, 2009
Sep 27, 2009
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Sep 23, 2009
LADDER
"Midlife is when you get to the top of a ladder only to realize you've had the ladder against the wrong wall."
Sep 22, 2009
Sep 20, 2009
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Sep 11, 2009
Sep 10, 2009
Sep 9, 2009
Si Tu Me Olvidas
If you forget me...
I want you to know
one thing...
You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.
Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.
If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.
If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.
But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.
Pablo Neruda
I want you to know
one thing...
You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.
Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.
If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.
If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.
But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.
Pablo Neruda
Sep 8, 2009
Sep 7, 2009
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