“stop valuing receiving over giving” by Julia at her desk

Saturday August 17, 2019
1:05pm
5 minutes
Lectures
Musonius Rufus

OK I give you my whole heart and expect nothing in return
even if now I am without a whole heart and don’t I need
one of those?

I remember E.R saying that as soon as she gets any money
she gives it away because holding it means she doesn’t
believe she will ever have any more and giving it away
when she has it makes sense because it was never hers to
begin with. Not fully. It belongs, she says, to the whole
world.

So do I give my whole heart to the whole world in exchange
for nothing and hope believe that what I need will come to me?                                                                                                                            As if we might all give our whole hearts to the whole world and                                                                                                                       then take a tiny piece from every heart out there floating until                                                                                                                              they fill the empty space in our souls, the one where our own                                                                                                                        hearts used to live?

In the act of giving I am making space to receive and in the act
of receiving, I am giving someone else the gift of their giving.

I do not give all my money away but I do not know if that is the
most useful thing I can give right now. The most useful thing
I can give right now is my whole heart. If we are all out there
grasping at bits, then I must give my whole heart freely so there
are more pieces out there to hold.

“Self-Portrait Image Dip” by Julia at her desk


August 13, 2019
9:08am
5 minutes
Self-Portrait
Lynne De Spain

Call me airhead, full of clouds, ideas, floating
The hummingbird visited me again this morning while

I laid on the patio with my book open to the sky and
she stayed, she stayed, she floated there with precision

And I let my swirled brain meet her in the suspension
call me airhead, cloud reader, dreamer

There is no feeder here, but sweet, sweet, she finds
me with my heart pumping like a flower blooming

I can stay here for years but I don’t and that is
fleshy leg, carrot stick bottom half, sturdy

I can dream minutes into moments and don’t you know
what kind of nectar that brings? Patience, potency

I rest my spotted soul on the ledge and teeter there
back and forth, do I fly or land, fly or land, fly

And what kind of ceremony do you bend a knee for?
Proofs and pouches spilling over, raining coins

Yes we can all bundle the bounty against the wish
for something off in the distance, but why, why, why

“Happy Monday Lovers” by Sasha at her desk

Monday July 30, 2018
10:55pm
5 minutes
from @a_belovedgreen on Instagram

I bobbed in the water at Indian Arm
let my hair turn to seaweed
let me toes touch tadpoles
kissing the salt
kissing the sun
kissing you
oh the sweetness
of the dead man’s float

remember
remember
remember

Happy Monday from
the cove of the free
and the spot of the brave
uncomfortable conversations
trying to explain
land acknowledgements
these nations whispering
through our feet

remember remember
remember

I bob in the water at Indian Arm
drove her stretching elbow
swam under the freckle at
her wrist

“connected by canals” by Sasha at the casita

Thursday October 19, 2017
10:14pm
5 minutes
from the Scuba Diving Pamphlet

We float down the canal in the jungle
Sitting on life jackets
Letting the current take us where she wants
Our guide
Oscar
Reminds me of the cousin of my first love
Soft features
Quick wit
He tells us about the root systems of the mangroves
How the roots can grow both up and down

Mine too

I drag my feet along the rocks
And think about how this flow is
What we’re after
Everyday

Mine too

We see birds with red wings
And blue wings
Singing songs we’ve never heard
But are familiar somewhere
Deep

The Mayans covered their buildings
In another layer
Every fifty two years
Prayed to the Sun every evening
Prayed that he’d rise again tomorrow

It goes down easy
Rises easy

“it was a god that acted through me.” By Julia at her desk


Sunday August 27, 2017
12:02pm
5 minutes
Disgrace
J.M. Coetzee


I found a home on a shape shifting cloud
hung up my dreams
put away my human skin
You could say that this one is mine now
here all the time
even the angels know my name
When I look down I can see it all
The places I used to burrow into my own flesh
trying to find a tunnel to an alternate reality
the shops I stole from
Candy, jackets, a single tampon
the secret leafy groves where I asked for forgiveness

And without warning I was shooting upward
my body buoyed by the possibility of knowing something sweet

“where the water is still” by Sasha at the kitchen counter


Thursday July 7, 2016
11:39pm
5 minutes
Cranes and Egrets
Marlene Cookshaw


“When you swim far out, way out past the break, past where the waves are tall as houses, the water is still…” Granny eats a piece of honeydew, the juice dripping down her chin. She wipes it with the back of her hand. “You have to be very brave to swim out that far, you have to be bigger than you are… Fifteen or sixteen. It takes strength of mind an’ body, you see, an’ something else, too…” At this time of night her accent gets thick. “You need the determination, the power that comes along with really believing in yourself.” She swats at a mosquito. “I used to spend hours and hours out there, in the still water, thinking up what might happen. I’m more of a future person than a past person. Past people, they’re more apt to get all depressive. Future people? Like me? Anxiety… But on the still water, floating on my back an’ my front an’ treading water – just calm.”

“SOARING” by Julia on the subway going north


Monday December 9, 2013
9:44pm
5 minutes
from a Ryerson University subway ad

high above the pain and the suffering I left behind, you can see me there, painting the clouds with my smile and my open heart.
nice and red. and soft too, so it’s easy to look at. easy to take in. each one puffs by me, new now from my artwork. the tears up here are bright blue, almost turquoise. it’s nice when the salt mixes with the sweet cotton candiness of it all. i am flying now. i have been here before. my mind is clear like blowing air through a straw and making the objects on the other side move, even just a little. the forecast is not unbearable, or terrifying. it’s calm and predictable but impulsive without being too harsh. i’ve learned to love my new place in the sky. it feels far away from everything i knew, but no one speaks my language and i never need them to. the money, the time, the regrets all seem to float away. they don’t want to get in the way of my flight. they don’t want to hinder my soul from creeping up from its safe place and being exposed right there in front of me. i let out my expectations slowly from the hem of my skirt, and i do this until the string is fine and coiled around itself. below i see, i left it all there for another moment in time.