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Happy Fatherโ€™s Day

Happy Fatherโ€™s Day to the countless dads, teachers, mentors, coaches, health care workers and caregivers who offer their love, attention, guidance and expertise to children everywhere. Today is your day and we thank you!

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Summer Solstice

Summer, a magical time when the shadows are short and the days are long. A time to abandon shoes and run through lush grasses like a child. Stop to pick wild flowers along the way to nowhere. Run in circles and roam aimlessly beneath blue skies, releasing worries to the wind. Get lost. Find your way. Get lost again. Let the day take you where it will.

Go deep within the Milky Way at night. Dream until the sun comes up. Rise at will and do it all over again.

But thy eternal summer shall not fade.

โ€”William Shakespeare

Happy summer, everyone!

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You’re Not Alone

๐˜“๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฆ๐˜ญ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด๐˜ด ๐˜ข๐˜ฅ๐˜ฅ๐˜ด ๐˜ฃ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ถ๐˜ต๐˜บ ๐˜ต๐˜ฐ ๐˜ญ๐˜ช๐˜ง๐˜ฆ. ๐˜๐˜ต ๐˜ฑ๐˜ถ๐˜ต๐˜ด ๐˜ข ๐˜ด๐˜ฑ๐˜ฆ๐˜ค๐˜ช๐˜ข๐˜ญ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ถ๐˜ณ๐˜ฏ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ ๐˜ด๐˜ถ๐˜ฏ๐˜ด๐˜ฆ๐˜ต๐˜ด ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ฎ๐˜ข๐˜ฌ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด ๐˜ฏ๐˜ช๐˜จ๐˜ฉ๐˜ต ๐˜ข๐˜ช๐˜ณ ๐˜ด๐˜ฎ๐˜ฆ๐˜ญ๐˜ญ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ฆ๐˜ต๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ.
โ€”๐˜๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ณ๐˜บ ๐˜™๐˜ฐ๐˜ญ๐˜ญ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜ด

๐‘จ๐’๐’ ๐’•๐’‰๐’† ๐’๐’๐’๐’†๐’๐’š ๐’‘๐’†๐’๐’‘๐’๐’†
๐‘พ๐’‰๐’†๐’“๐’† ๐’…๐’ ๐’•๐’‰๐’†๐’š ๐’‚๐’๐’ ๐’„๐’๐’Ž๐’† ๐’‡๐’“๐’๐’Ž?
๐‘จ๐’๐’ ๐’•๐’‰๐’† ๐’๐’๐’๐’†๐’๐’š ๐’‘๐’†๐’๐’‘๐’๐’†
๐‘พ๐’‰๐’†๐’“๐’† ๐’…๐’ ๐’•๐’‰๐’†๐’š ๐’‚๐’๐’ ๐’ƒ๐’†๐’๐’๐’๐’ˆ?
โ€”๐‘ป๐’‰๐’† ๐‘ฉ๐’†๐’‚๐’•๐’๐’†๐’”

๐•€ ๐•จ๐• ๐•Ÿ’๐•ฅ ๐•ฅ๐•–๐•๐• ๐•ช๐• ๐•ฆ ๐•€’๐•ž ๐•๐• ๐•Ÿ๐•–๐•๐•ช
‘โ„‚๐•’๐•ฆ๐•ค๐•– ๐•š๐•ฅ ๐•ž๐•š๐•˜๐•™๐•ฅ ๐•“๐•– ๐•ค๐•–๐•๐•—๐•š๐•ค๐•™
๐•€ ๐•จ๐• ๐•Ÿ’๐•ฅ ๐•’๐•ค๐•œ ๐•ช๐• ๐•ฆ ๐•ฅ๐•  ๐•™๐• ๐•๐•• ๐•ž๐•–
‘โ„‚๐•’๐•ฆ๐•ค๐•– ๐•ฅ๐•™๐•’๐•ฅ ๐•จ๐• ๐•Ÿ’๐•ฅ ๐•ž๐•–๐•Ÿ๐•• ๐•จ๐•™๐•’๐•ฅ’๐•ค ๐•™๐•–๐•๐•ก๐•๐•–๐•ค๐•ค
โ€”๐”ธ๐•๐•–๐•ค๐•ค๐•š๐•’ โ„‚๐•’๐•ฃ๐•’

๐™ป๐š˜๐š—๐šŽ๐š•๐š’๐š—๐šŽ๐šœ๐šœ ๐šŠ๐š—๐š ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐š๐šŽ๐šŽ๐š•๐š’๐š—๐š ๐š˜๐š ๐š‹๐šŽ๐š’๐š—๐š ๐šž๐š—๐š ๐šŠ๐š—๐š๐šŽ๐š ๐š’๐šœ ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐š–๐š˜๐šœ๐š ๐š๐šŽ๐š›๐š›๐š’๐š‹๐š•๐šŽ ๐š™๐š˜๐šŸ๐šŽ๐š›๐š๐šข.
โ€”๐™ผ๐š˜๐š๐š‘๐šŽ๐š› ๐šƒ๐šŽ๐š›๐šŽ๐šœ๐šŠ

๐’ฏ๐’ฝ๐‘’ ๐“‰๐“‡๐‘œ๐“Š๐’ท๐“๐‘’ ๐’พ๐“ˆ ๐“ƒ๐‘œ๐“‰ ๐“‰๐’ฝ๐’ถ๐“‰ ๐ผ ๐’ถ๐“‚ ๐“ˆ๐’พ๐“ƒ๐‘”๐“๐‘’ ๐’ถ๐“ƒ๐’น ๐“๐’พ๐“€๐‘’๐“๐“Ž ๐“‰๐‘œ ๐“ˆ๐“‰๐’ถ๐“Ž ๐“ˆ๐’พ๐“ƒ๐‘”๐“๐‘’, ๐’ท๐“Š๐“‰ ๐“‰๐’ฝ๐’ถ๐“‰ ๐ผ ๐’ถ๐“‚ ๐“๐‘œ๐“ƒ๐‘’๐“๐“Ž ๐’ถ๐“ƒ๐’น ๐“๐’พ๐“€๐‘’๐“๐“Ž ๐“‰๐‘œ ๐“ˆ๐“‰๐’ถ๐“Ž ๐“๐‘œ๐“ƒ๐‘’๐“๐“Ž.
โ€”๐’ž๐’ฝ๐’ถ๐“‡๐“๐‘œ๐“‰๐“‰๐‘’ ๐ต๐“‡๐‘œ๐“ƒ๐“‰รซ

Iแ–ด YOแ‘Œ แ—ฉแ–‡E แ—ฉแ–ดแ–‡แ—ฉIแ—ช Oแ–ด แ’ชOแ‘ŽEแ’ชIแ‘ŽEแ”•แ”•, แ—ชO แ‘ŽOT แ—ฐแ—ฉแ–‡แ–‡Y.
โ€”แ—ฉแ‘ŽTOแ‘Ž แ‘•แ•ผEKแ•ผOแฏ

๐Ÿ„ฐ๐Ÿ„ป๐Ÿ„ป ๐Ÿ„ถ๐Ÿ…๐Ÿ„ด๐Ÿ„ฐ๐Ÿ…ƒ ๐Ÿ„ฐ๐Ÿ„ฝ๐Ÿ„ณ ๐Ÿ„ฟ๐Ÿ…๐Ÿ„ด๐Ÿ„ฒ๐Ÿ„ธ๐Ÿ„พ๐Ÿ…„๐Ÿ…‚ ๐Ÿ…ƒ๐Ÿ„ท๐Ÿ„ธ๐Ÿ„ฝ๐Ÿ„ถ๐Ÿ…‚ ๐Ÿ„ฐ๐Ÿ…๐Ÿ„ด ๐Ÿ„ป๐Ÿ„พ๐Ÿ„ฝ๐Ÿ„ด๐Ÿ„ป๐Ÿ…ˆ
โ€”๐Ÿ„น๐Ÿ„พ๐Ÿ„ท๐Ÿ„ฝ ๐Ÿ…‚๐Ÿ…ƒ๐Ÿ„ด๐Ÿ„ธ๐Ÿ„ฝ๐Ÿ„ฑ๐Ÿ„ด๐Ÿ„ฒ๐Ÿ„บ

๐ฟ๐‘œ๐“ƒ๐‘’๐“๐’พ๐“ƒ๐‘’๐“ˆ๐“ˆ ๐’พ๐“ˆ ๐“‰๐’ฝ๐‘’ ๐’ฝ๐“Š๐“‚๐’ถ๐“ƒ ๐’ธ๐‘œ๐“ƒ๐’น๐’พ๐“‰๐’พ๐‘œ๐“ƒ. ๐’ž๐“Š๐“๐“‰๐’พ๐“‹๐’ถ๐“‰๐‘’ ๐’พ๐“‰. ๐’ฏ๐’ฝ๐‘’ ๐“Œ๐’ถ๐“Ž ๐’พ๐“‰ ๐“‰๐“Š๐“ƒ๐“ƒ๐‘’๐“๐“ˆ ๐’พ๐“ƒ๐“‰๐‘œ ๐“Ž๐‘œ๐“Š ๐’ถ๐“๐“๐‘œ๐“Œ๐“ˆ ๐“Ž๐‘œ๐“Š๐“‡ ๐“ˆ๐‘œ๐“Š๐“ ๐“‡๐‘œ๐‘œ๐“‚ ๐“‰๐‘œ ๐‘”๐“‡๐‘œ๐“Œ. ๐’ฉ๐‘’๐“‹๐‘’๐“‡ ๐‘’๐“๐“…๐‘’๐’ธ๐“‰ ๐“‰๐‘œ ๐‘œ๐“Š๐“‰๐‘”๐“‡๐‘œ๐“Œ ๐“๐‘œ๐“ƒ๐‘’๐“๐’พ๐“ƒ๐‘’๐“ˆ๐“ˆ. ๐’ฉ๐‘’๐“‹๐‘’๐“‡ ๐’ฝ๐‘œ๐“…๐‘’ ๐“‰๐‘œ ๐’ป๐’พ๐“ƒ๐’น ๐“…๐‘’๐‘œ๐“…๐“๐‘’ ๐“Œ๐’ฝ๐‘œ ๐“Œ๐’พ๐“๐“ ๐“Š๐“ƒ๐’น๐‘’๐“‡๐“ˆ๐“‰๐’ถ๐“ƒ๐’น ๐“Ž๐‘œ๐“Š, ๐“ˆ๐‘œ๐“‚๐‘’๐‘œ๐“ƒ๐‘’ ๐“‰๐‘œ ๐’ป๐’พ๐“๐“ ๐“‰๐’ฝ๐’ถ๐“‰ ๐“ˆ๐“…๐’ถ๐’ธ๐‘’. ๐’œ๐“ƒ ๐’พ๐“ƒ๐“‰๐‘’๐“๐“๐’พ๐‘”๐‘’๐“ƒ๐“‰, ๐“ˆ๐‘’๐“ƒ๐“ˆ๐’พ๐“‰๐’พ๐“‹๐‘’ ๐“…๐‘’๐“‡๐“ˆ๐‘œ๐“ƒ ๐’พ๐“ˆ ๐“‰๐’ฝ๐‘’ ๐‘’๐“๐’ธ๐‘’๐“…๐“‰๐’พ๐‘œ๐“ƒ, ๐“‰๐’ฝ๐‘’ ๐“‹๐‘’๐“‡๐“Ž ๐‘”๐“‡๐‘’๐’ถ๐“‰ ๐‘’๐“๐’ธ๐‘’๐“…๐“‰๐’พ๐‘œ๐“ƒ. ๐ผ๐’ป ๐“Ž๐‘œ๐“Š ๐‘’๐“๐“…๐‘’๐’ธ๐“‰ ๐“‰๐‘œ ๐’ป๐’พ๐“ƒ๐’น ๐“…๐‘’๐‘œ๐“…๐“๐‘’ ๐“Œ๐’ฝ๐‘œ ๐“Œ๐’พ๐“๐“ ๐“Š๐“ƒ๐’น๐‘’๐“‡๐“ˆ๐“‰๐’ถ๐“ƒ๐’น ๐“Ž๐‘œ๐“Š, ๐“Ž๐‘œ๐“Š ๐“Œ๐’พ๐“๐“ ๐‘”๐“‡๐‘œ๐“Œ ๐“‚๐“Š๐“‡๐’น๐‘’๐“‡๐‘œ๐“Š๐“ˆ ๐“Œ๐’พ๐“‰๐’ฝ ๐’น๐’พ๐“ˆ๐’ถ๐“…๐“…๐‘œ๐’พ๐“ƒ๐“‰๐“‚๐‘’๐“ƒ๐“‰. ๐’ฏ๐’ฝ๐‘’ ๐’ท๐‘’๐“ˆ๐“‰ ๐“Ž๐‘œ๐“Š’๐“๐“ ๐‘’๐“‹๐‘’๐“‡ ๐’น๐‘œ ๐’พ๐“ˆ ๐“‰๐‘œ ๐“Š๐“ƒ๐’น๐‘’๐“‡๐“ˆ๐“‰๐’ถ๐“ƒ๐’น ๐“Ž๐‘œ๐“Š๐“‡๐“ˆ๐‘’๐“๐’ป, ๐“€๐“ƒ๐‘œ๐“Œ ๐“Œ๐’ฝ๐’ถ๐“‰ ๐’พ๐“‰ ๐’พ๐“ˆ ๐“‰๐’ฝ๐’ถ๐“‰ ๐“Ž๐‘œ๐“Š ๐“Œ๐’ถ๐“ƒ๐“‰, ๐’ถ๐“ƒ๐’น ๐“ƒ๐‘œ๐“‰ ๐“๐‘’๐“‰ ๐“‰๐’ฝ๐‘’ ๐’ธ๐’ถ๐“‰๐“‰๐“๐‘’ ๐“ˆ๐“‰๐’ถ๐“ƒ๐’น ๐’พ๐“ƒ ๐“Ž๐‘œ๐“Š๐“‡ ๐“Œ๐’ถ๐“Ž.
โ€”๐’ฅ๐’ถ๐“ƒ๐‘’๐“‰ ๐น๐’พ๐“‰๐’ธ๐’ฝ

๐™ธโ€™๐š– ๐š‘๐šŽ๐š›๐šŽ. ๐™ธ ๐š•๐š˜๐šŸ๐šŽ ๐šข๐š˜๐šž. ๐™ธ ๐š๐š˜๐š—โ€™๐š ๐šŒ๐šŠ๐š›๐šŽ ๐š’๐š ๐šข๐š˜๐šž ๐š—๐šŽ๐šŽ๐š ๐š๐š˜ ๐šœ๐š๐šŠ๐šข ๐šž๐š™ ๐šŒ๐š›๐šข๐š’๐š—๐š ๐šŠ๐š•๐š• ๐š—๐š’๐š๐š‘๐š ๐š•๐š˜๐š—๐š, ๐™ธ ๐š ๐š’๐š•๐š• ๐šœ๐š๐šŠ๐šข ๐š ๐š’๐š๐š‘ ๐šข๐š˜๐šž. ๐™ธ๐š ๐šข๐š˜๐šž ๐š—๐šŽ๐šŽ๐š ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐š–๐šŽ๐š๐š’๐šŒ๐šŠ๐š๐š’๐š˜๐š— ๐šŠ๐š๐šŠ๐š’๐š—, ๐š๐š˜ ๐šŠ๐š‘๐šŽ๐šŠ๐š ๐šŠ๐š—๐š ๐š๐šŠ๐š”๐šŽ ๐š’๐šโ€”๐™ธ ๐š ๐š’๐š•๐š• ๐š•๐š˜๐šŸ๐šŽ ๐šข๐š˜๐šž ๐š๐š‘๐š›๐š˜๐šž๐š๐š‘ ๐š๐š‘๐šŠ๐š, ๐šŠ๐šœ ๐š ๐šŽ๐š•๐š•. ๐™ธ๐š ๐šข๐š˜๐šž ๐š๐š˜๐š—โ€™๐š ๐š—๐šŽ๐šŽ๐š ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐š–๐šŽ๐š๐š’๐šŒ๐šŠ๐š๐š’๐š˜๐š—, ๐™ธ ๐š ๐š’๐š•๐š• ๐š•๐š˜๐šŸ๐šŽ ๐šข๐š˜๐šž, ๐š๐š˜๐š˜. ๐šƒ๐š‘๐šŽ๐š›๐šŽโ€™๐šœ ๐š—๐š˜๐š๐š‘๐š’๐š—๐š ๐šข๐š˜๐šž ๐šŒ๐šŠ๐š— ๐šŽ๐šŸ๐šŽ๐š› ๐š๐š˜ ๐š๐š˜ ๐š•๐š˜๐šœ๐šŽ ๐š–๐šข ๐š•๐š˜๐šŸ๐šŽ. ๐™ธ ๐š ๐š’๐š•๐š• ๐š™๐š›๐š˜๐š๐šŽ๐šŒ๐š ๐šข๐š˜๐šž ๐šž๐š—๐š๐š’๐š• ๐šข๐š˜๐šž ๐š๐š’๐šŽ, ๐šŠ๐š—๐š ๐šŠ๐š๐š๐šŽ๐š› ๐šข๐š˜๐šž๐š› ๐š๐šŽ๐šŠ๐š๐š‘ ๐™ธ ๐š ๐š’๐š•๐š• ๐šœ๐š๐š’๐š•๐š• ๐š™๐š›๐š˜๐š๐šŽ๐šŒ๐š ๐šข๐š˜๐šž. ๐™ธ ๐šŠ๐š– ๐šœ๐š๐š›๐š˜๐š—๐š๐šŽ๐š› ๐š๐š‘๐šŠ๐š— ๐™ณ๐šŽ๐š™๐š›๐šŽ๐šœ๐šœ๐š’๐š˜๐š— ๐šŠ๐š—๐š ๐™ธ ๐šŠ๐š– ๐š‹๐š›๐šŠ๐šŸ๐šŽ๐š› ๐š๐š‘๐šŠ๐š— ๐™ป๐š˜๐š—๐šŽ๐š•๐š’๐š—๐šŽ๐šœ๐šœ ๐šŠ๐š—๐š ๐š—๐š˜๐š๐š‘๐š’๐š—๐š ๐š ๐š’๐š•๐š• ๐šŽ๐šŸ๐šŽ๐š› ๐šŽ๐šก๐š‘๐šŠ๐šž๐šœ๐š ๐š–๐šŽ.
โ€”๐™ด๐š•๐š’๐šฃ๐šŠ๐š‹๐šŽ๐š๐š‘ ๐™ถ๐š’๐š•๐š‹๐šŽ๐š›๐š

Feeling lonely? You’re not alone. We’re listening. We understand. We’re here for you and we’re sending love and compassion your way. Look for it. Feel it. Embrace it. Share it.

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All Poems

The Doldrums

There are lovers who are lonely,
beds full of dreamless bodies that toss and turn
on each other,
crying themselves into darkness,
darkness taking over the moonlight,
the sunlight falling way to rain.

Their thoughts are dappled with ambivalence,
bleeding hearts rimmed with emptiness,
spilling everything that was
into the nothingness of now,
for they gave and lost themselves,
and lost and gave and lost again.

No longer shining like the sea
nor raging like rivers,
they drift into the doldrums,
the place where half souls dwell
without their mates,
existing as ghosts in the flesh.

Longing for the movement of bodies
of water,
longing for completion
of souls,
longing to go back, longing to take back,
longing, longing, longing to hear the wind whisper
I’ve got you and I’ll carry you home.

Categories
Love Letters Nature

Said the Lady to the Man

When Nature gives a gorgeous rose,
Or yields the simplest fern,
She writes this motto on the leavesโ€”
To whom it may concern!”
And so it is the poet comes
And revels in her bowers,
And, though another hold the land,
Is owner of the flowers.

John Godfrey Saxe

To whom it may concern, and darling, this concerns you. Today I write of the Athyrium filix-femina, better known as the lady fern. Hers is a quiet beauty. Unlike a rose, she does not dazzle with showy and sweet smelling blossoms, nor does she need to. She’s been around for 60 million years โ€” she knows what she’s doing. Her hardiness defies her fragile looks and delicate nature. Give her a damp, shady environment and she will grow in abundance. The lady fern is native to northern regions of North America, Europe and Asia. This lovely lady is well travelled.

It’s easy to see the beauty in a gorgeous rose. The everyday beauty you bring into my life allows me to see beyond the obvious. More and more, I am drawn to the simplest fern. Everywhere I look is a memory of you, of us, and a dream of our future. So let’s settle in and embrace what is simple and enduring. When we find the grace and elegance in everyday life, we are bound to thrive.

Categories
Love Letters

DESTiNATiON

Hi there, handsome. I’ve been thumbing through my shoebox full of love letters, admiring your sentiments and penmanship. Your strong and orderly handwriting has a unique flair. Your lowercase i’s are playful and flirty amidst your capitals, and you often write in purple ink. I love opening the mail to find a good old-fashioned love letter from you. The last one you wrote brought tears of joy to my eyes:

MY LOVEโ€”
KAHLiL GiBRAN WROTE:
“OUR SELF iS CONSTANTLY ON A PiLGRiMAGE TO THE HOLY CiTY.” iF HE WERE HERE TODAY WITH THE SAME PROPHETiC iNSiGHT, HE WOULD SEE MY ‘SELF’ iS CONSTANTLY ON A PiLGRiMAGE TO ‘YOU.’ I WiLL NOT REST UNTiL I REACH MY DESTiNATiON.

It’s been tough being separated during a pandemic. It really puts things in perspective. But guess what? I came across an adorable little house today. What do you think, my love, could this be OUR DESTiNATiON?

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All

Daydreaming

Dreams are illustrations โ€ฆ from the book your soul is writing about you.

Marsha Norman

Pulitzer Prize winner Marsha Norman is a playwright, screenwriter and novelist. She is the co-director of the Lila Acheson Wallace American Playwrights Program at Juilliard. Needless to say, her expertise and accomplishments are extensive. In an adaptation of Frances Hodgson Burnettโ€™s novel The Secret Garden, Norman wrote the book and lyrics for the Broadway musical, an intricate part in bringing The Secret Garden alive on stage. She also wrote the libretto for the musical adaptation of the film The Bridges of Madison County, one of my personal favorites.

I love what Norman says about dreams being the illusions from the book your soul is writing about you. My soul is writing about its mateโ€” you, my love, my soul is writing about you. When I am in my garden, hands digging in the soil of the earth, my head is in the clouds daydreaming of you. Daydreams are a means to be with you until the day comes when my dreams come true. They will, itโ€™s only a matter of time. Every bridge I cross is a step closer to the illusions of my soul.

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All

Spring Fever

A day mixed with April showers, warming rays and your sweet kiss marks the rebirth of spring. Take my hand and follow me through all the seasons of life.

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All

PLAYING THE ODDS

In reply to IN THE AIR

I know why you associate Phil Collinsโ€™ song โ€œIn the Air Tonightโ€ with Miami Vice. The song played during the showโ€™s pilot episode on September 16, 1984. It was an iconic moment in television history, combining cinematography and imagery with music to cater to an โ€œI want my MTVโ€ craze. In a jet-black Ferrari, detective duo Crockett and Tubbs sped soberly through dark city streets while the song played on, building tension and posing relationship questions like โ€œWas it real?โ€

(The answer is yes.)

During the fourth season we again heard โ€œIn the Air Tonightโ€ during a scene that led up to Sonny Crockett being shot and critically wounded. Detective Crockett was a man of few words who enforced the law while living by his own set of rules. His fashion sense was always cool, complementing his laid-back attitude, but he was prone to fits of anger and bouts of depression. Beneath it all, he had a tender heart. Fans loved rooting for him, flaws and all.

We are all flawed, but some of us (like me) are flawed with extremes. We love with all that we are, with every ounce of our being. Our presence is often calming and uplifting. Full of passion, we can be intoxicating. If our perceptions become tainted or skewed, that loving energy can convert into vitriol and drowning depression. Weโ€™re stable until we fall, and when we fall, we donโ€™t always go down alone.

So when you hear Collins sing, Iโ€™ve seen your face before, my friend, but I donโ€™t know if you know who I am and wonder how well any of us really know the other, I have an answer for you. The talented Mr. Collins wrote another song called โ€œAgainst All Odds.โ€ Perhaps youโ€™ll recall this line: You’re the only one who really knew me at all.

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All

Smile for Me

Mystery
(1909)
D.H. Lawrence

Ah, drink me up
That I may be
Within your cup
Like a mystery,
Like wine that is still
In Ecstasy.

On this spring day I am lost in the mystery of your smile. Itโ€™s lopsided at times, higher on the right, giving you a mischievous look. Like the Cheshire Cat, itโ€™s as if you possess information that I am unaware of. Sometimes I lose sleep over this mystery and search the night for the key to your secrets, to your heart. Itโ€™s only fair. Here. I’ll give you the key to mine. I desire your smiling lips; I long for them to drink me up. Forever drunk with love for you, I want to get you drunk with love for me. Let sweet ecstasy impair us to the point of no return.

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An Inward View

“The obscure we see eventually, the completely apparent takes longer.” โ€“ Edward R. Murrow

Sometimes, when times are turbulent and the future is uncertain, it can help to adjust our perspective. Look to the right, and to the left. Catch a glimpse of the surrounding beauty. A flower outside the window. A smile on the mail carrier’s face. A budding tree. A beloved pet. A favorite book. A loved one. Perspective can help us rediscover what is right in front of us. When we zoom in on this inward place and take time to focus, we might find the best view in the house.

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All

Forbidden Places

Claire,

Our hearts, scorched from rage, were on the verge of turning to ash. The things you said. The things I said. It seemed like the pain of it all had smothered us for good. I was preparing for a life of celibacy and solitude. For who could I ever love but you?

Like an endless winter storm my days were barren. Then, like a streak of lightning, your words broke through the cold silence of our hurt and started a new fire, a brush fire that flamed and became white hot before it spread throughout my body. I am still stunned, no dazed, by what I felt the moment that fireโ€”that passionโ€”reignited. It was hotter than anything I’d ever felt, like you’d led us into a raging forest fire that cleansed and renewed our love for one another.

This morning I am more in love with you than ever. I need the kind of love only you can give, the kind of intimacy that is holy and pure and without equal. I need you to carry me to forbidden places that only you and I should go.

Yours,
Tom

In reply to The Storm.