On Having Lunch at Panera - Repost

The din resonates
Countless voices frantically
Proclaim facades and personas

Below the cascade
Simplistic souls stand
Wall flowers alone and longing

Within, a voice asks
Shall we dance?


*I wrote this one a while back after having lunch at Panera Bread.

5 Things I Want You - Bloggers to Know

If you are a blogger you should know that...

1. Your blog probably means more to me, than you know.

2. If you comment here, I will visit your blog.

3. Comments are the sustenance of my blogging existence.

4. I come to your blog for your writing, not ads.

5. If you want linkage, just ask.

Writing Prompt - Dolphin Musing

Dolphin Musing

Using a writers prompt, I penned these words and posted them elsewhere previously. May they bring you some of the peace that they brought me this day.

"Write a one-page description of what it would be like to swim with dolphins."

It seems like more than a few years ago. I stood on the bridge spanning the inlet at St. Augustine, Fl. Statuary of regal lions poised themselves as sentries guarding access, an access now in no need of guards, concrete or otherwise, a mere gateway from one tourist infested section of the town to another.

That evening, late, I stood on the crest of the low bridge and gazed blankly into the grey swirl of sea below. Small caps of sea foam occasionally formed and then faded, improbable punctuations, a writer's words quickly deleted returning the emptiness to the page. I had been unable to write for weeks. My mind blank, no, so filled with images and sensations falling over each other in chaos that no assembly of words could seem to contain my thoughts. So there the formless confusion of my mind was met by its reflection there in the dark sea.

The first one almost escaped my attention. A thin slice of light grey broke the ocean plain, a small twist of foam, and it was gone. I strained to see. I heard the song. At first I thought it was the wind carrying children's voices, softly to my ears. Then I saw them, dolphins. They swam below me, hiding just beneath the sea's veil, shadows, wisps of silver form. I leaned over the railing, dangerously far. They circled below me, entwining among themselves. There where three of them, two adults and a small one. They seemed unaware of anything but their own dance. What grace and poise they created with movements so fluid and quick; touches so gentle and tender.

I fell. Somehow my foothold failed and although I grabbed hold of the rail, my body already hung over the side and my one handed grip wasn't enough. I tumbled the few feet and into the surf. I felt the sting of the water's chill. It had barely warmed from these early spring days. Something brushed my side and I felt myself being pushed toward the surface. I lifted my head to the night air, rubbed the salt water from my eyes, and as I began to tread water, was astonished to see the smallest of the trio of dolphins floating just inches from my face. It rolled onto one side, exposing one eye to the surface and lifting a fin as if to wave. I laughed. I heard them sing again. A gentle high note that seemed to hang in the air and settle in my soul, even more, it settled my soul.

The two adults were on each side of me now, and as I shifted my weight and began floating on my back, I could feel them moving around me. Soon, there dance included me. I joined them. I swam gently, rolling my body with the shift of the currents, allowing my hands to touch them and then the sea. I closed my eyes and listened to their song and swam with them.

Perhaps it was the caress of the sea, or the magic of the moment, or maybe just the release of my daily constraints, but, my head spun in delight and I felt a drug-like euphoria rise within my being. I was at once lost in bliss and fully present with myself.

Later, they bid me farewell and I felt a bit of sadness as they vanished into the darkness of the night and the vastness of the sea. I know that I found something that night. For even now, years later, I can close my eyes, breathe in the smell of the sea, and hear their song, the song I learned the night I swam with the dolphins.

Amusing Myself - Critical Conversing

Amusing Myself

Me: You are dancing again.

Muse: Yes.

Me: Have you missed it?

Muse: The dancing?

Me: Yes, the dancing.

Muse: Yes, but I have missed other things more.

Me: Really? What?

Muse: I have missed the attentive look on your face as you treasure me.

Me: Treasure you? That is a bit assumptive of you.

Muse: Perhaps, but I see it tonight in your eyes.

Me: You annoy me sometimes with you self assurance.

Muse: I'm not so assured, so confident about most things. But, I know you.

Me: Indeed you do.

Muse: Dance with me.

Me: I already am.

Muse: Do you love me?

Me: Always.

Muse: I'm glad.

Me: So am I, eventhough it keeps me forever troubled.

Muse: Troubled?

Me: Perhaps unsettled would be a better word.

Muse: If you were not unsettled by me, you would be worthless, you know.

Me: Yes, and sometimes I get tired of the desire, the longing, the...

Muse: Amusement?

Me: You make me smile.

Muse: I make you laugh.

Me: And dance.

Muse: I dance for you.

Me: Thank you.

Muse: You make me laugh.

Me: I know. I know. Shut up and dance.

String Quartet

String Quartet

It is a mess at first
The bow strikes and glides across a single string and back again
The note wobbles for a moment
Then settles to a steady call

Joined then by the rocking and striated rhythms
Of another set of strings
And another
Then another

The tatters of sound assemble
Like clouds and squalls
Of a sea storm
Then silence before the storm

Slowly comes the rain
The thunder
The wind
Singing softly its message

We are awash in a sea
Of harmonies and melodies
Here it is useless to navigate
This storm will take us where it wills

Surrender is always
The best option
When accosted
By beauty

A Blogger's Identity Problem

I have enough trouble keeping up with my identity without Blogger making my life difficult.

Blogger announced (as I’m sure you have heard) that they are discontinuing FTP posting support. To 99.5% of those who use blogger – this is apparently not an issue. I’m one of the 0.5% that it does affect. My blog is a part of my larger website, and as such has an address that is an extension of the main domain. Website is www.kimewilliams.com. Blog is www.kimewilliams.com/blog. I use blogger to write and push my blog files, via FTP, to my web host and the /blog directory. This keeps all of my files on my host, connects them nicely to the main website (for search engine indexing) and easily reflects the connection between the larger website and my blog. I like it this way. Blogger isn't going to let me continue this after May 1, 2010.

There are several solutions but each of them creates its own problem. I could use Blogger's custom domain option, but this will result in a domain change and communicating that change to a large numbers of links, listings, etc. (It took be three months to get my blog listed at Technorati and going through that again isn't appealing). I could switch over to another FTP client (Word Press would work, I think), but then I lose some of the connectivity offered through Google (friend connect, blogger profile listing, etc.). Then there is the RSS feed change problem associated with the change...

So, frankly, I’m undecided on how to address this change. Any suggestions? Anyone? Anyone?

Writing Prompt - Spider's Web

Write for ten minutes, beginning with the following sentence: “I’d often thought I’d like to watch a spider spin his web from start to finish; now I had little choice.”

I’d often thought I’d like to watch a spider spin his web from start to finish; now I had little choice. I could feel the throbbing in my leg, and as I shifted my weight was reminded of the restraints that held me here, bound in this bed, tilted on my left side, staring out of the window. The spider had arrived a few moments ago and begun his web.

“Why me,” the thought came to me again as my mind drifted back to the events of last week.

“Kim, come here,” Erin’s voice called from the base of the old oak tree.

Erin and I were best friends. We had been since elementary school, and here we were, now in our twenties wandering the old wooded lots behind what remained of Beachwood Elementary.

“I still can’t believe they are going to tear down the school, Erin. I mean Beachwood has always been there,” I commented as I arrived beside her at the foot of the old oak tree.

“I can’t believe it is still here,” Erin remarked.

“I know. Look up there,” I pointed to the gnarled branched above our heads.

The planks of wood still spanned the distance between the branches. I remembered the many times we came running through these woods and scampered up the tree to our “fort.” There we had talked about all of life’s great topics: girls, boys, teachers, parents, and high school.

Erin put her hands on one of the short boards that still remained nailed to the tree, making a ladder up to the fort. She took hold of the board and pulled. It held. Erin looked over her shoulder at me and smiled.

“Come on,” she teased, and began scampering up the side of the tree.

“No way!,” I exclaimed and continued, “I am twice your size. We aren't kids anymore, Pixie!”

I always called her Pixie when I wanted to point out that I was about twice her size. Erin was always a small, thin girl. Today was no different, although, she had shaped up nicely over the years. It is amazing what breasts and a firm butt can do to transform a twig of a girl into a beautiful woman. She laughed from her lofty position in the branches overhead.


--ten minutes up--

In The Sand*

In the sand

Our foot prints
Hearts
Shells
Kisses
Lines left by the tide
Castles
Dog paws
Cans
Bodies
Tears
Clothes
Dreams
Names
Our Life time

In the sand


*I grew up at the beach. I spent a great deal of time day and night, wandering the shores, feeling and exploring the sands of that shore and all that could be lived and love. There isn't much I haven't done on those shores. There is a lot of life lived, left and found there...

IF, by Rudyard Kipling

I was named after the book Kim, by author Rudyard Kipling. Early in my childhood, my mother introduced me to one of his poems. It has always challenged and inspired me in life.

IF

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

-Rudyard Kipling

Quit or Endure?

So, how do you know if it’s time to quit?

I started a Novice Yoga class five weeks ago. I have made it to three classes. I missed the last two for work reasons, and this week isn’t looking too good. The truth is I don’t really want to go. Here’s my problem – I don’t know if I should quit.

I know there are times when it is “good for me” to push through resistances to activities that are good for me. I often have exercised when I didn’t feel like it. I have eaten fresh foods when I wanted less healthy options. Yoga is good for me. I feel good after each class. I can’t say that I enjoy Yoga. I don’t really look forward to going and I’m not motivated to practice between sessions or improve my postures – other than when I am actually in the class. Yet, the once weekly class can’t do anything but help me with flexibility and strength – both things I need.

Am I being a wimp? Am I fighting progress? I don’t really know. Is it time to “man-up” and go or quit?