Return to India
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Posted:Feb 4, 2023 8:20 pm
Last Updated:Feb 5, 2023 5:17 pm 5100 Views
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I love you with a deeper love than any human heart has ever known. I love you with a soul that has lived a thousand lifetimes, always waiting to meet you again so i can promise to be yours forever.
Angel
The sound of your name on my lips
Brings joy to my heart
I will keep wishing for you
All of my life been close to discover
Smile of your face
No one can replace
All of my life journeys led me to you
And i feel
That i will truly know freedom
That day i first hold you
Angel
I will sing
Sweet lullabies whisper your dreams
You know I’ll always be there
When you fall, never you fear
Angel
I will love you forever
That you can be sure of
Oh and that you can be sure of
So let the moon and the stars
Always touch your face
Let the flowers and fields
Be your sacred place
Let the oceans and wind
Always carry your name
India
India, ooh, ooh
Ah, ah
Na, na, na, na, na, na, na
Na, na, na, na, na, na, na
So let the moon and the sun
Always touch your face
Let the flowers and fields be your sacred place
Let the oceans and wind
Always carry your name
India
India
Sweet baby India
India
India
Ooh, ooh
Ah, ooh
Na, na, na, na sweet baby
Na, na, na, na
Said na, na, na, sweet baby
Na, na, na, na
Oh yeah
India
Corey Hart
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Strawberries and Cigarettes
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Posted:Jan 28, 2023 10:29 pm
Last Updated:Jan 28, 2023 10:37 pm 5159 Views
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One day I looked at you, and it suddenly occurred to me how beautiful your smile was. I heard music in your laughter; I saw poetry in your words. You asked me why I had that look on my face, as though a shadow had fallen across its sun-drenched landscape, heavy with premonition, dark with revelation. The second I tried to tell myself I wasn’t in love was the moment I realized I was.
Remember when we first met?
You said “light my cigarette”
So I lied to my mom and dad
I jumped the fence and I ran
But we couldn’t go very far
‘Cause you locked your keys in your car
So you sat and stared at my lips
And I could already feel your kiss
Long nights, daydreams
Sugar and smoke rings, I’ve been a fool
But strawberries and cigarettes always taste like you
Headlights, on me
Racing to 60, I’ve been a fool
But strawberries and cigarettes always taste like
Blue eyes, black jeans
Lighters and candy, I’ve been a fool
But strawberries and cigarettes always taste like you
Remember when you taught me fate
Said it’d all be worth the wait
Like that night in the back of the cab
When your fingers walked in my hand
Next day, nothin’ on my phone
But I can still smell you on my clothes
Always hoping things would change
But we went right back to your games
Long nights, day dreams
Sugar and smoke rings, I’ve been a fool
But strawberries and cigarettes always taste like you
Headlights, on me
Racing to 60, I’ve been a fool
But strawberries and cigarettes always taste like
Blue eyes, black jeans
Lighters and candy, I’ve been a fool
But strawberries and cigarettes always taste like you
And even if I run away
Give my heart a holiday
Still strawberries and cigarettes always taste like you
You always leave me wanting more
I can’t shake my hunger for
Strawberries and cigarettes always taste like you
Yeah, they always taste like you
You
Long nights, daydreams
With that sugar and smoke rings
Always taste like you
Headlights on me (and even if I run away)
Racing to 60, I’ve been a fool (and give my heart a holiday)
Still, strawberries and cigarettes always taste like
Blue eyes, black jeans (you always leave me wanting more)
Lighters and candy, I’ve been a fool (I can’t shake my hunger for)
Strawberries and cigarettes always taste like you
Strawberries and Cigarettes
Troye Sivan
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Life Lessons
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Posted:Jan 18, 2023 11:07 am
Last Updated:Jan 19, 2023 9:44 am 4998 Views
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“Cats know how to obtain food without labor, shelter without confinement, and love without penalties.”
Walter Lionel George
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Longings
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Posted:Jan 13, 2023 6:28 pm
Last Updated:Jan 13, 2023 6:28 pm 5014 Views
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You pierce my soul
I am half agony, half hope
I have loved none but you
Tonight, a candle lights the room
Tonight, it’s only me and you
Your skin like gravity
It’s pulling every part of me
I fall, you and I collide
What if I stay forever?
What if there’s no goodbye?
Frozen for a moment here in time, yeah
If you tell me the sky is falling
Or say that the stars collide
The only thing that matters in my life
Is you and I tonight
Our eyes close, the candle burns away
But I know, the fire still remains
This love is all we need
We fit together perfectly
I fall, you and I collide
What if I stay forever?
What if there’s no goodbye?
Frozen for a moment here in time, yeah
If you tell me the sky is falling
Or say that the stars collide
The only thing that matters in my life
Is you and I tonight
I wanna see this through
I’m gonna give it all to you
Tonight, a candle lights the room
Tonight, it’s only me and you, oh
What if I stay forever?
What if there’s no goodbye?
Frozen for a moment here in time, yeah
If you tell me the sky is falling
Or say that the stars collide
The only thing that matters in my life
Is you and I tonight
Just you and I tonight
(tell me you’ll stay forever)
Just you and I tonight
You and I Tonight
Faber Drive
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All the Feels
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Posted:Dec 26, 2022 2:34 pm
Last Updated:Dec 26, 2022 2:44 pm 5089 Views
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It’s not ordinary, it’s not casual
(All the feels, you’re giving me all the feels)
No, it’s not a bullet, but you hit me, hit me with
(All the feels, you’re giving me all the feels)
Quite a love, don’t tell it to no one
A million and you’re riding the shotgun
Generous, oh baby, what a steal
‘Cause you’re giving me all the feels
That’s how I know it’s real
‘Cause you give me all the feels
You’re giving me all the feels
Oh, you make it hard to deal
When you give me all the feels
Bright Friday night
Out this world like a satellite
And it feels like, oh my
Nothing that I’m used to with you
You know when you got it
There’s no doubt about it
(All the feels, you’re giving me all the feels)
No, it’s not contagious
Baby, I’m catching, catching
(All the feels, you’re giving me all the feels)
Quite a love, don’t tell it to no one
A million and you’re riding the shotgun
Generous, oh baby, what a steal (steal)
‘Cause you’re giving me all the feels
That’s how I know it’s real
‘Cause you give me all the feels
You’re giving me all the feels
Oh, you make it hard to deal
When you give me all the feels
Bright Friday night
Out this world like a satellite
And it feels like, oh my
Nothing that I’m used to with you
I’m feeling it, I’m feeling it
Singing oh my yay
When you come my way
I’m feeling it, I’m feeling it
Singing oh my yay
When you come my way
‘Cause you’re giving my all the feels
That’s how I know it’s real
Cause you give me all the feels
You’re giving me (damn) all the feels
Oh, you make it hard to deal
When you give me all the feels
Bright Friday night
Out this world like a satellite
And it feels like, oh my
Nothing that I’m used to with you
It’s me, you, face to face
Anytime, don’t matter the place
And it feels like, oh my
Nothing that I’m used to with you
Nothing that I’m used to with you
All the Feels
Fly by Midnight
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Shooting Stars
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Posted:Dec 26, 2022 2:04 pm
Last Updated:Mar 18, 2023 3:39 pm 5039 Views
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This is a story about a wish made in the quiet of the new year. It’s also about shaking off the chill of winter, a soft towel fresh from the laundry and the deep peace of being at home with yourself.
There was just a bit of daylight left when I started getting all my things in order. It was part of the ritual in fact. There were things I did to prepare for this part of my day and they became a way to decompress in and of themselves. First I shovelled the path from the back door out onto the patio. I’d needed a hat and coat and mittens for that. It was a cold, still afternoon and when I scooped shovelfuls of snow from the path I noticed it was the powdery, dry sort that doesn’t pack together into a ball. It fell like shimmering dust from my shovel. It’s a good kind for skiing I thought. But I wasn’t skiing today. I was getting ready for a nice long sit in my sauna. That was something younger me never would have thought she would do. Before I’d bought this house I didn’t even really know what a sauna was. Maybe I’d seen them in movies - and there was the one at my gym that was perpetually closed for maintenance. In fact, I remember being taken through my house and yard by my realtor and spotting a little building tucked under the eaves and asking what on earth it was. A potting shed? A kind of clubhouse? My realtor had laughed and pushed open the door and the smell of cedar and warm air had rolled out and wrapped around me. In fact, that may have been the moment i decided I wanted this to be my home. And now, a few years later, this was part of my routine most cold days of the year.
With the path shovelled, I went inside to fix myself a big glass of water and get into my robe and towel. I took a quart sized jar from the cupboard and peeked into the fruit bowl on the counter. Citrus was in season and I had been gifted a large bag of red grapefruit at the holidays. I took one and washed its skin carefully at the sink and sliced it into thin rounds and slid them down into my jar. It didn’t change the taste but just because I liked the way it looked, I spent a couple of minutes getting the slices to stick to the inside edges of the jar so that the pretty star shape and ruby fruit showed through. I poured in fresh water and took a few sprigs of mint from the fridge to drop into the top. Then I went upstairs and took a giant fluffy towel from the linen closet. I pressed it to my nose and breathed in the scent of clean laundry.
I shed my clothes from the day and wrapped myself up in my robe, a holiday gift I’d gotten from an attentive friend who’d heard me complain about the holes in my last one. This one went all the way down to my ankles and was made with a soft waffle weave fabric. I tied the belt and stepped into my slippers and headed back downstairs. It had begun to snow again while I was getting into my robe and I stopped at the back door with my towel and water to look out. It was fully dark now. I read in the paper today that shooting stars might be visible tonight but for now the skies were crowded with low clouds. I took a deep breath and stepped through the door. I felt the cold at my throat and hurried over to the patio into the sauna.
The little hut was barrel shaped and had a small window in the door. I pushed it open and was immediately surrounded by warmth. I stepped in and left my slippers on a mat inside the door. I sighed. It was an automatic reaction. There was a hook for my robe and a broad bench where I laid my towel. Before I stretched out on it, I reached for the ladle floating in a deep pail of water and spooned some onto the hot stones that heated the room. What a lovely sound that sizzle was and the moist air felt soft as I breathed it in. Sometimes I brought a book in to read while I laid or played music through the speakers, but today I’d had enough of sounds and thinking. The most therapeutic approach for me right now was quiet and stillness. So I laid on my towel and let the heat work its way into my body. I’d had a childhood friend who’s family used a sauna almost every day. It was part of their culture and seen as a necessary component to their health and hygiene. I remembered her saying that she didn’t really feel clean until she’d had a good sweat. And now I understood her completely.
As my body warmed up, I felt myself relaxing deeper and deeper. A soft shiver ran through me as the last bit of chill let go and dissolved. I thought about the dark skies above me, about the shooting stars that might, right now, be tracing their way through the firmament. In the newspaper, I’d read that they were tiny specks of space dust, burning as they plunged through the upper atmosphere. And for a few moments, I let my mind wander at the idea of space and far off galaxies and what it might be like to live on a planet with more than one sun, with rings or a different coloured sky.
The heat and my body brought me back to earth and I sat up slowly and drank from my water. I could taste the faint hint of citrus and fresh mint and though I thought this most every trip to the sauna, I believed I’d never tasted anything as good. I tossed another ladle of water onto the stones and wrapped the towel around me, sitting on the bench and taking slow, relaxed breaths. As a little girl, I’d wished on the shooting stars and I thought a New Years wish might be better than a resolution. With my robe and slippers on, I stepped out and saw that the skies had cleared. I could see the stars and moon and suddenly the flash of a shooting star. What did I wish for the new year? I looked up and stood still in the quiet. I wished that the winter would go on and on.
Kathryn Nicolai
Nothing Much Happens
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Brilliance Passing
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Posted:Dec 26, 2022 1:34 pm
Last Updated:Dec 26, 2022 2:38 pm 4964 Views
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Death is a solitary pursuit, a concept that the living - most of us anyway - never truly grasp. Hold my hand if you’d like, otherwise, don’t impose yourself upon my passing. There will be a service later. That’s entirely for your benefit. This is my time, right here.
They say, at the closing, there’s a shining identical to the light we saw when we breached the birth canal. We leave as we were begotten, bathed in effervescence.
.. a brilliance passing.
Robert Wade Bess
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Behind the Curtain
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Posted:Dec 16, 2022 2:27 pm
Last Updated:Mar 18, 2023 3:40 pm 4833 Views
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Behind the Curtain is a story about two friends meeting for the first time. It’s also about a copper kettle simmering on the stove, a gentle approach to tip people toward kindness and cinnamon sticks and sliced apples.
I stood with my elbows on the counter and my chin in my hands looking out through the shop window as the daylight faded and the stars began to appear. On the bricks of the building opposite a vast maple vine had climbed from the street nearly to the second floor and its leaves were a bright ruby red that glowed under the street lamp. “I think I should put the kettle on,” I said aloud and heard a soft, agreeing meow from the back room behind the curtain. We were alone in the shop after a busy day. It was that time of year but I hadn’t closed up yet and I had a feeling I knew why. Someone was coming. It was about to be someone’s first visit to my shop.
I turned and parted the black curtain that hung behind the counter and stepped into my workshop. I had an old scrubbed pine table where I mixed herb preparations and tea. In fact, I had the regular weekly order for the tea shop wrapped up and ready to be delivered tomorrow. Beside the table there was a stove with a large copper kettle set on top, already full of water and just waiting to be warmed. I rubbed my hands together in front of me, building a bit of heat between my palms then turned on the gas and snapped my fingers close to the burner. A small spark jumped from my fingertips and lit the flame. I smiled to myself and adjusted the burner. I’d come a long way since that day a few Octobers past when I met my mail carrier on the front step of my house and been handed a package wrapped in paper. I remember still a feeling of awe and recognition as I peeled back the wrapping and held my grandmother’s book in my hands. How she had gotten it to me so many years after she was gone herself, I still didn’t know. But her timing had been right. I was ready for it when it came. When I thought of her, it was always with her book in her hands or propped up on a stand on the counter or set on her bedside table .. ready for her to record her dreams in when she woke. It was a family grimoire handed down through the generations. It held entries from as far back as my five times great grandmother, most of which were indecipherable to me - though I was still very glad it was there. That same day when I started to learn about who I was and how to work as others had, it wasn’t just the book that had come to me .. a small grey cat had arrived at my back door and scratched to be let in. She both couldn’t be (but definitely was) the same cat who had slept at the foot of grandmothers bed and sunned herself among the Azaleas in her garden. Grandmother had called her cat Cinder and so she was still called. She watched over me as I charted the movements of the moon and worked my first spells.
Everyone has their own gifts and mine were mostly of intuition. A sudden flash of knowing would hit me, like it had just now, sending me to put the kettle on to boil. Over the years, like training a muscle, my intuition had gotten stronger and I found I could be in the right place at the right time to help someone or tip the balance toward good. To nudge someone to check on a neighbour or set the wheels in motion for a dream to grow. I was sure most of these things would have eventually happened on their own. I thought of myself not as pulling strings but just as one clearing a path so that the obstacles blocking most peoples best instincts were lessened. A stone with a hole in it might be left at the edge of a river for the next person mud larking there. The six of cups tucked into a book and left on a shelf in a little library at just the right moment to fall into just the right hands. When Cinder brought home a little orphaned orange kitten and set her in my lap, I knew just the home for her and watched over until she was safe inside. Most people in our little village had no idea I was here, working quietly in the background to make our days just a bit softer and sweeter. And that was just how I liked it.
I stood beside the stove as the kettle got closer to singing and added a touch more water to the simmer pot beside it. I started one each day when I opened the shop and lately had drawn ingredients from the orchard, fresh cut apples and cinnamon sticks, some cloves. But today I was simmering cinquefoil, lavender and rose hips. There was a prickle at the back of my neck and I turned and peeked through the curtain into the shop. Out on the sidewalk a woman stood seemingly in a trance. The full moon was reflected in her glasses and I recognized her face. She’d come close to finding us before but had never made it all the way to the door. “Look this way” I said aloud, and in that moment someone in a hurry to cross the street bumped into her and spun her toward our sign. “Thank you” I said. I watched her taking in the sign, the door in the front window freshly stocked with candles, herbs and a hand me down but valuable scrying bowl. If my gift was intuiting and maybe a bit of prescience, I could feel that hers was for healing.
In a flash of understanding I knew hers was the house in the neighbourhood whose door was knocked on when a baby squirrel fell from its nest. She would take the box, carry it inside and nurse till the creature was ready to venture back into the branches. Scraped knees or broken hearts, elders who’d lost themselves or friends worn out by the long grey days of winter. She was the one who reached out. She would have the gift of the cool touch of mothers hands on a hot forehead, the soft voice that would ease another to relax. She did all sorts of healing and I was already eager to meet her, to pour her a cup of tea and tell her my own story to help her realize hers.
I reached up to a top shelf to bring down a few teacups and sorted through the blends to find one that would open her eyes and ears even more as we talked. Cinder wove through my ankles, excited as well at the proximity of such warm, lovely magic. We heard the door open and close and I slipped out from behind the curtain to welcome our guest.
Kathryn Nicolai
Nothing Much Happens
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Glass
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Posted:Dec 4, 2022 3:22 pm
Last Updated:Dec 5, 2022 2:52 am 4889 Views
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Hers is the kind of story about secrets in glass jars.
Of shelves holding these treasures, next to wishes cast on stars
Hers is endless forest, it is earth and fire and sky
But also 2am and smiles that don’t quite reach the eye
It’s anger and apologies in letters she won’t send
And shelves that overflow with jars still added to the end
But hers is one of change, of endless drought but flooding rain
Of shelves that once stood empty and will stand that way again
It’s a story with more pages so lets hope before the last
That hers is also of acceptance and the sounds of shattered glass
Glass
e.h.
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The Curios Shop
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Posted:Dec 4, 2022 2:51 pm
Last Updated:Mar 18, 2023 3:41 pm 4815 Views
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The Curios Shop is a story about a little shop in downtown Nothing Much that takes the right set of circumstances to be found. It’s also about creaky wood floors, an old book covered in velvet and a small cat with yellow eyes.
I’d seen the sign for the shop someday over the summer when I’d been out peddling my bike. The sign was small and wooden, hanging from an iron brace over a door I’d never noticed. And even then, I’d forgotten it as soon as I looked away. Then a week later I’d seen it again and it sparked a memory and I’d retained a bit more of it. The third time I’d ridden by, I was racing home as the sky overhead quickly turned dark and the first few sprinkles had fallen on my face and hands. Still, I’d seen the sign swinging a bit in the rising wind and this time I’d been able to read it. Painted in fading maroon letters on a dark green background was the word “CURIOS” and I’d said it a few times in my mind as I sped through the falling rain toward home.
Our downtown wasn’t large .. a few streets running north to south, a few more crossing over them, a big park with a pond and a maze of smaller alleys right in the heart of everything. In the neighbourhoods themselves, there were a few pockets here and there with a couple of buildings pushed together, housing a cafe, a corner store and maybe an office but not much more than that .. so I knew just about every block of town. How had I missed this little place? Even then, I’d seemed to have forgotten about it again. It slipped from my mind and now I’d fully intended to make a trip over to see the wares. By the time the rain had dried from my sleeves, the thought was gone. It wasn’t till today, when I’d stopped on the corner by the spice shop that all the times I’d seen it before came back and finally stuck. I’d stopped because I spotted the moon rising over the trees in the park and its pale face seemed bigger and more beautiful than I’d ever seen before. I must have been mesmerized for a few moments, lost in thinking about the moon. How distant and remote she was, yet present and known to each person in the world.
I came back to myself as someone brushed past me in a hurry to cross the street. They spun me around a bit and that’s when my eyes fell upon the sign. “Curios”, I said to myself. It was an odd sensation but it seemed like the lines of the door under the sign of the front window and its contents were coming into existence as I looked at them. I’m sure because there was so much to take in, so many details to observe. The door was solid wood, painted black but with small carvings all over it, sigals and motifs of moons and acorns and honey bees that had been meticulously shaped in the panels - and at eye height was a window which I immediately peered through. All I could make out was a hazy sort of light inside. That’s when I noticed the front window, likewise framed in carved wood, decorated here with oak leaves and paw prints and things that must be runes, inscrutable to me but pretty nonetheless.
The display was lined with jewel bright orange velvet and full of interesting objects, some I recognized and others I didn’t. There were bundles of herbs tied with string in different colours, decks of tarot cards and a wooden box filled with cones of incense. Laid out across the velvet were a dozen small candles in every colour of the rainbow and a bowl who’s bottom was as shiny and reflective as a mirror.
I couldn’t see past the window, again just that hazy bit of light from further in. I reached for the door knob thinking I’d likely find it locked, but it turned smoothly in my hand and I pulled the door open and stepped through. It was dim inside and my glasses immediately fogged up on my face. It had been chilly out on the sidewalk and the air in here was warm and smelled of rose petals and lavender and sandalwood. There were creaky wood floors under my boots and the sound of a simmering pot somewhere in the background.
I started to unwind the scarf from around my neck in the warmth and a hand reached out to take it. “I’ll just hang this up for you. So glad you finally made it in.” I turned toward the voice, pulling my fogged glasses off to wipe them on my sweater, but whoever had spoken was already gone. My scarf was twisted through the arms of a coat tree and the curtain behind the counter opposite was swaying back into place. I managed to get my now clear lenses back onto my nose and took a slow look around. It was a smallish shop with the walls painted like a starry midnight sky, dark blues and purples and the stars themselves, luminescing with a bright glow. There were a few vitrines full of tinctures and rocks and crystals and shelves full of old books and new journals. I found myself drawn to touch things, to run my finger over the spines of the books and pick up certain stones.
There was a table full of old golden coins and handle bells and something made from dried reeds that rattled when I shook it, and I wanted to feel the weight of each object in my hand. I noticed the black curtain behind the counter twitch and a moment later a small grey cat with bright yellow eyes jumped up and landed softly on the case in front of me. There was a fuzzy shawl spread out over the surface, already liberally decorated with grey hairs that I guessed was her favourite resting spot and I swirled it into a soft nest as she watched. She stepped daintily into it and laid down like a sphinx and just stared at me. I laid a hand on her soft body and she purred without blinking. A shiver ran up my spine and I laughed at myself - it was deja vu I was feeling but I knew I hadn’t been here before so then what was this? I stroked the kitty between her eyes and supposed it was being right where i was supposed to be at this particular moment.
The curtain shifted again and a woman with long black hair and a neat braid over one shoulder stepped through. She had a book with a green velvet cover in the crook of her elbow and a soft smile on her face. “Well” she said. “Shall we have a cup of tea and talk about it?” I smiled and nodded.
Kathryn Nicolai
Nothing Much Happens
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