A shadow of Spring in the Fall

Source: http://vi.sualize.us/view/kallini2002/bacc8993e315c84ad049d5ed10a8b2e0/

Calendar Wisdom.

Delicate whisper of a garden

Incubate a thousand dreams

A shadow of spring in the fall

(composed with Book Lover Kit, but not by me)

I am doing well with the song of myself (September assignment).  My web site is all about me, that is my song.  October is my favourite month and I was born on Halloween.  Let’s see what October will bring.  Beauty, love, wisdom?  Change?  Not only in colours, I hope.  I hope. I hope.

Shadow of History.

The colours and feelings of fall can be exhilarating, the red maple leaves in a cool breeze, a sometimes melancholy season following summer’s easygoing charm, all leading up to the spectral celebration of Halloween.  Poets often like to reflect on the supernatural; considering its power, watching for ghosts, and talking to the past.  During the month, consider what spirits may haunt the neighborhood you walk through everyday, perhaps moving through your streets.  What is the history of your place?  How does it still exist and how has it been covered over?

Quote of the month:

“Autumn is a second spring

When every leaf is a flower.”

- Albert Camus

Et si tu n’existais pas
Je crois que je l’aurais trouvé
Le secret de la vie, le pourquoi
Simplement pour te créer
Et pour te regarder

Above all, I like beauty, balance, and harmony.  It may come as existence inspiring, uplifting and intoxicating as the scent of fresh rain mixed with the air of spring or melancholic, enigmatic and refined.

I cannot remember how many times I have been asked what I am looking for.  The only answer I can come with is Pure Happiness.  As simple as that.  I have learned to enjoy small things in life, here and now, a cup of coffee, a walk, a good conversation, a smile from a stranger, a sound of rain, snow falling on my eyelashes.  I am not looking for perfection, which in my opinion does not exist anyways.

Existence inspiring, uplifting and intoxicating

Source: http://vi.sualize.us/view/kallini2002/7052d8370eacfe4b12ffa31eb111d0b1/

I am looking for a kindred spirit, a man I can fall in love with, totally losing myself and yet having the luxury of remaining myself.  Eyes I can drown in I find totally irresistible.  Anything that has depth to it.  Dark clouds, oceans, mirror effects, reflections, fluidity, illusions, allusions, formlessness.

Foreign languages, literature, films, poetry, images, paradoxes, songs that reflect my mood, dancing, some insanity once in awhile, passion, fall colours, colours Blue and Orange for one reason, colours Dark Maroon and Deep Wine-Red for quite another, courage, absurdity, intensity, character, sense of humour, philosophy, quotes.

Things I don’t like, though.  Over explaining.

I hate  verbal diarrhea and mental constipation.  Especially combined.  Arrogance.  Righteousness.  Pretence.  Superficiality.  Indifference.

I wanted to make a different post on Halloween.  A poem by Edgar Allan Poe.  “The Raven”.  I thought it would be more becoming.  More becoming my mood and the spirit of Halloween.

My plans have changed.  They usually do.  Something happened and it was somewhat pleasant, somewhat strange and more becoming my melancholic mood and longing for love.

“Gefunden.”  Some things are just strange.  The only thing that I remember from years of learning German was (is) a poem by Goethe.  “Gefunden” means “Found”.  It is about a flower the author finds in a forest while walking there without a thought in mind.  Instead of picking it and letting the flower die, the author digs it out with all the roots and replants it in his garden. 

Und pflanzt es wieder

Am stillen Ort;

Nun zweigt es immer

Und blüht so fort.

The reason the poem has surfaced again was that I met “a friend of a delicate nature” who claimed that he could read German.  His claim turned out to be somewhat exaggerated, since he could not read nor translate “Gefunden” with the online translator.  But that is quite understandable and, to be honest, is precisely what I assumed at the beginning.  Reading a language without properly learning it seems a tall order.  But this story is not about him.  Well, not entirely.

The poem keeps coming back to me.  And this time I found out that Goethe wrote this poem not about a flower, but about his love for a real woman.

I have a dream.  I want to find my love and I found a flower.  Literally.  Where and when?  I was working and walking in circles in the department store full of misplaced clothes.  Of all days, it was Halloween, my birthday.  I did not expect to find anything.  Yet I did.  I found a red rose, slightly battered, slightly faded, smelling of perfume, still beautiful…

I picked it gently and took it home, treating this red rose as a gift, as a sign, as a new hope.

Some things do come out of the Blue.

And my friend with his beautiful deep eyes, seductive voice and a reminiscence of a true love is only a vision of my longing for something or someone whom I will find.

One day.  Out of the Blue.  On the Halloween?