Songs of Innocence

Innocence comes before experience

but experience that looses innocence

cannot see the beauty of the world...

Today innocence is like a ghost

It appears only sometimes

only when it is night

and you are not sure

if it really exists...

"Songs of Innocence" by William  Blake

Photo by Bing Images

Waiting for Wonderland

I am counting the days, the hours, and the minutes until I can sit in a dark theater, put on my 3D glasses and get totally lost in my favorite story: Alice in Wonderland.


I first read the book when I was eight years old and when I reached the end I started over again and again, seven times in a row. This was the book I'd look for when I had a bad cold, when my mother baked my favorite cookies, whenever anything was wrong and whenever anything was right. The story became my security blanket, a shimmering tent under which I found laughter and peace.


When my son was born I could not wait until he could read and I could give him the ticket to Wonderland. It so happened that he turned to be an avid reader and to my delight, he did enjoy the ride.  When he was about nine years old things were a bit rough in my life, I was burdened with heavy and unwanted loads and I suppose that, in spite of all my efforts to act normal and cheerful, my son, with the uncanny ability children possess to see beyond and more than we think, was able to detect my sadness. One afternoon when he returned from school he was very excited. There had been a Book Fair and he had bought a few, including a beautiful hardcopy of Alice in Wonderland. He said, "Mom, this is our book. I know you've read it a million times but you should read it again, you know how that white rabbit always cheer you up."   He opened the flap and right on the label that says "This book belongs to" he had written both our names. It was a beautiful day indeed. I felt all clouds lifting away from me, and as I held him close to my heart I became stronger. Wonderland was all around us.


Years have passed, gone is the little boy who shared his books with me, he is now a man who lives on the other side of the world, but I still can feel the magic spell of that certain afternoon.  Much has been written about Alice in Wonderland, many attempts have been made to get it's "meaning" and rumors have passed regarding it's author. However, all I need to know is there on each and every word, each character, each situation. I don't care to know what they mean, all I know is that they were and still are a source of joy. I don't want to "understand" Wonderland, I just want to visit and get lost in it's magic.


The count down has begun!

On a night like this

A rainy night and I find myself reminiscing. One of the things I appreciate about this time of the year is precisely the way it makes me stop and just be. It’s hard to concentrate when the sun is shining, the garden is bursting with color, the birds are singing love songs, and the moon hangs so low in the sky one can almost reach out and touch it. But, on a night like this the heart can fold itself, rest in a cozy nook, and dream at leisure of past days and those to come.

They say that the first five years in a person’s life are the most important, and while I am certainly no expert in the matter, I humbly disagree. Every single day is important, they are the pages of our own  Book of Life. We may not notice, we may dash about in a frenzy trying to get things done, we may fall into bed numb and unable to utter a word, but our brain, our mind and soul will have stored everything: the color of a leaf, the sound of footsteps on the pavement, muffled conversations, a tune, a certain face, a glimmering moonlight. Then those memories will come, they will surface unannounced, sometimes in quilted fragments, sometimes as a whole, and they will arouse glee or sorrow, relief or regret. Every day is important along with the rituals they hold: making the bed, watering a plant, brushing our child’s hair, choosing what to wear, stopping for bread. How lucky to be able to do all that! How lucky to have a home to come to at the end of the day and be greeted by a smile, how lucky to prepare a meal, sit on a comfy chair, enjoy a cup of tea. 


I am listening to the rain falling softly, mixed with tiny, glittering bits of ice and I am tempted to make a list of things I'd like to do. For example, learn to ride a bicycle (a subject better left for another post) join a gardening club, and so much more, but for now I believe I will just sit here, focus on all I have, and be thankful.


Photo by Weheartit.com

Beautiful solitude

I have a small family and a selected, small circle of friends. I’m not comfortable in large crowds. I prefer a lonely road to a busy street, birdsong to loud human voices. In spite of this, I don’t consider myself a loner. I do enjoy the company of friends and meeting new people just as much as I enjoy my precious hours alone.


We come into this world all by ourselves and we will leave this world in the same manner and yet to many, being alone is almost a punishment to be avoided at all cost. I’ve seen so many people ruin their lives by clinging on to unhealthy relationships just to avoid being alone. Beautiful, smart individuals unable to be at ease with themselves, unable to tell the difference between being alone and feeling lonely.


When my children were small and while I was teaching them to brush their teeth and tie their shoelaces, I also taught them to look for joy within themselves and that, as The Beatles once said, “the movement you need is on your shoulder.” I wanted to make sure that when they grew up they’d be able to go to the movies, to a restaurant, on a trip, alone, and that the ability to enjoy it all was simply within themselves and nowhere else. They are both grown up now and it fills me with joy to see they learned that lesson well.


Being alone and feeling lonely... I hope that you, my dear friends, are able to tell the difference and enjoy your own company and that beautiful solitude.


Photo by Weheartit.com

Walking with Joy

A leaf fluttered in through the window this morning, as if supported by the rays of the sun,

a bird settled on the fire escape,

joy in the task of coffee,

 joy accompanied me as I walked.

Poem by Anais Nin.
Photos by Weheartit.com and Bing Images