Artists Right Now…
1: Olef hajek
8: marti somers
Lombok, Indonesia: Part 8
Two Months Later.
“We live between the act of awakening and the act of surrender.
Each morning, we awaken to the light and the invitation to a new day in the world of time;
each night, we surrender to the dark to be taken to play in the world of dreams where time is no more.”
-John O’Donohue
>>>——————–>
In the last two months WE:
1) Took our Vows.
2) Traveled across the world to Hong Kong and Indonesia.
3) Moved twice.
4) Celebrated our first Christmas and New years.
5) Annnnd I Changed my job. (Iv got a good feeling!)
It has felt like fire. Intense and ravishing fire.
I love him. I love me.
AND I am absolutely curious to discover the mysterious the next 10 months have to offer.
P.s.
1) Held monkeys.
2) Scuba Dove.
3) Learning to ski this weekend!
4) Read 6 books!
5) Wrote an article for Bella Grace Magazine.
6) Made lots of fires in our new home.
7) Photographed the moments in waiting as her 4th child grows in her belly.
8) Laughed a lot with a beauty of a woman Charlotte.
9) Popped Champagne and danced with my love.
10) Felt the universe work in beautiful ways.
Who Flies on the Edge of Rage and Bliss.
They’d say I had fire in me from the beginning.
Jesse James,
William Wallace,
Abraham Lincoln .
Run thick in my blood…
With a mixture like that your bound to be a fire.
I was born to:
Drink,
Eat,
Fuck,
Scream,
Break.
Italian coursing through the left.
Irish coursing through the right.
What they call passion I’ve often called a curse.
Hot tempered and damned.
Every reaction a boiling mess of angry.
Oh but only inside.
Always inside.
Quick too. Always quick.
But I guess my ancestors were conceived at the foot hills of Vesuvius.
So it’s all connected really.
This thing we call passion turned violent.
Unfurling in my veins.
Harness it!
Tame it!
Swallow it!
Don’t let them know.
Hot tempered.
Hell bent.
Warm blooded.
Passionate.
They say. They Say.
Oh my Phoenix:
Who flies on the edge of rage and bliss.
That’s where you walked day in and day out.
And now I know it’s ways well.
Well enough to hear it coming, before it turns it’s shades of fuchsia and scarlet.
Before it Traumatizes.
Before it Burns.
Well enough to see its trigger being pulled.
Well enough to leap.
To do the impossible.
To commit.
To love.
To love a man.
To Vow.
Christmas with my love
Champagne – Nat Sherman’s – candlelight ….
The slow burn of many things.
Golden darkness.
This wasn’t our new years, it was celebrating something else.
Not the newness, but the timelessness of it all.
Love and chaos and him and me.
It was a giving up – a surrender to the now.
It was a last hurrah and a hallelujah.
It was the feeling of completeness.
Gratitude. My love. Gratitude.