Tuesday, August 18, 2015


We use it to soothe the day, we use it to enhance a good day. We use it on the start of a journey, to remember, to sing along with, to communicate and to get inspired. We want to have a little song to hum as we think of a loved one. Few notes and your universe follows the actions of a different dimension. Sometimes stuck in your mind to take you along and help you forget anything else. Gifts from our Mothers who would gently caress our cries with songs and carry us to sleep on forever etched energy to our heart. Songs are markers to our lives, companions and witnesses of who we were.  Listening to them can change our history. We can be judge for the music we listen to. No matter it is a flow, a vibration that carries us safely to shore.

La Musique
La musique souvent me prend comme une mer!
Vers ma pâle étoile,
Sous un plafond de brume ou dans un vaste éther,
Je mets à la voile;

La poitrine en avant et les poumons gonflés
Comme de la toile
J'escalade le dos des flots amoncelés
Que la nuit me voile;

Je sens vibrer en moi toutes les passions
D'un vaisseau qui souffre;
Le bon vent, la tempête et ses convulsions

Sur l'immense gouffre
Me bercent. D'autres fois, calme plat, grand miroir
De mon désespoir!

— Charles Baudelaire

Music often transports me like a sea!
Toward my pale star,
Under a ceiling of fog or a vast ether, 
I get under sail;

My chest thrust out and my lungs filled
Like the canvas,
I scale the slopes of wave on wave 
That the night obscures;

I feel vibrating within me all the passions 
Of ships in distress;
The good wind and the tempest with its convulsions

Over the vast gulf
Cradle me. At other times, dead calm, great mirror 
Of my despair!

Wednesday, August 5, 2015

Fifty Six

What happen when you turn an extra year older in one day but you were inching to it slowly and did not notice. The scale is moving down toward the earth and the view gets clearer and clearer from now on. Only so many moments to cherish and so many new things to try, so many books that you will ever be able to read. Life takes on a different perspective. Do not prolongate what has not been done. Do it now. Live for the joy of breathing in and out the essence of life. Those beautiful last days ahead provide a sense of purpose, a calmness of things deserved and coming to fruit. So I walk on this beach of bliss where my toes anchor in its diamonds, the water coming closer as I walk and I will continue on that shore looking at many sunsets and full moon, until the light goes out and I will rest for the long night. 

Sunday, August 2, 2015


It had been years since I had gone to Oceanside, WA. A very sad scene was waiting for me. Picture a beautiful ocean waves crashing on the sand but rows of cars parked in front of it on the sand. Hundreds of people there between the car playing, napping, kites flying high, making sand castles, dogs, children, cars driving between those rows on the sand, children having to pay attention to the traffic on the beach. A mad mess and scattered everywhere for miles, feathers of dead seagulls embeded in the sand, rolled over by cars. How can we accept this type of standard and be ok with it. I felt sick. I had to anchor my heart into something else than all this. So I started to shoot some photo allienating the ugly and finding beauty to save this moment and save my soul.

Thursday, July 30, 2015

On Hot Days!

On hot days what to do but just wait and see. Lay low and cool off in the shade of the hours. Melting slowly to a state of puddle, one that carry you to the source, the one that sings lullabies and tell stories of long ago winters. It is a shame that now the times are scrambling the seasons into a future inferno. I rest and think and plan my escape to the cool shadow of the night  where the birds sleep and the sun burns the underside of my life.

Sunday, July 26, 2015

About Journaling

Feeling a bit nostalgic I was re-reading some old entries and oh it brought me right back to the good old days. I could even taste them and feel the weather sipping into my veins on those days. This is what makes journaling important, that even things for awhile are full of dust in a dark drawer in your brain, the written notes Spring wash those memories Mary Poppins style and zoom voilà you are back there with its myriad of facets. What will happen to all this? I often ask myself and I always come back to this: what does it matter after I am gone. It had only its purpose to record my life for myself, to prove to myself that I lived all those things and that it was primordial to record them so I could live those moments multiple times if I so desired. But... Until I am gone those pages are validating my path. I will encourage any one to start journaling at any age but the younger the better. I wonder sometimes who is this young woman that would walk to work everyday day, singing to herself noticing every cracks on the road and every bird songs in the trees.  She is younger than my daughter is now.  What kind of wisdom would I give her. I would tell her to believe that she could do it all and to not worry so much and to know her heart before following it. I would also tell her that no matter what it is all worth living it and to make a mark on the piece of paper will make her smile in the future. Someday all those women that I've been will dance in a final dance of light and love and the energy will transform in a breath of wind, one last time, and, calm will follow its trail. But not yet...