The Bare Accessories

Accessorizing well remains one of those mysteries to me. Sometimes I see an army of bangles around another woman's wrist or shimmery necklaces of the length and tone that perfectly enhance what she is wearing, and think how much I like the look. And I wonder...how did she put it all together? What comes first, deciding what clothes to wear or what accessories to wear? Or maybe she thought...what kind of woman do I feel like today? Sensible, sexy, or fun?
But as much as I appreciate this in "my sisters" (i.e. other women) I think I also avoid accessorizing because it makes me feel like...let me out of here! The most I ever do is put on a sentimental old favorite piece of jewelry from time to time. But soon it becomes cumbersome, and I feel that I am choking from the weight. Chains become chains and I do not feel free. A lightweight pair of earrings is enough to make me feel dressed up and girly. That's just me.

Rose

Caterpillar 2009

This fella was under the leaves also. Even though an Eastern Tent caterpillar was in my blog last spring, it is pretty enough for this season, too. And I liked the veins of the dried leaf he was on. Like old skin.

Life and Death Under the Leaves

On this warm overcast morning, I lay prone on the ground and gently pushed the blanket of dead leaves from a tiny piece of earth, looking for insect life. Amazing what I saw in about two square inches. I figure bugs are as essential to our existence as the tidepools and the rain forests.

Good Therapy

While a co-worker and I were philosophizing yesterday about the complexities of the human experience, I told her I would pass along an old favorite book of mine that hadn't looked at in years. I found it on the shelf today, and as I thumbed through, I saw why I loved it at the time. Hearts That We Broke Long Ago by Merle Swain reflects some of our most tender, painful, and guarded human thoughts. I could quote from any random place as it is deep with meaning, but here is a sample.

"Compassion can't exist with anger or jealousy, with envy or revenge, so those who have those feelings starve themselves. In the hands of the insecure, compassion becomes condescension, pity, and a taste for pain. Real compassion comes from strength."

"April is the cruelest month," TS Eliot said, because it involves rebirth, and most of us would rather lie dormant yet and not quite come to life. But just as we have to walk with love, we have to walk toward fear, and we must know what hurts a lot and look it in the teeth."

"For many of us self hate is the result of an ancient but still nagging sting, a sad echo of an earlier bruise from which we never seem to recover, and so we keep ourselves auditioning, always remaining a seeker in another's land, the person who shouts across the gulf, hoping to be heard."