I experience words, synesthetically, with sounds and emotions and colours. A single word, plunked down or gently placed, feels like a note of music, felt with aliveness, evoking layers of emotion and sometimes rainbows in my mind. A group of words, like chords, telling a visceral story. 

Example:

Eloquence...

Feels like a long, high C on the piano, held just a shiver past the last letter,  It lingers a bit, to make itself really known, and flutters in with ruffles of maroon and blue.

Example:

Eloquence, hangs like the early morning mist, over the still cool water in late August as the sun rises...

Played like a chord, followed by a string of complementary notes, this dances with a smooth image of soft hues, and evokes emotion of nostalgia, letting go, bittersweet longing, grace, and hopefulness. 

Not as much about the meaning of the word, though when paired well, creates a nice portrait.

-JCR (Photo: Baysville ON)

Thinking of movement, creative movement, we often think of dance. moving the body, with music or beats. What about other moves, I've never been a dancer, never felt the flow of that type...what about other moves?

I dance, I realize, but I dance on water. I dance in a boat. I dance with a paddle. I feel the movement, the boat, the paddle, the water, an extension of myself. I feel the flow, I feel each subtle flick of the wrist and the propulsion it creates...I feel it, moving through me.

On the water, I am the water, I am the air, I connect the air and the water, and we all move together. In the boat, I dance, to the sound of that flow, to the sound of life, and I create my own music.

-JCR (Photo: Baysville ON)

There is a space that hides within all of us, a space without windows, that stays in the dark and keeps things hidden. It’s a place we don’t show to people, though sometimes we would like to, but we keep it closed and tucked away for so many reasons. Sometimes, we can’t imagine bringing people into the dark, we want to protect them from what is in there, knowing it is full of sadness, shame, embarrassment, or fear, and it hurts.

We don’t want others to hurt, or see our own hurt, to keep them safe. Sometimes, it is so dark without windows, we can’t see what it’s there ourselves and we wander around feeling lost and unsure of what might jump out at us if we stay too long. Sometimes, that space, is our refuge. It is the only place we can hide away from the outside world, take a break from all the things that weigh heavy upon us, and the only chance we can get to rest. The dark and quiet space with nothing shining in to distract us from the solitude we need. 

And, sometimes, we can get stuck in that space, without a window to peer out of, without a view of what we are missing if we let in some light.  

What we can’t see, we don’t know, and though that can be protective and comforting at times, it can also hold us back from becoming everything that is waiting. All of the good available, all of the light that shines in, and the light that we shine outward. Sometimes, there is someone waiting on the other side of the wall, wanting to know what’s inside, hoping for a window to appear, to allow them to gain a glimpse of the beautiful space within. If you have a space without windows, use it for what you need, but be sure to at least install a door so you can invite others in, and leave the darkness at some point to venture out into beyond.  

-JCR (Photo: Scotsdale Farm, ON)

Maybe together we can see the world. even if from our own backyeard. I want to climb mountains with you, but can walk the metaphoical trails to no end instead. I need to see how others live, to see the souls that hide inside. I'd like to know your soul, from the inside out, all the wonders of your world. How I live and how I love is to observe, explore, understand, experience. I live to know the world by embodiment of it, and by embodying the heart of it too. 

Maybe together we can share in the knowing, though I'm content to experience it alone, for I am alone, we're all alone, even while at the same time connected. 

Maybe together we can be in our aloneness, and share notes about our unique experiences, and learn to go deeper still. Together, we can teach how to live, and how to love, without feeling any despair from the aloness that we are. 

-JCR (Photo: West Bragg Creek Park, AB)

I prefer forests, the cool, shady spaces

The shelter

Being dwarfed by the trees

The tall, tall trees, my inspiration, my protectors.
The sound of the leaves rustling in the breeze

Scampering, slithering, fluttering creatures

The quiet noise of the trees huddled together

The importance of Meadows was lost on me

Too bright, too open

The meadow, exposed, feels hot and unwelcoming

After the shelter in the cradle of the forest
But there is importance in Meadows

Wide open space

Space full of life

And vistas to inspire
It’s hot, but heat warms the soul

And the heart

While the trees in the forest, nurture and protect keep one cool and supported

The Meadows, provide space to open and expand

There is life in both

We need both
 

-JCR (Forks of the Credit, Ontario)

There’s a certain green in the spring, that can’t compare, to any other green. It’s thirsty, and thriving, filling itself with life. It’s the height of hunger, and of health, when everything grows. It fades though, as time moves on, fades to a less vibrant hue, as it digests it’s growth, and moves towards rest. The faded green, before going to sleep, shows peace, and comfort. Satisfied, satiated, it knows to slow down. The vibrancy of it’s hunger, makes space to just be, not focused on growth, or moving ahead, or surviving, it just rests, the gentle wise green of summer. 

-JCR (Farmland, Southern Ontario)

Each day, each night

Awake in the sun or under the stars (both things to count right away)

Or asleep and counting in my dreams

Twelve so far, more to come, fifteen, twenty-six

Sometimes slow, sliding in, wanting to be noticed

Sometimes showing up bluntly, see me now

Hugs and laughter.

The smell of lilacs and tiny white lilies.

Your voice, recorded, played over and over after I can't see you anymore, hear you anymore.

Wide emotional eyes, with twinkles, or tears, sometimes both.

Tears in general, big drops, single glimmers, or messy all over the face.

Yellow lines, curving on a freshly paved road, like the outline of your body side-lying and asleep.

My hair blowing gently across my face, obscuring my view.

Holding your anger in my cupped hands, just holding it, so you can breathe. Holding it, my hands warm and melting it into the hurt that it really is, then holding it some more.

Counting all of the beautiful things 

One by one, just noticing, tucking away

Rememberings to keep for later, but often not, often slipping out again as quickly as they come

Beautiful things, noticed, softly, counted, all of it counts.    

-JCR (Image, Beautiful, simple old fence, Ontario)

I'll Never Forget...

Myself. I may lose myself from time to time, become distracted by shiny things or fancy dreams of others. I may not always be focused on me, the inside part who's strong and solid. I can become enchanted by far-away thoughts of far-away others, living grandly in far-away places. But eventually, I remember the glowing enchantments of myself, the Self that doesn't actually glow so obviously and doesn't acutally need to enchant with her being. I remember, and return to, the simplicity of who that is. 

I'll never actually forget who that is. She's in there, always, and though not grand or extravagant, not sparkly or flashy, she's in there, always, stoking the fire to keep it burning. Feeding it to keep it bright, and sitting with to keep it company. 

I'll never forget that she is the Truth. 

-JCR (Image, Inner/Outer Fire, Solo Camping, Ontario)

How Do I Need To Be Loved?

With a depth that goes through the toes to the centre of the earth.

With a curiosity that follows, a desire to know and be known to the same depth.

With respect for all inner wounds, and a tenderness to hold them lightly.

With strength to challenge, push boundaries, and encouragent to grow.

With courage to explore conflict in a way that holds us both.

With vulnerability to allow space to show up as we are, ask for what is needed, and willness to accept it all.

With freedom that allows space to move and stretch, and come back again.

With the ability to give and to listen, to be present  in comfort and pain.

And most of all, with an open heart, unhindered by the expectations of the world, others or ourselves, and unhindered by fear of keeping the heart open through it all.

-JCR (Image, Starkey Hill in Spring, Guelph, Ontario)

Early Mornings

Those early mornings…

I would avoid, staying closed, my eyelids, my mind remaining deep within itself. Dreaming, not wanting to wake. It was the immediate immersion into the momentum of others. Too shocking, Too abrasive. I need a gentle start. 

My early mornings are sacred now, eyes opening in the dark. Minimal sounds, only those that need to be there. It is gradual, peaceful, gentle, softer.

My early mornings are sacred now. I come into my day as I need to, no interference, my own momentum. My early mornings are sacred now. I watch the world awaken slowly with me. 

JCR (Image, Sunrise Over Valley)

 Flow and Effort, Like Dance

In the push and pull of things, I see myself dancing. Back and forth, effort and ease. In the middle of it all, the known, the unknown, the old and new, rest and activity, simple and complex.

The dance, its energy, the movement that speaks of life. Conflict, played out then interrupted with periods of grace.

The dance, it tells the story exactly as it unfolds. No choreography, no script, just present, back and forth, in time with the heartbeat. 

The dance, ongoing, just observe, see it breathe. 

JCR (Image, Sun, waking the trees)

Rainsuits and Red Rubber Boots

A memory of a memory written long ago...

I have lost where it's written

But it's still tucked away

In a flash of a vision

I remember the day

A memory of a memory

Of a child hard at play

Jumping in puddles

Bright red rain suit

And red rubber boots  

JCR (Image, Grown up Child in Red Rubber Boots)

My Life is Like An Alter

Full of objects

That signify, represent, symbolize

Something for the moments lost

Something for the moments cherished

Something, always something to hold onto

To make meaning

Where meaning is absent

JCR (Image, Sunrise on Cattails)

To me this is freedom....To know myself fully. To embrace all that I am with open arms. To accept the pieces that never quite fit out there, and recognize they fit perfectly in here. To bring all of the lost and shattered bits home, for no one other than myself. Then, to realize by doing so, I have gained the freedom to fit anywhere I please and that being my whole self actually benefits everyone.

To me, it is freedom to know that I’m safe, even when I’m not, and to know that I’m loved, even if not by another living being. It is freedom to move through my day, the space around me, and through all of time, with this understanding tucked neatly into my heart.

It is freedom, finally, to just be me. 

JCR (Image, Scotsdale Farm, Ontario)

I want my writing to be like…

Freedom. Flowing from somewhere deep inside, from my heart but more deeply from my soul. I want to allow it access to all spaces within myself. I want it to have no limits, rules or expectations. I want my writing to have the choices that I never did, to voice itself without criticism or to be held back by anything that thinks it knows better. 

I want my writing to be another child that I’m living for. I want to nurture it, advocate for it, encourage it and make the world a better place so it has more opportunity to thrive than I may have had.

I want my writing to speak for me, to be both heard and understood, but beyond that not really caring if it ever is. The freedom, for my writing, is not being tied to any purpose or any cause other than forming itself on a page as an outlet for what’s inside. 

I want my writing to only be held accountable to itself, to speak the deepest and most ultimate truth it can find, and to mean nothing to anything other than that. 

JCR (Image credit to GL, Willows Beach Victoria BC)

When I listen, I hear…

My own voice, quiet yet strong. I hear it always present, humming along in the background, knowing what to do, what is right, what is needed, what is. 

I hear the voices of others, advising on matters needing more guidance. Not with words but with felt wisdom that is transferred subtly sometimes, at others with a gentle force if needed.

When I really listen, I don’t even need to ask a question, for I know, really know, the answer without needing to hear my own voice or anyone else's. It’s a trusted intuition that is always there, it just needs silence within, in order to have room to speak. 

JCR (Image, my view)

Here I am today, in my heart and feeling what it has to offer me. It is insight, into myself, another layer of who I am and who I'm not. Another layer deeper, past another layer of defense. Another layer deeper into understanding of so much. Another layer deeper, into seeing all of us, with another layer of separation removed. 

Here I am today, seeing past the years of conditioning, back to the root of who we are. The child, wise though young, that child, the one who knew from the beginning what it is really all about. That child, who is willing to hold it all in curiosity, without fear or pain. That child, who wants to share freely the discoveries of each day, each moment, each beauty. That child, is not concerned with things like being too much, of needing to hide fear, uncertainty or tears. That child, who can sit in the stillness and just be open to wonder.

Here I am today, seeing this as if for the first time, yet knowing it's been there all along, in this lifetime and beyond.

Here I am today, seeing yet another piece, a never-ending hunt for treasure, each find more valuable than the last. 

Here I am today, enjoying the lonliness that comes from being as unique as each piece of treasure I find.

JCR (Image, early moring over farmland that will soon be exective estates, in Ontario)

Viewed from space, the things seen are as they are and as they’re not. Space above shows more of what’s real, space within shows always what’s real. The space we see from is the perspective that allows reason to seep in, allows truth to settle, and the issues, problems and challenges either become clearer, or melt away. 

What space do you see yourself from? What space holds you, always, in this day, this moment? Pulling back into more space, I see myself in context to where I am, where I’ve been, who I’ve been, and who I’ve become. I see a path winding behind me, and clear but changeable ahead. I see others in their own contexts, in their own spaces, sometimes merging into mine, sometimes never so. 

Reeling the space tighter in, I get a sense of the Truth that guides me, once again, so clear, and so right. I see it all, the details tell the stories exactly as they need to be heard. Viewed from this space, things are exactly as they are, sometimes raw and painful, but always True. 

JCR (Image, snowy morning, Scotsdale Farm Ontario)

I wonder a lot of things. I wonder all the time actually. The things I wonder range from how things work, to what people are feeling and thinking, or experiencing. I wonder what it would be like to be different, if the world was different, if I was not who I am, or to have lived at a different time, or to not feel to the extent that I do. What would life be like with no concept of feeling? What would life be like with no need to wonder? I also wonder things I can’t say out loud, but maybe should. What would it be like to be a man in the current world? What would it be like to have a different colour of skin? What would it be like to be completely beat up by the system, by another hand, by myself? I wonder, but some things I know. 

I wonder with an open heart, I often attempt to put myself in these wonderings to the point of tears streaming down my face. I wonder, what the world could be like if everyone was taken care of, safe, fed and sheltered, and thriving. I wonder what it would take to get people to understand how to communicate effectively with love and kindness. I wonder what it would be like if we all realized we don’t need to keep going the way we are. I wonder why so many do. I wonder what it will be like to continue as we are, what will happen when the world can’t sustain the population anymore. I wonder some deeper darker things too, I wonder what it would feel like to lose my child, my partner, my cat. I wonder how it might feel to touch grief that deep in those situations, though I know some of these griefs already. Perhaps that is why I wonder so openly, because I have been there and can touch those places, knowing I’ve been to some of them, and made it back again. I wonder, do others wonder like this as well? 

JCR (Image, cemetery, my haven)