Happy weekend...

Happy June weekend! It has been a wonderful, fruitful week, and I'm looking forward to loving up my entire extended family this weekend. I hope you have a gorgeous few days as well. Here are a few things that I've been loving lately:

• Throwing back to the nineties amidst a recent Toad the Wet Sprocket kick.
• Loving Outside magazine's article "Man vs. Food" because even though it's a few years old, it still resonates. And because our diet looks eerily similar to that of the author.
• Continuing to meditate on the welcomed new quiet peace in my life with this appropriately timed piece from Pico Iyer on "The Art of Stillness." 
• And finally, a sexy poem from Billy Collins that somehow has always wrapped together many deep vibes and memories I hold from Cape Cod and Newport summers gone by:

"You are not the Mona Lisa
with that relentless look.
Or Venus borne over the froth
of waves on a pink half shell.
Or an odalisque by Delacroix,
veils lapping at your nakedness.
You are more like the sunlight
of Edward Hopper,
especially when it slants
against the eastern side
of a white clipboard house
in the early hours of morning,
with no figure standing
at a window in a violet bathrobe,
just the sunlight,
the columns of the front porch
and the long shadows
they throw down
upon the dark green lawn, baby."

Weekly Words: "Keeping Quiet"

"Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still.

For once on the face of the earth,
let’s not speak in any language;
let’s stop for one second,
and not move our arms so much.

It would be an exotic moment
without rush, without engines;
we would all be together
in a sudden strangeness.

Fisherman in the cold sea
would not harm whales
and the man gathering salt
would look at his hurt hands.

Those who prepare green wars,
wars with gas, wars with fire,
victories with no survivors,
would put on clean clothes
and walk about with their brothers
in the shade, doing nothing.

What I want should not be confused
with total inactivity.
Life is what it is about;
I want no truck with death.

If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with death.
Perhaps the earth can teach us
as when everything seems dead
and later proves to be alive.

Now I’ll count up to twelve
and you keep quiet and I will go."

-  Pablo Neruda

Weekly Words: "Stand Still"

"Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you.
If you leave it, you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows
Where you are. you must let it find you."

- David Wagoner