Ode To Our Ocean

This photo was taken at the beach on a spectacularly warm December afternoon. The sky was blue and the Pacific Ocean was full of sparkles; a magnificent day.

Photo by Enchanted Seashells

Ode To Our Ocean

The sea sings out to its many saviors:
Teenagers with fists thrust into the air at climate strikes,
Scientists converging around their data,
A child who stoops to scoop up a piece of trash.

The sea sings out for its singular subjects:
Arching whales that wave from their waves,
Turtles that teeter down their shining shores,
Coral reefs shining brightly as cities.

The sea sings out its suffering,
Knowing too much of waste, screeching sounds
And pernicious poison, its depths bruised by
Atrocities in the Atlantic,
Misery in the Mediterranean,
Its tides the preservers of time past.

The story of the ocean and the story of humanity
Are one and the same, a Great River that
Knows no borders and notes no lines,
Only ripples.
While we might call it the Seven Seas,
Today we sing out your true name:
The one ocean.
For no matter how we try to separate your waters,
You are the colossus that connects us.

Water makes up 70% of Earth,
70% of the human heart,
And 70% of the human being,
All of us, bodies of water,
For we, too are oceans,
Or at least beings bobbing in the same boat.
To stand up for for our ocean
Is to stand up for our own ship
The sea is a restless, strong collective of many pieces.
So are we.
The ocean can recover.
And so will we.
Let us not divide the tides,
But discover all they have to teach us–
Green meadows of sea grass that survive pathogens,
Blue-bloodied marine snails that can fight off viruses.
There are more lessons to learn,
Still more work to be done.
So we lift our faces to the sun.
May the seas help us see healing and hope,
May we sing out the ocean’s survival and revival.
Being the people of this blue planet is our most
Profound privilege and power,
For if we be the ocean’s saviors,
Then it is surely ours.

Written by Amanda Gorman for World Oceans Day. Harvard graduate Gorman is an American poet, activist, and model. Her work focuses on issues of oppression, feminism, race, and marginalization, as well as the African diaspora. Gorman was the first person to be named National Youth Poet Laureate.

Another Hello Kitty Pink Sunrise

Let the beauty of the sunrise keep your heart warm.
Lailah Gifty Akita

To fall asleep under the glow of a super moon and wake up to this gorgeous view is the embodiment of a joyful life.

Photo by Enchanted Seashells

For a few seconds, the sky was really this vibrant and intense before fading. It literally took my breath away. What a lovely way to start a new day!

#grateful #gratitude

Snow Day!

This WordPress snow feature has always made my childsoul irrationally happy. For some reason, it was removed for a few years, but now it’s back, and it’s joyful!

I love snow…and it rhymes with crow!

Dust of Snow

The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree
Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.
Robert Frost

Thanksgiving Day Thoughts

I don’t know what everyone else will be doing on this day that really doesn’t seem to celebrate anything but a toxic and heartless dominance over indigenous peoples, but in my little world, except for family, there isn’t a whole lot to be grateful for. This is a Thanksgiving mainly of fear for the future, an unsettling feeling that we don’t know when the other shoe will drop and this country will erupt in absolute and total chaos.

But that’s just me…

Perhaps the world will end at the kitchen table, while we are laughing and crying, eating of the last sweet bite.” Joy Harjo

While we’re in the midst of preparations to enjoy a feast with friends and family tomorrow, I hope we don’t forget to honor, and with gratitude, recognize the Indigenous Peoples.

For many Native Americans, Thanksgiving is a day of mourning and protest because it commemorates the arrival of settlers and the oppression and genocide that followed.

Will you teach your children what we have taught our children? That the earth is our mother? What befalls the earth befalls all the sons of the earth.” Chief Seattle

“When you know who you are when your mission is clear, and you burn with the inner fire of unbreakable will; no cold can touch your heart; no deluge can dampen your purpose. You know that you are alive.” – Chief Seattle, Suquamish/Duwamish (1786-1866)

Chief Seattle (more correctly known as Seathl) was a Suquamish and Duwamish chief. A leading figure among his people, he pursued a path of accommodation to white settlers, but I bet he regretted it as soon as he realized what it really meant to his people.

Photo of people and tents and quote credit to Chief Seattle and Native Red Cloud Maȟpíya Lúta~Hińhan Wakangli. Photo credit of Chief Seattle from Wiki

Love is Love is Love is Love

“Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny, I am looped in the loops of her hair.”

From Brown Penny by W.B. Yeats

All Alone

…they opened their wings
softly and stepped
over every dark thing.

Mary Oliver

Sitting at the top of a tree near the lagoon, this lone egret seems deep in thought and as bewildered as I am about the time change; like why is it almost dark at 5pm?

Same, egret, same.

Butterfly 🦋 Memory

“Trade me a memory,” the butterfly said
A memory that’s heavy and harsh,
And I’ll sit and I’ll listen and try my sweet best
To lighten the load on your heart.

From a poem by Becky Hemsley+Art by Amanda Cass

Take The First Step

Photo of Agua Hedionda Lagoon by Enchanted Seashells

The End of Roses


She felt vaguely upset and unsettled.
She was suddenly tired
of outworn dreams.
And in the garden
the petals of the
last red rose
were scattered by
a sudden little wind.
Summer was over

— it was Autumn.

“She felt vaguely upset and unsettled. She was suddenly tired of outworn dreams.
And in the garden the petals of the last red rose were scattered by a sudden little wind. Summer was over — it was Autumn.” L.M. Montgomery

Rainbow Valley is the seventh book in the chronology of the Anne of Green Gables series of novels by Lucy Maud Montgomery.
Photos by Enchanted Seashells.

Time As a Construct

Lately, I’ve been thinking about T-I-M-E. Time flies. I hate to be late; I like to be ON TIME. Does time really exist at all or have we been brainwashed to think iit does?

Too much thinking about time as ephemeral makes me anxious. Too much thinking about anything does the same thing. My non-logical mind has determined that TIME itself isn’t the issue; THINKING about it IS and it makes my brain melt, just like Dali’s clocks.

Salvador Dalí

 “Time doesn’t exist, clocks exist. Time is just an agreed upon construct.”
— David Foster Wallace

“It takes just one unattended moment for an hour to pass.”
― Sherod Santos, Square Inch Hours: Poems

Santos was born in South Carolina, graduated from San Diego State University, and studied at the University of California, Irvine. I never met him when I attended SDSU, but I knew ABOUT him; all of us who studied creative writing and poetry knew about “Rod” Santos and W.S. Merwin and Glover Davis, who was actually my professor.

David Foster Wallace was an acclaimed American writer known for his fiction, nonfiction, and critical essays that explored the complexities of consciousness, irony, and the human condition. Wallace wrote the novel Infinite Jest.

“The Persistence of Memory” is an iconic 1931 surrealist oil painting by Salvador Dalí, famous for its “melting” clocks draped over a desolate, dream-like landscape inspired by his Catalonian home. The painting uses a paranoiac-critical method to explore the subconscious, with the distorted clocks symbolizing the fluidity and subjectivity of time, influenced by Freudian psychology and potentially Einstein’s theory of relativity. From Google.

Could Leon Russell’s version of As Time Goes By be the best ever? I think so…mature Leon was awesome, too.