One Hundred Things

One Hundred Things I Love

Creator/Creatrix

Costa

My Family

My Mesa

Deep, Dark, Purple

Mermaids

Tulips

Beads

Rocks

Shells

Sticks

My Beautiful Body

My Boundless Spirit

Devin's Piggies

My Teachers

My Friends/Extended Family

Mist

The Beach

Movie Theatres

Men

Exquisite, Luscious, Fabric

Filet Mignon

Luxurious Bedsheets

Pottery

Color

Books, Books, and more Books

Palo Santo

Kashmir Incense

My Home

Beautiful Flowing Clothes

Emotional Intimacy

Delightful Surprises

Silence

Music

Solitude

Chocolate

Ceremony

Artifacts - Pieces of the Past

Long, Slow Kisses

Lazy Mornings

Mountains

The Pre-Raphaelites

Michael Parkes

Sunflowers

Cirque du Soleil

Stationary Papers

Packages in the Mail

Pedicures by Jane

Makeup

Pizza

Dali

Travel

My Journal

Starry Night Sky

Romance

Seduction

Quartz Crystals

Breezes

Notes in the Mail

Art Glass

Crackling Fires

Wisdom

Movies that make me weep

Prosperity

Success

Teaching

Creating

Sharing

Spirals

Hearts

Hands

Colossal Pickled Angels

I lifted my head and wiped the sleep from my eyes. As my surroundings came into focus, I noticed row upon row of humongous pickle jars stretching out before me and beside me. They were at least eight feet in height and I found their contents quite unsettling. I blinked once or twice (an automatic response common to most humans when we witness something beyond belief) to adjust to the light and get a better look.

Inside the giant jars were beings; beings that could be described as nothing less than angelic. They were radiant and glowing, clad in shimmery white raiment that was smudged and torn in places. Entombed behind glass and suspended in a liquid whose greenish hue reminded me of the pickles of my youth, I glanced up to their faces. Their faces were wrenched with sadness and pain and still the mask of death could not conquer their innate beauty. I wondered to whom they owed their demise and why. It was then I decided to stand up. As I did the room spun and darkness crept in. Bending over to prevent blacking out, I felt the force of a sonic boom report resound through my head.

Head pounding, I stood weakly and took stock of my surroundings. The dim lighting revealed that I was in an old abandoned warehouse with concrete floors that extended out beyond my scope of vision. The mason jars must have numbered in the hundreds, or thousands even. They just went on and on and on. It was then that I first noticed a label on one of the jars: COLOSSAL PICKLED ANGELS.

Colossal pickled angels? Colossal like in olives? It was too bizarre to contemplate, but my mind unabashedly began the questions......"Who would do such a thing? Who would be smart enough to lure an angel into a trap? Why would they? Why would they pickle them? Then, "What was I doing here and what did I have to do with ANY of this?"

In the distance I hear the whirring sound of a forklift being operated.....

...the future

LUMINESCENT FUTURE

The Past Calls.

The Present Is.

The Future Dreams.

Fragments of the past,

present

and future

converge for a heartbeat

and spin the Possibility of Change.

The Possibility destabilizes

and is flung

out into the Universe

once again.

We observe the Maestro as he spins.

We learn.

The practice of collecting,

assembling,

and dispersing Possibilities.

This is the breathing.

This is the magic.

The piecing together.

The flinging away.

Impregnating the Future

with our seeds of Light and Potential.

Arranging.

Rearranging.

Perfecting.

Change.

We are all magicians

and playmates,

collecting,

assembling,

and dispersing.

MAGIC

LOVE

AND

GRATITUDE