Today is a special day I am going to write about today and all the other days that I did forget to write and now today there is a special reason that I finally start what I wished for doing since long and longer then days and months to come and to encounter with the years that went by. Is life that thing that I can’t grab? Could writing be the best way for me to express myself? Are words then in these moments of thoughts about all that happens in minutes for me the capture of what I feel of what I do of what I want to pursue?I don’t know therefore I like to experience it if this writing now in this moment as an outlet of consciousness and also as a manner of working to establish rhythm in my days where that has been lacking and dripping into a cloud of vagueness and blurry contours can function. There is no reason is there? To lack and stay still not move and not consider what is that goes on in my mind when I too like a butterfly dances without seemingly null direction between flowers and from and further on to leafs. I like the butterfly as she is so light and so sensitive when there is the slightest wind she will leave into the thin air and dazzle and tiptoe in the higher fields of the garden and in between the bushes her colors so precious and velvet it seems, her wings the fragile string ones even so more vulnerable then those of the larger black butterflies with white dots at the edges of their wings. Butterflies bring joy to a day that starts grey, one yellow butterfly pops up in a direction that gives hope and sense. They live so short and do so with such intense breath these one day creatures, we won’t recognize until there are no more left of them on those long walks through the fields or the gardens. Butterfly oh butterfly you purple or cream wonder, violet like sweets from nowhere and a million dreams. Cocooning, that purposeless lay back attitude of summers spend away in the dazzling warmth in Cassis and the children play with all their toys and the magical little pot with the glass on top as a lit to naturals wonders, the round glass that enlarges the specimen inside this minuscule laboratory. All what there little hands can move from under cobbles, bushes, flowerbeds and between the golden sand crumbles at the beach. The miraculous popping out of the cocoon in that small tiny pot, with a green en red lit. The microscope in the glass enlarges their eye and they observe that beautiful colorful butterfly that comes crumbling out the cocoon. Wandering around and finding these secrets is so joyful and easier to count the days when each day their is something we reconnect with in our natural habitat. Small light beams last week in Amman that multiply and evolve in these sparkling lights when I open the curtains in the lemon tree. That lemon tree that stands fiery in the garden and is decorated with these lemon mellow yellow wonders fruits to squeeze, to drink in this city that blossoms under this light so intense and hardly visible with the human eye. I can do with lemons every day, lemons are happy fruits and acid which realizes me I live. If you taste the tanginess of the lemon on your tongue before you swallow the juice it’s kicking in and you know you’re alive. Nature then as awaking and healing. That lost rhythm I can drum it up I can count the bells and I know that fruits and vegetables since I turned vegan in the glory of a planet that needs deeply care from us I find it and I can touch it. All those shiny and dark colors bring immediately a feeling of connection. It never gets dull. It’s instead in the end always a new happy thrilled moment.
For reasons of rhythm and health of nature a planet that keeps turning round and round and children that play and run around the edges believing that another butterfly is yet to pop. Simultaneously that is the easiness of play and a dive in consciousness not so much when you’re a child maybe and with time then comes back all that of being outside and wanting to make that tree house, that wall out of bricks and stones from Middle Ages scattered around in the field, no one beliefs you that you make that wall. But you know you can do it. There is no time as summer pass by and school waits. Of those long days ahead the endlessness you never feel it it’s that unmountable idea of ever time for always not knowing where the day starts that your summer break took off and no belief that it will ever come to an end. The rhythm in those summers are made up by the sun at rise and at dawn. Those lazy no time no care feeling and notion that deep down there is at the end of hours an and the evening that finely fills someone who will feed you and off you go to the bed. Dreams that make summers a time of grow, the warmth the sand the golden sand between your toes and the salt on your skin. Stream of waves and unconsciousnesses so easy to embed in life when you keep to that eternal young feeling of life without rhythm without a clock without a burden only that sky above and that warm earth beneath your bare feet. Those summer walks through the small streets finding a path, your own steps and only your voice in your head and the scintillating illumination at the surface of the sea. Can we capture this too? In our small laboratory ? Cobbles one two three and four and five until you forget to count and start again, that too is the playable nuance that the children bring to the days. I can do that I can wander through those vague and summery days and I see the water in the streets that’s isn’t there anymore when you come up close. She tricks you with her light and beams and the perception in my mind that uniqueness of seeing what is not there. Nature is the natural filter of how all the things connect and light up that day that didn’t start so well just and now when I open the curtain and need to hastily close my eyes so sharp and overwhelming clear is the light today. Walking make memories intertwine so easily with the actual now. Colours and flavours, recipes and tables, shared food and the cobbles collected from the beach. The rabbits hiding under the flowers in their bed along the terrace. Slippery rocks and crabs in a bucket filled with the sea, that sense of belonging as that child between the shore and the sea, that beach that feels like it is you that protects it and you speak with it, you talk yourself and your little siblings towards knew treasures and hidden secrets. A pink rosé in a small paper cup, the butterfly in my left corner and that marvel golden sun at the extreme opposite side of the island floating between the land and sea, rhythm in memories along the walks of the beach in a glass and melted in words and and laughs in words that get lost in waves. Day dreaming in these minutes and stilled moments feel like the perfect gift of rhythm and the child I stayed myself makes sense to how I make up with it when I loose track in linear thinking and encourages that meaning of let go, slip in that vessel that takes you out and bring back the secrets from another world, the natural sounds of the noise of the rolling waves, the breezing pines, the crying child that steps in a sharp shell, the mingling of flavors of all the greens that colorful blossom up and down the rocks in brightness and archaic forces like the pomegranate when you open it the jewels start coming out and their translucence are the exquisite detail in the salad of the summer late night sale that I’ll make with those dark colors, the season lingers and the taste buds only get more excited when the food we eat is that part we love the most when the warmth of days in summer never ends and your fork picks the ingredients. The seasonal forces of rosemary and thyme could they maybe be my compass. They’re their blossoming. They survived ages of time, end of seasons and new suns. I know there is in children and their play the ultimate and happy link to the natural habitat in what they say, how they move, what they run after with their little legs and their strong little feet. Elements of structure and components of new rhythms are all there. It’s beyond a horizon to close by and an adventure awaits to connect and dare.
Summer salad recipe:
1 pomegranate
Dates from Jordan
Cucumber finely chopped
Coriander fresh
Beetroot
Confit lemon
Mint
Salt
Pepper
Olive oil
Mustard
Balsamic thick oil
Rosemary freshly chopped
