Hoola Hoop , a poem

Photo by Alfred Statler 

 

Hula Hoop

by Mary M Payne

Neon pink, 

citron yellow

tangy orange…

hula hoops , a crazed

haze of hula hoops

100 million of ‘em…

They had to have one

or two….or three

which was probably

reason enough

that her pleas were ignored

and she went on lusting,

borrowing from friends

who by now were weary 

of standing apart

gyrating adolescent hips

to some inner slide guitar.

Months later

after she had wisely 

ceased beseeching,

her father emerged from 

his chaotic tangle

of a workshop

with a serious hoop,

begot from garden hose

and a wooden dowel,

an inspired marriage..

perfectly balanced

easy to spin. 

And she became

the neighborhood champion

for minutes in the air.

But her bemused 

hypnotic pleasure

of endless swivels

inspired suspicion. 

Was it a trick? 

Maybe that wizard of a man

gave the hoop a

special mojo 

for endless twirling.

It looks so easy.

but then,

“Can I try that one?” 

the constant refrain in the street 

under flickering lamps

on a mid summer evening

1958, middle America. 

Not glam like the others

not translucent nor Crayon colored

no beads inside to jingle

when she spun.

Her hoop was sturdy

and strong

and sober. 

Her hoop was black, mat black

avant garde even

before black was “cool” 

and long before 

she had begun to accept

that originality

would be the way 

she would go. 

Heaven

Heaven

If we can invent and realize our own heaven after death, I will check that box.   I will enter my new land of insubstantial souls, having tossed back the familiar corpse, consumed now in a golden blaze leaving only ash to prove that I was ever here. 

In my heaven, I am now disguised as my thirty year old self, a time when I felt invincible as a “pretty enough” woman in a youthful, competitive society. My thirties was the time that I was navigating new devotion for another and expression for myself.  My creative demonstration at that time was on the stage where passion lead me to moments of risk taking, feelings of success and  clarity and childlike enthusiasm. 

I have lost some that now. I have moved away from country and family and I am older by 40 some years.  I feel myself floundering in the new territories of age and place. 

I am always searching for others outside of the bonds of devoted coupledom and family to teach me more.   Perhaps though, I don’t want those connections enough to actually choose them when they are there.    So In my own heaven I would spend more time…if the construct of time exists, learning how to go deeper with others. 

In my new life I would seek out at least one snarky friend on my own level of evolution.  Since there would be no language impediment he/she or it might be from any continent, any planet.  We would swap witticisms and observations, many leading us to displays of celestial humor at what we had thought was the random nature of the universe.  We would discuss serendipity and so called miracles and how that all worked.    We would talk about our chosen work. 

And of course,  I would search out companions more enlightened than I.   My wise parents would be there… as they could be called back from their new lives for conversation, reassurance and consultations.  In my heaven one can share energy on several planes.   My family members would provide the comfort of the familiar for I believe we follow certain souls forever.

My Eden would be green and lush, yes, but would include a cozy dwelling of sorts: a straw filled cave with soft light or a colorful yurt with beds of  moss…where my animals and I would feel at home.  

 It is impossible to imagine not feeling or sensing.  I would probably miss those human traits, so I’ll add those in for as long as I still need them. 

In my heaven there would be animal companions….lions, leopards, elephants, house cats, pigs, octopi perhaps… in spirit form, of course, chosen for grace, insouciance and authenticity.  Dog friends could teach me loyalty, playfulness and devotion and share my love of purpose and work.  Add to that a bird or two, a blackbird or a parrot for singing and squawking together, flying and teleporting... pastimes which could be added to my love of movement. 

The purpose and work I would choose would be counseling earthlings,…

especially my precious rebel mate or siblings ( if they has been left behind)….even if they would feel too independent to ask for it.   I would guide those who asked or those too afraid or too proud to ask…whispering secrets in their ears, inspirations that they thought were their own about how to navigate the earthly dimension with it’s eight billion souls.  I wouldn’t be pushy about it,  just now and then.  That is assuming that I had found wisdom at last.

Above all, I would give humans back their capacity for laughter…  and show them steps to overcome grief and fear.  And I would lead them to choose their part in aligning and lifting us all, how to help the species survive on this planet  and how  to align with nature.  I could do that from that dimension as I try to do even from this one.

I can’t know if I will create my heaven.

 I am here now on this spinning ball of complexity and beauty living minutes from a gentle sea whose waves beckon to bathe in her cleansing power. ..at least metaphorically.   

 It is a crisp, luminous Sunday and that call has surely been answered by a crowd… as I am joined now by hundreds of ordinary folks…. strolling, running, skating, riding, chattering, fussing, laughing. 

 We are all marching forward with purpose, albeit with earth-sourced ignorance and fragile optimism.

This is what the living do now and it is surprisingly enough. 

There will be time for my heaven when earthly diversions have finally lost their luster or when the old lady in me speaks up to murmur quietly  :

“ Get your backpack, it's time to go".  

The Summons

 Sunrise Nice France,  Photo Dreamtime.com

The Summons

by Mary M Payne

I want to get up early before sunrise,

before the black birds even,

before the gendarmes patrol. 

I will tug on my clothes ,

shaking dreams aside 

and start down the empty road

to the forsaken sea.

I will watch the sky lighten by degrees

the first shards of gold, creamsicle orange, 

a fanning of pinks. 

I want to suffer again the “galets”

flat and round as dough cakes

shape-shifting under my feet, 

to hear the murmuring of old man Mediterranean 

encouraging, preaching, beckoning.

I will footmark the Covid forbidden beach

while I launch a prayer of thanks. ..

to the god of nature, to water spirits,
to trees, to bees and….yes, to people…

that rare sub-species…”the caregivers.”

I want to get up early before sunrise

before the street lights blink out,

before the merles’ tentative trills,

before the first stirrings, 

I will stealth on padded feet to the sea,

to glory in what we've never lost. 

Lockdown, Nice France

Lockdown, Nice France

by Mary M Payne
          
Early I walk on a road without cars

Daring the macadam,
no need for the sidewalk...
then home I flit beetle-like through the garden,

through lush tangles of yellow greens,

garnets and purples.

I toss smooth stones,

Fat as Parker House rolls

Into a pile, alluvial harvest
from a glacier harrowed hill.
No home for them now, 

the pile grows great,
monument to torpidity.

And now lunch, “plein air”

beneath the bay tree 

Grilled duck breast

sautéed mushrooms 

Dusky as old piano keys.

A toss of Italian plum tomatoes, then later,Clementines from Spain...

Shining torpedoes of acid sweetness.

If the virus comes, 

All will be otherwise.
but today dappled with delights,

is a colorful child's pantomime.
Tiny creatures tune their instruments 

An overture to April spills forth.

Lemon gowned butterflies shepherd us to our seats.
The lights go down. 

We wait.
          

Art in the time of Cholera

Collage by Mary M Payne

Well, I think that nothing has happened in my lifetime that compares to the pandemic and lockdown we are all experiencing today. 

  Of course the virus is real but doesn't feel real when one is healthy and safe and lives in a beautiful community in the "green zone" of France.  Yes, our department is so far the third least hit by the virus so we are a "green" designation.  

 Here in the south of France people seem to be acting normally.    There are few masks in view and many folks are out and about despite the affidavit required to leave the house and then only for an hour.  

I have been in the garden almost every day,  thrilled with this spring which seems even more lush than usual.  Is it that I am taking the time to experience this season more during the lockdown or is it true that despite little rain, all of the plants are in raptures? It may be both.  And it may be that the mature roots of our garden are deeper this year, giving some plants an underground water source. 

Just before the lockdown went into effect on March 17, I was attending an art class once a week.  In that class we had a theme presented to us to work on for about a month.   Today I am taking time out from the garden to look back on the work I produced for my class.  

The theme this time was to depict what is "infinitely large or what is infinitely small".  Since I was not inclined to take the project literally as some museum artists have done with large installations,  I decided to use the idea of the cosmos as the point of reference that was infinitely large and "talk' about our place in the vast universe.

  I wanted to try the idea of surrealist collage as a starting point.

 First I  assembled a lot of images that appealed to me.  I found most of them for free online.  The quality of the images when printed was paramount and I found that using Laser images was preferable to my own inkjet HP.   I also tried different weights of paper.   I first used photo paper but found it was too thick for my purposes and that I disliked the shiny aspect of even mat photo paper.   In fact with all the printing and with ordinary HP cartridges costing 50 euros for one cartridge , this was probably the most expensive project I have yet done for this class. 

 For paste I used ordinary white paste to adhere the print paper to 180 gram Canson and tack that onto 300 gram watercolor papers as backgrounds.    When the layers became thick I used double sided tape to adhere one to the other.  

   In every case in my series of 6,  I use the human hand as a through line thread of cohesion. 

 In the first collage here, you will see a diver about to execute a backflip.   I liked this image and put it in and then realized that for me it represented the fact that we, as humans, are for the most part "blind" to where we are going ( like the diver). We take our lives and the majesty of the universe for granted.  We frolic through our lives little realizing consequences.   So now my surreal collages are not so surreal , there is a theme. 

  I would continue to post but the font keeps changing on my attempt to post.  I have looked into it on Google forums and many have the same problem.  However, no answer is forthcoming.    Sorry.  

Last report from Thailand

Dinner at Mooban Talay, Thailand

The big surprise for us at Mooban Talay was that the resort was catering to hundreds of Chinese tourists each day.   They came off tour boats starting as early as 8am and boats continued to visit Mooban Talay until well after 3pm.   The idea was for the early visitors to stay only in the cafe area and take a drink but that was not what actually happened.   Groups spread out to explore the resort and if not for sentries posted they would have taken the parasols, hammocks and crowded into the pool as well as the roped off area of the sea.   

Mooban Talay Resort, Thailand

The great chef and his fixed fish menu was the big draw at lunchtime and the dining pavilion was overflowing each day for several seatings.  The mounds of food looked delicious and the waiters were literally running to serve the tables.   After the first day when we were quite early, we could not find a seat for lunch.

Seeing what was about, I asked at reception where the residents of the hotel were meant to eat and the man in charge said quite matter of factly that the best would be to order room service.  And that was what we finally did.    

I know Americans are loud compared to the French but the Chinese take the prize.  There seemed a huge need for the visitors to fill each minute with volume:  shouting at each other in the water, on the beach and at table. 

   It was irritating and entertaining at the same time. After a walk along the main road, Dave and I lounged, splashed and read by the pool while I enjoyed the spectacle of the "selfie" taking tourists.  

And what a show that was.

It seems that the objective of the female Chinese was to be photographed in matching costumes, playing with scarfs wafting overhead, walking in the sea in long gowns or gamboling in sand full of sand fleas.    The men and boys were charged with taking the photos and the women were there to change their costumes and act as models.  There were not just young women, but also women in their fifties.

A trio of women dressed to impress, taking one of a dozen photos with these outfits,  Thailand

Later I learned that the aggressive behavior of these tourists is a noted complaint throughout the islands of Thailand. The truth remains however that the Thais need the income from tourism, and the Chinese need to get away and enjoy themselves like everyone else.  

By evening we were back to eating dinner on the sandy beach and in love with the chef once more.   I tried the famous green mango salad which is a popular specialty.  The unripe mango tasted a bit like Jicama. ...not really very interesting, but the sauce was good.  The fish dishes were all excellently prepared.

Mary and her Kamakazee drink,  Mooban Talay, Thailand

Dinner,  Mooban Talay, Thailand

Baked scallops in Cheese, Mooban Talay, Thailand

 Dave at Mooban Talay, Thailand

Let me say that we are pleased with Tell Tale Travel and their teams in Bangkok and England giving us just the right combination of natural beauty and culture.    We felt we had had a varied look at Thailand from top to bottom while making friendly connections along the way.    I wrote this all down in these posts to cement it in my mind and share my photos with Dave, but for those of you who have followed, thanks...it's always gratifying. 

6am departure for Bankok from Ko Samed pier, Thailand

Juliet's Coffee Cafe

Mooban Talay,  7h30 in the morning,  December, 2020

The next day we were to find out how this resort really worked.   In the morning we tried the big pavilion for breakfast and found that our coveted chef was not in residence.  

The big pavilion was a vast open restaurant which could not rival the cozy atmosphere of the fairy lights we had eaten under the night before.   And although the Thais try to please with their sausage, bacon and egg breakfasts, they do much better with fish than they do with pork.  Perhaps we should have ordered Thai breakfast for when we found out that the offered coffee was instant, we knew how spoiled we had become. We vowed then to find our own breakfast the following day. 

And we did find it ...a few minutes away on the main road was Juliette's Cafe.  It was cozy and intimate and had good coffee, eggs and even coconut waffles if you were up for it.  There was also a strange menu of "toasts", some with the popular condensed milk dessert as a topping.    Juliette was charming, shy and without English...which always gave us a fun chance to interact with pointing and gestures.

   It was from her that I bought my banana dress and a few other clothing items for less than a dollar each. On a shelf inside she was running a second hand clothing store .... all of the good quality items mysteriously in petite sizes. 

Juliette's Coffee cafe, Ko Samed, Thailand

Juliette in her cozy cafe, Ko Samed, Thailand

Last report from Ko Samed and Mooban Talay tomorrow.