“Each day comes bearing it’s own gift. Untie the ribbons.” (BAH)

imagesThat was the writing prompt today in the journal class.  I don’t like to be reminded I should be happy, grateful . . .  I blame it on college – being surrounded by barefoot “flower children”, wearing tie-dye,  flowers stuck in flowing hair, singing about love (not to mention “practicing” it) while I was working 30 hours a week to pay for my education.  Did I mention I went to The University of California at Berkeley . . . ?

Berkeley was a foreign country across the world from the Arizona high school I had attended: Girls were allowed to wear pants to school one day a year – rodeo day; The only drug I knew about was aspirin; Acid was hydrochloric; If you went barefoot the bottom of your feet would be seared from the 124 degree summer heat and; “Love” was “necking” at the drive-in theatre. (It was aptly called “necking” as all the action took place from the neck up). 

I was out of my element in college.  I watched, listened, standing on the outside looking in and had no clue I was observing a cultural phenomena.  All my time and energy went to financial and academic survival.

Decades later hearing positive sayings, aphorisms, slogans my brain reels itself emotionally back to college when I was in survival mode – working, studying, envious of those who untied their ribbons and freely, spontaneously savored the gifts of each day of their lives.

Today I drive a VW Beetle with a peace sign on the side . . . go figure


Many forms of Grass


Green Haiku

Attended Berkeley
education up in smoke
Few sat on the grass*

*ALL reference to personal experience is unequivocally denied except for the fact I graduated from the University of California, Berkeley, 1967

Haiku-Heights Prompt - GRASS
Prompt – GRASS

Belly Up to the Bar Boys . . . in your dreams . . .

When I saw Cressida’s post I immediately related:

  • I took a belly dancing class once.  (The only thing I lacked was the right costume)
  • I listened to Santana in the late 60’s. (when it was harder than now to see my belly.)
  • I will write a Black Magic Haiku too. (about my own belly dancing):

Moving  sensually 

belly heaves to the music.

That’s not all that heaves.

Now!  Listen to the music, watch the belly, read  Cressida’s accompanying poem

and if you have any imagination picture me! 

Santana ~ Black Magic Woman with sensational belly dancer

Black Magic Woman

By Cressida de Nova

mesmerising alla black magic woman
dancing on the desert sand
in the cool moonlight

with her belly breasts and moves
black magic at work

white men sell their souls
for a temptress like this jewel
lambs to the slaughter

i watch them crying
wallets emptied no airline
ticket to go home

Thanks Cressida http://invacuoreticent.blogspot.com/ for giving me permission to repost your Haiku!