1 re-romance – Life Through The Lens of a Romantic

Life Through The Lens of a Romantic

Harper 2013/02/05 9
Life Through The Lens of a Romantic

Life Through the Lens of a Romantic by Harper

Developing my blog, delving into the mysteries of life for answers to the question ”What is Romance?” my thoughts on Romance have expanded.  The concept of Romance has exploded like a rainbow of crystalline fragments, to pierce the veils of fact, fiction, hope, passion, spiritual quest and commerce.  Researching the topic and reading scores of posts from others along the periphery of Romance genre, history, philosophy, id and ego have deepened my quest.  As I search for connectivity of this innate force that sparks life and brings us joy, I’m driven to share further tales of my journey.

My world is not insular; my life force takes me to many places.  This thread of comments is different than others within this blog.  With an artist’s eye, the tools of a wordsmith and a passion for life, I offer here, a series of thoughts and observations, that for some may be a catalyst for conversation.

I invite you to follow the comments on this post as I share:

Life Through the Lens of a Romantic

 

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9 Comments »

  1. Sally DeSmet 2013/02/11 at 11:20 am - Reply

    Wow – that is a lofty subject indeed! Love your blog and I look forward to reading more! I would love some insight into that mysterious subject!

  2. Harper 2013/02/26 at 9:38 am - Reply

    2.26.13

    Recent snow up in the mountains left 18″ of nourishment for the parched forest out my window. Today gentle flakes drift past my window and low moisture laden skies clouds the panorama across the narrow valley. The physical world hundred of feet down the slope is swallowed by a cocoon of soft white light glowing in the distance.

    At my table I write, soft chants of music filling the room. Calm and rested, I float in the warmth of my life and my love of it. The one I hold dearest is with me to share the moment. All within my field of vision speak to the magic and mysteries of the universe.

    In return I offer thanks and gratitude and send out wholehearted energies of peace and love to find you and warm your soul.

    Harper

  3. Harper 2013/03/23 at 12:08 pm - Reply

    3.23.13
    Reality in the foothills…

    Colorado pines warmed by last weeks false spring met last night’s storm with minimal resistance. Daybreak revealed thick puffy white molasses mounds dripping off dipping branches of even the sturdiest pine boughs that surround me. To my eye, tens of thousand white doves had invaded the forest. They lay with wings shouldered and heads buried deep in their breasts, melting into each outstretched limb. An eerie silent beauty prevailed against an unbroken grey-white backdrop of mist and snow.

    Swaying from gentle winds, the weighted sentinels, which yesterday gave promise of spring, look poised to march across the rocky terrain. Membranes of Inner branches, now thick with moist powder sag in unison under the strain. An army of pines, lumber through each passing hour of the storm. As the magnified mantel of shapes increase in girth, they move closer.

    A trio of nuthatches dart through the sky seeking purchase, black feathers bold against the sky. Flights of fantasy prevail as a thick overcoat builds over these slumbering shapes. The blizzard continues. Should the magic of the mountains awaken these winter white doves giving them substance, startling them to flight, and give movement to the surrounding forms, it would suprise me not.

  4. Harper 2013/03/24 at 1:57 pm - Reply

    3.24.13
    A Shearing

    The white snowbirds that settled in the pines have morphed this day. Bitter cold overnight and intermittent rays of mountain sun dance around the forest. Random gusts of northwest wind shake loose lifeless clumps of snow from select lofty branches. Bursts of opal crystals tumble then cascade and domino releasing a chorus of ivory waterfalls to the forest floor.

    Across the mountainside, in pines that rhythm rocks beyond my doorposts, clinging to bent boughs, a pastoral herd of fluffy white lambs cling valiantly to the branches. Their small shapes, ever shrinking as the sun climbs on this winters day.

    Some time this day, a shearing,
    their tenuous hold will release to shower the earth in crystalline glory. Their image permanent within me.

  5. Harper 2013/04/09 at 5:09 pm - Reply

    4.9.13
    April Showers

    It started slowly as a soft glow above in the canopy of nights descending cloak shifted in place. Soft moisture-laden, the snow settled slowly onto the rails, the deck, the taunt tarp of the hot tub. And flake-by-flake the surfaces combined white under its mantle. Hours later, as sleep took hold on this weary body, I noted only a scant four inches had grown of the predicted storm.

    Dawn came, the evening had held back this last of winters offerings. As I moved the remnants of sleep from my eyes to the grey morning light, there was an awkward stillness that came from awakening alone in our home. The cat felt it too, she has slept the night coiled in the cushions of a chair near the windows downstairs, waiting unknowingly for the return of her mistress. Stirring at the sound of my opening curtains to greet the lazy snowflakes that now resumed their journey from above, she purred for her morning meal.

    My morning computer check on the world revealed a countywide shut down of schools and business, below me in the valley, down the mountain, Denver was receiving a heavy dose of storm. Determined to advantage this day without guilt, to look on it as those who’d be gifted a free day, I settled back into reading my book.

    Morning went quickly, the winds shifting from the east bringing swirls of puffed flakes in a toroidal flow and danced toward me out of an endless cloud that encompasses all but the pines near the end of our road. Now the wind rocks even the tallest and most sturdy knocking free clumps of powder, precariously clinging to upper branches and the snowmass has tripled as the day moves on. The day promises more and the forest needs it so.

    Now, five hours later, the trees as if covered in whipped cream, doused and dripping bend to the ground and still it continues…

    My Love this day remains miles distant.Drawn by the Seven Rays her spirit flys, her heart and mine forever bound in a time and place beyond the light of day,beyond the snow and mountains. Till her return we wait, her cat and I, pondering life and days ahead as snow builds in the driveway. I breathe deeply as the flakes drift past the window where I write of my life this day…and smile.

  6. Harper 2013/04/10 at 2:00 pm - Reply

    4.10.13
    Snow Prints

    As the night air fell to single digits, snow ceased falling. The stars peeked through blue-black clouds as I sought warmth under blankets four layers thick. I settled my eyelids and steadied my heartbeat. Tomorrow the sun would return. My love having flown south for a conference in Phoenix would be gone five days more. The cat again longingly nested at the stairs to wait her touch.

    Dawn and nature roused me from sweet dreams. Wax-wings and mountain chickadees took turn at the small hanging wood feeder on the bedroom balcony, the deep soft snow scattered with seeds from their early morning visit. Stirrings in the power, repetitive impressions from tail feathers of something larger greet me as I check the level of kernels remaining in the viewing window.

    Below snow drenched pines, now lit by the eastern glow filling the landscape, add contrasts and shadows to the new day. A doe stared back at me from the mountain slope at the edge of the tall pines. Then another and a third approached the narrow ridges and curves marking a section of our gravel drive. Two large bucks, still weighted with antlers normally winter shed, a young buck with antlers budding and a small band of doe moved line file on unseen paths out the coniferous forest toward the mountain shrubs that dotted the acreage. Their hoof prints, marking the snow as they do the ground each morning winding downward to browse the vegetation.

    Padded paws of the large red fox had already left his mark on the far side of the embankment as it curved the driveway on his morning mission. He, the one with blacked ringed tail and a dark patch on his left shoulder, comes close twice a day now from a place in the open land above the house. Dusk and dawn he makes his journey down the valley for food, never intersecting, but aware of the cloven herd.

    I stand at the glass, absorbing it all. Time marked only by receding snowflakes as drop by drop, in slow motion, they liquefy, dissolve and vanish from the balcony deck. Snowflakes divert my eyes, blown from the Pinyon-juniper and pines that surround me, shaken from the launch of the large Black-billed Magpie that winging across the opal sky, they flutter by adding texture to the mosaic winterscape.

    Impressions hold tales of life the mountain. I savor them…

    Harper

  7. Harper 2013/05/04 at 12:41 pm - Reply

    Creekside Romance

    It’s afternoon, a good time to embrace a slice of heaven that’s Evergreen. Waters ripple over the rock strewn stream, glacial waters feed off the lake, ice cold in it’s journey from the cascade over the old dam, through the reflecting pool that so temps local anglers before moving to begin lower Bear Creek, here before me, at the edge of town.

    Crystal, opal crests dot the flow as it rushes over and around soft edge rocks and boulders. The most recent snow now melting, merging with the hard pack that still lingers on the northern slope. Cold air stirs the remnants of old woodland wild grasses as dollops of snow still caught in pine boughs lose grip and fall on the slippers slope. I’m memorized by the ripples and the sun off the rocks, the rocks offering but a peek to the mass burrowed deep in the mountain. My eyes drift, opening wider to gather and absorb the scene unfolding before me.

    The simple act of looking up slope from here is an amazing shift in visuals; normally I’m looking down at the forest from my windows 600 ft. higher up the mountain. Here the lodge pole pines, junipers and jaspers stand slimmer, younger. I arch my neck slowly upward to enjoy more fully their simple pleasure.

    The thaw came late to the lake. Only a week has past and now a wide channel allows a steady icy flow over the spillway atop the century old dam. Rising with the falling water and the vapors is a sound, soothing, ever present. It adds depth to the babble off the rocks before me as waters rush down the canyon to nourish small towns and open space below.

    The wind, colder now, brushes my cheek and stirs the patterned branches that intertwine like strings of unraveled yarns or stroke skyward combing the air. Twisting and turning tender branches bud ready eager for spring. Do you feel it?

    Evening beacons, the angle of the sun still bright against blue skies casts crisp shadows against the melting snow. Snow layers ooze, caressingly, fold upon soft fold inches along the sloping floor of the creek-side forest. In the shadows you can feel the chill gently pierce the skin, signaling yet another cold night.
    Inhaling deeply its flavor, the full sensations of the experience, I allow the crisp taste of the Evergreens, the cool tingle of it all to fill my lungs and invigorate my soul. All this and more… just steps from my door.

    This is the real thing. No canned flavor, spay scent or mint can match its essence.

  8. Harper 2013/07/07 at 7:43 pm - Reply

    Thoughts on turning 65…

    The passages and pathways I’ve traveled and wandered have brought me to a place in time where joyous dreams, life and love have merged.
    Brief images and memories flash a kaleidoscope of milestones, markers, and points on a map. Past images that plot course and direction which my life has taken. Fragments of who I was mirrored through prisms reflecting my personal realities of events that shaped me. Did the backstory of this life I claim to have lived truly transpire?

    I sit this eve, on my laptop and in the pauses between words and endless edits, flip yet unwritten pages, speed reading memories telling of my grand adventures. My life has been full, rich by choice in the unconventional, entrepreneurial and often-questionable paths I’ve tread.

    In the wonder of it all, here, now, I am happy and joyous. In love with life, with the lady who waits for me upstairs and with hopes high, a rainbow of dreams dancing fully within heart and mind to joyous tomorrows to where the next chapters of my life will lead.

    Harper

  9. Harper 2013/12/20 at 1:40 pm - Reply

    12.18.26 My Grand Adventure – Update

    I smiled as I drove through the night shrouded mountain valleys, along a winding county road that took me back to my tree house from the home of a new found friend and the cadre of musicians gathered to practice for a gig at a brew pub/cafe for a solstice celebration down in Denver. I smiled in gratitude and amazement at the turns my life has taken in the past 3 yrs.

    The troubled lost soul, dark in spirit, deep in the December of 2010, who ventured the road in a vintage Airstream motor coach in search of meaning is no more. I’ve re-birthed in a place where vitality and vibrant energy courses through me. It ricochets cross these mountains, the trees and rivers instilling within a sense of well being, peace and harmony such as I have rarely known. My life, my heart and spirit now filled and replenished daily with a beauty and love. I feel as one awakened in the fabled Brigadoon. Swept in its charm I find myself captive, moving and functioning within my dream-like reality, wishing never to stray from its spell. My smile widened, my cheeks flush from the chill of the wind whispering through the window I could not resist lowering to heighten the smell of the pines and taste in the air of recent snow.

    The full moon hung low to the east, just above the ridgeline of the mountains I’ve come to call home. It’s glow filtered through deep winter clouds adding mystery and awe to my moments of reflection. My breathing, still turned to the draw and blow of coaxing notes from my Harmonica, retained the pulse of music we had played. Head and heart reverberated with soulful melodies as I wove my way home to lay entwined with the beautiful lady who loves me true. The road ahead and behind was empty except for my headlights illuminating the enchanted forest with each curve in the road.

    Balancing my euphoria with a sense of time and place, alert to the chance that a native deer or elk might choose to cross the road, I marveled at where my journey has lead me. …

    Love and Light my friends,
    May joy forever surround you and dwell within your home.

    Harper

    You are invited to reflect and offer your thoughts on life as you feel it.

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