shadow snake

The purest moment you’ll have in life is when you are utterly completely alone because you only have yourself to face or to run from. Let’s see what you’re made of.

The final hour is upon us even if it takes a few decades to kick into that last slow motion fall into the ending we all meet. Perhaps when our eyes give up we can’t see the landing, perhaps our ears deafen at the sound of stopping, maybe the electrons and pulsings are disconnected before they cease dancing.

Maybe it is the eternal dark and not the light that is the reward. Begin in the muffled dark, end in the soft slow void, returned to before we had the pulp and the strain.

Why is darkness bad news? Why is light hoped for? What is sleep but a dive into the shadow of our selves for a respite from life?

Love is an expression of living but letting go is the only way to die, whether we cease being or we are born again as someone else, forever shifted and strange and new until the next ending and the next.

The snake eats itself to create a perfect circle.

The body teases life and then does a disappearing act. We only play at this life for awhile. We only touch the earth a few moments before waving adieu too soon to make our bon courage good-bye seem believable.

Life is the big escape from the inevitable. Refuge is a fairy tale you tell children so they don’t go mad. Revealing too much about Death is giving away the game before it is played. No matter how many times you play, you never play the same hand twice, even as we repeat the same circle we always have and always will.

Perhaps love and hate are formed in memory and perhaps the slipping away of remembrance is the relief we cannot name. Whether the light or the dark awaits us, whose to say they are not one in the same?

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Listening to Wagner’s Parsifal at 30,000 feet in the air

You amaze me. You ensnare me. Your soul overpowers me. I want to be sublime to you. Sublimate myself and love you in a beautiful and high manner for the rest of my days. I could write you a thousand sonnets and sonatas, and still not encompass the breadth and depth I feel for you. You came a moment before the death knell and I will love you more than any woman before you has, I will be more alive and more courageous than any of my predecessors, and you will be my greatest masterpiece. I want us to play each other like notes in the only harmony that is befitting of us… somewhere betwixt a duet in summer and a quartet in autumn. Do you know all I’ve seen and known and learned and tasted and felt and above all else, dreamt, before you… the man above all else? Do you know what we crawled out of both of us to reach this precipice. I just ask you… no I demand … if you really truly want me for your bride and your worshipful wife, your girl, your lover, your champion, …just love me… really love me.

You know I’m a Romantic then and I’m a Romantic now and this is how I’ll love you if you want it… this is how I know how to love, this is how I’ve always wanted to love, and needed a man, a soul, a mind, a heart, who could take the enormity of my feelings.

Sorry, but I’m a Romantic like Novalis or Keats or Byron or Shelley and I will tell you the truth until my last breath and … I love love love you .

Raganuga

A song called Raganuga recalls my husband’s spiritual name… Sanskrit for “spontaneous attraction to God” bestowed upon him by his guru Sri Prabhupada in the 1970s in India and in the US, twice. The sounds of his impression on this earth still vibrate.🙏🏼 Rian. Raganuga.

Please help me raise more money for his foundation: so far we have raised nearly 12 k at 100% non-profit… all proceeds go directly to the Brain Aneurysm Foundation to save lives and education and research.

The Rian Butler Fund

http://give.bafound.org/site/TR?px=1094755&fr_id=1040&pg=personal

In loving memory of Raganuga whose life transformed hundreds and thousands of people by his generosity, his wisdom, his honesty, his strength, his love, his philosophical and spiritual nature, his gift of the gab, his altruism in many communities, and through his power of example.

my Chasing Beauty In Italy book

“Chasing Beauty In Italy” 

(my softcover BOOK)

PRE-ORDER

$25.00 

125 pages, 5 x 8 inches, 13 x 20 cms, rich color photographs and architecture and art reproductions with novel length prose and travel and art details in between the musings.

My first long book on Italy; exploring 20 years of love, passion, art, and loss chasing beauty in the eternal city and all over Italia.

Accepting PRE-ORDERS for the LOW PRICE of only $25!

To be published and shipped out promptly in early September 2018!

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love and the colosseum

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The Colosseum from an off the beaten path vantage point in Rome, where we all want to feel beauty and find love.

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Rather than just street views up close, some of the ruins can be viewed from greenery, captured like a stolen moment between lovers.

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The sun breaking through the “windows” of the colosseum still inspires excitement in me after 20 years in Rome.

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See how small we are in this world, and how the ancients wanted to remind us of that?

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The view of more centuries of history mashed together from atop the crowds, with the ancient symbol of fecundity a pomegranate in bronze.

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Arches built for faded triumphs, still gazed upon thousands of years later.

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The verdant hills of the Palentine whisper of a pastoral Rome found normally on the winding road of the interminable Appian Way.

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Angels were found in Classical Antiquity, and have guided me along my own travels in the Eternal City.

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The marble of Roma seems the only thing built to last some days.

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A Roman bride as bright as a white dove sent as some augur of hope amidst the ruins.

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Love can not wait for time to take over and wreak havoc.

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A Renaissance fountain and umbrella pines tucked away quietly from the crowds.

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Water and moss glint in the sunlight and shadow.

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The present is pulled between the past ashes and the future hopes.

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When in Rome embrace love, life, and passion in the moment… bathe in warm sunshine before the sun crawls west and the moon rises in the east again, except for two days of the year.

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The moment is now, the touch is palpable, the hum of machinery is drowned out by the flight and song of sparrows, the cypress and umbrella pines wave in the breeze, and the scent of wine and food beckons like a kiss from nearby.

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Laugh in the face of death while you still can, make love in the dying of the light to make your embers burn deeper, richer, more wildly.

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The gods have left their dice behind, we only have to roll them.

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Remember what has been, recognize who you are, breathe it all in, and then move with the traffic to the next thing.

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The vestiges must be broken from something solid and beautiful before we are all dust.

 

widowhood

I want my own bed again

and I want to be alone

because that’s what

life is now

a series of good nights

to memories

private moments

which others

invade temporarily

in symbolic acts

of contrition and intimacy

merely signifying

soft betrayals

exhumed in the

burning of daylight