A new year…

christmasEvery year around Christmas time I get this surge of inspiration with a new year coming… It is celestially late this time however and is falling completely on today, New Year’s Eve.

We don’t have big party plans (haven’t done that in ages) but we always do a movie (tonight it will be the new Star Wars flick, I may cry I’m such a nerd) and escape for a bit, eat something good, and drink of course! Tonight is no different. Felt my surge of inspiring thought during a tough, yet groovy yoga class this morning (fell apart emotionally during it, which I believe was a good thing) which enlightened my spirit and has left me…hopeful.

May the new year bring you more joy, creativity and inspiration than you thought possible.
My wish for all my dear Wit followers…

A few Wit-ful inspirations for today…

what im wearingWhat I’m wearing…wishes…

_quebec-city-quebec-cr-gettyIf there would be snow…I’d want it to look like this…

winter

paris Ice skating Le Grand-PalaisIce skating in Paris…

paris macronspretty things…

my white world

mala…see the beauty in every crack in the veneer of happiness…love every imperfection in humanity…hold the world’s aching sadness in the center of yourself. ~ Kino MacGregor, The Power of Ashtanga Yoga

yoga works“Luminous beings we are, not this crude matter.” – Yoda

6 Reasons Why Yogis are Jedi Knights

Parisian-Apartment-soft-white-bedroom-with-black-accents-and-potted-tree2A place to love and dream…

new year's cheers

Happy New Year!

 

Wiederkehr

 

rain

Wiederkehr

He only wanted me for happiness,
to walk in air
and not think so much,
to watch the smile
begun in his eyes
end on the lips
his eyes caressed.

He merely hoped, in darkness, to smell
rain; and though he saw how still
I sat to hold the rain untouched
inside me, he never asked
if I would stay. Which is why,
when the choice appeared,
I reached for it.

~Rita Dove

Demeter, Waiting…

IMG_2276

No. Who can bear it. Only someone
who hates herself, who believes
to pull a hand back from a daughter’s cheek
is to put love into her pocket–like one of those ashen Christian
philosophers, or a war-bound soldier.

winter

She is gone again and I will not bear
it, I will drag my grief through a winter
of my own making, refuse
any meadow that recycles itself into
hope. Shit on the cicadas, dry meteor
flash, finicky butterflies. I will wail and thrash
until the whole goddamned golden panorama freezes
over. Then I will sit down and wait for her. Yes.

~ Rita Dove, Demeter, Waiting

Images: Emilia Clarke, my edits
and Winter image via Pinterest

Lispy bails out…

 

shaden photo

Here in the open cockpit
faceful of breeze
I sniff the winds of change.

Wooden wing struts and guy wires
lend a tentative support. You
look so brave out there, wind
whipped white frock and Florence
Nightingale cape.

Below, the dizzy patchwork map. I
can still hear your courageous last words,
a soft mixture of lisp and postnasal drip

as you step into the nearest available space,
a cloudbank of high hopes
one hand clutching your little nursebag
and the other the ripcord.

~ David Barker

image: Brooke Shaden