Amor Milagre Author, A Gentle Life Bookshop, Hoppy Bunny Illustration
Isn’t it so very interesting to record something? A moment of thought, feeling, senses… Not for anyone, just you. Don’t listen to anyone who says your senses are incorrect. That makes no sense. Yours are yours. You can express. You must. It is natural. I was made to observe for so long. Made to wait to live. Sick. Surviving. I painted, yes…and I still do, but now…I cannot stop writing stories…my hand hurts. Did you know that there is this well inside of yourself…just waiting to be heard? Much more than you thought was there, which was already so much. Unblock this timeless space by removing yourself from the distractions and pollution surrounding you and built into your non-beneficial daily routines. To be able to finally hear oneself again is a relief. Do not pollute and prevent others from their self-connection either. Our world needs a new beginning full of green plants and fresh air. Untangle yourself from the buzzing mess of cords and blinding lights and walls of sound. Free us from this poisonous frequency and shed all wires wrapping the earth. Decompress. Get back to you.
This is so very interesting. Endless. An intangible joy.
Amor Milagre Journal: Spring Garden, Pirates, Pasta, and May Adventures
We met on a beach, and so after nearly 12 years of exploring various shores and waters together, we thought a serene way to celebrate was to return to reflect on our love story…this time with our treasure, to play a game of scavenger hunts with crinkly old maps and sandy digs. We found what we were hoping for, and so we’ll keep playing, on and on, together forever. Inspired by tales from my desk, a certain note left by Piratess Moira, and a local borrowing of Treasure Island, we set forth into the mist…
Amor Milagre Journal: Spring Garden, Pirates, Pasta, and May AdventuresAmor Milagre Journal: Spring Garden, Pirates, Pasta, and May AdventuresAmor Milagre Journal: Spring Garden, Pirates, Pasta, and May AdventuresAmor Milagre Journal: Spring Garden, Pirates, Pasta, and May Adventures
We’ve been exploring neighbouring libraries to see what kinds of treasure they hold dear in their donated collections. Our language lessons were filled with naughty rabbit pirates this week, in various exclamations of awareness…of a certain irritated gardener.
Amor Milagre Journal: Spring Garden, Pirates, Pasta, and May Adventures
From bare to pink to white to…soon…green…the apple tree is our sweet inspiration.
Amor Milagre Journal: Spring Garden, Pirates, Pasta, and May Adventures: Soft Organic Cotton Children’s Sleep Bloomers
Rainy dewy days are for sewing up soft cosies to grow into…
Amor Milagre Journal: Spring Garden, Pirates, Pasta, and May Adventures
An anniversary dinner of homemade pasta…mmmm…
Amor Milagre Journal: Spring Garden, Pirates, Pasta, and May Adventures
Amor Milagre Journal: Spring Garden, Pirates, Pasta, and May Adventures
Greenhouse air…
Amor Milagre Journal: Spring Garden, Pirates, Pasta, and May Adventures
New delicious short love stories awaken each rainfall…more on these sweet darlings later.
Your greatest treasure is always within twenty paces of wherever you stand…zero boot lengths even…it’s you…you are your true love. Take care not to lose your sense of this, for you really cannot. Love is your shadow, so you might as well have a dance, then!
Happy Spring Moments & Adventures, Love ~ Amor Milagre
I do not wish to think of bones, mere dust held together by moons. I focus on stories. I depend upon stories to hold together my given set of bones, though they scrape and burn as they disintegrate causing a fire of endless pain. I need stories to distract from this. I take no medicine. They research no comforts or cures. I write endless stories, not only to express my other world of dreams, ideas, persistent unfolding rooms and eyebrows raised, lashes asleep, or waves unending. They are me, I am them, and I am their translator, though no words or brushes could ever make them vivid to you. No one reads them, no ones can sense them…do you see this? Everyone is so very very lost. I keep our family aware, open, and alive. Where are all of the stories? Can you feel them? They are everywhere. They speak and dance and laugh and cry…there are trees in my eyes… There are stories. I write them down. My cursed bones can barely read my scribbles. I try anyway. We hear them, my breadcrumbs and keys for my baby, my salt sprinkles and downpours of sweetness for my husband, to follow. I do what I can with these sandy bones. I know that where I exist is beyond them, a plane walker.
All I ask of you is to do what you can with yours…be good to our worlds, and be grateful for what you do have, and can make….finding it all in the air you breathe. It is all there…always…just open your senses and, absorb. Truth is not hard to find. Love is everywhere. Breathe in this wisdom of stories flying, flying. Love it back. You are what is missing from your life.
Treat us well while we are here. We open the windows… Love, ~ Amor Milagre
With handmade love notes, a tiny sweet doll named Khalila, chocolate chip pancakes and giggles in bed, time to write or paint, and a fresh planting of seeds in our Rose Cottage garden, I could be describing this sweet, sunny Mother’s Day…and I could also be telling you about our recent Sundays these past few weeks. Once life becomes steady and settled, we have more time for regular simple pleasures such as these, but we’ve always aimed for daily respect, attention, and loving communication to fulfill each other’s needs and ideas.
*If the world celebrates Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Baby’s Day, Earth Day….every day…then everyone will be readily able to receive, accept, and give love and adoration without cause for surprise, or commercials to remind you to reach out. They’ll know how deal with being loved. We are all made of love, and we all can really feel this is true. Open your hearts today, and every day, so that when it comes time for your specially named day, it’s just an extra way for your beloveds to show that they care for you. You will already know it and have felt it all the years through.
If you haven’t achieved this healthy structure, even after years of fostering and encouraging it, and even if you have, then perhaps your non-day off is more a forced gratitude situation of sudden odd amounts of attention? And, maybe the offer may not even be repeated every year if you didn’t praise the belated grocery store bouquet enough? Then, what do they even expect for Father’s Day? What has your year built up to celebrate? From my childhood memory, the men somehow got to leave the house…sneaking off to golf, ignoring any offer of gifts, and making yet another day about them? Does that help a family to feel good to share their appreciation? Here, we reciprocate the same sweetnesses equally for both parent-centric days, and we love being together all of the time. What if you are sick, or perhaps tired (laughing), when the day rolls around? Do you miss your chance, or is it all bundled into one gesture? Is it lonely or sad? Why bring it up for everyone when it is different for everyone?
My husband is nice, but it still takes so much for two different people to understand…really anything. Please calendar-makers, let us decide our own times of celebration…ideally every day from: now to then. You are confusing the children. There are many dates on there which we do not celebrate, but somehow this one is hard to escape. The weather plays such a role in when we celebrate holidays, and so does our health. The false kindness directed toward mothers once a year, but not every day at the library, at the store, at the doctor’s office, is not on our menu. Be real. Choose what and when you celebrate. Respect us everywhere, always.
Be kind every day, and get to know what your beloved prefers. I don’t like dead flowers. They remind my senses of funerals. Shall we, then, on our holiday have a funeral for the poor flowers? My husband gifts me seeds. He’s outside now…planting them for us. This is a gift. Perennial flowers that we can enjoy every time the wind comes in warm with the spring months, some are even edible! We know when spring is here. No reminders needed. Take the pressure off your loved ones…enjoy every moment with them as you live it.
*A special note for the world: Women and children’s health is, and has always been, in desperate need of attention. Our rights, our illnesses, our safety, our state of being and treatment in/by this world need top priority. Remedy this lack of care and respect for us with real healthcare, real education for all to respect us, new laws to help us, and real equal rights and opportunities in effortlessly safe conditions as the new basic standard. We deserve to live as ourselves as we need to live. We are not creatures. We are people. We have our own lives, so leave us be. You will respect us. That’s it. It’s done. Now, we all live well and pleasantly, doing what we love and enjoy. This is a way to honour mothers. Let it be a perennial you plant in your mind, a daily affirmation, until it is engrained in your blood….the blood your mother gave you. Cheery? We’d like our lives to be so.
Also, being a healthy mother ties into all of this. Everyone can be a healthy parent, partner, child…and the cycle continues…so make it a good one. You can restart at any time. Love is sincerity and truth. Care about all mothers, everywhere, not only the ones around you or none at all. *Motherhood is not only the most difficult and risky experience to survive and to keep doing, but it is a wondrous one to know, and through it, you know more of yourself. Bravely invite this honesty and grow from it.
Sending loving supportive energy to all of the mothers. I know.
Respect for women and children is necessary every day to truly celebrate motherhood, not to mention the existence of our world.
