Ah, mon petit chou

At last, I understand that French term of endearment, "my little cabbage."

I bought an organic cabbage from my local health food store. I bought it simply because it was beautiful. Its shape was flawless, smooth, ovule, and its outside leaves met in the center, gently touching edges as if they were human hands in prayer. I peeled back one of those leaves, and the photo above shows you what I saw.

The architecture of this single cabbage leaf is a work of wonder. Take a moment to look. See if you can count the veins or follow their many pathways without your eye becoming lost in the complexity... of one leaf.

Le chou tasted as wonderful as it looked. This naturally grown, divinely made cabbage tasted positively mellow with a hint of the tang it is so well-known for--just enough to make it interesting to my palate, just enough to make it un chou and not une laitue.

November is a time of harvest. Such wonders as these abound. Let not the abundance blind us to the many marvels each act of nature contains.

Text and image, copyright Ysabel de la Rosa, all rights reserved.

Peaces of Space

forest journey by scottie parsons

A beautiful new exhibit opens this weekend at William Campbell Contemporary Art in Fort Worth, Texas: "Pieces of Space" by Scottie Parsons. I've titled this post Peaces of Space, though, because Scottie's paintings always give me such a great sense of peace and space.This brief description of the artist's work comes from the gallery Website:

"By rigorously examining planes of color and their relationships to one another on the canvas, Parsons strives to inspire a feeling of the infinite - both physical and spiritual - and to evoke a sense of the human essence beyond everyday life. Each piece creates its own indefinable atmosphere, inviting the viewer to enter, explore, and experience the sublime. "

sky ladder by scottie parsons

Visit the gallery online or in person and experience the sublime in these planes of colors that speak of all the elements of earth and those of heaven, too.

William Campbell Contemporary Art
Scottie Parsons

October 24 - November 28.

4935 Byers Avenue, Fort Worth, TX 817.737.9566.

A different kind of terrorist

These terrorists are killing wolves indiscriminately. Why? For the meat? Hard to believe. For the pelts? Wolf fur makes a good fur coat? The thrill? What thrill?

Here's what's happening: Entire wolf packs in the Greater Yellowstone and northern Rockies region are being stalked and killed. Already destroyed is Yellowstone National Park’s famous Cottonwood pack. The pack’s adults were all apparently gunned down -- the surviving pups will likely starve to death without their family.

Here's what you can do to help: Go to www.savewolves.org. Read the details. Sign the petition to Secretary of the Interior Ken Salazar. Consider donating to this amazing organization and to its important advertising campaign.

The natural world is sacred. Just as human life is sacred. When ranchers' livestock is genuinely threatened, killing a wolf, or even a few wolves is understandable, even though it's a sad affair. Killing wolves by the scores in a national forest is not right in any sense of the word. 80,000 people have already let Mr. Salazar know that this is not right. I hope you will add to that number.

A special Quiet place

I found this place by "accident" one summer day. An old chapel on a residential street in a Texas town. Now, when I travel through this part of the state, I go to this place very much on purpose. Where it is matters much less than the fact that it Is. Before I stop at a different spot in this small town to fill my car with fuel, I stop here to fill my soul with Quiet, that inimitable Quiet, the one that cannot be manufactured, but is alive and grows, waiting for us to partake of it as we would partake of a great tree's soundless shade. May you, too, find this kind of special Quiet place on some part of your journey.

Autumn Flowers

Autumn Flowers
by Fannie Sherrick
. . .

You are the last bright blossoms,
The summer's after-glow,
When all her early children
Have faded long ago.

. . .

For a poetic treat, go to Grandma's Family Poems, hosted by Grandma Mary. The poem above comes from that site, which features a wonderful selection of poems. It may inspire you to collect poems from and for your family, too. A beautiful and lasting legacy to hand down to future generations. Thanks to Grandma Mary for sharing.

Images, copyright Ysabel de la Rosa.

In-let

I've been reading Julia Cameron's The Sound of Paper. A beautiful book. She is the now-famous author of many books, so well-known that I think even posting a link here is unnecessary. After that book, I began reading her trilogy, The Complete Artist's Way: Creativity as a Spiritual Practice. Cameron shares her inner life with her reader in a remarkable way, including how she hears God speaking to her. No, not the delusional kind of God-speak, but the quiet, honest, and undeniable kind. I believe that Charles Wesley described it amazingly well when he wrote these lines:

"Thou callest me to seek thy face. 'Tis all I wish to seek;
To hear the whispers of thy grace, and hear thee inly speak."

Did you "start" at the same word that has always made me "start" in this hymn, entitled "Talk with Us, Lord?" Inly. Not inwardly. Not toward the interior, not aiming for the "in" within us, but going there directly. Inly.

When I first read these lines in Wesley's hymn, oh, how the editor in me wanted to fix that word. At first, I giggled at it. Then, I fretted over it. Then, I "excused" it, given its authorship. But now, with the passage of time, I believe I have come to understand it. And to understand why Wesley used it; not as a choice bent to rhythmic convenience, but because the word is exquisitely right in place and meaning.

Inly. What do we let in? How many media and messages? How many worries and obsessions? How many rotating fears and wishes?

Yet, the Divine stands ready always to enter, according to our invitation. An English hymn-writer of the 18th Century and a gifted 21st-Century author invite me, also, to travel inly and listen.

Text and image, copyright Ysabel de la Rosa, all rights reserved.

What about to have a red book?

Madame Fortune's Cookie Jar by Ysabel de la Rosa

What about to have a red book in your life? This is how Brazilian writer Beto Pelaio's latest post title reads, and I love it. Beto has a thoroughly interesting blog at outsiderwriters. His title today captivates my ears and my inner sense of rhythm.

He is speaking of the new red book by Carl Jung. A book, which I would not recommend to many, though I understand both its value and its appeal. You can read all about it in the New York Times Magazine's excellent article on the subject, written by Sara Corbett.

What is equally as important as Jung's inner discoveries (in my opinion, of course) is the delicate twist of discovery Sr. Pelaio has given to English--a language so much more flexible than it is frequently given credit for. He makes me want to ask:

What about to have a red book?
What about to have an ice cream?
What about to have a masked ball?
What about to hold someone's hand?
What about to lie on the grass and look at the stars?

What about you?

Image copyright Ysabel de la Rosa, all rights reserved.

Looking for books worth looking for?

Then visit my bookseller page at alibris.com

You'll find books from Europe and the US, poetry, prose, rare books, signed books, first editions, and more--all at really good prices. Every book is sent to its buyer wrapped in beautiful paper with an equally beautiful note card . . . you can buy holiday gifts from Artis Lingua Books and not even have to wrap them! Click here to take a peak.

Just added today: Stories of the French Artists: From Clouet to Delacroix, published in London in 1909; the first edition of poet John Berryman's beloved and famous book Love & Fame.

International shipping available.

Above illustration from Stories of the French Artists.

In memoriam

September 11, 2001

DreamBones #3
by Shelia Campbell

a voice comes tunneling
between the skyscrapers, and men
hunt down corners
to hide in, hoping the sound
is some new alert and not the last
prelude

children in the park drop
their toys and, looking up
listen

leaves uncurl their ears
in wonder, making cover
for the terror-stricken

no four horsemen of the apocalypse
no fire, no sword, no cracking
of the earth
just a voice tunneling between
the skyscrapers, a wind moan
amplified, asking
why














______________________________________

To order the book DreamBones by Shelia Campbell at a special price, click here.

Poem, Copyright Artis Lingua, 2005, all rights reserved.
Top photo by Mark Stout from istockphoto.com
Bottom photo by Melissa Day from istockphoto.com

Hearing Hope Whisper

Isn't that how hope usually speaks to us? In a whisper? In the still, small voice after the great winds have passed? Sometimes that whisper is just enough, sometimes it is all we have, yet whether just enough or all we have, it is always alive. That is the nature of Hope.

Lynn Johnston of Whispering Angel Books has just published an anthology entitled Hope Whispers. Two of my poems are included in the anthology, and they're in great company in this inspirational book that includes work by: Glenda Barrett, Linda O'Connell, Francine L. Bilingslea and Perry P. Perkins, along with Pushcart Prize nominee, Lyn Halpern and Pulitzer Prize nominee, Ed Roberts.

The book is selling now at a special pre-publication price, and proceeds go to support St. Jude Children's Research Hospital. It's a great opportunity to buy a gift for yourself or for someone you love, while giving a gift to a great cause. Normally $14.95, the book sells for just $10 through September 15.

Click here to see what Hope may be saying to you in this special new book. And, while you're at the book-order site, check out Lynn's collection of poems, Angel's Dance, also available for purchase.