Words Like Coins Jangling in a Jar

Tags

Black and White, Change, Florida, Freedom, Humanity, Melancholy, Orlando, Photography, Poetry, Prison, Rain, Walking

His meaning was

sharp and swallowed,

with words like coins

jangling in a jar.

“I’ve been out for nine days…”

Stranger- A Friend Waiting to be Met

Tags

Art Event, Black and White, Events, Florida, Indian Harbour Beach, Nature, Photographers, Photography, Satellite Beach, Walking

“There are no Strangers, here; only Friends you haven’t met yet.”

-William Butler Yeats 

I ambled along in November afternoon, the murmur and chatter of the crowd mingling with the cool, easy wind. Booths sprawled before me, art glittering in shards of lemon light. I came upon the words, “Sunrise Greeting Cards” and found myself amongst a glossy scene of flitting photos pinned up in a glorious display of majestic beach sunrises. Lissome slate-blue shadows of oaks and palms filtered through the white, billowing sides of the inviting tent. And then a friendly voice, rife with jubilance and bonhomie, beckoned me. Sue, the sapphire-eyed, winsome photographer invited me to take a more intimate look at her passionate captures.

“It all began with a photo-a-day e-mail list. I thought, ‘why not share some of this incredible beauty we get to see every day here in Florida with some of my Northern friends?’ It just spread from there,” she said smilingly, photo-cards of glorious pastel and neon sunrises, and gamboling sea, scintillating all around us.

“I just want to share the beauty with as many people as I can!” she exclaimed.

A life-sentiment I could not help but profoundly admire- not only to share captures of our daily splendor here, but also to share beauty of Spirit and Passion; and to ignite and inspire such in others- such was my encounter with wonderful beach photographer with the lilting name of Sue Dafoe. Aye, she certainly inspired me as I tottled away in my typical ibis-fashion, and continued down the path of tents, that brilliant November afternoon.

“the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars.” 

-Jack Kerouac 

Event was the Annual Gleason Park Arts and Crafts Show, in Indian Harbour Beach, Florida.

Ebullient cheers,

Autumn Jade

Leering Darkness

Tags

Black & White, Florida, Musing, Night, Night Photography, Photography, Solitude, Story, Thoughts, Urban, Walking, Writing

After days and years of solitary walks, meandering along the sea, or through the quiet forest glade, delving into the chasms and crevices of my belladonna-mind, the leering darkness provoked a change, and I found myself upon a nocturnal stroll of the urban kind.

I ambled along amidst the jubilant bar life, the incandescent window displays and charming, but dolefully indifferent, advertisements whoring for a sale.

I trotted along the night-washed sidewalk, myriad globs of smashed gum wads catching the glow of a nearby streetlamp. They glinted in perfect circles punching through the dark like stars to light my way.

Framed by the passing headlights, the silhouettes of Panhandlers stalked along like jackals looming near a bleeding kill they could never quite reach.

Moody Indie-music lumbered out from the dreary maw of the newest haunt. The sound mingled with the hum of fans, the buzz of neon signs, and the silent boisterous banter of the chaos within-

Words joggling and spurting, desperate to touch (with lucidity, with meaning), but always guarded- and so naively off-key, like hesitant eyes that rise out of cadence and fail to meet (and so sabotage what might have been). I walked on.

Solitude followed me as I shuffled through smiling countenances (grinning teeth obscuring the self-doubt and brittle sadness within) glaring through the darkness. I walked effortlessly, gliding along in my pinstripe hat and my animated thoughts. In the cover of the leafy weald, or in a circus theatre, yes, Solitude always became me.

And I was content. Aloneness was never barren or hollow, but resolute and kind. It fostered reason and curiosity, the creative mind like perennial autumn flare ruffled by the rejuvenating wind, fresh and crisp and ludic. Aye, I was alone, but never dreary. I had determined to avoid the infection of loneliness.

But I did come to know Madness, before the wall of mud and sticks finally gave way and the onslaught of my own wild thoughts were released to flow free. Before I knew the bliss it was to embrace my Self.

My gritty step faded. The crowds, the bars, the panhandlers, all dissolved behind me. The charming signs, the decorative lights and floating music, all wafted away. I was free, and I was lively, and I was going somewhere, gliding along rivulets of thought- and always by my side along the way, my coy and reticent friend, Solitude.

Goodnight,

Autumn Jade