Tag: ocean

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Beautiful Isle

Why in the world did a Portugese ship travel past Taiwan, back in the 15th century??

The ship captain’s log aptly named Taiwan “Ilha Formosa,” meaning “Beautiful Isle.” Well, it certainly is a gorgeous land. Wow. On my recent trip there, I was stunned by the many, many ways in which Taiwan is so very beautiful. Long, pristine pebble beaches line the East shore, the water of which can be every bit as bright a turquoise as the Caribbean or as dark and wild as the Pacific gets. And somehow, the clouds above were especially voluptuous, making combined vistas that were just amazing. How many hours could I spend there, just looking? To borrow from Joni Mitchell, “I could drink a case of you, darling, and I would still be on my feet.”

Oh, then there are the forests and woodlands, the trees, so very many trees, almost all of which you don’t see here in the Midwest. Around 58% of Taiwan is covered with trees or bamboo! Palm trees with coconuts, acacias, camphor, red and yellow cypress. I especially loved the remarkable banyan trees that conjured up a song my mother taught us kids, “We’ll Build a Bungalow,” which I then sang over and over again as I rode my bike along those Taiwan roads. Okay, it now appears that the bungalow is “underneath a bamboo tree,” rather than banyan, as I thought, but I had fun singing, anyway. Besides, banyan makes more sense. Bamboo is not even a tree! I like my version better.

Then there’s all the tropical jungle vegetation, almost all of which I could not name. Bananas! Bananas grow right by the road, along with other fruits and all sorts of things I did not recognize. I saw orchids growing on the trunks of trees! We passed tea and coffee plantations on our bikes, and so many shimmering rice paddies. I felt like 90% of what I saw on that trip was new to me and that, alone, was enchanting. It was so green there that I’ve been guilty of begrudging our trees their bareness, since I’m home. Soon, I tell myself, soon . . .

Taiwan is nearly two thirds mountains. Mountains, mostly covered with trees, rise up next to or not far from the beaches, clouds resting contentedly on them much of the time we were there.

I had no idea that Taiwan was such a beautiful, beautiful country. Is it me or do we just not hear that much about its natural beauty? We hardly saw any other Westerners on our entire trip. Why are we not beckoned to visit lovely Taiwan, I wonder? Everyone and their monkey goes to Thailand and Vietnam, it seems. Taiwan doesn’t seem to be a destination for us Westerners. I would love to go back. I’d like to see more of the stunning Taroko Gorge and visit lovely Sun Moon Lake and get all the way down to the southern tip and see what’s there. So much gorgeousness in such a small place!

I have looked for quotes about Taiwan and almost everything I’ve found is political, rather than about the beauty of the place. Astounding.

“The world is simple and beautiful.” – Female Taiwanese Pew Research Center respondent, age 72 (asked what makes life meaningful)

“This wasn’t a strange place; it was a new one.” ― Paolo Coehlo

“Blessed are the curious, for they shall have adventures.” ― Lovelle Drachman

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. If you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. And if someone forwarded this one to you, you can sign up here to receive the letters right in your Inbox. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

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Heat

I had considered writing about other things today, but there has just been no escaping the heat lately, and so here you are. Heat. It has been brutally hot here where I live almost every day in July and many days in June. The grass is drying up. Even the onions and things I never wanted in my flower bed are burning to a crisp. Hallelujah! Go, onions! Begone, ugly weeds! I suppose if you wait long enough the thing that’s bothering will eventually change or go away.

And I suppose we’d have to say that is true of excessive heat, too. Tomorrow we expect a high of 78. Woohoo!!

Still, I have been longing to be elsewhere. The Great Lakes, Maine, Cornwall, Aruba–all of these places call my name and yet I cannot manage to get to any of them. Evil people mercilessly post photos of their gorgeous beach vacations, day after day. Ugh. I have to practice lovingkindness very, very hard for them. “May you be happy.” At your magnificent beach.

I walk my dogs and play pickleball outdoors as early in the day as possible, then waste away, melted, until the next morning. Old Lady. I might as well stuff a hanky into the neckline of my flowered dress and carry a fan.

I belong to two online artist communities on Facebook, both based in the UK. Granted, they’ve just had their hottest day on record and it was a really hot one. But a couple of weeks earlier, when it was in the upper 90s here and 100% humidity, one of those lovely British artists was whingeing (see what I did there?) about the “searing” heat of 28 degrees Celsius. I looked it up. 82 Fahrenheit! 82!! I would have given my hanky and fan for that!

Just goes to show that all things are relative. And yes, I’m aware that all things do change, as well, and we’ll be griping about the ice, come February.

A way of dealing with this is to think about what we do have. I, for example, do have central air. Very lucky. I have indoor activities that I love, like painting, writing, reading, and eating out. Oh, wait. I don’t eat out because of Covid. Okay, I have many pairs of shorts and sleeveless tops, clean water to drink, and a bathtub. I have watermelon. I have television, for those wrung out, splayed across the couch evening hours. I really am lucky. I know this.

Even so, I really, really, really, really want to be gazing at, sitting at the edge of, or actually in a very large body of water. Right now. Poopoo.

“If there’s a single lesson that life teaches us, it’s that wishing doesn’t make it so.”― Lev Grossman, The Magicians

“Sometimes things become possible if we want them bad enough.” ― T.S. Eliot

“Because there’s nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline, no matter how many times it’s sent away.” ― Sarah Kay

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. And if you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. And if someone forwarded this one to you, you can sign up here to receive the letters right in your Inbox. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here on my blog.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

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Intrepid

What the heck? I used to call myself “a plucky show artist.” For years I traveled, alone, to various cities, for a long time in an old worn out van, set up my difficult booth, knowing no one upon arrival but ultimately meeting lots of new people. I braved wind, rain and even tornadoes in a precarious booth weighed down with cement and straps. I loved it. Loved loved loved it.

And then I grew tired of it. The weather challenges grew very tiresome. At a show in Springfield MO, first weekend in May, one year it was in the 90s; the next year it snowed. No, thank you. So, tired and burned out is one thing. But fearful?

I’ve flown many, many times, within and outside of the country. Now? Flying had become a thing that unraveled me. Okay, Covid unraveled me. After canceling several flights last year, I have just braved air travel. But getting myself on that plane was a real challenge. I was fearful and worried. The mask mandate had just been dropped. This plucky show artist, this intrepid traveler nearly cried on that first flight, where only six of thirty passengers wore masks. I nearly got off the plane.

How is this anxious person me??

It was touch and go that morning, but finally, I decided it would feel like a defeat if I didn’t go. My mantra was, “I’m boosted. I won’t get Covid. I’ll have a wonderful time.”

I didn’t get Covid and I did have a wonderful time. I saw siblings, nieces and nephews I hadn’t seen for over two years. I saw one of my NYC sons! There was a family picnic (and family drama). There was a birthday. There was a cottage overlooking the sea, with the romance of a telescope in a many-windowed room. I ate barbecued oysters in Bodega Bay, had fabulous meals in restaurants and in the homes of my sisters, went into shops and galleries, got my feet in the sand and the ocean, sank into a foot and a half of snow, and saw breathtaking, gorgeous landscapes and rainbows.

I breathed in air that carried a different loveliness than I’m used to, renewed my love affair with the ocean. In Oregon for my first time ever, I walked in snow wearing jeans and a t-shirt. I saw grand rivers, rivers of cold turquoise water, with roaring waterfalls, and wet, moss-covered rocks and boulders, surrounded by huge tall trees I cannot name.

Magical nature abounding.

I came home with a full heart and so many memories. I am so happy that, after over two years, I broke the seal on flying. What’s next? Greece. Cinque Terre. Cycling the perimeter of Taiwan? Maine, again. The Riviera Maya, again. Machu Picchu? New York, again and again. The national parks. I am, after all, a plucky 70-year-old woman. I shall go and do while I can.

“The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page.”― St. Augustine

“I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel’s sake. The great affair is to move.” ― Robert Louis Stevenson

“I read; I travel; I become.” ― Derek Walcott

“. . . to travel is worth any cost or sacrifice.” ― Elizabeth Gilbert

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. And if you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. And if someone forwarded this one to you, you can sign up here to receive the letters right in your Inbox. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

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Mexico, Revisited

Having just last week expounded upon the notion of uitwaiien, I’ve decided this week that I need to go to Mexico, at least in my mind. Last year at this time I was in Akumal, Mexico, with my childhood best friend, who lives in Texas and whom I only rarely get to see. She works in travel and arranged a complimentary stay for us in a luxurious resort there. That trip was such a beautiful time for me. A gorgeous beach with perfectly lovely turquoise Caribbean water that broke way out in the distance, resulting in a gently lapping sparkle of sea on pristine white sand. Completely comfortable temperatures every day. I have kept Akumal as a weather location on my phone just to imagine I might be going there soon. Day after day, the temperature is around 82 degrees. Ahh.

My friend had some business to do, but I mostly lounged on an umbrella-covered chaise or a fabulous covered “beach bed,” gazing at the sea and sky. Endlessly. I found I was unable to read or nap or shut my eyes at all. I was simply mesmerized by that beautiful water and its gracious conversation with the shore. It was a meditation. When Anne and I were together on the beach, we chose not to talk all that much. We were easy with each other, as always, after all the years since we were 13. And I was perfectly content.

I came home utterly, totally, thoroughly, wholeheartedly relaxed. I felt like my heart had sprung wide open. And as often happens when I travel, I found a tiny heart-shaped memento–this time, a piece of coral in the water. I brought it home and placed it on a little table in my bedroom. I press my finger to it as I pass by. And my Romantic (with a capital R) heart took it as an omen. (Nothing to report as of yet.)

Living here in the Midwest, I long for the sea. I do. I long for it, even though I grew up here. I know many Midwesterners who feel pulled to the mountains. Okay. Gorgeous. Sure. Awe-inspiring. Yes. But not my heart’s resting place. Mountains, I feel, block the view. Nice place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there. 😉

I love a broad, expansive view, of fields, hills, woods, sky, water, any of those, with water right at the top of the list–my heart opener. If I was going to uproot myself, which would be hard, as I do love the Midwestern landscape, it would have to include proximity to a large body of water.

So here I am, in a particularly bitter cold February in Missouri. I accept it, as this is my home and this is what we have here: four seasons, each with its own unique beauty. But while meditating, I often envision that beach at Akumal with its glistening water. Quietly out and back, out and back, ever and always, teaching the art of doing nothing (another Dutch word, niksen). Intruding thoughts go poof! into that blue sky, to be carried off by a gull. Ahh.

So where do you go, in your mind, when you need to escape to someplace else? What is your heart’s resting place? I hope you have one. I imagine we all do, although some wander off to theirs more often than others. One day, I hope to get my actual physical body back to mine.

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. And if you like this letter, you’ll find past letters and poems here. And if you know someone who would enjoy these letters, send them here!

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”