Know that joy is rarer, more difficult, and more beautiful than sadness. Once you make this all important discovery, you must embrace joy as a moral obligation.
Joy
Tag: Elizabeth Weaver
poetry, writing, novel, yoga, restorative yoga, improv, near death, asthma, hope, social imbalance
Winter Solstice
I love living here because Winter Solstice is the perfect day to dump jacket & boots
and barefoot it along the shore, whether playing
or working
or willets interacting
or eating
sandcrabs…
even the western snowy plover
is enjoying this perfect day on Point Reyes‘ shore.
Iris
Nothing is less real than realism. Details are confusing. It is only by selection, by elimination, by emphasis, that we get at the real meaning of things.
She Enlivened
Carla Zilbersmith, inspiring theatre arts creative director, teacher, singer and comedian to her final words, wrote and performed her critically acclaimed one-woman show not long before her ALS diagnoses, which undermined the serious interest about to bring “The Wedding Singer” and Zilbersmith to a larger audience.
Carla is part of my self-portrait since she helped me develop hand character for my class monologue. People loved Carla. I loved Carla. There are no words for such loss except ALS sucks! and her own:
Tundra swan
You must learn to be still in the midst of activity and to be vibrantly alive in repose.
Yes!
yes
is a world
and in this
world of yes
live all worlds
Turn
Sometimes you hear someone through the door calling you as a fish out of water hears the surf's Come back! This turn towards what you deeply love, saves you.
For JES
The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the ways its animals are treated.
Paint!
If you hear a voice within you saying, “You are not a painter,” then by all means paint, boy, and that voice will be silenced.
Gravity’s Haiku
I used ink for the first time when I drew this and fell for ink’s fluidity, speed and versatility. I also used a Chinese brush and bamboo stick, so chose haiku for the words, which were for my spouse since that day was our anniversary.
Gravity in palm's wings, spring-breath, spirals heart-bind me and you.
Elizabeth Oakley Weaver 