Late Ripeness
“Not soon, as late as the approach of my ninetieth year,
I felt a door opening in me and I entered
the clarity of early morning.
One after another my former lives were departing,
like ships, together with their sorrow.
And the countries, cities, gardens, the bays of seas
assigned to my brush came closer,
ready now to be described better than they were before.
I was not separated from people,
grief and pity joined us.
We forget - I kept saying - that we are all children of the King.
For where we come from there is no division
into Yes and No, into is, was, and will be.
We were miserable, we used no more than a hundredth part
of the gift we received for our long journey.
Moments from yesterday and from centuries ago -
a sword blow, the painting of eyelashes before a mirror
of polished metal, a lethal musket shot, a caravel
staving its hull against a reef - they dwell in us,
waiting for a fulfillment.
I knew, always, that I would be a worker in the vineyard,
as are all men and women living at the same time,
whether they are aware of it or not.”
~ Czeslaw Milosz ~
My name is Cristina Jill Mosqueda Cooper. I pause looking at my name, and think about how much there is to explain with those words alone. My mother gave me a name to use in each of my worlds, Cristina for my Cuban life, and Jill for the American life. I suppose it is there were the paradoxes of my life began.
I have been many things in my life, from a housekeeper to a high school history teacher; but no matter what else I did, I was always a writer. I love words and the power and passion which they can be used to create. I love reading words, writing words, speaking words, and listening to words – especially words from people that I love and respect.
It is my desire to live life on my own terms, and willingly or not, I have paid the price demanded, by the world, to be myself. I share my life with Kate, with whom I have lived for the last 23 years, and Miss Merry Margaret, our little mutt who really is the world’s most perfect dog. I also travel, cook, garden, sculpt, and make large messes doing all of the above. Welcome to my world, that is all for now.
Web Site: http://thatisallfornow.com
Rod McKuen “. . . I stand ready yet again To learn a new geography If that becomes a necessary thing to do. Meanwhile there’s certain sureness in the dark parts of the house, for you’re still hiding there.” Rod McKuen was the first poet that I discovered, on my own,...
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To love a painting is to feel that this presence is… not an object but a voice. ~ Andre Malraux ~ View of the Cloaca Maxima, Rome By Christoffer Wilhelm Eckersberg The Maxima Cloaca is Italian for greatest sewer, not a very romantic title or subject for a painting, and not...
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The Christmas Cactus A few days before Christmas, last month, I went out to check the plants around the pool, and cut a few herbs. I was stunned and delighted, to see tiny pink nubs forming on the ends of my Christmas cactus. I felt like Mrs. Walton, for a tiny moment!...
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Sitting By My Bedside “One sure window into a person’s soul is his reading list.” ~ Mary B. W. Tabor ~ What are you reading? Are you looking for your next great read? Here is a look at what is sitting by my bedside, and which I am pleased to recommend....
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Charles M. Schultz Museum Charlie Browns Home As a homage to Cartoonist everywhere, I offer you a peek at the Charles M. Schulz Museum, located in Santa Rosa, California. Peanuts was the first comic strip, which I remember reading. As a child, I had been introduced to Charles Schulz...
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Pot Roast I love happy memory foods; in fact I think so much of what we make, for those we love is about creating or re-living happy memories. My mother made the best pot roast, I have ever eaten, a large roast was often a financial sacrifice so it might be a...
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Civil Rights Memorial “But let judgment run down as waters, and righteousness as a mighty stream.” ~ Amos 5: 24 ~ It was dusk when we arrived, at our day’s destination. For some time, I had wanted to see this Memorial in person, and worried with the setting sun...
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An Opossum at Midnight Hearing the slightest rustling of leaves, I looked up and saw this baby opossum hiding, in the bougainvillea. He stared at me, not moving an inch, as I clicked away; but refused to provide me with an action shot!
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The Punchline She looked around the non-descript room, trying to determine where she was and how she had arrived in this massive swath of grey, there were neither doors nor windows, just a long line of people, all who appeared to be in the same state of bewilderment, as her. It was mostly...
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Andraé Crouch
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