Shel Graves' Sensorium

Taste: hibiscus-ginger sangria; Jerusalem artichoke blini, vegan camembert-Thanksgiving dinner at Cafe Flora Sight: a bright moonlit river walk, tree silhouettes Sound: "Good morning!" cheerful runners Smell: turmeric, cumin, fennel Touch: Mary Shelley's soft sides Extra: helping a loved one with mental illness — even with skills, resources, knowledge — as disorienting and confusing as an adult as it was as a child; a relaxed dining atmosphere; “I do know that for the sympathy of one living being, I would make peace with all. I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other.” ― Mary Shelley, Frankenstein Grateful for: a good book, a good song, a long run

Esperanza, adopted at  Pasado's Safe Haven A body of compassionate people wake to the scent of violence and death, embrace one another and say, "We are the cure for murder." Our bodies connect in mindfulness and taste nutmeats and coconut cream and rush to awareness of each living being's own desire to walk and be. "I love. You love. We love." Humanity regains strength refreshed by dreams and sleep. After years apart, she wakes beside her husband playfulness and faith restored. Every day, she spends inside, waits for something to happen. At night, the leash comes out and she walks out into a fearful world. Her mind wakes. Every sense startles: to passersby, fallen leaves, wind, possibilities swirl. Danger waits. Every drifter chases. They seek to assault her, know her. When she has spent so much time alone, it threatens. Yet, she loves the night air and eases her head willingly forward to go into the chain outside. People play in the park...

A disruption wrests me from my overflowing bookshelf and my mother has always had a good opinion of me, showering me with care and concern, but father writes handwritten letters and just wants to do yard work, he walked with a dog and encouraged me to try new things with naked abandon and brought me to the waterfront, bright blue sky, light green trees into transporting music, poetry, murals and urban art that ended in a pond. Have you ever tried recipes that look wonderful, but are too difficult to prepare? You may as well throw those gorgeous cookbooks into a pond. Sometimes all you need is routine and rest. But no wants to listen and take my advice. You want friends who will listen to you cry and offer to help. Who are great chefs and delve easily into complicated cookbooks. You appreciate gifts of time with loved ones. And you miss your father. It's good to enjoy a feeling of discovery, but also to return home and rest naked. Strolling in sympatico, enjoying the ...

Perhaps the best gift a loved one can give is time Appreciate mothers and grandmothers who make Easter brunch while time remains, and smart, thoughtful friends. Precious are those who will listen to you cry and offer to help. There's joy to be found in something as common as a receding cold and as much a miracle as good health and strong limbs. Put forth effort and maintain it all by running. Movement breathes life. Take advantage, living in these United States, of the gift of freedom. Prisoners kept in solitary confinement can't see the bright blue skies and light green trees, while the free man may soar over all that can be found. Watch the eagle rise outside. On inclement days, novelists, poets and nonfiction writers of all kinds free souls and warm minds like summer sun. Indoors, in libraries with overflowing shelves, open freedom and touch its pages, treasure the gift of books. Meliorists believe that by taking small, generous actions the world can be made better ...

Here I am up early writing with a silver pot of coffee thinking of the man who portrays himself as purely kind and generous, but acts as a glutton and sloth. See his belly bloated with murdered animals and unexpended fats and meats. He sucks sugar down and feeds his spiraling depression and draining self-worth. Every man lies helpless under his own culture. Habits bind him. He cries in pain. But does he, a passive pawn, deserve sympathy? Who cares for his fate? We care deeply. His beautiful soul shines. His goodness glows. He appreciates, finds and shares beauty. His sensitivity and love signal a shared planetary pain. How can he be so callous, then? Dear friend, dear brother, the one who died paralyzed and listening to Pearl Jam. I placed my hand under his, holding him with breath. His discomfort is all of ours. If we cannot ease it; we sit in it, we inhale it, gasping. Here is the work of dogs and cats close at hand helping. Every one argues so adamant in their posit...

My "grateful for" words of the year. Wordle.net I started this blog of the senses, a writer's journal, a sensorium, to be more aware of sights, sounds, tastes, touches, smells and experiences in day-to-day life. I included an "extra" sense section to record dreams, ideas, and quotes (whatever more ethereal senses that weren't captured in the more worldly ones) — it functions as a commonplace book. It began in 2007 and I had no idea I would continue on with it for so long. At the end of each year, I compile my " best of the year " (most notable or memorable senses might be more accurate). Last year, for the first time, I also added a " worst of the year " post. In 2011, around Thanksgiving time , I added a "grateful for" section. That was also the year I made the Adopt-A-Turkey program part of my Thanksgiving tradition. Payton was my first turkey. In 2013, I celebrated my 25 vegetarian anniversary (Clove was my turkey tha...

Taste: vegan cheeses - Miyoko's Kitchen - Aged English Sharp Farmhouse, Punk Rawk Labs, NuCulture, Heidi Ho, Vtopian; whiskey sour cider, sour cherry cider, ginger tonic; massaman curry sweet potato Sight: the cat's orange upturned chin; Bizarro comics; Mutts Sound:  blending apples Smell: fermented apples; woodsmoke Touch: rain soaked; cutting fruit with a sharp knife Extra: Portland VegFest; every day a smoothie and a salad Grateful for: homemade almond milk, hummus, applesauce, an everything salad; vegan community; plant-based athletes

Taste: corn tortillas; sesame seeds Sight: face half-black, half orange, a shimmering jeweled triangle of a nose, a sleek, stretched orange fluff neck - a tortoiseshell cat; running at night under a few, intermittent pale orange streetlights Sound: wheezing; footfall Smell:  leaves and rain Touch: smooth globules of chia seed pudding; armfuls of wet leaves and slippery underfoot Extra: sungrazers; an indoor cat; three losses Grateful for: running at night, the freedom of motion