SJW World - Sarah Jane Watson

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“This is the plum season,
The nights blue and distended,
The moon hazed,
This is the season of peaches,
.
With their lush lobed bulbs
That glow in the dusk,
Apples that drop and rot sweetly,
Their brown skins veined as glands.
.
No more the shrill voices
That cried Need Need
From the cold pond,
Bladed and urgent as new grass.
.
Now it is the crickets
That say Ripe Ripe
Slurred in the darkness,
While the plums,
.
Dripping on the lawn
Outside our window,
Burst with a sound like thick syrup
Muffled and slow.
.
The air is still warm,
Flesh moves over flesh,
There is no
Hurry.”
.
.
~ Margaret Atwood : 📷 Helene Dujardin.
.
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This poem ‘Late August’ by Margaret Atwood beautifully describes my favourite time of the year. Late summer is when I feel my best. I love the gentleness of the heat and the special quality of the light. Summer hasn’t quite ended and autumn is still ahead of us. My dear friend @beaute_chinoise once told me that this is the fifth season in Chinese medicine. I was delighted to hear that it had been given official recognition.
I’m going to spend some time in the West Country and shall resume posting mid September. In the meantime a very happy Bank Holiday to everyone in the UK.
With much love Sarah 🤍xx

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“There was a reason she was
So romantic about the moon.
.
It never asked her questions
Or begged for the answers
Nor did she ever have to
Prove herself to it.
.
It was always just there -
Breathing, shining and in
Most ways humans can’t
Understand: listening.”
.
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~ Christopher Poindexter : 📷 José Mendes

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“No, we don’t need more sleep.
It’s our souls that are tired,
Not our bodies.
We need nature.
We need magic.
We need adventure.
We need freedom.
We need truth.
We need stillness.
We don’t need more sleep,
We need to wake up and live.”
.
.
~ Brooke Hampton : 📷 Pamela Hanson

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“Darwin may have been quite correct in his theory that man descended from the apes of the forest, but surely woman rose from the frothy sea, as resplendent as Aphrodite on her scalloped chariot.”
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~ Margot Datz : 📷 Emanuele Vitale

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“This is how you create
Your own artful aliveness:
Everything is a new blank page.
A new gorgeous beginning.
An opportunity.
A flawlessly timed lesson.
There is always possibility
In both great pain
And exquisite pleasure.”
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~ Victoria Erickson : 📷 Herman Landshoff

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“I’d write love letters to the earth,
Whisper them to the wind,
Fold them into paper boats,
And find a stream to sail them in,
I’d write of beautiful sunrises,
Of the oranges and pinks,
While I sit beside the seashore,
Where the waves can smudge my ink,
I’d write these words on paper,
But for paper I need trees,
Like many things mankind has made,
But doesn’t really need,
And so our letters to the earth,
Leave less love than they do scars,
When we write them in our blinding light,
That blocks out all the stars,
So when writing letters to the earth,
It’s time that we rethink,
Since we don’t need a piece of paper,
If the life we live’s the ink.”
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~ e.h : 📷 Unknown

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“You’ve been living
For this for weeks
Without knowing it:
.
The moment the house empties
Like a city in August
So completely
It forgets you exist.
.
Light withdraws slowly
Is almost gone before you notice.
.
In the stillness
Everything becomes itself:
The circle of white plates
On the kitchen table
The serious chairs that attend them.
.
Even the roses on the papered walls
Seem to open a little wider.
.
It looks simple:
The glass vase holding
Whatever is offered –
Cut flowers,
Or the thought of them –

Simple, though not easy
This waiting without hunger
In the near dark for
What you may be about to receive.”
.
.
~Esther Morgan : 📷 Unknown

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“If only
Our bodies
Would marry
The beauty
Growing inside them,
It wouldn’t be
So exhausting
Trying
To love
Ourselves.”
.
.
~ Christopher Poindexter : 📷 Unknown

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“You tell me
To live each day
As if it were my last.
This is in the kitchen
Where before coffee
I complain of the day ahead -
That obstacle race
Of minutes and hours,
Grocery stores and doctors.
.
But why the last? I ask.
Why not live each day
As if it were the first -
All raw astonishment,
Eve rubbing her eyes awake
That first morning,
The sun coming up like
An ingénue in the east?
.
You grind the coffee
With the small roar of
A mind trying to clear itself.
I set the table,
Glance out of the window
Where dew has baptised
Every living surface.”
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~ Linda Pastan : 📷 Richard Tuschman

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“There’s always
A few moments at dusk
When the sky sheds purple
And the world seems to
Exhale out the day.
I’m learning to breathe
Along side it.
I’m learning to soften
Into the in-betweens,
To be content
With the not knowing,
To innately understand
When it’s fine to stop
All of the reaching for a bit
And just be and believe.”
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~ Victoria Erickson : 📷 Unknown

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“With open arms
I embrace warmth and light,
May the magick of Litha
Shine bright tonight.
With faeries dancing
And magick abound.
I see the Summer Solstice
All around.
.
On this Litha eve,
As twilight glows,
I welcome a transition,
Of which my soul knows.
I release all ego,
To sun, moon and earth,
My spirit rejuvenated,
By nature’s hearth.”
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~ Midsummer’s Eve Prayer ~
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Image by Patrick Demarchelier

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“For now she need not think of anybody. She could be herself, by herself. And that was what now she often felt the need of - to think; well not even to think. To be silent; to be alone. All the being and the doing, expansive, glittering, vocal, evaporated; and one shrunk, with a sense of solemnity, to being oneself, a wedge-shaped core of darkness, something invisible to others…and this self having shed its attachments was free for the strangest adventures. When life sank down for a moment, the range of experience seemed limitless.”
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~ Virginia Woolf : 📷 Peter Lindbergh

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