I am still in love with these clouds. Though Maxfield Parish’s clouds are amazing: here.
Maxfield Parish clouds III
I am still in love with these clouds. Though Maxfield Parish’s clouds are amazing: here.
Z is for zest. What do you feel zest for?
The photograph is our small town synchronized swim team in 2007 at the Blossom, the last meet of the season that we went to that year. Our girls posed outside where it was very chilly, and all of the exited parents snapped photographs. Zest on both sides for the team and for swimming!
Webster 1913 here
Zest (?), n. F. zeste, probably fr. L. schistos split, cleft, divided, Gr. , from to split, cleave. Cf. Schism.
1. A piece of orange or lemon peel, or the aromatic oil which may be squeezed from such peel, used to give flavor to liquor, etc.
2. Hence, something that gives or enhances a pleasant taste, or the taste itself; an appetizer; also, keen enjoyment; relish; gusto.
Almighty Vanity! to thee they owe Their zest of pleasure, and their balm of woe. Young.
Liberality of disposition and conduct gives the highest zest and relish to social intercourse. Gogan.
3. The woody, thick skin inclosing the kernel of a walnut. Obs.

from Dictionary.com here:
noun
1. keen relish; hearty enjoyment; gusto.
2. an agreeable or piquant flavor imparted to something.
3. anything added to impart flavor, enhance one’s appreciation, etc.
4. piquancy; interest; charm.
5. liveliness or energy; animating spirit.
6. the peel, especially the thin outer peel, of a citrus fruit used for flavoring:
lemon zest.
verb (used with object)
7.to give zest, relish, or piquancy to.
Zest for life, zest for writing, zest for all of the A to Z feelings that I’ve written about in the 7 sins and friends and all of the feelings that I haven’t written about. They are all part of being human! And now: zest for breakfast, I’m hungry!
Hooray for finishing and hooray for everyone who participated whether they finished or not!
K is for keen.
Welcome to 7 sins and friends, about feelings and whoa, am I behind! I am supposed to be up to N! Time to catch up and I am keen to do it! Hopefully my words will remain keen and entrancing.
1. finely sharpened, as an edge; so shaped as to cut or pierce substances readily: a keen razor.
2. sharp, piercing, or biting: a keen wind; keen satire.
3. characterized by strength and distinctness of perception; extremely sensitive or responsive: keen eyes; keen ears.
Now the folks in the picture are very keen as well: they are trying to win the Kinetic Sculpture Race. The winner gains the title of most mediocre. The kinetic sculptures are human powered and have to travel on land, by sea and through mud. The water here today is 50 degrees and is not much warmer at the end of the summer. They have to be keen to paddle through that water! Every sculpture has to carry a teddy bear and bribes for the judges and officials… it is kinetic madness….
4. having or showing great mental penetration or acumen: keen reasoning; a keen mind.
5. animated by or showing strong feeling or desire: keen competition.
6. intense, as feeling or desire: keen ambition; keen jealousy.

7. eager; interested; enthusiastic (often followed by about, on, etc., or an infinitive): She is really keen on going swimming.
8. Slang. great; wonderful; marvelous.
I am still keen for this contest, even with catch up due! What are you keen for? And of course it’s a keen contest with lots of keen contestants….
I hiked yesterday at the Staircase Rapids in the Olympic National Forest. The water was very high and a delicious green. It rained gently the whole time, but that only added to the green and the happy mosses and lichens….
I took this in the early morning last week. I love all the layers of water, reflections, boats and sky….
For Wordless Wednesday.
Taken summer 2015 camping.
Another tree picture from a recent walk in the woods. It’s the water that the moss is holding that fascinates me. I feel nurtured, too, by the complexity of just this one tree trunk, picture of bark and moss and the complexity of the color and pattern. People are just as complicated. I remind myself that we underestimate complexity all the time and that nature is far far more complex than our understanding.
Yesterday I had the massage that I have once every two weeks.
We talk first about muscles and illness and emotions. He is thinking that if we forget how to use certain muscles and put them in the “armor suit” then that is where our body will store toxins. After all, we aren’t using those muscles. Good storage place. And then that in turn is where illness or cancer could pop up.
I am talking about emotions: that the US culture seems to see certain emotions as “negative”. Anger, fear, grief. I asked my son what he thinks emotion is. His reply: “Chemicals?” I think emotions are neurological information. Information just as much as what our eyes see, our ears hear. If we label some emotions as “bad”, how can a child protect herself from a predator, from abuse, from a charming addict? If girls are supposed to be “nice” all the time, they have to suppress any “bad” emotions. Why would we suppress neurological information? And both my massage person and I think that stuffed emotions go into the armor suit. So toxins from the outside and toxins from the inside…. no wonder we get sick.
In the massage I am paying attention to each muscle, asking them to relax, rather then focusing on my breathing. I am also thinking that I am not sure my back is broad enough to carry what I want to carry, between work and family. I am asking the Beloved about that, sort of…. and then I have the sensation that my back is very broad. Enormous. Very very strong. I have small hips and an enormously strong back. I am 5’4″ and 130 pounds. Yet in this sensate dream, my back is as wide and strong as my friend who is 6’4″ and 220 pounds.
It’s not momentary. It goes on for thirty minutes or more. My latissimus dorsi are tight and sore, punching muscles. We talk about how we would both like to see grade school children taught to activate the slow twitch muscles, to loosen and drop the armor suit. Most of the physical education and sports are fast twitch. “Not synchronized swimming,” I say. The first formal move they are taught is to float on their back, legs straight. Hands controlling position. They slowly bend one knee and then straighten that leg up, and equally slowly lower and straighten it. This is called the ballet leg. My daughter started synchro at age 7 and had to do that at the meet. They were scored on the Olympic scoring from the start: the beginners scored in the 3 range.
“No,” he says, “synchronized swimming must use slow twitch. But that and Tai Chi are the only ones I can think of, and maybe some dance.” He says that I need to learn to release that energy: the wanting to punch, wanting to kick, instead of storing it in my muscles…. I have a heavy bag. I will make time.
I am silent, exploring the map of my back, strong and broad enough to carry much more than I thought….
This is our synchronized swimming team at our small local pool, doing the yearly show, in 2010. The five girls are in a routine and just starting a ballet leg in time to the music….
I go in the sea
of dreams
open the chest
the trunk
the saddlebags
Empty the dirty laundry
Of emotion
On the floor
Grief and joy
Fear and hope
Mine
All mine
There is a place
Beyond words
I see you in that place
It is very old
And very young
It is so frightening to go there
Lose words
The first time
It is haunted and hunted
Are you aware
Of that place
Do you go there
Of your own volition?
Or do you struggle
Fight and suffer in the
Choppy boundary between air and water
Fear drowning
Water surrounds you
Above you too
You are in the wordless place
Over your head
Are you too deep?
Open your eyes
In the green water light
A mermaid waits to lead you
To a rope to a raft
And me
But first you must open your eyes
I did not take this photo: it was taken at the Weyerhaeuser Pool in Seattle in 2009 at the National Junior Synchronized Swimming Competition. The professional photographer asked our girls to jump in so that he could get some practice shots from the underwater window. No one else was allowed down to that window. My daughter was in her third year of synchro and already so comfortable in the water that she and the others just mugged and played….
First published on everything2.com.
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