urban river

We took another riverside walk.  I love paralleling this urban river.  These photos are amazing, if I do say so.  This was here in Las Vegas, on the Neon to Nature trail, headed north from near the Trader Joe’s on West Washington.

First we encountered a roadside memorial.  “An anarchist died here,” I said to Ming.  Her name is on a plastic flower pot with an anarchy symbol.

Then we saw this amazing flower.  Wow, it has a swirly inside.  Vinca?  I hate vinca.  But if this is vinca, I love vinca!  Ming’s plant id app said dicot, no kidding, then a morning glory.  What?  I asked a plant friend.

The tunnels are amazing, just in and of themselves.  But people live in there.  Thus the snarky no trespassing stencil spray painted above it.

Love to this sacred urban river, and the street artists, always, risking their freedom and lives to share beauty with us.

And I fell in love with this pipe.  Note the slanty clouds also.

red

This wad of valentine’s day balloons felt very sad, to me.

What’s love?  A deep care with tender feelings and mutual beneficial behavior.  Really being there for someone.  Trustworthy affection that lasts?  Working kindly toward someone’s well-being?  Soul connection, vulnerability, honest Presence.

Sharing–a life, some conversation, maybe a home, maybe powerful truths.  Letting yourself need someone a little bit, and letting them need you a little bit.  Two strong, independent people can choose to co-mingle a tiny bit of their spirits.

Love is not something you can buy.  It’s not a clueless guy’s annual attempt to nurture, by buying something in a grocery store, to compensate for a year of emotional neglect.

Oh wad of mylar discarded symbols, you were used, and your job is over now.  You’re trash now, and maybe you were trash from the beginning.  Sorry about that.

Ming and I don’t do Valentine’s Day.  But the one I most loved, besides Ming and myself, on Valentine’s Day?  How I would have liked a card, a joke, a sentence of loving kindness.  A thank you note–a nod, to the emotional labor I did, so steadfastly.  Anything, really.

I’m crying that I got nothing.  Well, that reflects the whole relationship.  He could have made me an art, wrote me a poem, sang me a song.  Even one verse of a song.  So many gifts, in the world.

And who was I, to want anything?  Nothing–random lady in the desert.  But I treasured him.  My heart aches, to miss that special one.

self

A zinester made this shirt for me–IvyRoseZines.  I sent her the shirt in the mail, as my size is unusual.  And she screenprinted this for me.  I believe in love and being there for myself.

Thank you to Ming for so much patience, taking all those pictures yesterday.  You are amazing.  How do I decide which pic is best?  This one is kind of weird, in a nice way.  I choose this one.