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HOW CAN OUR SOULS NOT GO by Cricket Baker

HOW CAN OUR SOULS NOT GO by Cricket Baker
So woozy with a crush of gravity is this planet that it’s not enough to embark upon a year-long courtship we call orbit; Our earth TWIRLS at drunken speed, too lovelorn to care about sobriety in its attraction to a star.
And our sun takes notice, how can it not? Earth breathes sweet leafy breath to clothe itself in bridal clouds, Reflects the sun’s shine with its expanse of ocean to say You’re beautiful like this, and, in unfathomable vulnerability, Offers up all its stories with lifetimes of human beings.
With existential mystery like this happening— actually happening— how can our souls not go
WOOZY
WITH
LOVE?
(First published May 21, 2019 at cricketbaker.com)
Cricket Baker is a novelist and blogger who writes on distinguishing between the Real You and the Pretend You. After decades of love for psychology and what she calls her ‘little awakenings,’ Cricket chooses reality over any belief and easily loses herself in wonder over the existence of anything at all. She’s figur…

CHOPPY SEAS by Anita Neilson

As I can’t walk far, my husband sometimes takes me on a short trip to the coast (we only live around 20 minutes’ drive away). Sometimes I’ll want to visit one of our favorite ‘tame’ beaches where we used to walk our two dogs when they were younger. I have such beautiful memories from those trips: our black Labrador was an incredibly strong swimmer and would relish jumping over bigger and bigger waves to retrieve a tennis ball thrown in for her; the younger dog preferred to paddle along the shoreline, less confident in the deep water.  Then it would be time to go home, with the car smelling of damp dogs, snoring contentedly in the back. Simple joy that puts a smile on my face even now. I can still smell the salt air, and the damp dog in car smell; I can still see the sun glistening like diamonds on the sea; I can still hear the occasional airplane taking off from the nearby airport and heading out over the sea to America; I can taste the salt on my lips; I can feel the sand ingress thro…