Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘musings’

After smelling an open jar of wild mint (that’s all it was, I swear) I once had a waking dream of setting up camp in the desert, my feet sinking into the hot sands, the air filled with the sounds of horses snorting and the jingle of their bells. I was perhaps influenced by a conversation with a man from Morocco. Even before that dream I had been planning to visit the Sahara, as well as deserts within the U.S.

Some of my favorite movies have depicted vast dunes of sand in shades of sparkling white to dusky cream and even dark gold. Lawrence of Arabia. The English Patient. Dune. There’s that opening scene in the 1979 movie, The Black Stallion.  And, of course, Star Wars. 😉  I love the depiction of man or beast making their way across the shifting landscape.  I have been lucky to visit many different landscapes and to photograph them.

But no deserts yet.  Not really.  This morning, as I lay in bed, photographing the hills and valleys of the cotton sheets, I wondered anew if I ever will see such sandy sights firsthand.

Read Full Post »

… some bubbled with age and double paned

through which are seen such sights as red eyes staring back

and which draw the hands of visiting young artists.

They are portals onto worlds of concrete and asphalt …

and dead trees …

branches… all of which are places where great beauty can still be found.

Read Full Post »

Just one of those random questions running through my head this morning as I have the luxury of sitting in my home sipping strong coffee in the warmth of my kitchen while there are those in great need of food and shelter who have nothing this morning because the politicians in the fortress of solitude in DC can’t get it together to stop being children in a playground.  Anyway, racism, classism, and all those other -isms are too easily used to excuse the behavior of the men and women in Washington (and those who pay them in the various ways our system allows).  If Obama were blonde haired and blue eyed and with the same ideals there’d still be a fight … because indeed there was one.  Look at the Clinton Years.

Politicians aside with their blinders, fat pockets, or indeed “righteous ideals,” what bothers me most are the people who sit back and do nothing.  And maybe that’s because there are too many distractions.  I mean, on the morning news, immediately following one story of government shutdown, there was a story of a movie star’s fight with his girlfriend.  Really? That’s the next important story?

One of my favorite letters in American history is Martin Luther King’s Letter from a Birmingham Jail.  It was not a letter written to Klansmen or segregationists or to all those others who outright hated; it was a letter written to those who expressed a desire for change but were waiting for the right moment or not wanting to make any waves or simply did not understand the gravity of the situation.  I fear that people have lost sense of our interrelatedness, and thus do not understand the implications – the ripple effects – of the actions (and purposeful inactions) certain politicians are pushing.  If you have a well-paying corporate job with great benefits, why engage in a dialogue about health insurance or food stamps?  But as MLK wrote, “We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.”

I am proud to be an American, of its landscapes and its peoples and of course its opportunities.  Or at least of those opportunities that I perceived as a child growing up in Virginia.  And I was proud of its politics.  Probably using a different set of text books than are being allowed in school today, I thought I learned in World History, Civilizations, Civics and Government courses that, my goodness, what a wonderful system of government with its checks and balances, and opportunities for dialogue and debate (and yes, negotiation and compromise).  What a wonderful system.  What has happened?

Anyway, no more caffeine for me today.  Caffeine plus anger gives me a headache.  Perhaps I will be able to take another walk by the Mystic River, the source of these images.  I hope where ever you are, you find a peaceful moment too.  Have a good Tuesday.

Read Full Post »

That first time he pulled me over after the library alarm had sounded, I actually put my hands on my hips and said, “Come on! You’ve got to be kidding.  I’ve been coming to this library for years.  Do you really think I’d steal a book?”  All he said was, “This way, ma’am.”  Together we walked over to the machine.  He had me empty my pack of all books and together we discovered which one I’d improperly demagnetized while doing self checkout.  During the whole procedure his face never changed.  Aside from the initial pull over, and then a statement about “it’s the rules,” his lips never moved.  He could have been a Nubian statue.  I became determined to make him smile.  Years later, I’ve yet to succeed.  Our relationship has progressed.  Now when I race by to drop off and pick up books, I make eye contact, smile and wave.  He blinks once or twice and then nods in acknowledgement.  Sometimes there’s a subtle bow.  One day, I’m tempted to dance a jig just to see what he does.  Bet he has a great laugh.  Meanwhile, my interactions with this guard and others this summer have had me musing about both silence and the human voice.  Not sure what will become of such thoughts but they have led me to the following lovely little video.  It’s less than 3min long, but if you’d prefer to simply listen to the original recording, click here.  Hope you find time to view and/or to listen. Have a good weekend.

Read Full Post »

in the garden below

chamomile grows

white petals bright

in the light of the setting sun

spreading profusely

wonderfully

wildly

soon to be cut I’m sure

but not yet

not yet

Read Full Post »

I suppose I would have found more calm and focus sitting quietly at the base of the tree but …

it was more fun to race around peering deep into its canopy …

and, in the shifting light, not to worry about focus at all.

Read Full Post »

We spoke by phone.  I sat in my kitchen in Somerville, MA while my younger brother sat outside his home in Lynchburg, VA.  After I had described my latest walk by the water and what I might write about, he said, “Mmmhmm.  I think you should write some more about porches.”

“Porches?”

“Yes.  About what it’s like to sit on the porch steps at night, in the quiet and in the cool, with fireflies in the distance.  They look like stars.”

I imagined him sitting on his little back porch.  I thought about the seeds I had sent him and his family.  “Next year, I am sending you night blooming flowers.”

“That’s fine,” he said, and then he added, “And you should write about wearing glasses, how we wear them to see clearly, these wire frames that are not heavy but somehow you feel their weight all the time, and if you have long eyelashes you’re constantly batting them against the lenses.  Yeah, there’s always contacts … but somehow when you wear glasses and then you sit and you take them off … you can’t see as clearly and yet there is a certain sense of freedom.  A weight has been removed.  Though your view is a bit blurry somehow you can see with greater clarity the beauty all around.”

“I gave you a blank notebook.  Why don’t you write these things?” I say.

“Because you’re the writer,” he said.

Read Full Post »

Well, I live in an area that is currently on “lock down” until the final suspect involved with the Boston Marathon bombings is caught.  That tragedy, in combination with a bad back, gives me lots of time to sit and muse.  So when I finished playing with the following picture (of water beaded on a petal) all I could think of was “planets.”  And what better piece of music to pair with my blue tinted orbs than Holst’s The Planets.

Read Full Post »

I am not blue today, red with anger, or green with envy.  Perhaps I am an opaque shade of brown and black and gray.  A splash of burnt orange as the sun continues to rise?

Regardless, just a thoughtful mix of darker hues.  That is what I feel as I watch the melting snow.  Perhaps it is that falling water that makes me think of tears.  Tears blur the world even as they rinse the eyes clean.

Read Full Post »

Stormy Weather by Cynthia Staples

Stormy Weather by Cynthia Staples

I’ve always enjoyed putting brush to paper, but I’ve never been especially disciplined about learning the right ways to do so.  But the older I grow the more I realize it is more important to just put the brush to the paper and stop worrying about the right way.  Van Gogh I will never be, but I don’t need to be Van Gogh to have fun with paint or to produce an image that might make someone’s day a bit brighter.  Random thoughts on a quiet Sunday. 😉

Read Full Post »

« Newer Posts - Older Posts »