if we take care of the earth it will take care of us
photo friday entry Delicate
I have often wondered what the meaning behind this sculpture is... I wish I could ask the artist
I am also not sure why the photo put me in mind of this list from Deepak Chopra's book 'The Book of Secrets' ... but food for thought anyway
Conditions That Release Shadow Energies; Removing a sense of responsibility, Anonymity, Dehumanizing environments, Peer examples of bad behavior, Prevailing chaos and disorder, Lack of meaning, Implicit permission to do harm, "Us-versus-them" mentality, Isolation, Lack of accountability
"But the shadow isn't about who is good or bad. It's about sealed-up energies looking for a outlet...given the right circumstances, everyone's shadow energy will emerge"~ Deepak Chopra
not really so black and white
photo tuesday entry Black and White
I love morning glories...specifically Blue Heaven ones, and the focus of this shot is supposed to be stones... but the glories are growing into the bird bath..and so, my stones are framed by them..love this blue
live according to spiritual principles
macro-day entry Stones
It's all because we're so alike- Twin souls, we two.
We smile at the expression, yes, And know it's true.
I told the shrink. He gave our love A different name. But he can call it what he likes- It's still the same.
I long to see you, hear your voice, My narcissistic object-choice. ~Wendy Cope
pxite entry Art
You are rich according to what you are not what you have
photo friday entry Retro
The Enemy ~Baudelaire
My youth was filled with storms: dark thunderheads lit by sudden sunshine. Wind and rain tore at my garden, left the ravaged beds stripped bare of soil. How few ripe fruits remain!
Now it is autumn: my ideas turn brown. Look at the land: I'll need spade, rake and broom to clear that flooded mess. The sodden ground is full of holes, each bigger than a tomb.
I dream new flowers now: but who can tell if they'll take root in this exhausted soil? The nourishment they need is strange and rare.
Time eats at life: no wonder we despair. Our enemy feeds on the blood we lose. He gnaws at our heart, and look how strong he grows.
moody monday entry Deep
'Dear ones, we are all cosmic conciousnessness assuming different forms' ~Deepak Chopra
thursday challenge entry Small
Three types of friendships ae beneficial: they are friendships with the honest, the sincere, and the well-informed.
Three types of friendships are damaging: they are friendships with flatterers, with hypocrites, and with the argumentative. ~Confucius
pxite entry Wet
' I Stretch My Arms'
I stretch my arms like a swan flying And watch, weightless, the world turning So high up can see - endlessly it seems Rome and white mountains rising beyond, Tiremes at anchor in still Alexandria Pearl-divers practising from rocks The wind wandering through the wilderness. The sun cast no shadow of the compass. I am rooted to the spot, rotting inside I had no choice but to choose this perch And now I cannot choose any more Each choice I made was like a nail Fixing my arms to embrace the world.~James Harpur
lensday entry Neighborhood
this little boy tried very hard to be patient as he waited in a 45 minute line at the Thomas Jefferson Plantation...by this point in time he was starting to melt down...until mom stepped in to comfort him
photo tuesday entry Tender
Rivers like oceans oceans like answers questions in cloud forms raindrops in stanzas to
be or not to...
to see or not to... excerpt from "Said the Shotgun" br Saul Williams
moody monday entry Soft
on making a difference... every day, make something...with your hands, heart or spirit, offer it up as a prayer, or a gift in silence...make something to add to the beauty and comfort and peace of another
excerpt from ' Integrity' ~Adrienne Rich
A wild patience has taken me this far
as if I had to bring to shore a boat with a spasmodic outboard motor old sweaters, nets, spray-mottled books tossed in the prow some kind of sun burning my shoulder-blades. Splashing the oarlocks. Burning through. Your forearms can get scalded, licked with pain in a sun blotted like unspoken anger behind a casual mist.
The length of the day this far north, in this forty-ninth year of my life is critical.
The light is critical: of me, of this long-dreamed, involuntary landing on the arm of the inland sea. The glitter of the shoal depleting into shadow I recognize: the stand of pines violet-black really, green in the old postcard but really I have nothing but myself to go by; nothing stands in the realm of pure necessity except what my hands can hold.
macro-day entry Mechanical