The light or lack of light is running you. You are the animal, moving and being moved.


Sometimes the natural world takes your power, as it does deep in February, when every fiber of your being wants to hibernate. Sometimes it bestows you with power you never imagined you could possess, as it does during the peak of summer, when you don’t need much sleep, and you feel like you’re riding along with all of the motions of the universe. Sometimes it terrifies you with its awesome brutality, as when you are driving alone on a mountain pass and encounter a blustery springtime blizzard. Just as there are receptors in the brain for drugs—like THC and psilocybin—I like to think we have receptors for nature as well. We may believe we are run by our thoughts and anxieties, our urges and our choices, but come to a place like Montana and you will be reminded that the moon is running you. The sun is running you. The light or lack of light is running you. You are the full moon. You are the rushing river. You are the animal, moving and being moved.

Amanda Fortini, The Great Surrender

Image via Your Eyes Blaze Out


Burning desire to be excellent, but no faith that I could be


I confessed that I had a burning desire to be excellent, but no faith that I could be.

Martha said to me, very quietly: “There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all of time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and it will be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is nor how valuable nor how it compares with other expressions. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. You have to keep yourself open and aware to the urges that motivate you. Keep the channel open. As for you, Agnes, you have so far used about one-third of your talent.”

“But,” I said, “when I see my work I take for granted what other people value in it. I see only its ineptitude, inorganic flaws, and crudities. I am not pleased or satisfied.”

“No artist is pleased.”

“But then there is no satisfaction?”

“No satisfaction whatever at any time,” she cried out passionately. “There is only a queer divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others.”

~ Agnes de Mille, The Life and Work of Martha Graham

Credits: Quote Source: Brainpickings. Image: Your Eyes Blaze Out

It started from the inside out. (Word!)


Poetry approached me in that chaos of raw inverted power and leaned over and tapped me on the shoulder, said, “You need to learn how to listen, you need grace, you need to learn how to speak. You’re coming with me.” I did not walk off into the sunset with poetry, or hit the town with a blaze of gunfire with poetry guarding my back. Rather, the journey toward poetry worked exactly as the process of writing a poem. It started from the inside out, then turned back in to complete a movement. And then on and on in the manner of a ripple in water, a song in the air.

~ Joy Harjo, Introduction to How We Became Human: New and Selected Poems 1975-2002


Perspective (noun): An Anvil Dropped On Your Head.


It was 11:30 am this morning.
A bruising day and still on the wrong side of noon.
A meeting. A call. Another call. Another Call. A meeting. Another meeting.
And triple tasking, banging out emails during calls and reorganizing tomorrow’s calendar.
Then, a break in the storm.
Get off your a**.  Now!  Take a walk. Sitting is killing you. And if not that, the urine backup may get you first.

I grab my smartphone and scan the subject headings of my personal emails.
Half way down my in-box, my eye catches text in the subject line: “live and learn suggestion.
All in lower case.
The antennae clicks up a notch.  High probability of spam soliciting SEO help or telling me my blog sucks and I need professional help.

My thumb slides up to the DELETE key. [Read more…]

It’s been a long day


I believe that when
the last ding-dong of doom has clanged and faded
from the last worthless rock hanging tideless
in the last red and dying evening,
that even then there will still be one more sound:
that of [man’s] puny inexhaustible voice,
still talking.

~ William Faulkner, Banquet Speech at the Nobel Banquet at the City Hall in Stockholm,  (12/10/50)


Slip slip slip through your hands

Music: Elliot Moss – “Slip”. Lyrics. Song on iTunes.

Super Hyper Hair


“Jacques Bodin is a french hyperrealist painter who lives and works in Paris. Most of his paintings are made in an almost absurd scale and magnification, so the subject becomes a kind of abstraction separating it from ordinary reality and endowing it with a life of its own.”

Don’t miss more hyperrealistic hair paintings at Faith is Torment: Jacques Bodin

Find Bodin’s website and gallery here:

Source: This Isn’t Happiness

I don’t do sterile, formal pictures

Hans Feurer is considered one of the leading figures in fashion photography. His genre-defining career spans fifty years.  Since the early 1960’s, this man with a passion for Africa and travel pursues the idea of fashion photography as the tracking of a wild animal. Clothes and skin are light as the feathers of a bird with impressive panache. It was in Africa that Feurer discovered his exceptional sensibility for light and his love for the natural wonders of the continent. Strong influences of his travels are evident in the inherent sense of adventure Feurer’s images convey, as well as the raw, expressive quality of his photographs.

Feurer’s female figure is strong and ferocious, sensual and uninhibited, moving effortlessly, her expressions reflecting intensity and vigour. Crucial to Feurer’s work is to capture a very particular moment where an emotion reveals itself in the movement of the model and the scene truly comes to life. ‘I don’t do sterile, formal pictures’, Feurer describes his process of capturing that elusive moment. ‘I like to make pictures that provoke an emotion and affect you in your feelings. For that, both the woman and the clothes need to come alive.'”

Find Feurer’s website here:

BodyPaint painted by Kodak Switzerland, 1987; photograph by Hans Feurer; Model Gitta Sack.

Source: This Isn’t Happiness

Big Wing. Big Bloody Wing.


I hope you’re enjoying your childhood.
When you grow up, a shadow falls.
Everything’s sunny and then
this big goddamn wing or something passes overhead.

~ Joy Williams, The Visiting Privilege: New and Collected Stories