Sunday Morning

In my room, the world is beyond my understanding;

But when I walk I see that it consists of three or four hills and a cloud.

—  Wallace Stevens, “Of the Surface of Things” in Wallace Stevens: A Celebration

 


Photo: DK – Daybreak. 5:51 am. July 5, 2020. 70° F. Humidity 96%. Wind: 6 mph. Gusts: 11 mph. Cloud Cover: 21%. Weed Avenue, Stamford, CT

Monday Morning Wake-Up Call

If you are a poet, you will see clearly that there is a cloud floating in this sheet of paper. Without a cloud, there will be no rain; without rain, the trees cannot grow: and without trees, we cannot make paper. The cloud is essential for the paper to exist. If the cloud is not here, the sheet of paper cannot be here either…

If we look into this sheet of paper even more deeply, we can see the sunshine in it. If the sunshine is not there, the forest cannot grow. In fact nothing can grow. Even we cannot grow without sunshine. And so, we know that the sunshine is also in this sheet of paper…

And if we continue to look we can see the logger who cut the tree and brought it to the mill to be transformed into paper.

And we see the wheat. We know that the logger cannot exist without his daily bread, and therefore the wheat that became his bread is also in this sheet of paper. And the logger’s father and mother are in it too. When we look in this way we see that without all of these things, this sheet of paper cannot exist.

Looking even more deeply, we can see ourselves in this sheet of paper too. This is not difficult to see, because when we look at a sheet of paper, it is par of our perception. Your mind is in here and mine is also. So we can say that everything is in here with this sheet of paper. We cannot point out one thing that is not here — time, space, the earth, the rain, the minerals in the soil, the sunshine, the cloud, the river, the heat. Everything co-exists with this sheet of paper…This sheet of paper is, because everything else is.

—  Thich Nhat Hanh, from “Peace Is Every Step: The Path of Mindfulness in Everyday Life”

 


Photo: Anka Zhuravleva with Head in the Clouds

Lightly Child, Lightly.

I take pictures, not for a living, but for reasons that I’m not quite sure of yet.

~ Petra van der Ree, Rotterdam-based web, text, and image editor via Ignant’s “Petra Van Der Ree’s Photographs Take Us Outside Ourselves (April 29, 2019)

 


Notes: Post Title & Inspiration: Aldous Huxley: “It’s dark because you are trying too hard. Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly. Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply. Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them.”

 

Murakami’s brushstrokes

Autumn steadily deepened around me.

The sky opened up, the air clear and crisp,

the clouds like beautiful white brushstrokes.

~ Haruki Murakami, Killing Commendatore: A Novel (October, 2018)


Photo: Matt Champlin with Brushstrokes

Lightly Child, Lightly.

If you are very very quiet

you can hear the clouds rub against the sky.

~ Raul Gutierrez, from “Lies I’ve told my three year old recently


Notes:

  • Photo Source. Poem source: See more
  • Prior “Lightly child, lightly” Posts? Connect here.
  • Post Title & Inspiration: Aldous Huxley: “It’s dark because you are trying too hard. Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly. Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply. Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them.”

 

In it is summer, and midday, and immortality

“He was an art student, and he spent the day at the lake drawing a study of sky and clouds. Nothing else. The grown-ups had little to say after looking at his creation. But I liked the clouds, they were of the cumulus variety, my favorite, eternal wanderers, clean celestial mountains. They’d hung above Lake Hepojarvi for a while that day, and then left. The cardboard painting was placed on top of the sideboard; it soon fell into the crack between the sideboard and the wall. But then—a few years later—I found it; bending some wire into a poker, I pulled it out, along with a thick layer of dust, dead flies of years past, and a green leg from a plastic toy hippo. I took the cardboard picture and thus appropriated a singular day of eternity. In it is summer, and midday, and immortality. Certainly immortality.”

~ Tatyana Tolstaya, from “The Invisible Maiden” in “Aetherial Worlds: Stories” (Knopf, March 20, 2018)

 


Photo by William Eggleston via Time Lightbox

How was your day?


Source: giphy.com

Saturday Morning

…Under bamboos that sing to the wind
and wall the cathedral sky,
my body surges…
A rush of balsam wind boils the clouds,
roils my shirt, my skin,
enfleshing the living breath, deep and long.
Like weeding the garden: hands become weeds,
become shovel, become time.
Body becomes rhythm, becomes power;
becomes wind, becomes Mind.

A cotton cloud of ibises float after.

—Betsy Lagana Bluangtook


Notes: Poem – Thank you Beth at Alive on All Channels. Photo – Bamboo by kristof casteren

Sunday Morning

cloud-sea-black-and-white

Form is certainty. All nature knows this, and we have no greater adviser. Clouds have forms, porous and shape-shifting, bumptious, fleecy. They are what clouds need to be, to be clouds. See a flock of them come, on the sled of the wind, all kneeling above the blue sea. And in the blue water, see the dolphin built to leap, the sea mouse skittering; see the ropy kelp with its air-filled bladders tugging it upward; see the albatross floating day after day on its three-jointed wings. Each form sets a tone, enables a destiny, strikes a note in the universe unlike any other.

How can we ever stop looking?

How can we ever turn away?

~ Mary Oliver, from “Staying Alive” in Upstream: Selected Essays (2016)

 


Photo: Stefan Krauss @ Stars Fell on Livaniana (in Crete near village of Livaniana).

 

 

Running. With Hoka.

cloud-float-tree-branch

You don’t wanna hurt yourself, hurt yourself…No no no no…

That’s Fink playing “Looking too Closely“. (Always too closely.)  I’m running on the Mianus River Park trail and the lyrics trigger moments two Saturday’s back.

I grab the shoe off the shelf and wait for help. She’s serving another customer but sees me lurking. She offers up a warm smile and lip syncs: One Minute. She’s 5 feet flat, silver hair, middle aged and a wisp. Or that’s what memory seems to draw. “Kim”, I think.

My expectations for national retailers couldn’t be lower. Less than zero. Salespeople uninformed, unhelpful. Inventory stocks, a slow intravenous drip via IV – on life support.  Size unavailable. Width unavailable. Color unavailable. Brand unavailable. 15% higher priced. Because of me and Amazon Prime,  and my need for it now, right NOW, they fall. Sports Authority. Blockbuster Video. Circuit City. Brookstone. Waldenbooks. Barnes & Noble. Borders. Gone.

Yet, this retail store is Alien in today’s landscape. It starts at the entrance. From the cool feel of the aluminum door handle on the wood grain door to the greeting you receive as you enter – a retail sanctuary. Can I help you? And they actually help… [Read more…]

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