Notes:
- Photo Credit: “The snow king. Photo taken in the city of Zarechny, Russia (then Penza-19) in the frosty winter of 1966″
- Background on Caleb/Wednesday/Hump Day Posts and Geico’s original commercial: Let’s Hit it Again
Tag: Photography
And then the butterfly rose, weightless, in the wind
The butterfly’s loping flight
carries it through the country of the leaves…
for long delicious moments it is perfect
lazy, riding motionless in the breeze on the soft stalk
of some ordinary flower…
One or two things are all you need
to travel over the blue pond…
some deep
memory of pleasure, some cutting
knowledge of pain…
For years and years I struggled
just to love my life. And then
the butterfly
rose, weightless, in the wind.
“don’t love your life
too much,” it said,
and vanished into the world.
~Mary Oliver, from “One or Two Things” in Devotions: The Selected Poems of Mary Oliver
Notes: Poem – Thank you Make Believe Boutique. Photo: Photomarc by Marc Gijsbers
Monday Morning Wake-Up Call
Sunday Morning
The important thing is not the finding, it is the seeking, it is the devotion with which one spins the wheel of prayer and scripture, discovering the truth little by little. If this machine gave you the truth immediately, you would not recognize it. If this machine gave you the truth immediately, you would not recognize it, because your heart would not have been purified by the long quest…No, the Book must be murmured day after day in a little ghetto hovel where you learn to lean forward and keep your arms tight against your hips so there will be as little space as possible between the hand that holds the Book and the hand that turns the pages. And if you moisten your fingers, you must raise them vertically to your lips, as if nibbling unleavened bread, and drop no crumb. The word must be eaten very slowly. It must melt on the tongue before you can dissolve it and reorder it. And take care not to slobber it onto your caftan. If even a single letter is lost, the thread that is about to link you with the higher sefirot is broken.
~ Umberto Eco, Foucault’s Pendulum (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, Mar 5, 2007)
Notes: Post inspiration from Beth @ Alive on All Channels. Photo: Patty Maher, The Storm.
Driving I-95 N. ‘Tis the Season.
~6:00 pm on the dashboard clock. Sigh. 14 hours. And It ain’t over. ‘Tis the Season. For office holiday parties.
It’s a short drive to the event, from Work, from the office, to a suburban restaurant. The car edges forward, held back by rush hour traffic, the stop and go, and a sea of red tail lights lighting up the darkness.
How does one makes sense of it? The 360° turn. The jackknife. The Man who leaves the at-home comfort, the warm cocoon of his desk at work, to this. From Krishnamurti’s You are the Everything. To…You are something far less than that.
Irreconcilable differences.
The small room is crowded. An introvert’s haunted house. Small talk, tight spaces, no obvious way out.
Tracy Chapman’s Fast Car…You got a fast car – I got a plan to get us out of here.
The small talk. The dread. The ever-present doom that suffocates the mind, that blackens all things. Continue reading “Driving I-95 N. ‘Tis the Season.”