T.G.I.F.: It’s Been A Long Week

I stop and let myself lean

a moment against the blue

shoulder of the air.

~Alison Luterman, from Invisible Work


Notes: Photo: lello d’anna with Blue (Erchie, Campania, Italy). Poem: Thank you Beth @ Alive on All Channels

Miracle. All of It.

feet

Look at your feet. You are standing in the sky. When we think of the sky, we tend to look up, but the sky actually begins at the earth. We walk through it, yell into it, rake leaves, wash the dog, and drive cars in it. We breathe it deep within us. With every breath, we inhale millions of molecules of sky, heat them briefly, and then exhale them back into the world.

Diane Ackerman, A Natural History of the Senses


Notes:

Saturday Morning

What is silence?

Something of the sky in us.

~ Ilya Kaminsky, from “Deaf Republic: 1,” Poetry 


Notes: Poem – The Vale of the Soulmaking. Photo: John White with Blue Sky with small clouds (Eyre Peninsula, Port Lincoln, South Australia, Australia)

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

Lightly child, lightly.

I’d go out into a great big field all alone or in the deep, deep woods and I’d look up into the sky—up—up—up—into that lovely blue sky that looks as if there was no end to its blueness.

And then I’d just feel a prayer.

~ L. M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables 


Notes:

  • Photo: blue sky thinking by Mick.  Quote: (via antigonick)
  • 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.”

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

cloudless-blue-sky

The nearest I’d come to feeling
anything like God
was the plain blue cloudless sky
and a certain silence,
but how do you pray to that?

~ Janet Fitch, White Oleander


Notes: Quote: The Chateau of My Heart. Photo: So, Now What?

Duh!

bird-fish-chart


Source: NY Magazine (8/16/15)

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