yes, it is that good

.

another photo shoot today, this time with parents, one year old twins, and a seven year old. 200 pics in one hour walking around a park. it's a good thing I took that many - we may get a dozen good pics out of it. the twins were sooooooo active...

I love doing this, and I love doing the editing on the computer afterwards. what a surprise to be walking a new path at this stage of my life. gives a whole new meaning to "the best is yet to come".

glucosamine continues to add quality to my life. also, a walking stick that doubles as a monopod helps. if and when I need a cane, it shall be purple with ribbons and balloons. yes, sometimes life is that good.
.
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quiet

.

It is so quiet in my heart - a good quiet. Peaceful. What comes next? I don't know. Maybe nothing. Maybe something. In this moment, the next moment doesn't matter.
But one day I will know. Or not.
.
.

no answer

.

cloud of quiet and mystery
surrounds me
is there meaning to all this?
I return to the question that called me to journey in the first place
the answers still elude me
but now I am at peace
.
.

sustenance

.

Today is another grand day. All of the garden produce has been canned, frozen, or dried. Finally. Now it's time to plant garlic for next year.
As I/we do these wondrous chores, I cannot keep from thinking about the people who have no house and no land with which to sustain themselves. At some point as a middle class American, I have to bear some of the blame, whether I deliberately chose it or not. We can give them our houses, our land, our food; but until we make changes in how our society is organized, the inequalities will go on and on and on.
.
.

a very good day

.

This is one of the finest days since my breast cancer diagnosis. How many years ago? Two? Three? I don't remember, and who cares anyway. I had been enduring general body aches and pains, not unlike severe arthritis, and figured it was just an unavoidable result of aging and chemo drugs. Life goes on, and if my journeying is more awkward than I'd like, so what. I'm on my feet. Nevertheless, I mentioned it to my oncologist recently (who gave me a clean bill of health, by the way), and he suggested glucosamine. I've ignored this, figuring it was just marketing hype, but here I find out it really works! Wow! And, as the pain decreases, the energy increases. You know, sometimes just being able to do normal daily stuff is very very cool.
.
.

point of view

.

it's been a long day
like yesterday was a long day
a day with unexpected turns in it
like the lines on the building
you trudge along a straight line
and
bam!
you make a 90 degree shift
yet from another perspective
it's still that same straight line

its useful to hold multiple points of view
.
.

golden years

.

This has been a remarkable day. I now have three checks to deposit in the bank for three different skills I share with others; secretarial, alterations, and now photography. I'm not looking for a new career, not at this late stage of my life. However, I will hone my skills for the sheer joy of honing, and if people find their way to my door, so be it.
.
.

oh shoot!

.

Here's how it happened.
One of my neighbors is out of work, so I offered to do a photo shoot of their children at a nearby park so they'd have decent photos to give as gifts. I'm not wonderful with people, either in person or on camera, so this was practice for me. The photos were great! She had prints made of some of them and matted, framed, and hung them. Other neighbors visited and have asked me what I charge for this. So, here I am, being paid to do photo shoots! I've done another one, and another is supposedly going to happen next month. I'm not wanting a new business, but I don't mind doing this on occasion for a bit of compensation for my time and expertise.

I had a six month checkup today and remain cancer free. Good! Very finely good! I didn't realize I was worried until I came home and discovered I felt lighter on my feet. Cool.
.
.

new venture

.

Wow. Two, possibly three photo shoots. And they're paying me!
(no, not in this photo...)
.
.

knowing their stories

.

Life is certainly interesting at times. I'm the default substitute front desk person for a local attorney's office. It is an exercise in left brain activities, where precision and proper language are key. I don't understand the ins and outs of the legal world, but I'm glad they do. More often than not, I already know the people who call in, having lived in this community for at least 30 years. So now I know more about their lives, things I would not know otherwise, and I treat that knowledge gently. We all have our problems and disagreements with others, lawyers doing their best work help us resolve them with dignity.
.
.

it is what it is whether we know it or knot

.

my literalist friends want to know what it is
but I don't care what it is
I don't care about it's "name", though in fact I DO know it's name
but that's my left brain
my right brain sees line and color

my right brain is constantly dancing with questions, emotions, unknowns
and sometimes is entranced with objects in the "real" world
that seem to be symbolic

like this

maybe..."don't get your knickers in a knot"
or..."if there's nobody to hug, then I'll hug myself"
or..."this is my brain overdosed on caffeine"

(ok, I'll help you out. it's a tendril from a cantaloupe vine)
.
.

ripples and reflections

.

.
.

dream symbols

.


she was doing her normal chores
and in doing so broke two wall clocks

later,
she tried to explain
that we cannot touch the past
nor the future
the only moment we can touch
is now

and then she understood the symbolism
of two clocks breaking

*************************

she tried to explain
that as long as we give our best to each other
what does it matter where our inspiration comes from
Jesus, or Buddha, or any other god/guide
as she explained her view,
the other was silently praying for protection
from evil words
she remembered when she, too, had done the same
and forgave her sister
and herself
.
.

tedious path

.

This is the hot, dusty, sandy, gritty, tedious path on Red Mountain. I couldn't imagine why Mike wanted to share this hike with us, but being a mom, I went along without complaint. Well, not too much complaint. I didn't know what awaited us at the end of the path, and Mike didn't tell us, wanting us to relish the surprise. We did. Life is like that; full of surprises.
.
.

waiting to disrobe

columbine

.

.
.

weary

.

weary tonight
there are so many ranting and raving crazies, it seems
the media gives them full coverage,
yet they complain about the liberal bias
their obnoxious noise;
sometimes I wonder if it is the death rattle of our democracy
or is it already dead and the noise is the dance of zombies?

.
.

grand!!!

.


There is not enough time in my day for all the things I want to do and learn. I am joyously not complaining, though. It's a mighty fine state of mind after the mind and body numbing of chemo.
.
.

9/11

.


If I were inclined to light a candle in remembrance for this day, then I must light a candle every day in remembrance for every person who has died at the hands of another, whether through malice or neglect. Is the death of any one person more grievous than the death of any other person? May our remembrance of today's history bring us into a fuller awareness of our deep humanity.
.
.

here

.

I'm still here. Words do not flow much anymore. Ebb and flow. I am living life fully, gathering experiences and awarenesses that will one day inspire words again. Or maybe not. It is still true that dance is a truer language than words.
.
.

are you listening?

some people are hard of hearing, and
some people are hard of listening

Red Mountain

.

.
.

tired

.

Just a bit tired. That's all.
.
.

this flower knows the signs

.

.
.

rural Ohio

.

.
.

the present moment is all there is

.

Yesterday - my birthday. It was exactly as I wanted it - no obligatory calls, visits, gifts. I spent the day dealing with two last minute calls for my sewing abilities.

I am now 66 years old. Grandma Irene, who has been a spiritual presence in my breast cancer journey, died when she was the age I am now. I know, I know, things have improved since then. So, as I drew and cut and fused and ripped and stitched, I had the time to look carefully at what is important - and what is not.

It's funny how that works. For example, the bridesmaid dress I'm altering; it's so important for this young woman for a few hours of a single day, yet it has no importance at all. Both. It's like dancing across the Grand Canyon on a tightrope. The sight is magnificent if you remained balanced.

Life is good. And, the older I get, the better it is.
.
.

bee-ing busy

.

.
.

purple

.

Such a decision! Shall I sit in the purple chair or the yellow chair?
Actually, purple.

The deer have been munching our garden. I did what I always do - get hair clippings from the barber and spread them around the garden perimeter. It works! But apparently I pissed off the deer this time. They got even with me by eating some of the sunflower buds in another part of the yard. So today I spread clippings on the sunflowers. I wonder how they're going to get even with me tonight?
.
.

today

a day to celebrate
my friend is home from the hospital - going to recover from encephalitis
also, it rained
the garden is happy
and the sun shone
the garden is happy
today is a wonderful day

mandala d'Leo

.

dandelion
a weed
yet reflecting the fractal beauty of the universe
each point a "big bang"
yet something more profound
supports an infinity of big bangs
which point represents you?
perhaps each of us is the beginning point of a universe
which is, after all, infinite
an infinity
that holds the growing universe that is each of us
and still has room for more

thanks be to God

thanks be to all of us
.
.

rain

.

rain today
lotsa lotsa rain
do you like the sound of rain on the roof, on the windows?
do you like the smell of wet greenery?

it is night, now
listen to the rain softly breathing
a lullaby

sister rain
we are 90% water
we are almost rain, too!

water
life
flowing life

life
whatever life is, it is good
.
.

explosivity

.

Perhaps I am more interesting asleep than awake.....

Last night's dream was interesting but unremarkable, until the end. Do your dreams end? Or do you just wake up regardless? Last night's dream had a fuse. I lit it, the dream exploded, and that's how I woke up. Cool, huh?
.
.

golden love

.

.
.

cuter than garlic

.

Today is a good day. We harvested five dozen garlics. Now I don't need to worry about vampires for another year.....

Yes, I know this isn't a picture of garlic. These guys are cuter.
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.

gift

.

When my sons were pre-teens, something finally made sense to me. This. If somehow we live for eternity, forward and backward, then for only a very short time am I their mother, and they my sons. For most of the time, we are brothers and sisters. It is an honor to be entrusted with parenthood, having "power over" other souls in the physical realm. But mostly, I realized we are equals. Respect is a two way deal. I'd been taught to respect my elders, but now I understood that I must respect them just as much. Now, knowing this, I still have a "mommy" switch, much to dismay of all of us at times.

This also applies to my relationship with my students. Yeah, we have to act out our temporary roles in the hierarchical sense, but that's a temporary gig.

So then.

You would have seen two women sitting at a table in the local deli. We talked for four hours. At one time we were student and teacher, but now we are two souls, catching up on a twenty year break in our conversation. There is so much to speak of, but tonight I am exhausted. Tomorrow is her birthday (happy birthday, Jen!) and my gift to her is my love, my admiration, and my respect for this wonderful woman who was once a student.

And now, to sleep...
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Red Mountain

.

Magic is a state of mind, perhaps. Since I love the mountains anyway, there seems to be plenty of magic in them. Red Mountain would be one of those special places.
.
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wondering

.

I wonder if my wonder button is broken....
.
.

a simple walk in the woods

.

It wasn't the most interesting hike we've taken, but the drive to Ramser Arboretum was fine, the company was fine, and the weather was fine. A path alongside and through typical Ohio trees on slightly hilly land. That was it. On the other hand, the birdsong was wonderful.
.
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maybe, maybe not

.

I get email notices from Dennis Kucinich's office. Today he sent out a notice that his brother had died. His brother - age 60 - died suddenly and unexpectedly of a heart attack. We never know, do we.

Death is an interesting concept. Is it "something"? Or is it "nothing". Who among us really knows? Oh, I know. We believe. Or, some of us do. Then, we could explore the dynamics of "belief". Well, at the end of the day, I finish with way more questions than answers. The questions are my friends, ya know.

But back to Kucinich's brother who died. He was 60. I'm 65; an age where increasingly I'll be saying goodbye to friends, family, and acquaintances, and one day not of my choosing somebody will say goodbye to me. That's fine. The only thing that irks is this: if death is a "nothing", I'll never know how things turn out for our planet, our species, our universe. On the other hand, if death is a "nothing", I won't have a brain to be irked with. On the other other hand, if death is a "something", I'll just carry my little bag of questions with me and bug the crap out of whoever's job it is to guide me on to the next adventure.

Life is good. All of it. Whatever it is.
.
.

conjoined

.

.
.

serendipity

.

All children are artists. The problem is to remain one when you grow up.

~Picasso

I love it when serendipity happens. This tree photo and Picasso's quote both appeared before my eyes from different directions. The tree? Who has ever seen a tree with such a tall trunk before any branches...branched? It is a tree a child would draw, seems to me. So I guess mother nature is a child and an artist.
.
.

for you, too

.

stretch
reach for it
the sun exists
for you, too
humble clover flower
.
.

January

.

.
.

magnolia

.

.
.

glow

.

.
.

reflection perception

.

reflections
imperfect reflections
the straight is perceived as crooked
would a crooked building be perceived as straight?
why not just turn around and look at the reflected building?
except...the universe is a mirror
and reflection is all there is
.
.

short list

.

people are more important than things

education is better than ignorance

Wisdom trumps all

this is my politics
this is my religion
.
.

dandelion memories

.

What'cha gonna do?

Dandelion yards are so pretty - so much more interesting than plain carpet green.

And dandelion greens - very yummy. The first time I tried them was when my mother-in-law sauted greens, then added eggs, and scrambled the concoction. Probably added garlic, too. I could have lived on that wonderful dish.

Dandelion wine? Not so much. Back when I was making wine, I sent my three young sons to a local field to make some money gathering dandelion flowers so I could make wine. There was also a law that prohibited women from making wine - only the male head of households could make it - and I ignored the law. So. While these three adorable children were loading their bags with dandelion flowers, a newspaper reporter saw them, took their picture, talked with them, and posted the picture and story in our daily newspaper. Front page, full color. Oh noes! I'm outed as a lawbreaker! I'm going to jail!
Nothing happened. I checked around and discovered that an 80 year old widowed woman challenged the law and won the right to make wine. I thank her.

But back to the wine. It was horrible. It tasted like the floor of a stable, or I assume if I tasted the floor of a stable it would taste like that. Down the drain. Years later I tasted some professionally made dandelion wine at a local winery. Same thing, only smoother. Yuck.

Ah, dandelions. Do you remember "momma had a baby and her head popped off"? Gruesome, but so are many nursery rhymes.

The stems were used to make chains.

We'd hold the yellow flower under each other's chin, and if there was a yellow reflection on our chin it meant we liked butter, or something like that.

And, of course, blowing the seeds.
.
.

sunset

.

.
.

dad

.

I miss you dad
as I dig out the dandelions
I remember how you used to
dig out the dandelions
I know now
the peace you might have felt
because I feel that same peace
as I tidy up the small space
of my yard

I think about you dad
when I follow the news
the wars, the fighting in so many places
what memories did you keep in your own heart
as you shipped out to Okinawa

I honor your struggles
doing the best you could
with the cards you were dealt

I think you played a damned good game.
.
.

personal rosary

.

another bead has been added to my rosary
the rosary of my own mysteries
mysteries to ponder
mysteries that invite us to wander
into the unknown

she was a student, I was a teacher
she had a depth I rarely see in one so young
or even among the old ones

and then the years did their work
as our paths diverged
sort of

She was told I had died. She didn't know I was alive, climbing the mountain range of multiple cancers, growing into my own depth.
She didn't know.
But she ran the Race for the Cure with my name on her back. Is there a greater gift? Perhaps not, and I am both joyous and humbled
honored
and saddened that she ran with a sorrow

and yet
this story doesn't end
a race ends
a life will end
but the story goes on

by chance...
chance?
we found each other on the internet
and that is its own story for another day

but back to the rosary of mysteries
ours have been linked, now

I hear the music of the rosary
singing of oneness
laughing at the illusion of separation
inviting us to dance

thank you, dear friend, for dancing

and running

to the music of this mysterious rosary

.
.

courage

.


Watching and reading about the Iranian turmoil is very moving. I came across some lines written by an Iranian who will march tomorrow, understanding the state is threatening violence to those who disobey. This person has chosen to march anyway, and has written some final words, knowing he/she may march to the death.

I found the words here at Juan Cole's blog.

"I will participate in the demonstrations tomorrow. Maybe they will turn violent. Maybe I will be one of the people who is going to get killed. I’m listening to all my favorite music. I even want to dance to a few songs. I always wanted to have very narrow eyebrows. Yes, maybe I will go to the salon before I go tomorrow! There are a few great movie scenes that I also have to see. I should drop by the library, too. It’s worth to read the poems of Forough and Shamloo again. All family pictures have to be reviewed, too. I have to call my friends as well to say goodbye. All I have are two bookshelves which I told my family who should receive them. I’m two units away from getting my bachelors degree but who cares about that. My mind is very chaotic. I wrote these random sentences for the next generation so they know we were not just emotional and under peer pressure. So they know that we did everything we could to create a better future for them. So they know that our ancestors surrendered to Arabs and Mongols but did not surrender to despotism. This note is dedicated to tomorrow’s children…”

If I were Iranian, would I go out in the streets tomorrow?
If so, what words would I leave for others to read?
How about you?
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.

lemonade

.

We walked down the street and bought lemonade and cookies from three little boys at their lemonade stand. It was by far the best lemonade we've tasted in thirty years, when our own three little boys had a lemonade stand.
.
.

point of view

.

In this photo, I see a demure damsel, head bowed.
My brother sees a space alien.
How about a demure space alien?
.
.

one

.

Aspens.
They only look like separate trees.
This grove is probably one single organism, connected underground.
I love that.
Ya gotta watch that below the surface kind of stuff.....
:-)
.
.

stories have their own time for the telling

.

I suggested to a friend that stories have their own time for the telling. She had a story to tell, and when she told it, it merged with my story. It was about both of us, walking our paths, each a memory to the other. Yet this wondrous universe, or God, or Goddess, or Source of all Love, whatever it is that nudges us to both our heights and depths, wove us into one cloth. Perhaps we always were. That's all I can say right now. Stories have their own time for the telling.
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.

beautiful friend

.

It was a nondescript photo according to my standards. Yet the ice on the leaf - I never noticed the design when I pointed my camera at it - is dancingly beautiful. Just a small bit of water transforming into ice, very quietly becoming a work of art. Perhaps never to be seen.

I look at you.
You are so beautiful,
whether anybody else sees your beauty or not.
That's what we're called to do, perhaps.
Simply (or complexly) cooperate with transformative creation and become -
be -
that bit of beauty in the small space where we live.

Because, there is no such thing as small
or large.
In a universe that has no boundaries,
you are the center,
wherever you are.
Such a beautiful center you are!
.
.

where is the courage?

.

I wonder what specifically are the laws against hate speech and inciting to violence? It seems there's a whole lot of hate speech going around, and now more violence. More than in the past? I'm sure any black person can talk about their elders and violence in the south in the past (and for all I know sometimes currently).
I guess more deeply than that, I wonder why the hate in the first place? A hatred that breeds on ignorance, and why do people prefer ignorance to knowledge? Is hatred easier? Maybe knowledge is scarier to them.
But why?
Where is the courage to open our eyes and hearts?
Where is the courage to grow up?
.
.

wordless story

.

This series was taken at the Columbus Arts Festival. The little girls weren't sure at first if the bronze man was a statue or a person.
.
.

getting it in gear

.

You know what's frustrating? I won't live long enough to learn all the things I want to learn.
Which is pretty much everything.
So I guess I'd better get my anatomy in gear and get to work. It's so good to have that kind of energy again.
.
.

remarkable

Today has been a remarkable day, and one day, over a bottle of wine, I'll share the story. But not this day. It is still settling into my heart. Life is so good.

But on another note...
I'm still reading "Guns, Germs, and Steel." It's big and ponderous, but certainly opens my eyes and answers some of my incessant wondering questions. Not all, of course, but enough to keep me reading. For example; Why does China, which is much larger than Europe, seen to be much more unified than Europe? And, why, when the Anglos arrived here and decimated the native Indian population with smallpox and other diseases, why didn't the Indians decimate the new settlers with their diseases?
Good stuff.

D-Day

.

President Obama gave another great speech today, D-Day. I was inspired to pay more attention than usual (high school history pretty much destroyed my interest in history, especially regarding wars). This evening on the History Channel a lot of D-Day footage was shown, with some of the veterans who fought there telling their stories. Their youthfulness then, their aged faces now, their courage, fear, determination, pain, their brotherhood.
What are we as human beings? Perhaps one day our spirits will evolve into peace loving spirits. Peaceful, but courageous.
.
.

In sickness and in health

.

In sickness and in health
2009
pat denino

I shared this photo with some friends, and one of them asked me how it came to be. This is my response:


thanks, marianne

I don't know how much background you need, so I'll be complete, yet try to be brief. I had breast cancer, I think you knew that. During that time, with some friends, we had done some photographic work, using me as my own life model, trying to portray the emotional and spiritual aspects of the cancer journey. Those photos were well received by those who saw them, and transcended the specific cancer journey, touching those who made their own difficult journeys. Some have suggested we turn those images and occasional poetry into a book. That has been difficult to get started, for a variety of reasons. There IS a book being edited now, however, that focuses on my cancer journey and the narrative, including poetry, that I've written. But that's another story.

As an aside, I'm a fiber artist, having done most of my work with art quilts. Soft sculpture dolls lured me, but I could never quite get the hang of what art dolls are about. Too much of that seems to be related to costumes, and that's just not my enduring interest. But AHA! I can make fairly realistic dolls, embue them with my own spirit, and they become life models in miniature! Very doable. The clothing I use, Grecian in concept, fits my idea of using clothing not as a focus, but as a way of adding to the emotional portrayal I'm after.

Enter George. He is my rock. He has walked the journey with me, and I learned that breast cancer is OUR disease, not mine only. This is how I show his steadfastness. This image that you like also shows the way he likes to hug me. I feel very safe in his arms.

I will do more "soft sculpture". That seems a better way of saying it than "dolls". We'll see what develops. My oncologist, who has his own building, and of whom I think very highly, has offered to let me display my work there. He, too, has been a rock. Though doctor, he is also healer. In fact, if you look at George hugging me, you might also see many people who have been strong witnesses and supporters in my journey.

and in a very large nutshell, that's the story. this art keeps me focused. I must remain healthy so that I can get these images out of my head and out into the world. I want to add to the beauty and deepening of the human experience.

thanks for asking. you made me think it through!
.
.

false alarm

.

You know it's not going to be a good thing when the telephone wakes you up after midnight.

The nursing home called - they sent mom to the emergency room. She seemed unresponsive. Throw clothes on, drive to the hospital, a ten minute drive, especially at that time of night. I'm grateful that George always wants to be at my side.

Mom was OK. Fearful of stroke, tests showed no evidence. What happened? I still don't know, and neither does mom. After two days, she's back in her own bed, and the best thing that came out of this is that mom appreciates the attention the staff at the nursing home gives her. Tomorrow when I see her we'll track down the written explanation of just what happened.

Mom is 87. Though she gets through her days gracefully, she has no desire to prolong her life. Being told she was unresponsive at one point, she suggested the next time it happens they just let her go. We've talked at length, completed all the appropriate paperwork, and yet there's still a grey area. We understand, and we'll even joke about it - eventually.
.
.

hosting life

.

wondering...
viruses like smallpox, polio et al end up destroying their host
or maybe if the host lives, it lives weakened and with considerable scarring

how are we as humans any different
as our planet hosts us, and we scar it, weaken it
and maybe destroy life on it?

aren't all living things just trying to live?

it is what it is
we are what we are

and whatever it is, is cool
.
.

dream's shadow

.

the day was done
I lay down
wrapped myself in a blanket
fell asleep
and dreamed

the dream was done
I lay down
wrapped myself in a blanket again
fell awake
to remember both dreams
.
.

grandmen

.

Nick is eight years old today, and celebrated his birthday with a feast of boy presents. The best present is the one he gave me, though. He wanted me to take a look at his Lego model he was building in another room, and took my hand and said, "I'll walk slow for you, grandma." He is all boy, all noise, all impatience, and all gentleness and charm.
The other guy isn't too shabby, either.....
.
.

yellow rose

.

but not from Texas...
.
.

heebie jeebies

.


ticks,
and deliberate, self-righteous, malicious ignorance

both give me the heebie jeebies
.
.

someday

.

One day, I don't know when, words will return.
In the meantime, life is very, very good.
.
.

reply all

.

You know those emails that get fwded and fwded and fwded?
Here's the one I got today.....


The ' L I T T L E ' Things~

As you might remember, the head of a company survived
9/11 because his son started kindergarten.

Another fellow was alive because it was
His turn to bring donuts.

One woman was late because her
Alarm clock didn't go off in time.

One was late because of being stuck on the NJ Turnpike
Because of an auto accident.

One of them
Missed his bus..

One spilled food on her clothes and had to take
Time to change.

One's
Car wouldn't start.

One couldn't
Get a taxi.

The one that struck me was the man
Who put on a new pair of shoes that morning,
Took the various means to get to work
But before he got there, he developed
a blister on his foot.

He stopped at a drugstore to buy a Band-Aid.
That is why he is alive today..

Now when I am
Stuck in traffic ,
Miss an elevator,
Turn back to answer a ringing telephone ...
All the little things that annoy me.
I think to myself,
This is exactly where
God wants me to be
At this very moment..

Next time your morning seems to be
Going wrong ,

The children are slow getting dressed,
You can't seem to find the car keys,
You hit every traffic light,
Don't get mad or frustrated;
It May be just that
God is at work watching over you..

May God continue to bless you
With all those annoying little things
And may you remember their possible purpose.

Here was my response, and yes, I did a "reply all".

I guess that means God wasn't at work looking after 2,974 people on 9/11.

How about this, instead...
God is looking after you regardless.
Regardless of whether or not you are having a good day.
Regardless of whether or not you live or die on that day.
Just...regardless.

Anything else, to my mind, is a dismissal of the spirituality and goodness of the people who died on that day,
or even perhaps an unintended judgment;
and a dismissal of the grief felt by those who lost those loved ones.
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the security of truth, the truth of security

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From a Bishop John Shelby Spong newsletter emailed today....

"The first thing you need to do is to recognize that for most people religion is not a search for truth, but a search for security. Security is not well served by opening up questions for which there are no answers. You must begin by accepting people where they are. A good pastor, however, does not leave them there forever, for that means they will never grow.
..........
Of course, when we say God is personal, we are not describing God; we are describing our experience of God. Since we are persons, we can receive the transcendent power of life, love and being only as "personal." There is nothing wrong with that. To move from these to a statement about what God's being actually is, however, is more than any of us should claim."

I wonder what it is that encourages some people to discard security concerns and trudge off in search of truth?
And how do we respond to those who say their religious inclinations are ultimate truth?
Truth has so many layers of meaning.....
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May

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The first batch of new ducklings has been spotted, lined up between mom and dad, taking a swim.
A mockingbird practices his songs during the night.
The garden is in. 30 tomato plants, 100 pepper plants, basil, oregano, and assorted flowers.
The garlic, planted last fall, is a foot tall. Six dozen. That's about right for repelling vampires.
Columbine is the first flower to greet us.
Our yard takes the prize on our street for the number of dandelions.
A local cat (probably) caught and ate a bluebird. We found the feathers.
Life is good,
and painful,
and sometimes tasty.
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heavenly

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Traditional Christians have a heaven different from the Muslim heaven. I'm guessing almost all fundamental religions ascribe to one kind of heaven or another. Nowadays for me none of them make much sense. It seems more like a human construct designed to keep the multitudes in line, obeying rules that, though presented as divine rules, are more likely rules designed to keep the power structure intact.
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Inniswood

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individual thought?

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one stream
three waterfalls
innumerable droplets
returning to
one stream
one river
one ocean

perhaps individuality is a only a fleeting moment
perhaps it is an illusion

am I willing to shed my sense of individuality to become part of the oneness of the ocean?
do I have a choice?
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whistling rose

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Brown Palace Hotel

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This is a glass ceiling in the Brown Palace Hotel in Denver, Colorado.
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parallel universe

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Cedar Falls trail

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until they are named

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Do you have a magical door?
A door that invites exploration in unknown lands?
Where there might be demons...
or angels..
and you won't know which they are until you encounter them?

They await.
They don't know which to be
until they encounter you.
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always wondering

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We live in interesting times. The public dialogue regarding torture is compelling. One justification is that torture of suspected terrorists has kept us safe. Safe? Safe from attack? Even if it were so, and that is quite doubtful, it would not keep us safe from falling off the moral high road. Do those who proclaim Christianity understand that?

The older I get, the more I read and understand, and often not understand, the more I wonder just what we are as human beings, and if we are anything more than just a swarm of one kind or another. Would that be so bad if that were the case? Isn't it a bit arrogant to think that our collective lives are the bright point in the universe?
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welcome home

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My friend is home from the hospital. Thank God, thank the Goddess, thank the stars, the sun, the dandelions; my friend survived and is home. Yes, I was worried. We have shared our lives over coffee for many many years. We have been ears for each other, listening to each other's stories of pride and pain. We put our problems out on the table, dissect them, then put them back together again, and return home with our hearts newly strengthened. Welcome home, Jo, my beloved friend.
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orange and friends

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theme and variation

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Is it possible to read Tolkien's "Ring Trilogy" too many times? Or watch the movie? Nope. Not in this house. But tonight was better than that. The original Star Wars was also on television, so I watched the bomb drop into the death star, and I watched the ring drop into the fire. Two evil dominions crippled or destroyed. If only it were that simple.
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dancing colors

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both cataracts are out
the patch is off
and the colors I thought were true
weren't

will that happen again
when we shed our bodies
and perceive the world
we thought was real?

that's the thing
we don't know
we wish, and hope, and believe
and yearn
but we don't actually know

maybe when that time comes
we'll know nothing at all
or maybe we'll become the colors
that we yearn to observe
dancing colors
spreading throughout the universe
not remembering
the small bit of dust we now claim as our true self
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targets

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I saw the oncologist today. He graduated me from three month visits to six month visits. Nice! As we talked, he said my target was five years, and I've been healthy for three. I told him my own target was fifty years…
And tomorrow I get the second cataract out. Can you imagine how many visits it would take if we were spiders? Or maybe the spider doc would just do half the eyes at a time.
As grateful as I am for medical technology that improves my lifespan and quality, I'm nevertheless hoping I never have to walk into a hospital again. After tomorrow, that is.
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Mirkwood Forest

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This wooden spider sculpture, along with a dozen or more other larger than life "bug" sculptures, visited our local garden, Inniswood. The spider was my favorite, and if I imagined hard enough, I could picture being a hobbit in Mirkwood Forest. The web wasn't sticky, though...
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I see, sort of...

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Wondering again.....
Is the visible spectrum called that only because that's what's visible to us as humans?
Some insects see beyond the visible spectrum. I wonder if someday, with the help of engineers, there might be aids to help us actually see, with our eyes, wavelengths not visible to us now. I can imagine a lot of things, but my brain cannot imagine colors other than the ones I now see.
Colorblindness. Who do I know who is color blind? Is this a brain malfunction, or an eye malfunction?
Fascinating. I wonder if someday we'll be able to see what we cannot see now.
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Kimono as Art

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We viewed a stunning exhibit, "Kimono as Art" in Canton, Ohio. I knew little about it, but I hadn't seen my friend in quite some time, and that was enough reason to go. Four of us walked in, three of us absorbed the information first. I chose to simply walk into the exhibit and experience the art. Usually that works best for me; this time it didn't. Maybe. The kimonos were magnificent. You had to stand back and absorb the overall beauty of the finished piece, then walk in closer and appreciate the detail. Stand back, walk forward, several times before each piece. Thirty kimonos, hung side by side, lined up along three walls of a long exhibition room.

What I didn't realize until I saw the video was…the kimonos, lined up, created a panorama that could only be fully appreciated by seeing all of them together. My friend, following the suggestion of seeing the video first, knew what to expect. She walked into the exhibition hall, stopped, and wept. It was that beautiful.

A couple of the kimonos had a design element that seemed off to me, but once I saw them as what they really were - segments of a magnificent panorama spanning three walls of the room, I understood the reason for that design element. Maybe we're like that. Maybe? We can be stand alone pieces of art, or we can look beyond our individuality and see the panorama of "one."
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too much wondering, perhaps

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All the millions of years that passed before I was born…
Did my spirit not exist yet?
Or am I wearing the mantle of forgetfulness?
I was taught that I would live forever in heaven, so I would contemplate eternity in one direction, but it seems to me if eternal life is real, we should be able to perceive eternity in both directions.
Or maybe it's all directions.
I wonder how many directions that might be…
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the grand adventure

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Maybe I don't believe in death.
Maybe death is just a doorway
with a curtain across it.
I don't think the universe
has a trash heap.
So nothing ever disappears.
Things just change.

Wouldn't it be boring
if we existed for eternity
but never changed?

Even heaven would be a drag.

One day my ashes will be absorbed by the earth.
Maybe, someday,
They'll nourish a tree.
Or, after the sun novas
maybe they'll be flung out into space
waiting for a chance to help form
another star,
then maybe another planet.
Maybe trees will evolve on that planet.

I wonder if even now
the ashes of an extinct race
have helped to nourish my own life.

Isn't life/change the grandest adventure?
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a glass full of tears

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Tonight I raise my glass to my gay friends. Their journey isn't easy, and it certainly isn't finished.
However,
Iowa. Who would have thought Iowa!
Vermont. The legislature overturned their governor's veto and now they can marry there, too.
Progress. But it's progress I celebrate with tears. My friends have endured so much pain, and it's not finished yet.
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the significance of insignificance

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What an incredible adventure it is to be a sentient being.

Someone I love told me she feels so insignificant. We're all insignificant was my response, though I could have come up with a better one, in retrospect.

But I had been thinking about the insignificance of individuals in the herd, the flock, the gaggle, what have you. When I think of species becoming extinct, it's not about individual members of that species dying, exactly. All individuals die.

Let me back up a bit. Much earlier in my life, when subjected to mental or emotional pain, I'd go sit on the moon and observe the earth, trying to find my own footprints. From that seat, my experience was insignificant on the planetary scale, thus easier to bear. That was only a temporary fix, of course. I'd have to go back and slog it out, fixing or fighting or apologizing, whatever that particular experience required.

So I learned I'm not the center of any group, and in fact, am as insignificant as my toenail clippings are to the continuation of my body.

But that's not the whole story. I am a sentient being (usually...) and take great pleasure in pondering things that can't be understood with the configuration of brain cells currently residing in my headbone. I'll just have to let it go at that. Have a good day, y'all, and don't take yourself too seriously, but take yourself very seriously. Both.
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go forth and multiply

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dandelion elders
cutting apron strings
encouraging their offspring
to fly
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go with the flow

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Apparently it isn't necessary to understand life. We just have to go with the flow, even when the flow has almost stopped. Talking with mom today, she told me she thinks she's lived too long. There was frustration and sadness in her voice. Today she is so tired of the serious limitations imposed on her body. She hopes I understand. I do. One day she'll leave, and even now she yearns for it. Different traditions have the family "keeping watch" after their loved one has died, and hospice workers have told me of the great honor of being trusted to attend someone's dying. But I'm called to witness even now, as mom struggles with whatever portion of life is still hers to live out.
love
witness
compassion
dignity
when appropriate, humor
May she have an overflowing abundance as she contemplates and struggles through this last mountain she has been ordained to climb.
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wow

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The eye patch is off, and I've stepped into a more colorful and sparkly world. Wow. Because cataracts develop slowly, I never noticed when white morphed into cream. But it did. With my photos, I always had to work with the white correction function to get what I wanted. Was it my camera? No. It was my eyes. Now, with one eye "fixed", I walk around looking at things anew, first with one eye, then the other. In two weeks I get the other cataract removed, and I'll leave the dingy world I've been living in.

I wonder.
Is there an equivalent in our hearts?
Maybe we could find and remove the cataracts surrounding our hearts.
What would we then look like to each other?
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arrrrrr matey

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I had cataract surgery today, and since I had an eye patch, it made sense to go to Long John Silver's for lunch afterwards. They gave us an eye patch discount! The anesthesia, sodium pentothal, was given only so I wouldn't feel the shot in my eye. I was back awake before even getting into surgery. The nurse said I wouldn't remember the surgery. Well. That's a challenge if I ever heard one, being someone intensely interested in the fine points of consciousness.
I do remember the surgery.
I also remember my incessant chatter…
:-/

The patch comes off tomorrow. It's so nice to have a surgery to look forward to for a change. It was every bit as easy as my friends have said it would be.
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We've #2

This is another fiber wall piece (art quilt?), 37"x37", created from scraps from my workroom "floor". Prom dress hems, bridesmaid hems, pants hems, pieces from stage dresses, bits and pieces from clothes I've made for myself. In fact, there's fabric used to create make believe chain mail helmets for a bunch of singers! I love putting sequins, denim, madras plaids and seersucker fabrics together. It's like putting people of different cultures together. It works.

warming up for a rant

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There are so many rant worthy subjects in the news lately, and I'll rant a bit about global warming. One diversionary argument is that people didn't cause global warming...and their point is what? That since they believe people didn't cause it we should just shrug our shoulders and forget about it? Ahem. Hurricanes. Tornados. Blizzards. Floods (sometimes floods). We didn't cause them, either. Should we just shrug our shoulders in the direction of the Red River? New Orleans?

Polio. Smallpox. SIDS. pneumonia, and so on. We didn't cause them, either. I suppose those who found solutions, cures, vaccines, etc. were just wasting their time?

Come on, folks.
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tripartite goddess

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coming up for air

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I haven't had much to say because lately my fingers have been doing all the talking, meaning a lot of art is getting done. Here's the short story on that: at an earlier time when my business was really good, I was able to purchase fabric for a very good price. One day I'd have time to work with it. Well, that time is now. My fabric inventory has its own room, which is a clue to how much of it lives in this house. At my age, and considering my periodic health issues, it occurs to me that my fabric might outlive me. That is unacceptable. I would be eternally pissed if the dreams I had for that fabric went to my grave with me. So. I'm busy. The trick is to work fast enough to get to all the fabric but not so fast that I use it up before I'm ready to move on to the next incarnation.

Yeeeehawww! Life is good.

One more thing. We celebrated our granddaughter's birthday today. For her birthday meal, instead of going out, she wanted hamburgers on the grill. The weather turned narsty, so her second choice was her grandpa's fried rice. Now how cool is that? First, an eleven year old girl asks for grandpa's fried rice.
Second, it really is that good.

Our eclectic meal consisted of fried rice, wedding soup, and decadent cinnamon rolls. All made here.
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