... because truly being here is so much: because everything here
apparently needs us, this fleeting world, which in some strange way
keeps calling to us. Us, the most fleeting of all.

Once for each thing. Just once; no more. And we too,
just once. And never again. But to have been
this once, completely, even if only once:
to have been at one with the earth, seems beyond undoing.

 

And so we keep pressing on, trying to achieve it,

trying to hold it firmly in our simple hands,

in our overcrowded gaze, in our speechless heart.

Trying to become it.--Whom can we give it to? We would
hold on to it all, forever... Ah but what can we take along
into that other realm? Not the art of looking,
which is learned so slowly, and nothing that happened here. Nothing.

Perhaps we are here in order to say: house
bridge, fountain, gate, pitcher, fruit-tree, window--

But to say them, you must understand,
oh to say them more intensely than the Things themselves
ever dreamed of existing.

Here is the time for the sayable, here is its homeland.
Speak and bear witness. More than ever ...

Look, I am living. On what? Neither childhood nor future
grows any smaller.... Superabundant being
wells up in my heart.

-Rilke, from "The Ninth Elegy" (Steven Mitchell trans.)
.
Point and shoot--North Carolina, March, 2013.

On this day, I felt a surreal sense of timelessness--everything seemed "lit" even though it was all wet and grey. I should have been gloomy. Maybe it was the wonderful food we got in the city the night before, or maybe the color and rhythm danced me awake. Sometimes the mind, in a state of semi-exhaustion, finds something of Spirit and runs on ahead, loose and unafraid across the fields of our gaze. It feels like inner flight...

You understand.  I hope you are all well.
.
 Note to self: Anne Carson NYT

Peace to all who enter here.
.

a wonderful rare wonderful

. .

Franz Kafka’s "A Country Doctor" short film by Kōji Yamamura. 
Voiced by kyōgen actors of the Shigeyama house. 20 min.
Or view 7m part 1 here, 2, 3.
.
Freshly stolen from The Paris Review Tumblr post today.
Beautiful, profound, intense and a scrambling to logical mind. Be prepared.

(Kafka's translated text : many interpretations

.
"The child is like a little hill of silence.
On this little hill of silence suddenly the word appears.
... The language of the child is silence transformed into sound.
The language of the adult is sound that seeks for silence.
Children--the little hills of silence--are scattered about everywhere in the world of words, reminding men of the origin of speech."

Max Picard from The World of Silence

.
Can I still wish you all a Happy New Year. Can it start right now, this new thing? New dreams new energy new life. Breath for breath, we are so linked in our creation(s

Peace to all who enter here

thorns

.

Karl Haender (Guggenheim collection)

Alright!
   Who crashed Tumblr ?
   Naughty, naughty naughty.

          *i need my bookmarks. " )

ha ha
.

.

Thorns

I was a child. I remember
gathering wild roses.
They had so many thorns--
I didn't want to break them--
I believed they were buds
and were going to flower.

Then I met you, O love,
you had so many thorns!
I didn't want to strip them--
I believed they would flower.

All this I review today
and smile--smile
and wander the roads
driven by wind.
I was a child.

-Lucian Blaga (trans. Codrescu)

.
3 doors down : "It won't take away my love"
.
         peace and blessings

- >

Richard Avendon 1967
.

I Want to Dance!


O, I want to dance as I have never danced!
Let God not feel himself a prisoner in me.
Earth, give me wings:
I want to be the arrow
tearing infinity,
to see only sky around me,
sky above
and sky below—
burning in waves of light
I want to dance
torn by the lightning of unborn desire
so God will breathe freely in me
and will not say:
“I am a prisoner in his dungeon!”

Lucian Blaga
(Andrei Codrescu translation)

 
 
 
  More about time travel.  
Very short-short story by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Eyes of a Blue Dog

an excerpt:

and she said: 'Sometimes I think I'm made of metal.' She was silent for an instant. The position of her hands over the flame varied slightly. I said: 'Sometimes in other dreams, I've thought you were only a little bronze statue in the corner of some museum. Maybe that's why you're cold.' And she said: 'Sometimes, when I sleep on my heart, I can feel my body growing hollow and my skin is like plate. Then, when the blood beats inside me, it's as if someone were calling by knocking on my stomach and I can feel my own copper sound in the bed. It's like- -what do you call it--laminated metal.' She drew closer to the lamp. 'I would have liked to hear you,' I said.
.
.
Everyone who reads this will have a special slant. Great talk sparker with friends after drinks.  Just more ado about time travel and came to mind after reading some of your wonderful comments. The inner landscape is a full time journey
and yet we traverse both.

*if you like star gazing and need a star map, sign up for Don's giveaway (and check out the punning poetics of his own dream time imagination) (am i sucking up) oop.,
 
* Supertramp Give a little bit   or this version

Thank you all for all you give,
as Always, Peace and big (mischievous) blessings
 
.

time travelers

This morning's dance.

Life blushes with color. The day drunk with light while i sipped coffee trying to untie myself from a dark lace of dreams, and last night.
Couldn't help grinning at the paradox of things.
.

I tried to drown my sorrows, but the bastards learned how to swim, and now I am overwhelmed by this decent and good feeling.

Frida Kahlo
.

Am only on the precipice of what I need/want to accomplish.

Online a few times a week exchanging only necessary mail.
Its amazing. Internet like a second blood system to our individual (and collective) systems now; day by day. And how long have we been using it?  Not that long.

We all probably know some people (a dying breed) who didn't know a tv for long periods of life, and then only a few odd channels. Now ... the easy capacity to scramble into worlds away ... we are time travelers, we just don't yet call it that way.
.
blessings

.

Dew Light

Now in the blessed days of more and less
when the news about time is that each day
there is less of it I know none of that
as I walk out through the early garden
only the day and I are here with no
before or after and the dew looks up
without a number or a present age

W.S.Merwin
.



TimeScapes: Rapture from http://vimeo.com/timescapes on Vimeo.

2. Learning to fly  (verson i got had no volume, listen with eyes: the stars stars stars)
3. Mountain Light (you can almost see the earthly breathe almost)

People are always talking about time.
What is time, what is travel through time.
Asking, I think, what is life, who am I as traveler through this grandeur; my heart.

*These videos speed up time, but seem to slow it down.

.
Video compliments of a friend. Wanted to share.
And to all of you, for such beautiful words in comment boxes and my email, Thank You so much. Hope to respond properly later in the month.

.
Already "unplugged" for less than a week, am more plugged into a source of me. The mind quiet of info clutter is easier to listen into; it opens like a sun swept field of wind. Tall warm wheat bends and whistle-whispers through the solitary absence;  later it seems as if little mice feet came to tramp across the blank white page, gift-giving words from an inner earth damp and good with a hidden spring.

blessings, peace, and may your gifts rise up and kiss kiss kiss your face (let me know if they leave little lips of colored lipsticks)
.

,

.

Gone Fishin: Louis Armstrong & Bing Crosby

.




















... the same as for love.
    Like a piece of ice on a hot stove the poem must ride on its own melting. A poem may be worked over once it is in being, but may not be worried into being. Its most precious quality will remain its having run itself and carried away the poet with it. Read it a hundred times: it will forever keep its freshness as a petal keeps its fragrance. It can never lose its sense of a meaning that once unfolded by surprise as it went.

from Robert Frost essay

I wish you all surprises. Dreams coming true! The Unexpected.
.
only 8 weeks till Christmas.
Sure, 8 looks like infinity standing up (but .... where did the last 8-10 months go):

Will be totally offline till early December, writing, doing Thanksgiving etc.
Then only three wee weeks till Christmas.
Then only 1 week till New Years Eve. I can almost hear the party bells! :-:

.
   Thank you all for sharing so much, teaching me so much.
I will miss you... a friend tells me i will go into detox from no Internet and no google week 1.  I might need some Cognac for the fire, but the nights are still sweet and somewhat warm.
.
Peace open inside us all

3 : Trick or Treat

1

The Black Hole from Napoleon Ryan on Vimeo. Better light here.http://vimeo.com/3086517

.
2


Fluid Sculpture from Charlie Bucket on Vimeo.

.

3


Black Coal from Madison Rowley on Vimeo.

Peace to you all..

* "Genius is more often found in a cracked pot than in a whole one."

Not everyone has a writing spider sit down beside her.

Not of this magnificence, at least.  A black cat on her back.

Nature is genius.

She is a bit spiky furry. Known for eating her husband, perhaps those are his hairy legs expressing themselves from inside her?  Should i ask her to shave?      

                          [I think not.]

Some Spider symbols/stories

* E.B.White (cracked pot quote his) used the Writing Spider as model for Charlotte's Web.

.

Utube 1972 version Don't need to teach a seed to grow

.

"I would feel more optimistic about a bright future for man if he spent less time proving that he can outwit Nature and more time tasting her sweetness and respecting her seniority."  

E.B. White
 

Found the other day, ALLEN GINSBERG'S MIND WRITING SLOGANS. Given to one of his writing students, they closely resemble meditation practice. Translate them to any kind of creative activity, or just Being.


1."First Thought, Best Thought" --Chögyam Trungpa, Rinpoche
2."Take a friendly attitude toward your thoughts." --Chögyam Trungpa, Rinpoche
3."The Mind must be loose." --John Adams
4."One perception must immediately and directly lead to a further perception." --Charles Olson, "Projective Verse"
5."My writing is a picture of the mind moving." --Philip Whalen
6.Surprise Mind --Allen Ginsberg
7."The old pond, a frog jumps in, Kerplunk!" --Basho
8."Magic is the total delight (appreciation) of chance" --Chögyam Trungpa, Rinpoche
9."Do I contradict myself?
Very well, then I contradict myself,
(I am large. I contain multitudes.)" --Walt Whitman
10."...What quality went to form a man of achievement, especially in literature? ...Negative capability, that is, when a man is capable of being in uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact & reason." --John Keats
11."Form is never more than an extension of content." --Robert Creeley to Charles Olson
12."Form follows function." --Frank Lloyd Wright
13.Ordinary Mind includes eternal perceptions. --A.G.
14."Nothing is better for being Eternal
Nor so white as the white that dies of a day." --Louis Zukofsky
15.Notice what you notice. --A.G
16.Catch yourself thinking. --A.G.
17.Observe what's vivid. --A.G.
18.Vividness is self-selecting. --A.G.
19."Spots of Time" --William Wordsworth
20.If we don't show anyone we're free to write anything. --A.G.
21."My mind is open to itself." --Gelek Rinpoche
22."Each on his bed spoke to himself alone, making no sound." --Charles Reznikoff

73."To be men not destroyers" --Ezra Pound

82."Well while I'm here I'll do the work--and what's the Work? To ease the pain of living. Everything else, drunken dumbshow." --A.G.

The list gets better, too.
You can copy at the source if you like: The Best Writing Tips Ever
.

Imagine seeing this driving home at night.

Was he returning it?  &  Elkhorn Slough (looks incredible!
.
Always,
     Peace to you all.
     And a wonderful Thanksgiving. I am closing off my Internet link for November, once a week get mail. Clear the tables and write about my brother, nothing but thought memory and heart; no distractions. Good support falling into place, so it seems ripe, the timing. Not sure I am ready emotionally, but will work on something else if that feels true.

*What will it be like NOT to Google anything or go online for a month? Could you do it?

blessings.
       Pumpkin pie whip cream gobble life with hunger joy and gratitude. Do something you wouldn't normally do.  I just looked up and the sky is glowing a very strange pink, a sign for good sailing! I wish you good sailing too, in whatever you do.

*_& fragmentS

.

White. Immense spaces. White, a rush of breath. Be swift, marry this breath. Remain in it. Make haste. Let it not abandon me. Let me not turn from it. Be swept up: my song.



.

You have transformed my gaze into a sky of truths. A clear horizon where you can move in measured step. Where you shut yourself into serenity and calm reserve.

You who were so wild, are now pitiless and wise in your pronouncements. You, who roamed among the stars, now disappear in the uniform light of day. You put out your light to be like all the rest.

...

  And, through you, I see the sun.
You do not hide it from me. Not that your body is purely, simply transparent. At least, not for me. But you do not block out the sun. You have not given up your shadow, nor the responsibility for it, to the whole.



This...

The mysterious energy of... rediscovering a buried source. Hidden before the separation of the elements?  Before hatred?

Fragments from Luce Irigaray

.
Whither must I wander Martha Wainwright version (click near heart)
                (from 1889 poem by Robert Louise Stevenson

Concept: Second body (from Plum Village)

I am. Imagining a time before hatred. Imagining...

it is in many faces, hands, hearts, now, even now. Even if transitory, glimpsed, known... what kinds of flowers grow there, what kinds of tenderness tendrils, fragrances? the seeds of It shine, multiply.  Deny history.

Peace to all 

    ,always

.

2

Because of your smile, you make life more beautiful.
.
People usually consider walking on water or in thin air a miracle. But I think the real miracle is not to walk either on water or in thin air, but to walk on earth. Every day we are engaged in a miracle which we don't even recognize: a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the black, curious eyes of a child--our own two eyes. All is a miracle.
.
Hello miracle.

Thich Nhat Hanh: 2 quotes
Plum Village  & talks/poetry 

Know him.

.
ps: Sunlight is a mood drug miracle!
.
Peace to you all who enter here (and me 2) (wink wink)

_{:

 

 

the bride
.



fragments from Neruda'
.
The wind is a horse
hear how he runs
through the sea, through the sky.

He wants to take me: listen...

Hide me in your arms
just for this night,
while the rain breaks
against sea and earth
its innumerable mouth.

.

The wind has been at my house, whistling. Gale force, and tornado warnings, a week of rain then deluge downpours. All around the earth is saturated. I am saturated.
If i never see another drop of rain again... ahh it is raining now.
Some got more rain in three days than recorded since 1871.
People were kayaking in the streets.  Some flooded, some hydroplaned into rivers, lives lost. Sun isn't coming back till late Wed or Thursday.  I am wanting to move to Sedona Arizona again.
.

Are You missing a cup of rain?
The Weather Channel images of NC
 .

My lovely Grandmother turns 90 this week. Promised to record her life stories. That should be fun (it will take time, given a life that long, to get her into different aspects of memory).
.
Hope you are all well and not soggy in the bottom... though i didn't get around much, some amazing and delightful blog posts the past few weeks, it was really enjoyable. Thank you!
.
I know a place, ain't nobody crying: The Staple Singers

Get behind the Mule : Tom Waits

Old Cartoon about good Karma (I think) One kindness makes so many others, one coldness, stretches out into other troubles. We never know. Then compassion.


Peace to all who enter here
   and warm delicious homemade soup.
We are about to make almond-flour scones with candied ginger.

flour on my toes

.

 

 from Rainer Maria Rilke

For there is a boundary to looking.
And the world that is looked at so deeply
wants to flourish in love.
 
 
 
 

Work of the eyes is done, now

go and do heart-work
on all the images imprisoned within you; for you
overpowered them: but even now you don't know them.
.
Learn, inner man, to look on your inner woman,
the one attained from a thousand
natures, the merely attained but
not yet beloved form. 

.

It is our task to imprint this temporary, perishable earth into ourselves so deeply, so painfully and passionately, that its essence can rise again, "invisibly," inside us. We are the bees of the invisible. We wildly collect the honey of the visible, to store it in the great golden hive of the invisible.

The bird is a creature that has a very special feeling of trust in the external world, as if she knew that she

is one with its deepest mystery. That is why she sings in it as if she were singing within her own depths;

that is why we so easily receive a birdcall into our own depths; we seem to be translating it without

residue into our emotion; indeed, it can for a moment turn the whole world into inner space, because we

feel that the bird does not distinguish between her heart and the world's.

Rilke
Letter to Lou Andres-Salome February 20, 1914 

I have flour on my toes. Just looked down.

.

Made Pita Bread with oregano basil rosemary and olives, warm with butter.

.

Last week I posted an empty blog.

Was trying cell phone posting the night Hurricane Earl came through. A bit inland, away from computer, everyone in Hurricane Party mood after two days of tying down the hatches, watching swirling mass warnings, beaches evacuating people. We expected six feet of water pushed by wind and rain up through the Sounds. Thankfully All softened as the evening came, except people who got giddy.

I wonder where my words and images blew off to?

 .

Am hoping those winds inch some new treasures in while beach combing this week.  

tobacco leaf almost ready for harvest

.

I met a deaf man the other day while photographing. He haunts me. Had no front teeth, needed a bath, and as i learned had never touched a camera in his life. I began to understand his vocalizations. 

Not ready to talk about him, only this: he etches something shadowy inside me as if with acid. I begin to think we so privileged to have technology and multi layered ways of communicating. Blessed beyond understanding to express and create.  I for one take so much of these gifts for granted.

.

Uschi's Wisteria Video: a fun

.

Song for wedding dance I'll be your lover too

Van Morrison: Sweet Thing (I will walk and talk in gardens all wet with rain). Beside You.  Astral Weeks . One of my favorite albums, from 1968. I was a wee one then. 

.

watching this stuff. Conjunction Junction: I loved this as a child. Interjections.  (links to more left side page.)

.

Echo & the Bunnymen: Flowers , Ocean Rain (live recording)

Lips like sugar  All my life   Porcupine

.

Peace to all who enter here. Contentment, sweet o'sweet, too.

Thank you. 

Solitude, my mother, tell me my life again

.

The sky is up above the roof

So blue, so calm

.

Verlaine (written while in prison)

the sky is waiting to be touched by a hand

of fabulous childhood...

.

E. Vandercamem

 

Solitude, my mother, tell me my life again.

.

O.V.de Milosz

I am mid-week of the second week of a liquid cleansing fast.

Adding freshly juiced fruits and vegies to the mix yesterday made as if I drank a Starbucks mocha sugar drink plus cookies.  Whoo hoo.

My beagle keeps looking at me as if to say 

"But where's the Beef momma, where's the beef !"

.

After a few days of silence, my husband forbidden to speak too, a certain tenderness pervades the house.

Most language used for daily life, absent, creates tangible space.

On the third day I felt like whistling, so I did.

Words came out of me later that night in the kitchen, I felt them bounce against the cabinets the counter and my husband's face. They came back at me as energy, and I knew--

words as power.

.

.

Today is the 90 years since women were given the right to vote.

I say, Vote for yourself.

Always vote for yourself, you know how you want the world.

.

Joan Armatrading   "there's more beauty in you than anyone"

.

Peace to all who enter here.

.

^

.

I like when the outside mingles with the inside, dappling...

and when the breath of rain tries

to inhale the space of my inner rooms

and moves me to breathe the deeper rustic

scent of the outer rooms she has just passed through. 

beach glass & stone

.

Everything writes, gestures.

"It is written" is everywhere (in everything) read

it with delight.

.

.

Where there falls from the hands of the serving girl

the pale round plate

the colour of clouds

the pieces must be picked up

while the chandelier trembles

in the masters' dining room.

from Jean Follain

.

Sometimes the day its light and colors on river sky branches, the dolphins passing the birds moving time with their flight, the ripe ripe everything--It spills into the eye.  Shattered by this same one serving girl. She has dropped this plate a million times, dropped this day my breath and heartbeat, the light from her fracture trembles through everything--

is. now

around your ankles invisible fire, It climbs

to wake us to the grace--a self, being Itself. 

After having fallen from the plate, one day's sun sets

this way.

Its gestures like ours, never the same.

.

ok. Do Not go here if you are getting peaceful now:

Band of Skulls "Fires"  : lyrics

Baby darling doll face honey
I don't mean to cause you worry
its only hands in my pocket...

I am liking this band for its story like lyrics more and more.

Band of Skulls at Rhapsody  & Band of Skulls myspace

.

Fresh figs from the yard today.

Now this is an ecstasy--

summer rain dew sun sweetened (somehow) into flesh ripe and falling.  More than one could possibly consume.

Life too, more than one could possibly... ever ever ... etc.

.

I am thinking fig preserves,

and now i can practice that Drying setting on the oven.

Any recipes for sauces or maybe breads?

.

Listen, If somewhere you see a dolphin floating on her back, a laptop open on her stomach, grinning delighted, laughing a dolphin laugh. She is reading my journals. Or maybe loving looking on your blogs...  because my laptop (which just went out for repairs) is messed! I am about to throw it into the river.

Thank you all for what you give, sharing the world as you do.

.

always, The Cure: Just like heaven (notes to self: for August)

              all cats are grey

*Creature Comforts: The Pet Shop claymation 2nd I need Space

.

Peace to all who enter here. Blessings.

1762 an etymology= :idea: mental outlook over time

.
 


a small sense/view of perspective-- 

Perspective (etymology) : late 14c., "science of optics," from O.Fr. perspective, from M.L. perspectiva ars "science of optics," from fem. of perspectivus "of sight, optical" from L. perspectus, pp. of perspicere "inspect, look through," from per- "through" + specere "look at" (see scope (1)). Sense of "art of drawing objects so as to give appearance of distance or depth" is first found 1590s, influenced by It. prospettiva, an artists' term. The figurative meaning "mental outlook over time" is first recorded 1762..

Somehow we have to keep dreaming about a word, to keep it living now.

In the 14th century, this word given as "the science of optics" and think now, in 2010 "what did they know about optics or science or perspective for that matter then; compared to what we know now?

Think-- of What we don't know now.
What small sense of "perspective" will we leave (or not) for the future's eyes.

.

.

For yourself, be a dream
Of red wheat and smoke
.  .  .
You will never grow old

   ~Jean Rousselot

.
I owe you all visits and comments. I miss you, won't be back out for a bit still.

Blessings and thank you for your beauty and inspiring comments on the last post