The Other One
[Honoring Remains Series:
sterling, pink coral, prehnite, Idaho mule deer antler]
September 21, 2011 by
September 20, 2011 by
[Honoring Remains Series: sterling,
Idaho mule deer antler prong and pink coral– lightness
of soul, breadth of spirit]
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I ran last night.
Idaho mule deer antler prong and pink coral– lightness
of soul, breadth of spirit]
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I ran last night.
I put huge space between the choppy waters
of life and myself.
of life and myself.
I ran a greater distance than I normally run.
Today I can feel it in my legs and my biceps, the pointers have been napping more than usual, I had pasta for lunch — too hungry to face the day without loading up on carbohydrates.
Today I can feel it in my legs and my biceps, the pointers have been napping more than usual, I had pasta for lunch — too hungry to face the day without loading up on carbohydrates.
Last night, I passed through a scrub maple stand (already morphing red in the autumn sunshine)
and caught a glimpse of a mule deer doe and her fawn down the mountainside from me, tawny and long legged, sweeping through the sage and juniper.
Down the trail from there, I saw my cow moose and her calf again.
She was ornery.
I ignored her bluff charge and urged my legs faster.
I killed the hills.
I moved like wind.
The mountain took me on as her own
sweet wild thing.
Living felt better than usual.
Better than good.
All I know is I don’t want to miss a single day on the mountain this season. Every day brings new color, new atmosphere. I want to be part of it…the living and the dying.
The growing and the shrinking.
The fade of green into fire.
The light and the dark…
but mostly the light.
Mostly the light.
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Something must push us onward,
push us into existence,
push us into brilliant existence
even in the face of trial, persecution and ostracization
(no matter where you are or who you are, it’s there in some form).
I’m finding that thing so easily now,
it’s like second nature.
I killed the hills.
I moved like wind.
The mountain took me on as her own
sweet wild thing.
Living felt better than usual.
Better than good.
All I know is I don’t want to miss a single day on the mountain this season. Every day brings new color, new atmosphere. I want to be part of it…the living and the dying.
The growing and the shrinking.
The fade of green into fire.
The light and the dark…
but mostly the light.
Mostly the light.
_________________________________
Something must push us onward,
push us into existence,
push us into brilliant existence
even in the face of trial, persecution and ostracization
(no matter where you are or who you are, it’s there in some form).
I’m finding that thing so easily now,
it’s like second nature.
September 19, 2011 by
Look at these pods!
Can you believe I picked them here in Idaho?
They look so tropically cosmic.
What’s more, each one measures nearly five
inches in length — they’re huge.
I was having a ho-hum day here: woke up and went to make coffee only to see I was out of milk, ran to the store for milk, only to realize I was out of coffee when I arrived home so I had tea, tried to feed the cats but I was out of cat food, ran to the store for cat food (but forgot to get coffee), tried to print shipping labels but ran out of printer ink, ran to the store for printer ink, tried to take my medicine but was out so I ran to the pharmacy for a prescription refill, tried to solder something small but ran out of oxygen, ran to the welding supply for a new tank but forgot my wallet, ran home, ran back to the welding supply for my oxygen tank…..and on and on it goes…
Some days I just can’t get anything done
but then I find a bunch of wacko humongous seed pods of enormousness that look like they grew on the planet Venus and everything is awesome.
Nothing is done, but everything is awesome.
That’s just the fact of the matter.
September 16, 2011 by
It’s a quiet blue morning here, a sure sign of the shift in seasons. This is my favorite sort of morning to photograph tiny, bite-sized portions of life.
Good morning!
I came across this wonderful quote recently:
“Art is the product of the creative process.
It is quantitative. There can be a
little or a lot of art in any work.
A piece is free to be conceptual, narrative, realistic,
abstract, beautiful , ugly, functional, or nonfunctional.”
[Michael Boyd]
What do you think of that?
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Today I am canning more of the bounty of my garden, popping into my studio to wrangle a few objects, answering as many emails as I can, eating peaches and sipping coffee.
I can’t believe it’s Friday again.
I have this ominous feeling lately that I’m letting the time of my life slide through my fingers too fast. I turn thirty this year. My heart laments that number, even though it’s just a number — it feels half way to somewhere. I feel swept away by time. Does that ever change?
___________________________
I like the
color of the squash blossoms
in the rain.
I hear the hens cackling.
Love feels so good, feels so much better than anger,
feels so much better than hurt,
feels so much better than anything else.
feels so much better than hurt,
feels so much better than anything else.
September 16, 2011 by
We shouldn’t be so quick to give up on each other.
Plain old fact:
I’ll never give up on you.
Even if you do me wrong.
Even if you crush the bones of my soul.
I won’t give up on you!
Even if you crush the bones of my soul.
I won’t give up on you!
Not ever.