April162014
beingblog:

This being human is a guest house. Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows, who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture, still, treat each guest honorably. He may be clearing you out for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice, meet them at the door laughing, and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes, because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.
~Rumi, as quoted in Parker Palmer’s reflection on hospitality and welcoming the unexpected visitor.

beingblog:

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

~Rumi, as quoted in Parker Palmer’s reflection on hospitality and welcoming the unexpected visitor.

April142014

beingblog:

The poet Mary Oliver said “When it’s over, I want to say: all my life I was a bride married to amazement." This time lapse of a meteor shower will get you there.

10PM
April122014
….and all around

….and all around

2PM
The light inside

The light inside

2PM
Experience of Dimensions

Experience of Dimensions

11AM
kidmograph:

BFR_VRTHNG

kidmograph:

BFR_VRTHNG

April102014
“My camera roll is an aide-mémoire, in the old-fashioned sense, a way of collecting souvenirs, which, like any trinket, might be meaningful only to me. And so what? I can scroll back through time, because of my camera, and remember where I have been, what I saw, whom I was with — and this isn’t limited to what I captured in an image. Each image triggers associated recollections, and they roll alongside, hovering around each picture.” Through a Lens Sharply - NYTimes.com (via photographsonthebrain)

(via photographsonthebrain)

April92014
iphoneartgirl:

The Whole World’s Sitting on a Ticking Box. (C) 2014, Meri Aaron Walker, iPhoneArtGirl, Talent, OR. All rights reserved.
longexpo, superimposer, icolorama, oggl, snapseed, glitche
Just as I posted this image to Facebook, a fellow artist, Trish Geyer, posted a Rilke poem that is the perfect analog to what I was feeling and thinking as I was making this image this morning.
Sitting in a coffee shop after doing some archeological work on my hips and pelvis in theraputic yoga, listening marginally to the chatter around me, I felt like I was hiding out in public. No one around me could have imagined what I was making. Nor would they have wanted to.
Two old men closeby were talking about which grocery stores had the cheapest prices for organic food  and how many ounces of wine it was safe to drink with their evening meals. A woman of about 50 was consulting with a steady stream of people who sat with her for about 10 minutes, seeming to want her to tell them something definitive about how they could be better “seen” by the business community in Ashland, Oregon.
Ashland is a town of 20,000 that caters to retirees and tourists and llikes to talk about “sustainability” while ignoring the fact that there are close to 200 teenagers living in the woods above town, camping with their babies, sometimes going to school, but mostly not. It’s a beautiful little stage where people can make cars stop while they walk across a street and there are more $8 an hour jobs than anything else. Tourists and retirees want to hang onto as much of their cash as possible, after all. The people of Ashland, while they talk alot about God and Peace and Love, are not interested in community development or real jobs or the facts of a sustainable economy. They’re entertaining themselves until they get back into their cars and drive somewhere else or someone lays them into their coffins.)
This poem of Rilke’s speaks the words I couldn’t find to say as I sat there eating my breakfast, drinking a coffee, and silently creating the image above from a shot of budding tulips in my yard and an old flier holder on the wall in the bathroom at the Wild Goose Cafe.
Calling myself up and telling myself the truth was far more interesting to me than joining in any of the conversations going on around me. I would leave here in a heartbeat, but I don’t have the money to finance a move… and I honestly don’t know where else to go…  
I don’t want to stand before you 
like a thing, shrewd, secretive.
I want my own will, and I want
simply to be with my will,
as it goes towards action.
And in the silent, sometimes hardly moving times,
when something is coming near,
I want to be with those who know
secret things or else alone. 
I want to unfold.
I don’t want to be folded anywhere,
because where I am folded,
there I am a lie. 
~Ranier Maria Rilke

iphoneartgirl:

The Whole World’s Sitting on a Ticking Box. (C) 2014, Meri Aaron Walker, iPhoneArtGirl, Talent, OR. All rights reserved.

longexpo, superimposer, icolorama, oggl, snapseed, glitche

Just as I posted this image to Facebook, a fellow artist, Trish Geyer, posted a Rilke poem that is the perfect analog to what I was feeling and thinking as I was making this image this morning.

Sitting in a coffee shop after doing some archeological work on my hips and pelvis in theraputic yoga, listening marginally to the chatter around me, I felt like I was hiding out in public. No one around me could have imagined what I was making. Nor would they have wanted to.

Two old men closeby were talking about which grocery stores had the cheapest prices for organic food  and how many ounces of wine it was safe to drink with their evening meals. A woman of about 50 was consulting with a steady stream of people who sat with her for about 10 minutes, seeming to want her to tell them something definitive about how they could be better “seen” by the business community in Ashland, Oregon.

Ashland is a town of 20,000 that caters to retirees and tourists and llikes to talk about “sustainability” while ignoring the fact that there are close to 200 teenagers living in the woods above town, camping with their babies, sometimes going to school, but mostly not. It’s a beautiful little stage where people can make cars stop while they walk across a street and there are more $8 an hour jobs than anything else. Tourists and retirees want to hang onto as much of their cash as possible, after all. The people of Ashland, while they talk alot about God and Peace and Love, are not interested in community development or real jobs or the facts of a sustainable economy. They’re entertaining themselves until they get back into their cars and drive somewhere else or someone lays them into their coffins.)

This poem of Rilke’s speaks the words I couldn’t find to say as I sat there eating my breakfast, drinking a coffee, and silently creating the image above from a shot of budding tulips in my yard and an old flier holder on the wall in the bathroom at the Wild Goose Cafe.

Calling myself up and telling myself the truth was far more interesting to me than joining in any of the conversations going on around me. I would leave here in a heartbeat, but I don’t have the money to finance a move… and I honestly don’t know where else to go…  

I don’t want to stand before you 

like a thing, shrewd, secretive.

I want my own will, and I want

simply to be with my will,

as it goes towards action.

And in the silent, sometimes hardly moving times,

when something is coming near,

I want to be with those who know

secret things or else alone. 

I want to unfold.

I don’t want to be folded anywhere,

because where I am folded,

there I am a lie. 

~Ranier Maria Rilke

11PM
photographsonthebrain:

la-beaute—de-pandore:

Shirley Baker 
Girls swinging on a lamppost”

photographsonthebrain:

la-beaute—de-pandore:

Shirley Baker 

Girls swinging on a lamppost”

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