Music among the trees

"Dicentra spectabilis".

Also known as Heart of Jesus, Heart of Mary, Lady's Eardrops, Lady's Locket, Lady in a Boat, Lyre Flower, and Bleeding Hearts.

These flowers look musical. As if the "dots" hanging from the blossoms would ring as they fall, sounding like bells. And each tone would be pure unto itself, resonating in the frequency from which it was created. A garden music box.

"Dicentra" originally came from China. Imagine them gently ringing in the breeze, like wind chimes in the entrance of a shrine, pentatonic harmony.

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There is always music amongst the trees in the garden, but our hearts must be very quiet to hear it.
~ Minnie Aumonier

Music produces a kind of pleasure which human nature cannot do without.
~ Confucius

Fugue in A

Strumming tines of
a tuning fork
to vibrate A
A in purple and green
a fugue of shadows
dancing with light
at the speed of sound
begins with
a note
A

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There is nothing like a Bach fugue to remove me from a discordant moment... only Bach holds up fresh and strong after repeated playing. I can always return to Bach when the other records weary me.
~ Edward Weston

The walk

Red tulip for a Saturday
of summer weather in April
where sun shone broad and hot
laying long shadows across the evening
as we walked 10th Street
looking for a different route

Seeking a sense of home

Another day at work, tending to the tasks that needed to be done. Answering emails, processing paperwork, entering data while listening to the Meldau-Metheny CD. Two of my co-workers leaving on trips. One, to Oregon for her mother’s retirement celebration. Another leaves on Sunday for Spain, where her parents were born, to visit relatives and the "old country".

Makes me think about our attachment to land, to particular places. Where we feel at home. And not. Where is the "old country"? Are you living there? Or is it a place you visit every so often? Where is home?

Sometimes I feel on the edges of several places at once, not really belonging solely to any of them, yet somehow connected—even with those I’d rather not be.

I see in the news that a 95-year-old Kansas woman will graduate from college next month. She will graduate in the same class as her 21-year-old granddaughter. It seems as if she’s found a sense of home through learning. Maybe a same sense of home can be found through relationships, through community, through creating art. Maybe to live is finding that larger sense of home we all seek.

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Art is the only way to run away without leaving home.
-Twyla Tharp

To fill the hour, that is happiness; to fill the hour, and leave no crevice for a repentance or an approval.
--Ralph Waldo Emerson

Home is a place you grow up wanting to leave, and grow old wanting to get back to.
--John Ed Pearce

Stumping

The newest design of landscaping in the urban desert. No leaves to block out that western sun; no trees marring the horizon of those wide open spaces. No swings hanging from branches, no squirrels skittering upward, no cats peering down from a leafy perch…

In looking up "stumps" online, I found that it’s a term used in cricket, and a users’ group for Wikipedia (the group that edits and advises on articles). I also found a curious site which lists daily arrest and booking reports and posts mugshots of those arrested—and it’s for the Boise area. The site has no "Who we are" info or tells why they are doing this (when you can access most of this info from local government websites anyway). Western vigilantes?

Of course, "being stumped" is a state of being unable to solve a problem, stopped in your tracks. A geek site tells you "how to avoid being stumped by 999 errors" when you scrape a website. From Wikipedia: Scraping a website is when automated bots and other software "harvest" info from websites, which can be helpful in pulling info together in specific localized sites for public use—or harmful, as in gathering emails for spam distribution.

Meanwhile all the presidential hopefuls are on the campaign trail, stumping for votes...(spam, anyone?)

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We can't solve problems by using the same kind of thinking we used when we created them.
--Albert Einstein

A problem is a chance for you to do your best.
--Duke Ellington

Waiting for hummingbirds

And they waited for spring
for the hummingbirds to come

she watched out her window each day
hoping to see a blur of wings

a thrush of brown
a ruby throat to sing

each day for spring she waited
for the hummingbirds to come

a brown thrush nest
a singing ruby around her throat

out the window they watched each morning
the spring late in coming, a thrush brown winter

sun warm, emerald wings blur
ruby nectar from the feeder

waiting for the hummingbirds
to come for spring

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The bird of paradise alights only upon the hand that does not grasp.

- John Berry

Keep a green tree in your heart and perhaps a singing bird will come.

- Chinese Proverb

A toute vitesse

Well, I’ve found a photo, but few words tonight. There’s a vacuous place that grabs my words at the end of a day, like a whirlpool in a river, sucking them into the depths where they can’t be recovered. And I’m left mute, staring at the rushing stream washing it all away.

Still, I can tell you that C took this photo one day as we roamed a nature park and hunted out shadows, unusual patterns and other forms of beauty. And the small stream rushing beneath us sang soothing songs, mesmerized us with its flow. And one morning a brown mink peered out from beneath the bridge, freaked when he saw us and disappeared "a toute vitesse". The image of his startled little face still rides in my mind.

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Time is a sort of river of passing events, and strong is its current; no sooner is a thing brought to sight than it is swept by and another takes its place, and this too will be swept away.
--Marcus Aurelius

A stream is music and motion: smooth glides, fast, turbulent riffles and deep pools, each posing a special challenge.
--Nelson Bryant

As you sit on the hillside, or lie prone under the trees of the forest, or sprawl wet-legged by a mountain stream, the great door--that does not look like a door--opens.
--Stephen Graham

Collecting twigs

What if you could visit Paris, just for a little while? C and I did today through a movie, "Avenue Montaigne." A story about a young woman who comes to The City of Light from the provinces to check out the big city. Through her waitressing at a café in a posh, artistic district, we meet others: a professional concert pianist and his wife, a famous soap-opera star, a newly-widowed art collector, and his son. They are all in life transitions, and their stories unfold before us as they struggle with their decisions.

We loved it; it was just what we needed on this rainy Sunday in The City of Trees. Views of Paris, the Eiffel, cafes, the magnificent Theatre des Champs-Elysees with its wonderful staircase (Stravinsky’s "Rite of Spring" was first performed there). And seeing people for whom art and music is entwined with love and life. Powerful scenes: When the pianist slips away from the formal orchestra rehearsal and instead plays for patients at a local hospital. When the elderly Jacques tells how he and his wife were "like beavers building a dam" against the dullness of everyday life by collecting artwork, "twig by twig" until they had amassed an incredible collection they lived with each day until her death.

Now, on to a new week of creating and collecting twigs…

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The many great gardens of the world, of literature and poetry, of painting and music, of religion and architecture, all make the point as clear as possible: The soul cannot thrive in the absence of a garden. If you don't want paradise, you are not human; and if you are not human, you don't have a soul.
--Thomas Moore

America is my country and Paris is my hometown.
--Gertrude Stein

With an apple I will astonish Paris.
--Paul Cezanne

Paths to Peace

Thoughtful Saturday. Heard writer and illustrator Jane Breskin Zalben speak about her writing, art, and her books.

The Idaho Peace Coalition coordinated with a host of others from the community to bring her, specifically because of her book "Paths to Peace: People Who Changed the World." It features 16 people who have made a difference in the world, including Mahatma Gandhi, Eleanor Roosevelt, Elie Wiesel, the Dalai Lama, Mother Teresa, and Cesar Chavez. Accompanying the text are collage works by Breskin Zalben, which are on display at a local gallery.

Seeing the original artwork along with the text, very moving for me. Humbling and inspiring to learn what each of these people did; their commitment, passion, courage. And loved the collages Breskin Zalben created for each one; metaphoric compilations of what they did, rather than literal portraits. I may go back and see them again.

Tikkun olan—actions of hope and love, rather than hatred and despair. A needed balance to this week of national tragedy and grief (along with the daily death toll of Bush’s war in Iraq).

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Tikkun olan: The healing of the world; world peace; social justice.

Each one has to find his peace from within. And peace to be real must be unaffected by outside circumstances.
~Mahatma Gandhi

Peace is not merely a distant goal that we seek, but a means by which we arrive at that goal.
~Martin Luther King

Peace cannot be achieved through violence, it can only be attained through understanding. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

You cannot shake hands with a clenched fist.
~Attributed to both Golda Meir and Indira Gandhi

http://www.janebreskinzalben.com/

Faith in magic

Faith sometimes seems like a magic horse to ride when all else has become dangerous and barren. We leap on, grip the reins, and spur it to go, almost afraid to speak too loudly, lest some evil spirit come and slay the horse, too.
And the ride begins…

Dickenson wrote of faith being "the thing with feathers". But sometimes we need something more substantial to hold to, something that can carry us when we are exhausted. A good horse senses what’s in the woods; balks when something’s not right, prods us to pay attention, to take another route. And that’s the magic we often need.

I don’t have a photo of a horse, so here’s the magical Wodema with her crystal ball, holding the promise of the future…

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Whatever you think you can do or believe you can do, begin it. Action has magic, grace and power in it.
* Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Disbelief in magic can force a poor soul into believing in government and business.
* Tom Robbins

It is the function of art to renew our perception. What we are familiar with we cease to see. The writer shakes up the familiar scene, and, as if by magic, we see a new meaning in it.
* Anais Nin

Between the lines

they live between
the lines, between
walking them
toeing them
swinging them
plucking them
crossing them

interlaced as if in a cat’s cradle
between electric lines

sometimes dancing outside them
just for the shock of it

it’s at that point when beauty arrives.

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God writes straight with crooked lines.
-Spanish proverb

To read between the lines was easier than to follow the text.
-Henry James

In the final analysis, a drawing simply is no longer a drawing,

no matter how self-sufficient its execution may be.

It is a symbol, and the more profoundly the imaginary lines of projection meet higher dimensions, the better.
-Paul Klee

Life lift

These remind me of music, as if these balusters are dancing, playing a song.

And as we walked the neighborhood after the storm, I could hear Debussy’s "Reverie" in my head musically narrating the scene; the sun breaking through the bank of clouds on the western horizon, the colors of flowers and lawns intensified by the rain, that "fresh washed rain" smell in the air, pink plum blossoms fluttering down, purring of a friendly neighborhood cat.

On the cover of Oprah: "Get a life lift! The search for meaning, connection, hope. Finding what works for you." Today’s meaning and connection came through work mates, lunch with a dear friend, emails from friends and family, our cat cuddled on my lap, taking a walk after the rain, the love C and I share. And it comes through photographs, writing (including this blog), paintings, piano, song…all the creative endeavors that call.

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Music takes us out of the actual and whispers to us dim secrets that startle our wonder as to who we are, and for what, whence, and whereto.
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

I would like to live my way into being
someone who stands back up
and runs toward that holy forest.
~ Nancy Pagh

A delicate balance

So shocked and saddened by what happened at Virginia Tech today.

When I was in college (in the Midwest), the campus seemed so familiar, like a second home, which it was for many of us. A certain sense of safety prevailed. Sure, there were break-ins from time to time, vandalism, petty stuff. We were told to lock our rooms, walk with others, and not alone, at night. But we never had to deal with bomb scares. No one was ever murdered. And no one ever thought about someone going on a shooting spree on campus.

So many questions about what happened today. Some of which may never be answered.

It seems that the more electronically connected we are, the more distant we become. Pixels, bytes, instant messages, and the "wild west" of internet culture; units of 0 and 1 propelling a lot of our world today. Things become faster, more competitive, more isolated. But at what price? How can we balance our technological progress with our human needs? What is the value of endeavor? Of balance? Of our lives?

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The most important human endeavor is the striving for morality in our actions. Our inner balance and even our very existence depend on it. Only morality in our actions can give beauty and dignity to life.
--Albert Einstein

Happiness is not a matter of intensity, but of balance, order, rhythm and harmony.
--Thomas Merton

Filtering red

A red day today, still windy even after the rain and gray was gone. People flying kites in the park; one kite, a pair of multicolored cubes that rolled with the wind, like dice.

Intrigued by the sunlight through the red petals, and they actually were that vibrant; no PS or camera tricks here. On my knees, propping elbows on a large rock, to get just the right angle of light. I imagine how someone long ago noticed how sunlight shone through leaves, flower petals and wondered if glass could be colored like those leaves. Long after the leaves and petals had dropped to earth, the colored glass would remain, filtering magically tinted light across a room.

Colored light reminds me of kaleidoscopes with colored glass inside, making fantastic patterns. [Kaleidoscope = Greek words, kalos or beautiful, eidos or form, and scopos or watcher; the beautiful form watcher.] Also gazed through the red cellophane wrapped around the stems of bananas as a child. Red filter filtering out everyday blandness.

So it’s fitting I captured red today in tulips and a hummingbird feeder. Red on Sunday, ready for Monday…

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When in doubt, wear red.
~ Bill Blass

Red sky at night, sailors’ delight
Red sky in morning, sailors’ warning.
~ Proverb

He liked to observe emotions; they were like red lanterns strung along the dark unknown of another's personality, marking vulnerable points.
~ Ayn Rand

Restless souls

This morning, we talked of restless souls as we lay in bed. And it’s been an edgy day today, sun in between or behind clouds, occasional drops of rain as we walked the neighborhood. Wind dashing down streets, around corners of houses, blowing petals from blossoms, thrashing tree limbs. Wind chimes ringing from house to house.

On the internet I find "restless souls" is the name for a photography business, a couple of bands, characters in Warcraft, a horror movie, and a book about American spirituality by Leigh Schmidt.

We tried soothing our restlessness with ice cream, and I later channeled it through photos as I tried to manage twitchy pixels and vignetting. And now it’s well past midnight. C has fallen asleep, the cat is waiting (impatiently) for her nightly treat, a couple of sirens wail in the distance, and I’m finishing this blog, already thinking about tomorrow…

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Even if all these needs are satisfied, we may still often, if not always, expect that a new discontent and restlessness will soon develop, unless the individual is doing what he is fitted for. A musician must make music, an artist must paint, a poet write, if he is to be ultimately at peace with himself.
--Abraham Maslow

On being sensitive

Here it is; sunlight through the petals of a deep red bloom. I chose the photo because it talks to me tonight. Been looking through my photos, deciding which to enter in a juried art exhibition. With photography often seen as a poor stepchild to fine art, it may be a long shot, but it’s worth a try.

Looked up "sensitive" on the internet, and websites came up about Highly Sensitive People. There are quizzes to help you determine your level of sensitivity, and books to help you deal with life if you are a Highly Sensitive Person. I noticed most of the authors were from California…

But I have to admit that I did relate to a lot of the traits that were listed. And I took a couple of quizzes on different sites and ended up with high scores, which indicates that I, too, am a Highly Sensitive Person. Will I buy one of the books? Probably not. But it does give me a little more clarity, rather like washing a dusty window pane after a long winter. Or gazing at the sunlight glow through deep red flower petals.

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Flowers open every night
across the sky, a breathing peace
and sudden flame catching.
~ Rumi

Connecting with connection

Connection, a remarkable word...

Think of physical connections between objects: one road intersecting another, a computer connected to the internet, a phone line, electric lines, linking two pipes together, a pathway between buildings, a hallway between rooms, and holding hands with another;

Of emotional connections: Being on the same wavelength, empathizing with another, sharing a particular experience with others, sharing like beliefs or passions, family ties, friendships. Feeling part of something, part of a group, a community, a workplace. And intimacy, loving with your love;

Of spiritual connections: Through prayer, meditation, taking part in a religious ritual. Through canoeing a rushing stream, walking by the ocean, climbing a mountain. Some experience dipping into a "well", tapping a flow, through creating art, dancing, singing, drumming, painting, poetry, writing. Many call these acts of creation connecting to the spiritual.

It can mean an association or relationship between two different events. Connecting the dots, realization, a coherence of order of words. Networking with others who offer ideas, support, or assistance. Connecting with others in the same line of work, the same business. Bringing ideas together. Transferring to another plane or subway. Planning the next steps to take.

Connection also refers to any kind of partner dancing, such as tango, waltz, ballroom dancing, swing. In dancing, partnering is leading and following, connection between two to move as one. As is with dreams and life; as is with love. Perhaps connection means dancing with life…

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Gardens, scholars say, are the first sign of commitment to a community. When people plant corn they are saying, let's stay here. And by their connection to the land, they are connected to one another.
--Anne Raver

Our life is composed greatly from dreams, from the unconscious, and they must be brought into connection with action. They must be woven together.
--Anais Nin

A hidden connection is stronger than an obvious one.
--Heraclitus

Ambition

When we were young, we worked in fields and processing plants to make money. We detassled corn, hoed beet fields, weeded acres of soybeans, spotted potatoes on the assembly line, packed spinach.

We bussed tables and washed dishes in greasy cafes, waited tables, cooked in cafeterias. We mopped floors, scrubbed bathrooms, sorted and folded mountains of bedding, sheets and towels.

It was this work, this experience that pushed us into training schools, college, into careers. Into dreams and desires.

Now we work as teachers, nurses, computer techs, social workers; as writers, artists, and musicians. We own cars, furniture, appliances—some of us own houses, vacation condos. And we think we’ve learned something, have defined ambition:

~ A strong desire to achieve something, such as fame or power. A strong desire for success.

~ A cherished desire.

~ What one intends to do or achieve.

And still we continue to stalk ambition; seek out its truths and half-truths; its daydreams and realities. We visit castles in the sand, houses built on rock, and explore all that is in between.
Meanwhile ambition sits on a hill and plays a guitar. Listen at night and you’ll hear it singing…

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If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be. Now put the foundations under them.
--Henry David Thoreau

I'd rather be a "could-be', if I cannot be an "are';
because a "could-be" is a "maybe" who is reaching for a star.
I'd rather be a "has-been" than a "might-have-been', by far;
for a "might-have-been" has never "been", but a "has" was once an "are'.
--Milton Berle

A question of value

How does a particular item become economically valuable? And how is that decided? The value of some precious commodities is obvious, such as food, water, land, materials for shelter and clothing—basic needs. But how did gold become more valuable than silver? Diamonds more valuable than rubies?

Some herbs, spices, tea, salt have been highly valued items in the past. And so have tulips. According to an article on Wikipedia, in the late 1500s, tulip bulbs were used as currency and bought and sold like stocks in the Dutch economy. At the time, tulips were rare, a flower that bloomed earlier than others, and the most prized were those with color-variegated petals (actually due to disease that eventually killed the bulbs). Thieves robbed warehouses and dug up private gardens going after the bulbs. The financial speculation grew to a frenzy in the early 1600s, but finally crashed, and many businesses and financiers were wiped out.

Charles Mackay, a British journalist, wrote a book in the 1830s about this period of history, "tulipomania". (You can read his book online). Scholars today disagree about Mackay’s book, and about the true impact of tulip mania, and what actually caused it. Nevertheless, "tulip mania" is still used as a metaphor for a bubble economy.

So, what are the tulips in your yard worth? Perhaps you’re sitting on a fortune…

http://www.thetulipomania.com/

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Like the Great Tulip Mania in Holland in the 1600's and the dot.com mania of early 2000, markets have repeatedly disconnected from reality.
--Tony Crescenzi

Every possession is endeared by novelty; every gratification is exaggerated by desire. It is difficult not to estimate what is lately gained above its real value; it is impossible not to annex greater happiness to that condition from which we are unwillingly excluded than nature has qualified us to obtain.
--Samuel Johnson

Too many people overvalue what they are not and undervalue what they are.
-- Malcolm S. Forbes

Resonance

A Saturday pondering man-made things. A trip to the camera store to check on fine art photo printing. Researching internet provider info for a friend whose internet connection and email are not working. Working with photos in Photoshop—trying to find the balance between aesthetics and technology, where they can meet in harmony.

Later C and I watched a video about the Brooklyn Bridge, the man who envisioned it, his son who carried the vision through despite corrupt politics and criticism, and the inspiration it has given so many. It’s an example of the balance between aesthetics and engineering (technology of that era).

Afterwards we discussed aesthetics, engineering and architecture; inspiration of certain man-made structures on the spiritual and the artistic; artists who crave the big city and those who must leave it for some place less assaulting on their senses. Georgia O’Keeffe, for example, who made alluring paintings of skyscrapers of the NYC night, but eventually fled to the New Mexican desert where she studied skulls, solitary rock structures, and the sky.

It all pinged my curiosity and I looked up the Brooklyn Bridge, the Golden Gate Bridge (which Frommer’s touted as “possibly the most beautiful, certainly the most photographed, bridge in the world", the Empire State Building (which has a cool website that includes streaming webcam views of NYC), and the doomed 1940s Tacoma Narrows bridge (which did not collapse due to substandard materials or construction, but because of the “physical phenomenon of resonance,” according to a physics website by Benjamin Crowell. The effect of resonance is the “same effect that allows an opera singer to break a wine glass with her voice and that lets you tune in the radio station you want.”)

Resonance—a complex word. A quality of being resonant, a richness or significance. A term pertaining to oscillation and sub-atomic particles, acoustics, linguistics, medicine and chemistry. All having to do with movement, whether it be emotional, aesthetic, or physical—or all occurring simultaneously. Maybe one of our goals in life is finding resonance; with people, places, work, and ourselves.

The confidence of a cat

This gives new meaning to a "cat box".

He looks determined to sit there for a while, doesn’t he? Even though on the grass below there is a small spade, potting soil, and an array of various flowers, fresh from the local gardening center; pansies, petunias, alyssum, lobelia, (but no catnip).

A reminder that sometimes we just have to put ourselves out there and be noticed; be "in the way" so we are not overlooked. Cats are good about that. They serenade you at 5 a.m. if their food bowl is empty, nag at you to let them outside—and then to let them back inside. They leap in the middle of fresh bedding as you’re making the bed, then roll around on their backs and look at you upside-down, asserting themselves through being cute. They plant themselves on your lap—even on top of the book you’re trying to read—when they want your love and attention.

Often times they assert themselves in wisdom—when they sense something is wrong with "their person" and "know" you need a warm, accepting friend by your side (or on your lap). Their friendly assertions have brought me great comfort during difficult times.

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In the middle of a world that has always been a bit mad, the cat walks with confidence.
--Rosanne Amberson

Building bridges

We saw several bridges during our walk Sunday, but we crossed none of them. Instead we walked in tunnels beneath them as the sounds of traffic echoed above us.

The PBS-NOVA website has a game about building bridges. There, you can learn about Arch, Beam, Suspension, and Cable-stayed bridges. You play by analyzing which bridge would you build to best accommodate each situation.

Today, no bridges were crossed, but work was done to lay foundations. Maybe for a cable-stayed, a bridge of stability and great beauty…

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The wise man bridges the gap by laying out the path by means of which he can get from where he is to where he wants to go.
-- John Pierpont Morgan

I am where I am because of the bridges that I crossed. Sojourner Truth was a bridge. Harriet Tubman was a bridge. Ida B. Wells was a bridge. Madame C. J. Walker was a bridge. Fannie Lou Hamer was a bridge.
-- Oprah Winfrey

Love builds bridges where there are none.
-- R H Delaney

http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/nova/bridge/build.html

Heads up for April Fools'

Another weekend coming to a close. And April Fools’ Day, too. Of course, we all know the definition of "fool", but did you also know that "fool" is an English dessert made of stewed fruit (typically gooseberries) mixed with cream or custard? And, in olden times, the royal court had a fool, or jester for entertainment; Shakespeare created many a wise fool in his plays.

A little incident that happened at work a couple of years ago: Several of us who had visited the Ladies’ noticed the person in the other stall had been there for quite some time. The shoes looked like those worn by an old lady; we became concerned. So, a couple of us went in, knocked on the stall door and called out to the person. No response. We tried the stall door and found it was locked. Finally, J got down on the floor to look up under the door and see what was going on. We waited… And—

it was a dummy set up by the guys who clean our office. April Fooled we were.

Since A-Fools’ day is on a Sunday, we’ll see if there are any unusual occurrences at work tomorrow (the same guys still clean our office).

Today, C and I went to the local art museum, where the main exhibit consists of huge gray heads of famous people sculpted out of cardboard and presented in various positions on pedestals. In the first part of the exhibit, the heads were of those involved in an infamous trial after the assassination of Idaho governor Frank Steuenberg in 1905. The second part displayed heads of the "Shapers of the 20th Century," including Johnny Cash, Marilyn Monroe, Kurt Cobain, Lionel Hampton, and Fidel Castro. All those disembodied gray heads with their seams and screws and yellow glue dripping… shades of Frankenstein—who didn’t suffer fools gladly.

We found we preferred seeing the up and coming talent of the juried show by area high school students and the amazing floating "city" in the sculpture court by Kendall Buster, "uncool fools" that we are…

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The trouble ain't that there is too many fools, but that the lightning ain't distributed right.
--Mark Twain

Men can acquire knowledge, but not wisdom. Some of the greatest fools ever known were learned men.
--Spanish proverb

A wise man never knows all, only fools know everything.
--African proverb