Short Steps

Today was a day I forced myself to get out the door and shoot'. As it is the forth anniversary of my Mother's death, today I wanted a reason to purposefully see life around me, to find the small beauty hidden in plain view and to open my heart to peace and joy. As I likely will be remembering her alone, I wanted to make today personally special. 

But with such a goal...inspiration is a tricky thing. In thinking back, sometimes it has been put upon me as a professional to create something interesting...inspired...to meet a deadline or publication when it might not have naturally come to me and other times it has been as I have literally sat up and saw the world in a new way (the image from Autumn Branches-Sept. 5, 2009 was one of these, for I was reading a book in bed at that moment and saw the tree out my window a fresh way after looking past it for 20 years). Still other times, it is the circumstances or opportunity that has opened my vision in a certain way (such as The Least of These - Nov 17, 2009 or Tribal Experience - Sept. 21, 2009), yet it is always a hard task when I 'try' and make it happen.

With my current physical limitations to not being able to travel beyond my own two feet, I set out with some short steps to find as many wild grown flowers that have sprouted up around me as possible within a short walking distance....my own neighborhood. In it, I thought to photograph them and then bring home a tiny bouquet for our dinner table. I was pleasantly surprised to see as many as I did, but my heart was just not behind the lens, even after I found this really cool mushroom, enjoying life hanging on a tree. The images are what they are and you can be the judge. A couple I like, particularly the top one of my dogwood...some not... but for me, it was a forced experience, which is never a good thing. When I arrived home, these images are all I had, as I inadvertently forgotten the flowers at our post box while collecting the mail, where they  became faded and were tossed.

Even though this is probably my largest post to date, image wise, (it was a head count of flowers, remember?) these images, which certainly are not my finest, are the result of trying to make something special and meaningful out of 'thin air'. Often times in life, when we find ourselves empty, we try to somehow 'recapture' past experiences...bring them to life, or try and force new ones as something to grab hold of... as if we are chasing shadows, but unless it comes deep from within the heart in a natural flow, it is useless. In trying to remember my Mom and the inspiration she had on me and this day trying myself to 'recreate' the many times, others have inspired me similarly, I am so very sad to say, I didn't.

Inspiration, how ever it arrives, passed me by today, as it has with increasing frequency more and more these days, so I guess my biggest lesson today, is to just try and find some sort of rest on the memories of times when it was here, if that is possible. Within that, today I just want to remember her... reflect and cherish thoughts of the kindness, warmth and love that she wore like a beautiful scarf around her neck...as a quiet refuge in her smile.

Below, a favorite poem... a gift from another... that I now like to remember her by.

 

 

Do not stand at my grave and weep

I am not there. I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow.

I am the diamond glints on the snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain.

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning’s hush

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circled flight.

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry;

I am not there. I did not die.

Mary Frye 1932

The quiet mind.

"They say I'm a Dreamer, but I'm not the only one" John Lennon.

You can count me in for sure.
Recently, with more time to rest and sometimes a spot to find that elusive sleep, I have been having a lot of dreams. Very intense, startling and long dreams. I guess like anyone, I have some times like this and other times where the morning finds me and I remember nothing but the previous night's pillow, but in this period, I am dreaming.

Thinking back, there are a few dreams I had as a child that have made a home in my consciousness still and once in a great while visit with me inside my head, both good ones... like where I, with great effort to mentally 'un-weight' myself can I somehow amazingly float above the ground, and others... that are less inviting, but now my dreams seem to be of current events, people I know, or unfulfilled wishes... just dreams.

Last night I dreamed of a picnic. Perhaps because it is the beginning of May...spring...my favorite season that my thinking is outdoor minded, that this has invaded my nighttime mind. This was not just an ordinary picnic, but one that was grand and intimate all at once, a quiet tent set into high grass, dogwood flowers adorning a low table, warm sunshine and sparkling cider, grilled lobster and hazelnut crepes. Fun, music....an escape from this world for a small bit. A time of laughs and rest and smiles and warmth. It was an unusually vivid dream in it's details and I, upon waking this morning, so wished to still be there... in that dream for in it there was no pain today, or brace that frames me for this season, but only rest and happiness.

In thinking about it now, we all need 'escape' times like these in our lives and this dream reminded me to look out for them to share and enjoy... to find those times of  peace, joy and happiness with others. Some dreams are to be forgotten, like those scary ones of my youth and yet others... like my time of floating above the earth... yearn to be fulfilled, but I think the mind that comes alive within our rest will always be ready to provide us with both.

The image above is of a favorite spot out in my field's 'high grasses'. I was driven to make it today because of this dream, along with the purposefully 'dreamlike' image detail of my dogwood. The grass, shot with the camera on the ground, far below my current constrained field of vision, resulted when I just guessed the focus and subject framing and took a chance. I'm glad I did. The branches.. my eye through the lens, was me trying to see my old friend in a new way... a fresh vision of this pretty tree along my drive, just before it will fully bloom.

I hope seeing these might inspire your vision today as well, whether it be through a lens, or in a memory, or with your eyes closed...asleep, but either way, I hope shared with me, because you never know what life will bring. Below, a self portrait of my personal, private painful prison that currently envelops me:

Legacy Left in Soil

 

A society grows great when old men plant trees whose shade they know they shall never sit in.” Greek- unknown

Planting trees.... As I originally did not purchase a property full of them, but instead a field, I have probably planted well over 100 trees since I have lived here. A blank slate in which to create a space with my own shape. But inexperienced and confronted with rocks and poor soil and weather and other factors, allot of them... most of them... have not survived and thrived as I might have expected them to. In this beginning, I had grand landscape ideals with purposeful views and looking at classic designs and reading about such, set out to plant the largest roots of my garden first with just that in mind. For interest and children's play, I have a bamboo grove and small birch 'forest', a six tree orchard with grapes and a few field specimens. Many did not grow as expected, but some have grown quickly and still others have since grown over the past twenty years into nice images of graceful form in my small landscape.

The image of one who's branches are shown above, is from one of three Weeping Willows I planted near our pond a few years ago. I remember at the time my son immediately wanted to know when he could "'swing on its branches" and "drop into the pond" like a Tarzan of some sort. I told him it would be many years, likely long after I was gone, before that could be done. At that moment, I wished it as different, I wished I could somehow speed up the whole process and see his enjoyment of my efforts today with my own eyes, but I couldn't. Time and rain and sunshine and all the things that were needed for this tree to grow to that kind of size all lay many years ahead, I told him, that by planting this now, I was giving a gift to someone else...perhaps him and his children if he resided here but if not, someone else... but the joy for us today could truly be found in the gift.

I had harvested these trees from cuttings taken from a neighbor's dying tree a year or two before and lovingly rooted and planted them to continue this life. One of them since perished, but I once again have rooted more to replace it and hopefully will get them into the ground soon as I am able. This image today, I shot yesterday and as I am not yet able to see properly through the lens, sought to try something different and capture the sense of motion that was before me. I intentionally over exposed it to blur the lines and forms. 

I love these Willows and their home in my yard. Over time, perhaps they will provide me with a measure of shade and I already enjoy it's swaying leaves blowing in the winds that travel from the North out my front window. They anchor the edge of the pond and give back some privacy, but the real joy in them now is the thought that someday... some young boy or girl... will do exactly as Hayden suggested and the legacy started that day with  a shovel will all be complete. I can only hope. In planting, or sharing ones to others to plant, it is a wonderful hope as Lucy Larcom has said:. 
"He who plants a tree... Plants a hope."

The following images I took around the yard today. The first is a Paper Birch detail, which I really like for the graphic nature of it. The second a White Clump Birch which reminds me of rough skin wound for some reason. The third again Paper Birch, in which I like the creaminess of the textures here and the forth of course, a White Birch whom seems to be set up  to fence, something I have always wanted to try. 

"If a man walks in the woods for love of them half of each day, he is in danger of being regarded as a loafer. But if he spends his days as a speculator, shearing off those woods and making the earth bald before her time, he is deemed an industrious and enterprising citizen." ~ Henry David Thoreau

"The tree which moves some to tears of joy, is in the eyes of others only a green thing that stands in the way." ~ William Blake

Little Blue Smiles

 

"Look what I just picked for you!' exclaimed my daughter as she walked in the front door yesterday after a short bike ride down to the river that flows below us. In her hand was a bunch of my very favorite flowers...Virginia Bluebells.

This small ephemeral plant native to my area, was unknown to me until I moved to the property where I now live. Each spring it surprisingly pops up along the banks of the creeks near us for a short couple of weeks, brightening my neighborhood with its soft, temporary beauty. For me, part of its appeal is the gorgeous soft bluish-indigo color with delicate yellow filaments, part, is its short lived display and part, is its fragility. When these blooms are chosen, they need immediate water and frequent trimming to keep looking pleasant in an arrangement and thrives in a home only with continued tender and loving care. Kind of like us humans when in a loving relationship, I suppose.

Although I have tried several times to bring them into my world here and to transplant this into my yard, I have never had any success, which I attribute to not having a creek flowing through it, Even though I have a pond, I must not have a proper soil/moister/shade ratio as I discovered it grows at the same level in the woods across my street where there is always running water.

I have tried many times also to make a good photograph of these little flowers in the wild, but they elude me in doing so and I have never quite 'captured' them with my lens with the feeling they present in the woods to me. The closest I came was an image I made specifically to text last spring with a cell phone of all things, when picking some for a dinner table display, but with a real camera, they escape me. This week, I first noticed them while en route in the morning to the hospital for surgery and knew then, I would not have a chance this year. The image above is one I (painfully) made of Morgen's bouquet on my mantle piece and the photo below she took of her whole arrangement she placed along side of my French Horn.

Every year is a reason to celebrate their arrival as one of the many 'small things' in life that opens our eyes to see the beauty around us, but this year, what makes them special for me is that each and every bloom from her is like a tiny smile and hug to cheer up my long days at home alone recuperating. Friends inquiries so far to my health outcome have been very few and mostly from folks I have not seen in years. It seems those that I know the best and have invested my daily life these past years with have decided I need solitude, which make these little spots of blue even more welcome and precious... as hand picked flowers presented in love always should be.

I hope you enjoy them too.

Negative Space

A term that has many meanings for me.

The obvious from a photographic or design standpoint being the contrasting area of space around the subject that completes the image. I can think of a couple of perfect examples of this... one an image of some sunflowers I saw, but cannot display here, so it is blank until I can find a suitable image.

Other meanings have to do with various voids... in life, in our personalities, or friendships, holes from lost loved ones, to lost friends and the loss of connections there as well as more technical ones within projects and such. The deepest of meanings has to do with sincere love and loosening one's self in gaining the connection only found with another. There can be nothing more powerful. When left void, these kinds of negative 'spaces' are the hardest to fill and are the most painful when they aren't. In the loss of affection and bond, one turns inward for preservation and safety. Some can be marginally filled with other 'things'...busyness... distractions, occupying our minds, which I highlight in my other blog...others can not and remain empty. We let them be, reserved away from our daily experience, trying to forget, but the lost interpersonal relationships are the most difficult to endure. Distance and silence...being alone... is simply too hard.

Today, I am gaining some new personal 'negative space' as the area a spinal disk now occupies in my neck will be empty...removed with a surgeon's hand and partially filled with another[s bone and a metal framework to hold it upright, but the original part, that piece that I was born with will now be gone, taking with it the pain it has caused me these many months in its misshapen and damaged state. I hope that with this new negative space, I will find physical relief and renewed strength in the half of my upper body that has been suffering now for so long. I greatly yearn for it and am once again looking forward to being whole... if not complete.

More so though, I hope one day to once again fill the other, much more important spaces again. To be able to fill them and feel the joy and peace and comfort and completeness in them.

This is a longing I cannot simply endure.

A cool quote a friend just sent me:

"Fear is good. Like self-doubt, fear is an indicator. Fear tells us what we have to do.
Remember our rule of thumb: The more scared we are, the more sure we can be that we have to do it.
Resistance is experienced as fear; the degree of fear equates to the strength of Resistance. Therefore the more fear we feel, the more certain we can be that that is important to us and to our soul. That's why we feel so much Resistance. If it meant nothing to us, there'd be no Resistance."- Steven Pressfield

Out of Bondage

Chains are curious things. This image, like many who sit until they speak to me, was taken at the end of an old rail passenger car on an abandoned track in the woods outside of New Hope Pa. The old commuter carriage, was in deplorable condition, graffiti ‘tags’ covered most of it, along with the burned out fires of youths who once  found a secret spot to hide from the world. On one end was an open door and this curious chain. In looking at it, I couldn't determine its use in any way, but it must have held something I am sure. They always do and single link by single link they, constrain movement…hold fast.

Having had considerable time in conversation with a good friend who spent a couple of years of his life as a prisoner of war as well as others who have had similar times of incarceration, chains are certainly made to confine. They know this all to well. Those chains…. the ones that held my friend a prisoner are literal and hard and cold, fashioned from steel and iron and are a testimony to mans brutality to one another..

 But there are others, no less painful,  that we construct with our words, behavior, thoughts and actions. Often times in our fears, of others... of ourselves... we chain others in, to do our will, control them or keep them, for the feeling of being alone, unloved…is too painful to us as an immense emotion to confront and behold and there seems to be just no other way to survive... I know that well and the depth of sorrow it delivers. Sometimes it is us that is chained for those same reasons. Other times, we fasten the locks, romantically and beautifully illustrated at the Pont de Arts bridge in Paris, wrapping it up in a language of love and commitment and sacrifice to understand it all, for at heart, we all wish for deep connection, love, and the peace it brings to us in only another. Sometime our confinement is to physical pain, other times emotional… often both, and in such we connect to an ideology larger than ourselves and the precepts of safety and comfort it brings us. We limit ourselves to it... the known, for to hold this same peace. Saddest of all though is when we use the chains to keep others out.. walling ourselves in, restricting access and protecting ourselves from those we don’t want in our lives. I too know this pain as a terrible place to live. Hard chains to break…

My friend, after his own experience, once said to me he "never held anyone into his life again and those that love you will stay", for he knows the feeling of lost freedom. With his love for them, he knew that only in their freedom could he truly be loved and allowing them to go meant giving them the choice to not love him in return. As immediate and real his chains of metal were, ultimately they were cut and his healing begun, but the subtle ones of our hearts, those hidden, are the very ones that are hardest to break.

They without a doubt,  leave the deepest marks when they do.

Perhaps in the end, the hardest is the one we bind ourselves to this earth with, holding fast to the familiar… afraid to let go… fearing the unknown and what might await. We foolishly think our importance is too great to be missed, but if we were really honest with ourselves, would see we are merely the momentary mist God describes us as, held only temporarily in anyone's life like a hair wrapped around a finger, only to be lost again.

I know I have pondered with allot on metaphorical rhetoric today and what this particular chain was made for shown here, swinging and dislodging the paint around it, I will never know…its purpose long passed, but for now, I am tired and so many chains still remain.

On the Wing

If ever there was a bird that did not blend in within its enviroment, it would be the Cardinal.

As long as I can remember, the Cardinal has been my very favorite bird and my heart always lifts a little bit when I spot one. As they are a species that is native to my area, I am quite blessed to see them from time to time and their bright, red plumage disctinctly stands out against the greens and browns of the landscape even in the most dismal of weather. While it is the brightly colored male that seems to command the most obvious attention, the female's subtle display of color found on their wing's edge, tail feathers and beak offer a nice contrast and I imagine the subtleties found there are to camoflage one on the nest. As it is with much of nature, the male seems to mostly rely upon the visual 'look at me' displays in capturing the females attention, strutting around in macho confidence. Sorry guys, but you know it is true. If i were a bird, I would hope to have more than that going for me.

I have always thought it would be facinating to capture one or collect an egg to incubate and be able to raise it...perhaps train it, as a domesticated caged bird in an indoor aviary so to speak attached to the house. I have had friends that had various 'wild' animals as pets such as a Racoon or Fox, but at heart think to do so is to take away everything that really makes this bird appealing to me...its wildness at heart, its beauty found in its natural surroundings, and that is a terrible thing to lose.

This detail of a small portion of a wing was taken after I sadly found one on the roadside a while back and stopped to fetch it with the intent of inspecting it closely and hopefully make an image like this. The details found in this wing are amazing to me and I have always enjoyed photographing birds. Not being particularly proficient with it, as such, I have always wanted to try various techniques that I know of to bring them closer in towards my lens...to give them the 'safety ' to do so. Maybe someday I will be able to, but for now, for better or worse, this was my best opportunity that day.

I hope you enjoy it as well. 

Full Throttle Smile

This photo... taken last summer while out on a local road, kind of sums up the feeling of riding a bike like mine. It's not a leaning forward, aggressive racing bike experience, or upright touring bike ride, but is more of a kicked back, cruising feel when behind the bars.

When on a bike, unlike another type of vehicle, there is a connection to how the terrain meets you along the way that offers a very visceral and immediate feedback from the ribbon of asphalt underneath that is felt right where you are. It is a very 'alive' kind of experience to have...as it is one that both requires your utmost awareness of things around you, but also one that breathes a sense of peace and relief into you at the same time. Sometimes you might find it when you get lost in the push and pull of the sway in a challenging curve, sometimes it catches you in the exhilaration as you twist back the throttle and but sometimes is offered in a different way, as a deep exhale when gliding down a straightaway. It always finds you somehow and when it does, it surprises me and brings me straight back to my youth where in the summers I found myself at the wheel of a speedboat and the feeling of the pure freedom of driving across the bay without any direction but water, sun and joy. This same sense is what I find here too for riding a bike is not merely transportation for me, simply a way to get from here to there, but along the way offers so much more. Subtle experiences greet me on the road...an unexpected scent of pine when passing though a cool forest or the morning dew that gathers on my knees, the warmth rising from the road or the joy in a smile or wave of another passing rider...all things you miss within the cocoon of a car.

When on a bike, your path is a different one, for the sought out roads are the very ones that offer up these little things along the way. Destinations are planned by the route offered to get there alone and your thoughts are focussed on the journey itself. You know by simply just twisting the throttle... feeling the punch of the air in your chest as it pushes back against you, the rumble of the exhaust as your arms stretch from my body... a small smile can't help but escape from your lips. This feeling, this freeing moment, is one that is hard to beat, except for only one other, which is the feeling of looking back towards my passenger and seeing them wearing the same...and the deep joy that is thus found in knowing they feel it too, that they share this with you alone... That is what it is all about.

As I am coming up upon some major neck surgery in the next couple of weeks, it likely will be a while before I will be able to climb aboard two wheels again, if ever, but I have hope that if and when I can, I once again will be able to find the joy of this kind of freedom waiting for me.

Der Mond

The Moon.

As a small child, I remember sitting in the evening looking at the moon with my Mom, her showing me the 'face' that seemed to look back at us and recall now the excitement of that time with the space race and our journey as a nation to it. The memory of sitting in a friend's California mountaintop home and seeing the very first footsteps made there, not only had an impact of that bodies surface, but also on me like millions of others I am sure. This giant rock, literally being pulled around us in orbit is always a welcome sight to me. Although we barely consider it most days, it's influence on our lives is immeasurable...from the tidal pull as it circles and affects our globe, to the beauty of its nighttime reflected light to our eye, to the various moods I believe it can set in us from romance to despair, it is a sight to behold.

The last time I really saw a truly beautiful moon, was October 18th this past fall, when a late 'harvest' moon rose enormously in the Eastern sky right at twilight... showing off... huge and golden against a deep blue sky while I was hanging out in our Cul de Sac on my bicycle. It was amazing to behold and engaging in other plans that evening, I did not get to make an image of it that night, but there are a few images shown here that I have made over the years. Click on them to appreciate them in full. 

To me, the Moon is my defacto time keeper. This world, now broken down into nanoseconds in some circles, is measured by most people in their daily lives on a scale of hours and minutes, but for me, I somehow hold onto a recognition of the cycle of time found in a full moon. At its fullest, it shines right onto me through my bedroom window, keeping me awake in my thoughts and as most nights I lay awake thinking  of things and people in my life, it too intrudes on my rest. As a light sleeper with such a head full of thoughts, it's bright light never fails to remind me of the time that has passed since this or that has happened in my life. It is both a welcome and cursed companion of the night.

I have always enjoyed stargazing and pondering the night sky, as doing so helps me gain a perspective on how small I really am in this creation and seeing this grand scale before me always  leaves in me more questions than answers. I don't know much about astronomy and other than the two 'Dippers' and Orion’s belt, I would be hard pressed to identify any specific constellations, but I do remember seeing the Southern Cross while in that hemisphere many years ago and just this past year, I have been able to learn to identify Cassiopeia, which was a real treat for me. My Dad, who has taught celestial navigation would not be impressed.

In any event, I hope the next time you look up at a clear night sky and see that mass of stars spread out  before you, or perhaps see and remember a special moonrise too, you would be inspired with the wonderment of all creation before you as I often am. The image above I took early last fall when it caught my eye while out in my field. In waxing phase, I believe the planet to it's right is Venus, but am not sure. The first image below is one I took many years ago while on a trip in Maine and the second, was made during the last lunar eclipse that was seen is our area.

If you are interested, here is a link to a volume of information regarding the moon: http://www.moonconnection.com/

Power of Friendship

This is Ping, a dear Pekin duck that entered our lives a little over a year ago.

My son, Hayden has always had a soft spot for ducks for as long as I can remember and upon talking to a neighbor a sunny Sunday one day last spring, she told me the local market was selling baby ducklings, so we went to 'check them out'. Of course we came home with one... Ping, who when we went to the flock to pick one out, jumped from the crowd into our box, claiming us. She quickly became part of the family as a cute little yellow soft patch of down (yes, that is her in my profile photo) and immediately imprinted on Hayden, becoming his best pal. Following him everywhere, peeping along the way they have had great times swimming together (Ping would ride on his back), hanging out on the lawn in the warm sun and sharing hugs...yes, ducks hug! It was a dream come true for him and if there ever was a bond between a boy and a duck, this one was very deep.

Sadly, last evening, while she was out on our pond, enjoying a rainy day, she went missing and we have not seen nor heard from her since. A thorough rainy night - flashlight in hand search around the property was followed with tears and worry and sadness with her absence and we hope she will return, but as she always stayed close to the house, it seems unlikely now. She was a great friend to us and an awesome pet. She never failed to greet us as we got home with her loud quacks and enhanced our pond with her grace and beautiful feathers. She was a wonderful addition to our home and hearts and although we have enjoyed her occasional eggs, we mostly appreciated her quirky personality and the warmth of genuine friendship she brought to my son.

  It is a trying day today, for the loss of a friend, whether they be human or in this case a duck, is a very sad event indeed. The hole they leave in the space they used to be in our hearts is impossible to fill and is a painful void that remains empty. Having a good friend is a great privilege to receive and being one in return a very powerful gift to give, whether it be to talk and share life's joys and burdens or as with Ping, to just simply hang out and enjoy each others company. Some take friendship lightly and others in sincerity pull it to their hearts, but our duck Ping, was really a true friend indeed.

You are greatly missed.

...

No, not literally out of my mind, although I have been accused of such, but the name of a new blog for me. A fresh spot where I have engaged the internet to be able to share… personal projects new and old that have sprung from ‘my mind’. 

Some are ‘original’ (if there is any such a thing in this world anymore) and others are inspired from someone else’s awesome idea that I fashioned in my own way. With all these things in my head sometimes (often times really) things go unfinished before a new idea is formed and started upon. I was once told that life with me would consist of many, many ideas and plans for projects, but we would likely  never bring any to pass. Well, this is proof of the untruth of that statement. Some things get finished although not all. I do at least strive to complete the cool ones and I think if I get one out of ten that bounces about between my ears into actual completion, I am doing pretty well. 

Anyway… have a look, click around, say something... be inspired. You can find the link at the top under my profile/ my blogs or simply click here: http://kencanmakeit.blogspot.com/

As far as being out of my mind....A quote to share:  "I'll tell you a secret, all the best people are" Alice in Wonderland
 Ken

A Place of Rest... or Not.

This simple photo of a chair speaks volumes to me. Not because it is some great photo... although I do like its simplicity, but for what it represents, as it is with many of my photos for me. Their meaning to my experience.

I had set it up early in the morning of the last hours of a wonderful Bahamas family vacation years ago. In it, I sought a place to just sit and soak in the peace and easy natural beauty that was there for me, the warm breeze, quiet waves at my feet, a new sun… just the very idea of rest and solitude. I sat there for a seemingly long time... alone... just trying to take in as much as I could for I knew it would end soon. Out there, straight ahead in the distance was Europe and while people there were busy  laboring and learning and all of that, I was just sitting... resting. Airports and travel and challenges all lay ahead of me and as life and work and pressures all would return, I knew they would pull this memory slowly from my mind and I wanted it to stick.  

 There have been many other such 'chairs' for me, whether they would be a quiet spot in my bamboo grove or upon a drum ‘throne’ (I always disliked that term for the record) or an airline seat or even a pew… spots that I no longer occupy for a variety of reasons from ones I simply can't, to ones that are unaffordable, to others now that are now unwelcome to me, but this one... this little plastic lawn chair at the water’s edge, is the one that I want to most return to, for it held more than just a temporary respite for my body alone. 

All of these chairs in life offer something different, some a place to be energized, some to share fellowship or good food shared with friends and still others to take you somewhere perhaps exciting and new, but this one was special. A small quiet space where thoughts waned and breaths slowed and I closed my eyes and felt like I was not missing anything but stress. A place where the thoughts in my head followed only the rhythm of the waves. A special spot for me indeed… Maybe you have one too and I hope that what ever life throws at you, in it you might be able to return one day to that 'space' and find the peace that I had in my heart that day. 

Such chairs are much to rare.

A Shield for the Heart

Recently, I spent a morning walking through the Philadelphia Art Museum, a favorite destination that never fails to broaden my mind's perspective to the larger worlds of art and history. It is a wonderful museum and a local treasure with a great variety of exhibits that are regularly exchanged, mixed with a large permanent collection. Of these, I truly enjoy spending time in a Japanese Tea room to relax and during the visit usually end up in the armor wing.

A section that I am sure draws every young man's fantasy of noble, armed battle , it holds pieces that go back  thousands of years. When strolling through it, I am always amazed at the various forms of protection man has devised to protect his body in times of battle. Some of them are strictly functional, with crude, simple, thick metal hammered into helmets and breastplates with heavy leather trim and others are magnificently ornate pieces of beauty and expression. The pieces with the multitude of small plates fastened together capture my imagination as in my mind, I take on the task of donning such a suit to face a foe. The workmanship that goes into these beautiful metal cases for the body are incredible. Three images below are of small details found in several of these suits of armor, but the one that really caught my attention that day is shown above. Within the hammered, etched, folded and polished steel is a small detail that spoke volumes to me. As you can see, in the middle of the chest plate, is a small heart.

In looking at this tiny but important detail, I thought not only of the physical heart that this suit once contained, but also of the 'heart' of the person that held the physical one in place. I wondered what did they think when the lifted these heavy pieces over their head into place...where they scared, or truly brave, discounting any danger? Was there someone worried for them and what they were going out to face? What did it take to face such a challenge that required such protection?

This small heart to me greatly symbolizes the essence of a suit like this... and of the multitude of ways we without such an armor, seek to protect our own hearts... rarely from  physical attack... but most often from emotional hurt and pain that confronts us in life. When challenged and hurt, we don't have the luxury to encase them in metal shields like this, but none the less, seek to enclose them, shut them down... silence them for to feel these pains can be too much to bear. The pain found in losing friends or family or even our dreams can be so profound, it can change our very nature and views on life. Sometimes in such events, we can find healing, but at other times, we cannot. It is in these times, I wish I too could 'suit up' and enclose my own heart from the pain, sealing it in place, rather than let it succumb and find itself shielded not in peace and love, but in numbness. I wish it were so simple as donning a suit.

 

 

Power of Giving

 

Another unusual post today as it is not an image that is 'art', but simply one of a piece of art.

A while ago, I did a small 'series' on Power. Within images I had on hand before me at the time, I saw that I could find a theme to express the various forms where I could see power was a central presence. The other day, through a thoughtful gift, I thought of another form of power that I had not considered into that grouping, that also ties in to my recent post, Vanishing Love.

As I imagine with many people, I have some health struggles that I deal with and in an inadvertent switch of appointments a few years ago, the doctor I saw on a visit was other than 'my' regular one. This new doctor, was someone who immediately took an interest not only in my heath care, but in me as a person. I identified with him and under his care, I felt confident with the decisions he was making. From that day on, I continued to see him only as my 'primary' health provider and I felt valued. On one visit, while in his office, this sculpture caught my eye on his bookshelf and I asked about it. He said he had always liked it and had picked it up on a trip to Africa in the 1950s. He said he kept it at work to remind him to 'think' and 'feel' when dealing with his patients in finding what their needs were... not only of the present physical symptoms.
I too liked it and even took some photos of it on another visit. Several months ago, I was saddened to know  he was retiring but was glad to find in his place, a new Physician who I believe has taken up his role with the same care and concern outside of them-self that he did with me.

While in for a 'check up' the other day, I was delighted to find that when he departed, I was his very last patient and futher more, that he had left a gift behind for me.... his sculpture.
A small piece of himself as a token of his care and friendship for me. I felt blessed and honored. It makes a connection for me with another piece I myself obtained while in a small, back alley Singapore shop years ago that someday I will show below. Some have told me in this piece they see anguish, others introspection, but I think of it as deep prayer.

In this small way, the power he shared of time, kindness and connection was passed on and preserved with me. My mother told me shortly before she passed that time was the only thing that you truly give to another. Something you didn't earn, nor could ever get back. I wish for time with her again, but it will never be and I am thankful to those who still give me theirs. I too am grateful that through my doctors thought-fulness to me in this little piece of crafted wood from a world and time away, his care will remain with me. I think, like the connection of giving care that I was able to share with my homeless friends in Love Park on those Tuesday nights away from my family, he left something behind of himself to lighten my life. A little connection to humanity with power behind it. Something so important, for there is little of that in life anymore. I am humbled.

Cogito Ergo Zoom!

"I think therefore I go fast!".... a well spoken quote from David E. Davis, that became the tagline for Automobile magazine years ago and a personal motto for me in my somewhat younger years. He was the founder of that particular magazine, a must read in my earlier days and editor for Car and Driver, a publication I had the privilege to contribute to on a couple of occasions.

Although I would more often be accused of driving too slow rather than too fast on most days anymore, I have and still do enjoy a spirited ride now and again, whether it is on my motorcycle or as it is on some days, only in my minds eye. Always having been an enthusiast of fast cars, I have had my fare share of them and have spent some time both on the track and suitable roadways pushing the limits of any particular machine and on European Autobahn's have maxed out the speed of a couple of vehicles.

The selection of photographs today were all taken at local car shows, where one can find the rare, fast and truly exotic on display for close inspection or in friends garages. I always enjoyed finding the small details found in automotive design that truly makes the car beautiful. There are a number of breeds represented including a Ford F40, Morgan, Hudson, Lamborghini (my son's passionate preference) Porsche (who have always had my heart) and a beret topped 2cv, a slow, but personal favorite of mine. Even though, like high priced jewels out on the roadway, the supercar class holds a certain mystique, the humble, 2 cylinder base transport like the Citroen has always had a 'fun factor' appeal to me. 

I hope these perhaps these images today puts energizing thoughts into you today and maybe even will inspire you to get behind the wheel of one of these special machines for and energizing boost if you can.