storms approaching

 

Out of a great need, we are all holding hands and climbing

Not loving is a letting go.

Listen, the terrain around here is far too dangerous for that.

--Hafiz

photos: 'storms approaching', Springfield, Illinois 2011

~mini rant~

Day 84. 

This is hard. It's hard to stay indoors day after day because the curve isn't curving fast enough, and the weather so bleak and mean. It's hard to remember to be in the 'now'--no one says you have to enjoy it, and even that is hard to remember. It's hard not to take things personally even though wise men say its one of the keys to happiness, it's hard to be 'still' and 'centered' when everywhere I turn and look, the world seems to shift and crumble  away. It's hard to know who the enemy is while gun sales are skyrocketing like its the end of civilization or something. (It's hard not feel jealous of other countries whose people don't automatically think of shooting other people. And, whose leader doesn't egg them onto anarchy and widespread criminality.) It's hard that with some, god has everything to do with it and with others, god is better left out of it and maybe the funny thing is they both think the other is surely going to hell. It's hard to watch the news and not find yourself laughing to keep from crying. It's hard to keep it all together day after day, especially when I've been sleeping like the rest of covid nation and I'm feeling a little more fragile and maybe not so sensible. It's hard and I'm complaining and I promised I wouldn't. Or that if I did,  I'd make it funny just like Seinfeld requires of his children. But then you should know, that's hard. 

~rant over~ :))

OK. Anyway here's the amazing and enduring Chip Taylor featuring lots of black and white street photography (you know how we love that) and his perfectly sage advice on answering life's big questions....

A Spark On The Wind

Life is the only way 

to get covered in leaves,

catch your breath on the sand, 

rise on wings;

to be a dog,

or stroke its warm fur;

to tell pain 

from everything it's not;

to squeeze inside events,

dawdle in views,

to seek the least of all possible mistakes.

An extraordinary chance 

to remember for a moment

a conversation held

with the lamp switched off;

and if only once

to stumble upon a stone,

end up soaked in one downpour or another,

mislay your keys in the grass;

and to follow a spark on the wind with your eyes;

and to keep on not knowing

something important.

 *A Note--by Wislawa Szymborska, photos from Amsterdam, 2019

I think poetry isn't easy to appreciate just any old time. But they say people turn to poetry when they're in search of their own histories, to hear their own thoughts and feelings spoken for them. Certainly the lockdown has me feeling up and down, confused, bored and lonely, anxious and afraid; impatient, lazy and mournful all at the same time. It's a mixed bag. But that's how it is right now. And I remembered how reading the lines of this poem for the first time made me feel a kind of gratitude for the poet and the loveliness of her gentle words. And so I hope it'll be the same for you, dear friend out there, or you who may have stumbled upon this here quiet spot I stake as mine. Funny how it's easier for me to tell you these things when on the so-called social media circus I'm sanguine, I'm light, I'm not all freaked out and panicky. But that's where the real theater lies anyway. About my photos--well they've long been sitting on my laptop. I don't know why. But here they are now--I didn't know the world would be so different by the time I'd get around to posting them. 

Let It Find Us

 

i cannot tell you how the light comes

what i know is that it is more ancient than imagining

that it travels across an astounding expanse to reach us

that it loves searching out what is hidden

what is lost, what is forgotten

what is in peril or in pain

that is has a fondness for the body

for finding its way toward flesh

for tracing the edges of form

for shining forth through the eye

the hand

the heart

I cannot tell you how the light comes but that it does,

that it will

that it works its way into the deepest dark that enfolds you

though it may seem long ages in coming

or arrive in a shape you did not foresee

And so, may we this day turn ourselves toward it

May we lift our faces and let it find us

May we bend our bodies and follow the arc it makes

may we open and open more

and open still

to the blessed light that comes.

--How the Light Comes, Jan Richardson

*photos from Paris, France, April 2019

*these are some of the Paris street photos I took on holiday--Paris is so "much of a muchness", to quote good ol' Alice while she was exploring Wonderland, that it's not easy to absorb and capture all the beauty and splendor, no matter how many times you return. A big thank you to my friend Arnaud for taking us on a magical walk through the hidden parts of Paris, and for the lovely time we shared over drinks --after so many years of visiting and commenting on each other's blogs, meeting in person felt so much like meeting an old and familiar friend--i hope to meet again and, maybe someday to meet all my blog friends :)) p.s. click on the photos to enlarge them. 

This Quiet Joy

I spent some time exploring a little bit of downtown Brisbane, Australia while I was there to visit my brother and his lovely family. 

It was my first time to go and I really loved it--the trip was good for my soul and just what I needed to get out of Chicago's bitter cold. 

It was also very nice being on my own and on unfamiliar grounds--there's a freedom to just take it all in, take one's time, and do exactly as one pleases.

Lately I've been thinking how I waste so much time just mulling over decisions, and then giving up, and hurrying on the next thing. 

It seems the more choices I have, the longer it takes for me to make any kind of decision

 and the more in a hurry I have to be

-and on and on, a never ending cycle. So I tried something else while I was there

I took fewer photos and instead tried to focus on each little moment's quiet joy.

So now these are pretty much almost all of the photos I took downtown.

We did go up and down the Gold Coast of Australia

a very beautiful part of the world, 

but those are for another post. :))

Reason To Believe

If I listened long enough to you

 I'd find a way to believe that it's all true

 Knowing that you lied straight faced while I cried

 Still I look to find a reason to believe

 Someone like you makes it hard to live

 Without somebody else

Someone like you makes it easy to give

Never think of myself

If I gave you time to change my mind

I'd find a way to leave the past behind

Knowing that you lied straight-faced while I cried

Still I look to find a reason to believe...
--lyrics from the song, Reason to Believe by Tim Hardin

****

I took these photos last week while on the road to Texas--a state I'd never visited before. It was a very long road trip through parts of old Route 66 and smaller state highways where bits of the old and forgotten were everywhere. On the trip back, this quiet radio program called Hand Crank Radio in Arkansas played a song written and sung by Tim Hardin and somehow, the passing scenery paired with his sweet sadness stayed with me long after it ended. So I'm including it to go along with this little series.