poetry

lens-artists: books

Within one of the realms of The Wheel of Suffering, is the animal realm in which a bodhisattva is depicted holding a book representing the need for wisdom that arises through thought, speech, and reflection.

” … I come to a place where I envision myself eagerly standing before bookshelves, my eyes lightly and briefly touching upon one book’s title and then another, feeling their words tickle my thoughts until I surrender to their unspoken promises. Once engaged by the promising nature of a title, it is hope that opens a book jacket and begins another journey through pages. With the turning of each page, desire seeks the experience of validation within the configuration of a writer’s text. All of this, I believe, is driven by memory traces of how the words of unknown authors enfolded my emotional self …” (cited: B Catherine Koeford, A Meditative Journey with Saldage)

“… you and I in the living room. You gave me three hard bound books…illustrated books. One about the lives of bees, the other about the Civil War, and lastly…the female reproductive system, “You are a woman now. You must wash your face twice a day …”

I was a woman. Three books. Books freed us to worlds beyond a rural newspaper route. Books were trips to the library, classical comic books left on my bed, novel reenactments, and later carefully National Geographic cutouts attached to your letters.

I loved novels. You, nature and science …” (cited: My Mother Came to Visit, memories of my mother during Covid …”it was a remembered touch that announced her arrival”)

Unseeded and Two Springs – two photo books of personal journeys of healing.

Two Springs: you left,
I remained… two springs

A photo journey…in remembrance of my mother, Elberta.

Unseeded: “The first time I heard the word “unseeded” I felt it resonate with another term saudade, a unique Portuguese word with no immediate English equivalent.

Saudade describes a vague and constant desire for something that does not and probably cannot exist …”

Ritva has invited lens-artists “to embrace your inner book lover and share your most creative photographic interpretation of anything related to books.”

rain…

as you wander through my dreams,

do our yesterdays greet you?

this aged soul wonders …

Iphone 16: f1.6 1/120s 104mm ISO40

lens-artists: zooming

Sometimes the voice of a bird calls among the ancient trees—a male calling to its wife, up and down through the woods.

Sometimes a nightingale sings to the moon, weary of empty hills. ~ Poet Li Po*

Anne (Slow Shutter Speed) invites lens-artists to “take your camera and zoom lens out for some zooming.”

*cited: Arthur Waley, The Poet Li Po A.D. 701-762, Project Gutenberg eBook

lens-artists: abandoned

all are lonely

yet are you much more than any

you who still wait?

Houses, aged and fragile, once stood strong within their newness and sang of home, dreams, hopes, joys. tears, family.

Houses that story homes of past years now silent.

Absent are the sounds of togetherness, of spoken differences, of celebrations, of loss.

Houses, abandoned, speak to our soul, our imagination. They tell of impermanence.

Yet, they seem to be waiting…waiting as they fade.

images and thoughts submitted in response to slow shutter speed’s challenge: abandoned

lens-artists: five favs

As I spent part of the afternoon revisiting photo files in response to Tina’s invitation to share five favorite photographs, I began to ponder, “What are the variables within photographs that come together to create a place within the heart of the eyes?”

Photographs tell of silent, vague, faded memories. Photographs are of visual moments that have grasped one’s attention. Photographs share times of exploration, of travel, of life. Photographs are representations of impermanence, light and shadow, fantasy, composition, challenges, points of view, …

Even in Kyoto—
hearing the cuckoo’s cry—
I long for Kyoto. ~Buson

an image created in 2013 that awakens memories of 1960s

Thank you Tina for this quiet Sunday of reflection.

lens-artists: life’s changes

trailed with clouds

the layered memories

of time forever gone

stands between us now

in this spring dawn

There is an earth-shattering moment that barges into a life, unexpectedly, shifting and tearing apart everything … everything in the heart held to be true. After the denial, disassociation, and numbing begin to ease, there is a knowing that the “before you” has been ripped away and now an “ongoing emerging you” has begun a never-ending search for THE door of clarity and resolution. Within that search life continues. Life with its births and deaths. Life creating pathways of sorrow and joy. Pathways of contemplation created through photography and haiku.

rain falls

memories of lost years

left by a cloud

My mother’s passing in the spring of 2016, expected yet unexpected, occurred during this journey with WordPress. The intention to validate my mother’s life opened a gate of posting 100 days of contemplative photography and haiku to remember, honor, and share the life of a woman, my mom.

meandering tales

beyond a haze of tear drops

my mother’s face – mine.

Memories of my mom often come to visit…they are remembered moments that announce her arrival, not as the frail woman with a fierce determination that time had transformed formed but the woman who carried with her the stature of Danish Vikings…warriors, explorers, conquerors, survivors.

morning haze

jewels of rain, falling

in a dream

In our next spring

let’s meet as butterflies

afield

Though we are parted,

If on Casper Mountain Peak

I should honor the sound

of the pine trees swaying there –

with the summer breeze.

After my mother’s memories fade and life’s present moments come into focus I often wonder … if we had met – not as mother-daughter – but as children in a playground would she have wanted to be my friend? I know she would have been my bestest of friends.

Thank you Anne (Slow Shutter Speed) for the invitation to share what has “enriched and/or changed” my life.