MargaretPANpipes

haiku my heart with faith, wisdom, and new birth

2011-12-18T22:55:00.009-05:00

Gabriel brings faith,

The Magi ancient wisdom--

Miracle of birth.

The birth of my first grandchild to my son and his wife this week revealed how truly miraculous new life is and how how the grace of angels and spiritual savants are there to guide us in their many forms. Be still and listen...

Haiku my heart is the vision of Rebecca Brooks at "recuerda mi corazon." If you would like to participate, just post your haiku on Fridays with an accompanying photo on your blog and link back to recuerda mi corazon.

Mary--the trusting heart

2011-12-08T21:41:00.008-05:00

The star led Mary

~Artwork by Marianne Stokes

To a place of hope and joy--

Evergreen renews.

Haiku my heart is the vision of Rebecca Brooks at "recuerda mi corazon." If you would like to participate, just post your haiku on Fridays with an accompanying photo on your blog and link back to recuerda mi corazon.

1Q84 is here!

2011-11-28T21:21:00.006-05:00

My first introduction to Haruki Murakami (above) was at the bookstore, passing by his novel After Dark, spying a beautiful, sleeping Japanese girl on the cover. Remembering how sensuous and lush Memoirs of a Geisha was, I was interested in perusing this seemingly exotic and mysterious novel. After Dark turned out to be an excellent choice but of a different nature. Murakami's science fiction, dystopian novels evoke ancient myths, mystical connections, and cosmic disharmony. He leads us in very different directions only to reveal unity and order in his denouements.

1Q84, Murakami's anxiously-awaited 925-page tome, has finally appeared! I avidly turned the pages to find his signature quirky characters and alternative realities: he does not disappoint. The world quietly changes: time warps; two moons cross the night sky. Here are his apathetic protagonists ready to reveal an explanatory subcontext of some prior life-deflating experience. Deadpan Fuki-Era has just emerged from a commune in which she fed a blind goat who hatched evil Little People from its mouth. Manslayer Aomame is aloof even when killing or maiming men; is she avenging her abused friend? Detached Tengo becomes emotionally connected to these two women as he is caught in their webs.

This device of bored people in humdrum existences evokes the existential writers, Camus, Sartre, Beckett. Were their characters lacking in feeling or meaning? Were they able to connect on some level? There are studies of autistic people who seemingly don't respond to others' emotions (empathize), but upon psychological analysis very deep and real reactions to others became apparent. Their feelings were expressed differently, and their resonsiveness to the feelings of others was hidden. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time by Mark Haddon is a great window into this particular world. An autistic child creatively solves the crime through reason and empathy with the other characters.

1Q84 is a dystopian novel reminiscent of Orwell's 1984. The citizens are not allowed to think for themselves, and Big Brother is always watching to make sure they don't. As Murakami says in 1Q84: "They are making mindless robots. They take the circuits out of people's brains that make it possible for them to think for themselves. Their world is like the one that George Orwell depicted in his novel."

Often expressing ideas through dichotomies, perhaps Murakami is addressing the state of our culture vis-a-vis the year 1Q84.

As I mentioned earlier, the first dystopian novel I read by the avant-garde Japanese novelist Haruki Murakami was After Dark. It begins with the mythological tale of sibling rivalry between two sisters; jealousy is not evoked, but the hurtful point of view of the parents creates a diasma between the two. The plain-but-smart sister is drawn into a love hotel named "Alphaville" to help translate Chinese into Japanese.

In naming the hotel "Alphaville," Murakami gives us our first glimpse into Murakami's world of irony and subtle wit. Alphaville was Voltaire's invention for an alien planet in Micromegas and the subsequent Godard film which created a social dystopia (opposite of utopia): a tyrannical, absolute rule something like life in Berlin before the Wall came down.

The contrasts in this novel between good and evil, beautiful and plain, night and day, etc., show us life in its duality; we begin to reason in polarities, and a discerning way of thinking emerges.

After Dark is a mystery that culminates in the transformation of character and the expansion of our own wisdom.

I next read Kafka on the Shore: some of Murakami's broader strokes were becoming familiar to me. The protagonist and antagonist first contrast and then mesh in a mystery which keeps one turning the pages. This novel involves the other-worldly spirit of a Japanese curator who collected tanka poetry (nod to his home). Murasaki--who spent some of his early adult years delving into a huge range of literature and music--draws on them richly to create connections and understanding. There is a man who can communicate with cats in their own language. Kafka can literally walk into a village from a prior time. The science fiction really works more as imagery or symbolism: this is a world we can somehow accept.

To all my friends in the blogosphere community

2011-11-26T23:38:00.002-05:00

Virginia Woolf once said that “in order to write, a woman should have 5,000 euros per year and a room with a lock on the door.” Does this still ring true today? I wonder! For varied reasons, the actual and metaphorical space for writing my blog has eluded me for some time. I sincerely apologize for the lapse in postings. While my intention is to post weekly, sometimes life has plans of its own. Yet, my pen calls me back, reminding me to share my voice and perspective with kindred spirits.

~from Writers’ Houses by Francesca Premoli-Droulers~

So, I have returned from a time-out, eager to share with you books, music, and photographs I am enjoying, as well as haiku that speak to me: those I have penned myself and those others have written, particularly in our haiku circle, “recuerdo mi corazon” or haiku my heart.”

~haiku my heart-

In this spirit, I have decided to mate my two existing blogs—http://margaretpanpipes.blogspot.com and http://whattheowltoldme.blogspot.com--to see what can be born if I bring together a mix of soul nourishing and sometimes provocative media: a mix that touches, mirrors, and at times transforms me. Perhaps you will find something here that speaks to you, or maybe you have something to share with us. One follower has called my blog her “literary getaway.”

If you have been a follower of one or both of my blogs, I thank you. I invite you to delve with me in this newly endeavor. In the spirit of “haiku my heart,” I invite you to engage our supportive community. Together, may we grow and enjoy la vie de toutes les couleurs!

haiku my heart - source of renewal

2011-09-09T21:12:00.007-04:00

Day of the Dead shrine~

Fallen tree bows to young cubs.

Source of renewal~

"Fallen tree bows to young cubs" is my photo of the illustration "Follow the Leader" by Philip R. Goodwin.

Haiku my heart is the vision of Rebecca Brooks at "recuerda mi corazon." If you would like to participate, just post your haiku on Fridays with an accompanying photo on your blog and link back to recuerda mi corazon.

haiku my heart ~ eve of destruction

2011-09-02T15:10:00.007-04:00

Blue sky and koi pond

Change to gold chrysanthemums--

Eve of destruction~

Haiku my heart is the vision of Rebecca Brooks at "recuerda mi corazon." If you would like to participate, just post your haiku on Fridays with an accompanying photo on your blog and link back to recuerda mi corazon.

haiku my heart - ebb and flow

2011-08-18T23:50:00.016-04:00

Ebb tide quiets life

Only to send it flowing

Back, fish in the net.

Haiku my heart is the vision of Rebecca Brooks at "recuerda mi corazon." If you would like to participate, just post your haiku on Fridays with an accompanying photo on your blog and link back to recuerda mi corazon.

haiku my heart - five-petal blue rose

2011-08-11T23:26:00.005-04:00

The cosmic circle,
Mary's sacred space,
Holds the pure blue rose.

Haiku my heart is the vision of Rebecca Brooks at "recuerda mi corazon." If you would like to participate, just post your haiku on Fridays with an accompanying photo on your blog and link back to recuerda mi corazon.

haiku my heart - Treasure!

2011-07-29T22:02:00.010-04:00

The shimmering path

Beckons to find a treasure--

Columbine whimsy!

photo of Californian columbine taken by Jessica Wilson

Haiku my heart is the vision of Rebecca Brooks at "recuerda mi corazon." If you would like to participate, just post your haiku on Fridays with an accompanying photo on your blog and link back to recuerda mi corazon.

haiku my heart

2011-07-22T12:53:00.004-04:00

"God was a rabbit"
Whose voice spoke in a subtext--
My earthly empath.

The first line is the title of the novel When God Was a Rabbit by Sarah Winman.)

Haiku my heart is the vision of Rebecca Brooks at "recuerda mi corazon." If you would like to participate, just post your haiku on Fridays with an accompanying photo on your blog and link back to recuerda mi corazon.

haiku my heart - dance as theater

2011-07-08T14:39:00.007-04:00

(Please turn off Carla Bruni before playing this--thanks and sorry.)

Pina dances love,
Joy, freedom, struggle, desire
On the stage of life.

The documentary Pina by Wim Winder is a tribute to Pina Bausch, the avant-garde German choreographer whose philosophy was: "Dance, dance; otherwise we have lost."

Haiku my heart is the vision of Rebecca Brooks at "recuerda mi corazon." If you would like to participate, just post your haiku on Fridays with an accompanying photo on your blog and link back to recuerda mi corazon.

Share the JOY! ~ dolphins in the wild

2011-07-07T00:42:00.007-04:00

What joy to see dolphins in the wild! They get to travel in their pod social circle, baby in tow. They get to stay mostly underwater as opposed to surfacing all the time to perform tricks. They can glide just beneath the ocean's surface to enjoy the warmth of the sun. They speak in birdlike chirps which sound like happy squeals to us though they most likely are echolocation checks. They are cordial to all humans, especially the ones who make the effort to dive down to greet them.

Underwater photographer Bo Pardau caught the beauty of the wild dolphin's world in these photos taken in Hawaii and shown here with his permission to share the Joy!

Share the Joy Thursday is the inspiraton of Meri at Meri's Musings. To share your joy, please visit her at http://meriak.blogspot.com.

haiku my heart - freedom of the soul

2011-07-01T21:18:00.009-04:00

Mountain laurel sings

Of the coolness amid trees--

When was life freer?

Haiku my heart is the vision of Rebecca Brooks at "recuerda mi corazon." If you would like to participate, just post your haiku on Fridays with an accompanying photo on your blog and link back to recuerda mi corazon.

Share the JOY Thursday!

2011-06-29T23:19:00.014-04:00

JOY is . . .

. . . little fairy princess cowgirls and their ponies!

~photo by Jessica Wilson

~photo by Georgia Fisher

~photo by Margaret Pangert

~photo by Georgia Fisher

~photo by Georgia Fisher

~photo by Jessica Wilson

~photo by Georgia Fisher

~photo by Margaret Pangert

~photo by Jessica Wilson

Share the Joy Thursday is the inspiraton of Meri at Meri's Musings. To share your joy, please visit her at http://meriak.blogspot.com.

Midnight in Paris

2011-06-21T21:42:00.007-04:00

Owen Wilson in Woody Allen's Midnight in Paris

"Within my young friend's heart what mysteries keep
Aglow, soul from this sweet mask breathing a flower?"
from La Dormeuse by Paul Valery

Published in Paris, a Literary Chronicle of Paris in the 1920's and 1930's, by Hugh Ford

"Well, Ernest, here you are again talking to me at the Cafe de Flore in Paris. I haven't seen you for a while. I have several versions of that sonnet I wrote after your death but I never got it right. I love you, Ernest, I still do. You were an interesting man, and the first friend I really quarrelled with..."
from "Ernest Appears Again" by Leonard Cohen

"Colin Field behind the Bar Hemingway, Hotel Ritz, la Place Vendome," photo by Thomas Harris

"I had nothing more to give you of myself last night than any man,
Sated and avuncular and filled with his own good rhapsodies. But
One thing you can be certain of, nonetheless: the bird I saw there,
Up in a tree from the village yard, was a happy bird, and the pail
I kicked, later on in the dark, bounced all the way up to heaven
And back, and it gave itself to the night, and was full, and slept."
from Little Gidding by T.S. Eliot

They are all there: Hemingway, Picasso, Dali, T.S. Eliot, Carla Bruni(!), Fitzgerald, Man Ray... And if determined, you can go back even further to La Belle Epoque, the court of Louis XIV...

haiku my heart - liberation

2011-06-11T15:27:00.009-04:00

The green linnet sings
Without the hope of parole.
Freedom fighter chirps!

Green Finch and Linnet Bird sung by Jayne Wisener from Tim Burton's movie, Sweeney Todd.

Haiku my heart is the vision of Rebecca Brooks at "recuerda mi corazon." If you would like to participate, just post your haiku on Fridays with an accompanying photo on your blog and link back to recuerda mi corazon.

Magpie Tales 68

2011-06-06T21:50:00.006-04:00

A silk indigo sari drapes around her body
And head, revealing just the upper face.
She lies down in an oasis of fragrant jasmine, lotus, marigold.
Lightning bolts of Shiva beam on her third eye
In the center of her brow surrounded by a triangle,
The sanskrit Om also lying within the triangle.
A nectar of sesame with essences of sunflower,
Ginseng, skullcap streams onto the lucid third eye.
The otherworldly timbre of the Shiva flute
Conquers the music of fools.

Magpie Tales is the vision of Tess Kincaid. If you would like to participate, just post your poem or vignette--based on Tess Kincaid's photo prompt--on your blog and link back to http://www.magpietales.blogspot.com.

haiku my heart - the golden spiral

2011-06-03T12:48:00.023-04:00

~my spiral mandala of growth and discovery

~photo of spiral rose by Jessica Wilson, Northern California

~portion of Eiffel Tower's spiral staircase at auction, Christie's, New York

~photo of spiral architecture by Byron Kay, Athens, Greece

~photo of spiral snail shells by Byron Kay, Santorini, Greece

~spiral mandala of my projected spiritual journey

Spiral and return
To nature's epicenter--
Never-ending life.

Haiku my heart is the vision of Rebecca Brooks at "recuerda mi corazon." If you would like to participate, just post your haiku on Fridays with an accompanying photo on your blog and link back to recuerda mi corazon.

haiku my heart - the fuchsia flower

2011-05-27T00:15:00.009-04:00

A carnival ride,

Swirling magenta transforms--

Spun cotton candy.

Haiku my heart is the vision of Rebecca Brooks at "recuerda mi corazon." If you would like to participate, just post your haiku on Fridays with an accompanying photo on your blog and link back to recuerda mi corazon.

Magpie Tales 67

2011-05-23T23:07:00.009-04:00

Banquet Scene with a Lute Player by Nicolas Tournier, 1625

Characters, left to right
Nicolas Tournier, French Baroque painter, 1590-1639
la Serveuse (waitress)
Claudio Monteverdi, Italian opera composer, 1567-1643
Sybille de la Tour, Georges's younger sister
Georges de la Tour, French Baroque painter, 1593-1652

Monteverdi: Now, do you see changing from the major key of C to the key of A minor creates an entirely different mood? And if you were to use a more agitated tempo, the mood changes once again?

de la Tour (who has been playing the lute to please his guests): Nicolas, don't you feel we're doing the same thing with light? Placing some characters in darkness and others in light reveals something of the soul of those characters?

Tournier: Exactly. It gives a contemplative feel to the painting.

de la Tour: You know, Pascal says in his Pensees that the beginning and end are concealed from man in an impenetrable secret. When we paint shrouds of black, that is the unaware blindness; when we paint streams of light, that is the illuminated consciousness.

Sybille: I feel as though I am in the light, that I am aware, and that this sense of enlightenment is only heightened by looking through the eye loup at the ray of light beaming down on me.

Magpie Tales is the vision of Tess Kincaid. If you would like to participate, just post your poem or vignette--based on Tess Kincaid's photo prompt--on your blog and link back to http://www.magpietales.blogspot.com.

haiku my heart - sacred mystery

2011-05-20T01:19:00.006-04:00

Exotic blue rose

Incense burns at the altar--

Sacred mystery.

Haiku my heart is the vision of Rebecca Brooks at "recuerda mi corazon." If you would like to participate, just post your haiku on Fridays with an accompanying photo on your blog and link back to recuerda mi corazon.

Magpie Tales 66

2011-05-16T23:56:00.006-04:00

Belle's heart was pounding as she hastily placed the book back on the shelf. She loved this library in the 36th and Madison mansion and spent hours here, sorting, examining, reading.

Today she could not believe her eyes: Walden, innocuously placed in a row at the back of the desk, had been autographed several years ago by Henry David Thoreau!
"My dearest John,
Allow me the pleasure of presenting to you a line from this book:
'Rather than love, than money, than fame, give me truth.'
I beg you to receive, dear Sir, the expression of my very best sentiments.
I remain yours truly,
Henry David Thoreau."

She had heard the clatter of John's carriage in the passageway, and he would be coming in the downstairs entry any moment. Belle retrieved her feather duster and studiously began dusting. She mentally went over her plans to be very gracious and impeccable in her work with both John Sr. and John Jr.

John~ John Pierpont Morgan, Sr. and Jr.

Belle~ Belle de Costa Greene, first director of the Pierpont Morgan Library

Magpie Tales is the vision of Tess Kincaid. If you would like to participate, just post your poem or vignette--based on Tess Kincaid's photo prompt--on your blog and link back to http://www.magpietales.blogspot.com.

Magpie Tales 65

2011-05-14T17:23:00.007-04:00

The dashing, wealthy Francis Bernandone was ceasing to exist; he was becoming a different person, one who was humble and caring. He was growing aware of the natural world and often went on walks through the Italian countryside.

During one of these walks, two birds flew down to him, and an immediate connection sprang up. Francis received a very clear message from the birds.

The communication touched his heart, not his ears. It was moving and profound. He had a new perception of himself and the world around him. Francis's purpose was henceforth to teach others the interconnectedness of all God's creatures through living example.

As he set out to start this new life, Francis noticed that wherever he went animals followed him and helped him to communicate the lessons he was teaching.

by the Creative Writing Circle at A Life Well Lived

Magpie Tales is the vision of Tess Kincaid. If you would like to participate, just post your poem or vignette--based on Tess Kincaid's photo prompt--on your blog and link back to http://www.magpietales.blogspot.com.

Haiku my heart!

2011-05-06T15:07:00.007-04:00

Waving in the wind,
Hidden treasure from the eye.
Dappled pale sunlight.

~by Laurel Gross

Dogwood and Mary
Are dressed in the purest white--
A new beginning.

~by Margaret Pangert

Haiku my heart is the vision of Rebecca Brooks at "recuerda mi corazon." If you would like to participate, just post your haiku on Fridays with an accompanying photo on your blog and link back to recuerda mi corazon.

Magpie Tales 63d

2011-04-29T19:20:00.006-04:00

Photo courtesy of Tess Kincaid, creator of Magpie Tales

by Margaret Pangert from the Creative Writing Circle at A Life Well Lived

Chantal was going to be presented to the Duc D'Orleans that evening. Her skin had been pumiced and polished, her hair made up into a chignon with a string of pearls following its curve.

It was now time, and two valets came for her. They placed her on a long, wide board and sprinkled parsley on her navel.

Chantal was taken into a high-ceilinged, brocaded drawing room, and she crossed her thighs voluptuously. Bertrand--fully dressed in velvet jacket and pants--slowly walked up to her. He bent down and licked the parsley from her navel, replacing it with an emerald. He continued to lick her body, each time marking the place with a diamond or a ruby.

Bertrand then lifted Chantal up and began dancing the tango with her, a sharp, small knife hidden in his turned-up sleeve. He began to dramatically tease her with the knife, making small nicks here and there on her body that drew blood. Each time she flinched and gritted her teeth but continued to dance.

At the end of the evening, Chantal went home with a cache of emeralds, rubies, and diamonds.

Magpie Tales is the vision of Tess Kincaid. If you would like to participate, just post your poem or vignette--based on Tess Kincaid's photo prompt--on your blog and link back to http://magpietales.blogspot.com.

Magpie Tales 63c

2011-04-29T19:08:00.006-04:00

Photo courtesy of Tess Kincaid, creator of Magpie Tales

by Socorro from the Creative Writing Circle at A Life Well Lived

The girls were getting ready to leave to the Christmas party.

"Mom, we're leaving! We'll be back before midnight before it begins to snow."

Suddenly, I saw one of my girls look toward the table, stop, look down, and see there the shiny green and red ornament adorned with small diamonds.

Her father had given one to each just before he left to go overseas. She picked it up in her hands ever so gingerly and held it close to her heart.

Magpie Tales is the vision of Tess Kincaid. If you would like to participate, just post your poem or vignette--based on Tess Kincaid's photo prompt--on your blog and link back to http://magpietales.blogspot.com.

Magpie Tales 63b

2011-04-29T18:38:00.008-04:00

Photo courtesy of Tess Kincaid, creator of Magpie Tales

by Laurel from the Creative Writing Circle at A Life Well Lived

The late afternoon sun filtered into the room through the sheers casting a greenish glow. Emma entered the room daydreaming as usual. As she walked past the coffee table, something caught her eye.

Glancing down at the coffee table, she noticed a triangular tube object, long and slim made from stained glass with a glass cylinder lying next to it. Emma picked it up and noticed that there was a place to insert the glass cylinder, containing what looked like glitter.

"Wow, this is so cool! It's almost magical," she thought as she realized that the object was actually a kaleidoscope.

She kicked off her shoes, sat down on the chaise, and began twirling the cylinder. Brilliant greens, reds, and golds folded into each other, then out again, mesmerizing her.

A voice from the kitchen called, "Emma! Emma! It's time to do your homework!"

"I'm busy!" Emma replied and went back to gazing into the kaleidoscope.

"Emma, now!" her mother roared.

"OK, OK... just a minute. I'm looking at the kaleidoscope. Where did you get it?"

"I found it in my mother's house when I was putting things into boxes for the Salvation Army" said her mother.

"Oh... I really miss Grandma," said Emma.

"I do, too," her mother answered softly.

"Mom, can I have the kaleidoscope?" asked Emma.

"Yes, Emma, my mother always said that she wanted you to have it when she passed, and so you will always remember her."

Magpie Tales is the vision of Tess Kincaid. If you would like to participate, just post your poem or vignette--based on Tess Kincaid's photo prompt--on your blog and link back to http://magpietales.blogspot.com.

Magpie Tales 63a

2011-04-29T18:10:00.005-04:00

Photo courtesy of Tess Kincaid, creator of Magpie Tales

by Kerry from the Creative Writing Circle at A Life Well Lived

"Happy birthday, Mitchell!" said his mother.

"I'm this many years old!" he replied.

Looking at all the gifts, one package caught his eye. "Can I open this one first?" He tore into the gift from his grandpa. A beautiful kaleidoscope was inside. "How does this work?"

His grandpa showed him how it worked. He turned it and turned it to see the beautiful designs. Mitchell was in awe. He had never seen anything like it. After the party, he took it back to his room and found a special place for it on his bookshelf.

Two days later, Mitchell got in trouble for not picking up his toys. His mother said, "Go to your room. You are grounded."

In his room, he saw the kaleidoscope sitting on the shelf. He took it down and started turning it. It was so much fun that he stayed in his room and forgot he was grounded.

Now whenever he gets sent to his room, he pulls down the kaleidoscope, lies on the bed, and turns and turns it. It always helps him to pass the time, and it gives him a chance to think about what he did. It was a very special gift.

Magpie Tales is the vision of Tess Kincaid. If you would like to participate, just post your poem or vignette--based on Tess Kincaid's photo prompt--on your blog and link back to http://magpietales.blogspot.com.

haiku my heart - kyrie eleison

2011-04-22T14:12:00.009-04:00

Kyrie eleison.

"Mother Mary comes to me."

Newborn of nature.

Haiku my heart is the vision of Rebecca Brooks at "recuerda mi corazon." If you would like to participate, just post your haiku on Fridays with an accompanying photo on your blog and link back to recuerda mi corazon.

Magpie Tales 62

2011-04-18T21:19:00.007-04:00

"How did you sleep?" she asked, pouring the coffee.

"Fine," he replied, sitting at the breakfast nook.

Elaine put the two plates of eggs and toast on the table and sat down. Paul began to eat without speaking or looking at her. She saw there was no life between them and started cutting her egg into a rigid triangle, sad, desperate, waiting for a sign.

Paul stood up, put on his jacket, mumbled he was going to be late for work. Elaine walked him to the door, touched his arm, reaching for intimacy. He nodded brusquely and rushed out the door.

As soon as his car pulled away, Elaine would go through all his pockets, drawers, and computer. Now what was his password?

"Et moi j'ai pris ma tete dans ma main et j'ai pleure." ~Jscques Prevert

Magpie Tales is the vision of Tess Kincaid. If you would like to participate, just post your poem or vignette--based on Tess Kincaid's photo prompt--on your blog and link back to http://magpietales.blogspot.com.

haiku my heart: the vaulted sky

2011-04-15T12:52:00.014-04:00

Vaulted sky, due west

the sun sets just as night falls.

Clouds in the kitchen.

Haiku my heart is the vision of Rebecca Brooks at "recuerda mi corazon." If you would like to participate, just post your haiku on Fridays with an accompanying photo on your blog and link back to recuerda mi corazon.

Share the Joy

2011-04-13T23:02:00.009-04:00

What gives me joy?

the elegance of Beaux-Arts architecture~

Union train station, Washington, DC

Penn Station, New York City

Grand Central Station, New York City

How enchanted one feels stepping off the train into this world!

Share the Joy Thursday is the inspiraton of Meri at Meri's Musings. To share your joy, please visit her at http://meriak.blogspot.com.

Magpie Tales 61

2011-04-11T21:31:00.004-04:00

photo by Tess Kincaid

It was the call to vespers at the monastery, a quiet time of reflection at day's end. Brother Augustine walked the walk of the cloister and entered the sitting room. The lights had been turned down, but he lit the candles, took a wine glass from the hutch, and poured himself a glass of St. Vincent cabernet sauvignon.

Brother Augustine sat at the table and studied the ancient tapestry. After a few sips of the deep red wine, he began to see the familiar disguised images appear: Jesus, Mary Magdalene, a unicorn from the Middle Ages. Satisfied, he put the glass down and proceeded to the nave.

haiku my heart ~ spring woods

2011-04-07T22:52:00.006-04:00

drawing by Barbara Bash

Bird song in the woods,
A fawn, lime green leaves. Oh, bring
Me my clarinet!

Re "being a fairy," Shavonne loved seeing her haiku on the computer and thanks everyone for reading it!

Haiku my heart is the vision of Rebecca Brooks at "recuerda mi corazon." If you would like to participate, just post your haiku on Fridays with an accompanying photo on your blog and link back to recuerda mi corazon.

Go ask Alice

2011-04-04T21:06:00.035-04:00

My son came home from his first week at Columbia wearing a tee-shirt imprinted "Go ask Alice." Of course to me it was a time machine back to White Rabbit, Grace Slick, and the Jefferson Airplane. Well, "Alice" turned out to be the office that answered bewildered freshmen's questions.

Fairy tales and myths such as these two films from last year, Alice in Wonderland and Black Swan, now seem to me a safe way for young people to learn why treacherous paths need to be avoided, bringing them into adulthood "keeping their heads." (This was the last line in White Rabbit: "Keep your head.") They remind parents not to judge too much (Black Swan) and to let their children play out their fantasies so they grow up knowing what reality actually is.

Charles Dodgson was in reality Lewis Carroll, author of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. The New York Times once compared him to Nabokov, author of Lolita. However, we would never say that about the Brothers Grimm and Hansel and Gretel or Charles Perrault and Little Red Riding Hood. Somehow we have to gain an awareness of our dark sides early on, and that is why these stories are acceptable. Perhaps Charles Dodgson never grew up himself; he comes perilously close to tampering with the innocence of the real Alice:

last two photos from April 2010 issue of Smithsonian Magazine

haiku my heart: out of the mouths of babes

2011-03-31T21:55:00.006-04:00

I am a fairy.
I am smaller than an ant.
I fly to the stars.

This haiku was written by Shavonne, age 5, in her Pre-K class. She enjoys writing, reading, dancing, and being a fairy.

Haiku my heart is the vision of Rebecca Brooks at "recuerda mi corazon." If you would like to participate, just post your haiku on Fridays with an accompanying photo on your blog and link back to recuerda mi corazon.

haiku my heart: thoughts from nature

2011-03-29T22:54:00.008-04:00

"Your praying mantis
Will peel the passionfruit, Sir.
He's carnivorous."

First, he chirped a bit.
Getting no reply, he ate.
Being a gecko...

Swimming downstream--the
Dog in joy or following?
Self-contained? Attached?

Black-pearl caviar--
Some to be plucked and eaten,
Some to string on silk.

photos courtesy of Byron Kay, Big Island, HI

Haiku my heart is the vision of Rebecca Brooks at "recuerda mi corazon." If you would like to participate, just post your haiku on Fridays with an accompanying photo on your blog and link back to recuerda mi corazon.

haiku my heart

2011-03-24T21:40:00.008-04:00

A Life Well Lived ~ Creative Writing Circle

Haiku by Kerry ~ Rose ~ Tara

Turtle in the sand,
Trapped and not moving forward:
She is laying eggs.

Photo courtesy of Byron Kay

My vision is clear.
I have my partner with me--
Together we see.

The color is red
Beginning to build power;
The center is black.

Haiku my heart is the vision of Rebecca Brooks at "recuerda mi corazon." If you would like to participate, just post your haiku on Fridays with an accompanying photo on your blog and link back to recuerda mi corazon.

postcards from paradise: support for Japan

2011-03-20T20:52:00.009-04:00

In the dark of night,
The full moon beams brightly a
Ray of smiling, HOPE.

Please visit our team leader Noelle at http://theangelswearfins.blogspot.com.
Her heartfelt invitation to offer support and compassion for Japan awaits you.

Haiku my heart for the global community

2011-03-17T23:24:00.019-04:00

Living off the sea

Welcoming us, their neighbors.

Spared, yet kneel to pray.

Photos courtesy of my free-diving family members Annabel Edwards and Jessica Wilson, taken in Okinawa, Japan, in 2010.

Okinawa, a cluster of islands south of Japan, was left virtually unscathed from the earthquake, tsunami, and nuclear reactor disasters. The Okinawans had the same instincts as we did: to pray at their many sacred sites for those suffering or lost farther north. The last photo shows their trying to save the earth from erosion.

Haiku my heart is the vision of Rebecca Brooks at "recuerda mi corazon." If you would like to participate, just post your haiku on Fridays with an accompanying photo on your blog and link back to recuerda mi corazon.

Wandering Angus

2011-03-16T20:26:00.003-04:00

I love to think of Celtic mythology at this time of year and dredge up my favorite poems and stories by Yeats, Joyce, Heaney, etc. Last year I highlighted the Song of Wanderin' Angus (the Celtic god of love and youth) by Yeats; this year I found another lass thinking about Dream Angus, too.

". . . Will he come to me, Dream Angus,
Come quietly throug the evening light,
Come when I do not expect him, and I am sleepy,
Come when I am drowsy, when I am ready for rest;
Will he come to me, Dream Angus?

. . .

Will I see the birds about his head,
The birds that are his kisses?
Will I believe that each of us,
Even he who thinks himself unloved,
May be transformed, made different
By one who finds him marvelous? Will I think that?"
~by Alexander McCall Smith from Dream Angus

Slainte!

4 comments:
...louciao... said...
Such delightfully colourful and varied images. I raise a glass of Guiness to you!

March 11, 2011 1:26 PM
Margaret Pangert said...
May the Irish hills caress you,
May her lakes and rivers bless you.
May the luck of the Irish enfold you.
May the blessings of Saint Patrick behold you.
Cheers!

March 11, 2011 8:54 PM
Diana said...
This was wonderful, I don't know how I missed it! Love Di ♥

March 12, 2011 6:47 AM
Margaret Pangert said...
Hi, Diana! Cheers! Love, Margaret

Prayers for Japan: mandala, a healing circle

2011-03-13T01:59:00.011-05:00

An offering of mandalas--healing circles--for Mother Earth who is in turmoil;
For our Earth--who is herself a mandala which keeps us whole--we honor its
White pineapple, a mandala, its essential self at the center.

We offer the wholeness and harmony of your spider web, a labyrinthian mandala.

Mother Earth, plase accept my humble mandala of your four directions on the wheel: north, south, east, west.
In its center, my sacred self.

Photo of white pineapple by Byron Kay

beautiful Sundays, postcards from Paradise is the vision of Rebecca Brooks at "recuerda mi corazon." If you would like to participate in Prayers for Japan, just post your postcard on Sunday on your blog and link back to recuerda mi corazon.

haiku my heart

2011-03-10T20:22:00.009-05:00

Ashes to ashes,

Unto dust shall thou return.

Diamonds in the sand.

Haiku my heart is the vision of Rebecca Brooks at "recuerda mi corazon." If you would like to participate, just post your haiku on Fridays with an accompanying photo on your blog and link back to recuerda mi corazon.

2011-03-06T21:52:00.004-05:00

"My candle burns at both ends

It will not last the night;

But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends -

It gives a lovely light."

~by Edna St. Vincent Millay in A Few Figs from Thistles

postcards from paradise

2011-03-05T22:46:00.013-05:00

In honor of Rebecca who reminded me of the timeless beauty and grace of Mary who always has a smile and outstretched hand...

Dear Mother Mary:
Share with us the mysteries
Of life, death, passion.

beautiful Sundays, postcards from Paradiseis the vision of Rebecca Brooks at "recuerda mi corazon." If you would like to participate, just post your postcard on Sundays on your blog and link back to recuerda mi corazon.

haiku my heart

2011-03-04T13:34:00.007-05:00

Crystalline clear brook
Flowing from its mountain source,
Not yet polluted.

Haiku my heart is the vision of Rebecca Brooks at "recuerda mi corazon." If you would like to participate, just post your haiku on Fridays with an accompanying photo on your blog and link back to recuerda mi corazon.

I look forward to sharing haiku every Friday with you!

Third Eye vision

2011-02-28T17:33:00.007-05:00

Violet informs
Spiritual awareness
in the Third Eye, dreams.

~photo by Tim Christie

Intuition comes
From the mudra of touching
Thumb, index finger.

~photo from Aveda

Water and music
Add psychic vibrations, too.
Open to nature!

~photo from Sunset

Fire unlocks our thoughts and puts them into motion.
"You've never seen fire until you've seen Pele blow." ~by Tori Amos

~photo from Sunset

haiku my heart

2011-02-24T20:28:00.007-05:00

A blizzard smothers

The old memories of warm
Blue nights, dewy grass.

Haiku my heart is the vision of Rebecca Brooks at "recuerda mi corazon." If you would like to participate, just post your haiku on Fridays with an accompanying photo on your blog and link back to recuerda mi corazon.

I look forward to sharing haiku every Friday with you!

Haiku Friday

2011-02-18T17:14:00.007-05:00

Haiku My Heart: Robin Pauses

Robin poised on bough:
To perch or to soar away?
Ask cherry blossoms.

Haiku my heart is the vision of Rebecca Brooks at "recuerda mi corazon." If you would like to participate, just post your haiku on Fridays with an accompanying photo on your blog and link back to recuerda mi corazon.

I look forward to sharing haiku every Friday with you!

photo by Bryan Murahashi

West Wind, poem 7, by Mary Oliver

2011-02-16T21:23:00.015-05:00

~photo by Annabel Edwards

"And the speck of my heart, in my shed of flesh and bone,

~photo by Byron Kay

began to sing out,

~photo by Benjamin Iobst

the way the sun would sing if the sun could sing,

~photo by Debra Barra

~photo by Margaret Pangert

if light had a mouth and a tongue,

~photo by Margaret Pangert

if the sky had a throat,

~photographer unknown

if god just wasn't an idea but shoulders and a spine, gathered from everywhere,

~photo by NASA's Hubble space telescope

even the most distant planets, blazing up.

~photo by Margaret Pangert

Where am I? Even the rough words come to me now, quick as thistles.

~photo by Byron Kay

Who made your tyrant's body, your thirst, your delving, your gladness?

~photo by Margaret Pangert

Oh tiger, oh bone-breaker, oh tree on fire!

~photo by Annabel Edwards

Get away from me. Come closer."

Owl Moon by Jane Yolen

2011-02-09T21:36:00.017-05:00

~"Wolf Moon"

"It was late one winter night,
long past my bedtime,
whem Pa and I went owling.
There was no wind.
The trees stood still
as giant statues.
And the moon was so bright
the sky seemed to shine.

~"Musical Notes in the Snow"

Somewhere behind us
a train whistle blew.
long and low,
like a sad, sad song. . .

~"Byron in Hawaii"

Our feet crunched
over the crisp snow
and little gray footprints
followed us.
Pa made a long shadow, . . .

~"Owl and Moon"

We reached the line
of pine trees,
black and pointy
against the sky,
and Pa held up his hand.
I stopped right where I was
and waited.
He looked up,
as if searching the stars,
as if reading a map up there.
The moon made his face
into a silver mask.
Then he called:
'Whoo-whoo-who-who-who-whooooooo,'
the sound of a Great Horned Owl.
'Whoo-whoo-who-who-who-whooooooo. . .'

~"Full Moon"

~"Crow against Snow"

~"Sparkling White Snow"

We went into the woods.
The shadows
were the blackest things
I had ever seen.
They stained the white snow.
My mouth felt furry,
for the scarf over it
was wet and warm.
I didn't ask
what kind of things
hide behind black trees
in the middle of the night.
When you go owling
you have to be brave.

~"Moon over Clearing in Snow"

Then we came to a clearing
in the dark woods.
The moon was high above us.
It seemed to fit
exactly
over the center of the clearing
and the snow below it
was whiter than the milk
in a cereal bowl. . .

~"Shadow Hooted"

The owl's call came closer,
from high up in the trees
on the edge oif the meadow.
Nothing in the meadow moved.
All of a sudden
an owl shadow,
part of the big tree shadow,
lifted off
and flew right over us.
We watched silently
with heat in our mouths,
the heat of all those words
we had not spoken.
The shadow hooted again. . .

~"Icicles and Cloud"

~"Glittering Tree"

When you go owling
you don't need words
or warm
or anything but hope.
That's what Pa says.
The kind of hope
that flies
on silent wings
under a shining Owl Moon."

haikubes

2011-01-17T18:25:00.005-05:00

Wicked! Wise woman
Rises through the grass's fault--
Radical villain.

She dreamily spi-
Ralled down the lofty surface
Full of grace and light.

Shades of teal shining
In the hard livid clamor
For life's last journey.

~underwater photo by Jessica R. Wilson

Love, the symbol of the second week in Advent

2010-12-06T23:02:00.011-05:00

Love, the second light,
Joins Hope to renew our lives
In great abundance.

the unconditional Love of God

romantic love...

marital love

reciprocal mother and child love

fraternal love

sisterly love

friendship love

love midst the animal species...

Then there is mother earth herself... We love and support her, abd she loves and supports us. Even in winter she is preparing new life to emerge in spring.
"Anticipation fuels overwintering animals to eat, build dens, and hoard. Molting, morphing, camouflage: adaptations for coming change. First snows come to quiet land." ~from the ECOlogical Calendar

Nature takes us to her breast and says, "nothing can dim the light inside of you!"

If you look closely, you can see her face and the ruby formed from the depths of the earth. And therein lies the nature of our spirits.

waiting in hope

2010-11-29T19:42:00.003-05:00

Aslan, the strong and noble lion, waits in anticipation at the gate. Inside, he will meet Father Christmas, and together they help the children of Narnia.

...another metaphor for waiting in hope: lighting the candle for the first week of Advent.

the slippery slope

2010-11-27T21:45:00.005-05:00

Flying down that slippery slope from Thanksgiving to Christmas! That hectic, harried time of year!

Nature was just showing us the splendor of autumn, and tomorrow begins the first week of Advent. As we light the purple candle, we think of Hope--hope in the sense of expectation, awaiting the arrival of our hearts' Christ, our spiritual selves.

While we are waiting, we can slow down and allow ourselves to live in the present, a Zen moment of mindfulness.

Happy Thanksgiving

2010-11-24T15:33:00.001-05:00

What have we learned from the Native Americans? To live in the present, to be grateful, to be eco-friendly.

the Spirit of Native Americans

2010-11-22T20:46:00.009-05:00

The Native American genetic code exists today.

The sound of the flute still reminds us of spring, and the spirit of Kokopelli sings to us.

We then saw the summer moon and the image of the proud, powerful Comanche, Quanah Parker. His mother was a European pioneer who lived among the Native Americans and learned their ways.

There is a hotel in northern California called the Gaia. The rooms are placed in a circle--like Gaia, mother earth--and like a Native American village. The center is green, the color of life, and in it is a firepit to release our prayers and show the way. Each room is named after something in nature: a bird, a mountain, running water.

The turning leaves tell us it is autumn. One of the first Native Americans known to the pioneers was Squanto. He had inherent knowledge about feeding himself and his soul. He believed in showing kindness to others, such as the Pilgrims. Thus, it is to Squanto that we express gratitude this Thanksgiving.

margaretPANpipes

2010-03-12T21:12:00.009-05:00

a taste of MargaretPANpipes . . .

A Reliable Wife by Robert Goolrick

2010-03-03T23:10:00.000-05:00

The blizzard of 2010 was like going back in time to the Wisconsin winter of 1907. It snowed for days. We lost power, heat, water, lights. In A Reliable Wife by Robert Goolrick, this was the life they faced in the grim Wisconsin winter of 1907.

Wisconsin, early 1900's

Northeastern United States, 2010

Is the setting of Wisconsin's bitter winter of unrelenting snow meant to represent "quiet desperation" or the white purity of redemption?

The premise is that a stern, well-to-do businessman (after a wild misspent youth, we discover) has advertised for a wife, and she is on her way to meet him.

Typical dress, early 1900's

Catherine isn't what she seems, either. A St. Louis dissipated demi-mondaine steps off the train a demure, disciplined fiancee.

St. Louis vintage mansion

Goolrick sees his characters as psycholoigal studies: distorted by difficult childhoods or having discarded their moral compasses. Jung had a very different idea in that we aren't so much formed by our childhoods as by our universal archetypes (Memories, Dreams, Reflections) and thier dualty in the mirror. Catherine is the prostitute / reliable wife, Ralph the victim / chief, Anthony the child / profligate.

We can add our will by the choices we make. I love how Catherine was able to change herself into someone creative, artistic: she sewed, played the piano, introduced a red singing bird in a cage. The complete transformation from the frozen tundra was the imagining of an Italian "giardino segreto," "a secret garden, the lemon house, fragrant in the evening and in the day a barrage of color and foliage. She read about the hellebores, which burst with blossom through the late winter snows, the foxgloves and delphinium and the old Bourbon roses. She read about heliotrope and amaranthus and lilies. She read about the hostas that thrived in shade, and the Japanese painted fern, its delicate leaves fringed with indigo brush strokes. She said the names over and over, cataloguing them: calendula, coleus, and coreopsis. She was enchanted."

A Reliable Wife by Robert Goolrick

2010-03-03T21:56:00.008-05:00

Home Safe by Elizabeth Berg

2010-02-20T19:26:00.000-05:00

Once again, Elizabeth Berg has created a sensory experience that you immediately want to step into. Her protagonists are women who only develop their sense of self, resilience, and independence when they're forced to. You start to think, "I'm artistic, intuitive, and creative, too." The Year of Pleasures made you think of Anthropologie; Home Safe actually takes you there.

Helen discovers she has a gift for teaching writing. She overcomes mean stabs from the publishing world. She tries to anchor herself to her daughter who in turn feels smothered. She has begun the process of pecking her way out of the egg.

Her husband has left her her dream house in Mill Valley, California! She sees it, but questions where her home is really, in her new autonomous life. It seems the blue jay pecks away without disturbing a pretty strong egg.

Home Safe by Elizabeth Berg

2010-02-20T18:28:00.007-05:00

Bright Star

2010-02-15T21:18:00.000-05:00

"A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; . . . "

wrote John Keats in "Endymion" at the age of 23. He described both the grandeur of nature and the despondency of gloomy days.

"Beauty is truth, truth beauty, that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know."

Beauty is once again the inspiration for Keats in his "Ode on a Grecian Urn" written in 1819.

"Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art--
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart, . . .
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth's human shores, . . . "

Keats wrote "Bright Star" for his young love, Fanny Brawne. This is also the name and subject of the movie directed by Jane Campion. Living and loving life while desperately ill and poverty-stricken probably contributed to the depth of his writing and upheavals in his relationship with Fanny.

The movie bravely follows Keats to Italy and his subsequent death of tuberculosis in 1821. Percy Bysshe Shelley drowned while sailing a year later and is buried near Keats. You can still visit the studio of Keats in Rome at the top of the Spanish Steps.

Bright Star

2010-02-15T19:59:00.011-05:00

blissfully connecting

2010-02-08T21:02:00.003-05:00

I hope all my blogger friends had a wonderful holiday season. Please accept my apologies for my unannounced leave of absence. I am happy to be in connection with you all again.

The Last Song by Nicholas Sparks

2010-02-07T22:36:00.000-05:00

The owl can sense love in all its forms: new love, sibling love, filial love, love of God, love of an endangered species, love of music, love of friends. The Last Song by Nicholas Sparks exemplifies them all, and what better occasion to celebrate them than Valentine's Day?

Seventeen-year-old Ronnie (played by Miley Cyrus in the upcoming movie) and her younger brother Jonah are leaving New York to spend the summer with their Dad (played by Greg Kinnear) in North Carolina near the beach. Their parents have been estranged for three years, and Dad Steve wants to reconnect. Ronnie rebels as her life is established in a totally different direction, and she doesn't want to disrupt it. She even objects to her father playing the piano, a love they once shared. Because of the way he interprets love, he walls the piano room up, a step closer to understanding.

When a nest of loggerhead sea turtle eggs is found on the beach behind their home, the common cause of watching and protecting them creates a bond that brings them all closer, including Ronnie's "southern" boyfriend (played by Liam Hemsworth).

One clue we have to Steve's big-heartedness is his reading the Bible. He quotes to Ronnie (at her request) Galations 5:22: "But when the Holy Spirit controls our lives, he will produce this kind of fruit in us: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control." "Life, he realized, was much like a song."

The Swan Thieves by Elizabeth Kostova

2010-02-07T22:33:00.000-05:00

I enjoyed this book! The Swan Thieves is a luscious page-turner right to the very end of page 561.

When we first meet the protagonist Robert Oliver, he is a realist-yet-unreal painter in a psychiatric hospital for having acted out an obsession. Larger than life, Robert dominates a stage peopled by his psychiatrist Andrew Marlow, ex-wife Kate, ex-lover Mary, and vivid memories of those from another era.

Robert's obsessive passion is a nineteenth century French impressionist named Beatrice de Clerval. Chimera? Fantasy? Real? When Kate finds a drawing in his shirt pocket, "it is the sketch of a woman's face. She glanced up with recognition, her eyes luminous, her look serious and loving. . . It was the face of a woman in love." When Marlow discovers Beatrice's portrait at the Met, he says, "She was a real woman all right. But not a living one." Robert himself had said, "When you see a painting that was painted by someone who's been dead for a long time, you know without a doubt that the person really lived."

A theme slowly emerges, one that explains everything in the end. Marlow, one of the principal narrators, unveils the story to his father who remarks, "This man is doing penance. That's what you're describing, I think. He punishes his flesh and suppresses the longing for his soul to speak about its misery. He mortifies body and mind to atone for something. It seems to me that all those paintings are a part of his penance. Perhaps he is apologizing to her?" Marlow replies, "If he's apologizing to a hallucination, he's in worse shape than I've thought up to now." His father, a minister, thoughtfully states, "Faith is what is real to us."

We see history repeat itself. The metaphor of Zeus as a swan has functioned as a musical round down through the ages. Women fall in love and unexpectedly get pregnant. Women die in someone's arms. The "effets d'hiver" recur every year, and the colors and shapes of snow and ice are a revelation to artists anew. A psychological disorder repeats itself.

The beauty of The Swan Thieves is to be read and savored by all readers; to give away more here would be a travesty.

Brown Rice - heady and unhulled!

2010-02-07T22:28:00.004-05:00

Good v. evil is perceived in different ways in three novels by Dan Brown (The Da Vinci Code, Angels & Demons, and The Lost Symbol) and one by Anne Rice (Angel Time). Anne Rice has stepped up to the plate to take on this struggle and--as a woman--boldly bites into the apple. Dan Brown, a bit more cerebral, juxtaposes the polarity between reason and religion with the dark side of each.

The imagery from The Lost Symbol largely derives from Masonic symbols, such as the square, compass, and G for geometry/God shown above.

One of the climatic turns Robert Langdon's feverish trail takes is to the sub-basement of the U.S. Capitol. A Mason--at the time of George Washington and Benjamin Franklin--would meditate in a Chamber of Reflection such as this. (photo from Freemasonry: a history by Angel Millar.) ". . . cold, austere places in which a Mason can reflect on his own mortality. By meditating on the inevitability of death, a Mason gains a valuable perspective on the fleeting nature of life." (from The Lost Symbol by Dan Brown.) This is a mystical world based on Ancient Mysteries, i.e. The Bible, displayed in symbols throughout Washington, DC, and a race against evil. Two lovely images are 1) the field of Noetic Science, that "the intention of the mind can create change in the phsyical universe," and 2) the pyramid without a tip is a "reminder that man's ascent to his full human potential was always a work in progress." ~Dan Brown

Anne Rice envisioned hordes of angels descending to earth in response to just as many prayers wafting up through the ages. Her hitman-cum-angel Toby O'Dare plays the lute, emotes to Stravinsky's The Rite of Spring, and is soothed by the lush beauty of the Mission Inn in California. Her descriptions delight the senses: "But the interior of the restaurant was no less enticing, with its lower walls of bright blue tile, and the beige arches above artfully with twining green vines. The scored ceiling was painted like a blue sky with clouds and even tiny birds." Yes, he is prepared to go back to the Middle Ages to answer some of those soaring prayers.

Angel on cover of Angels and Demons

One of the Illuminati symbols in Dan Brown's Angels and Demons was fire. How could that represent evil?

The Sistine Chapel has soaring grandeur as well as buried secrets that threatened to bring down the Catholic Church in Angels and Demons.

In the Da Vinci Code, Mary Magdalene is portrayed as one of Christ's intimates.

The Last Song by Nicholas Sparks

2010-02-07T21:35:00.000-05:00

The Last Song by Nicholas Sparks

2010-02-05T19:42:00.000-05:00

The next book up for review is The Last Song by Nicholas Sparks, now in its 20th week on The New York Times bestseller list. A Sea of Books (www.aseaofbooks.blogspot.com) is hosting a giveaway contest for three copies of this book from the Hachette Book Group. Be sure and sign up soon as the entry deadline is 2/10/10! Good luck!

The Swan Thieves by Elizabeth Kostova

2010-02-03T00:07:00.000-05:00

Brown Rice - heady, unhulled slice of life!

2010-01-15T16:29:00.000-05:00

What the owl told me was that good v. evil is perceived in different ways in three novels by Dan Brown (The Da Vinci Code, Angels & Demons, and The Lost Symbol) and one by Anne Rice (Angel Time). Anne Rice has stepped up to the plate to take on this struggle and--as a woman--boldly bites into the apple. Dan Brown, a bit more cerebral, juxtaposes the polarity between reason and religion with the dark side of each. WHAT DOES THE OWL TELL YOU?

The imagery from The Lost Symbol largely derives from Masonic symbols, such as the square, compass, and G for geometry/God shown above.

One of the climatic turns Robert Langdon's feverish trail takes is to the sub-basement of the U.S. Capitol. A Mason--at the time of George Washington and Benjamin Franklin--would meditate in a Chamber of Reflection such as this. (photo from Freemasonry: a history by Angel Millar.) ". . . cold, austere places in which a Mason can reflect on his own mortality. By meditating on the inevitability of death, a Mason gains a valuable perspective on the fleeting nature of life." (from The Lost Symbol by Dan Brown.) This is a mystical world based on Ancient Mysteries, i.e. The Bible, displayed in symbols throughout Washington, DC, and a race against evil. Two lovely images are 1) the field of Noetic Science, that "the intention of the mind can create change in the phsyical universe," and 2) the pyramid without a tip is a "reminder that man's ascent to his full human potential was always a work in progress." ~Dan Brown

Anne Rice envisioned hordes of angels descending to earth in response to just as many prayers wafting up through the ages. Her hitman-cum-angel Toby O'Dare plays the lute, emotes to Stravinsky's The Rite of Spring, and is soothed by the lush beauty of the Mission Inn in California. Her descriptions delight the senses: "But the interior of the restaurant was no less enticing, with its lower walls of bright blue tile, and the beige arches above artfully with twining green vines. The scored ceiling was painted like a blue sky with clouds and even tiny birds." Yes, he is prepared to go back to the Middle Ages to answer some of those soaring prayers.

Angel on cover of Angels and Demons

One of the Illuminati symbols in Dan Brown's Angels and Demons was fire. How could that represent evil?

The Sistine Chapel has soaring grandeur as well as buried secrets that threatened to bring down the Catholic Church in Angels and Demons.

In the Da Vinci Code, Mary Magdalene is portrayed as one of Christ's intimates. What says the owl?

symbols of nature

2009-11-23T14:00:00.014-05:00

The belief system of the Native Americans assigned an animal spirit keeper for each of the four directions.

The buffalo was the totem of the North. It taught endurance and contemplating knowledge.

The spirit of the East is represented by the eagle who teaches new beginnings and creativity.

The coyote, spirit keeper of the South known as the Trickster, gives the gift of trust.

The animal spirit keeper of the West is the grizzly bear, a problem solver and teacher of family and community values.

Drumming was often used to communicate with the spirit keepers and to get in touch with one's own heartbeat, which was sacred.

The first Thanksgiving held in 1621 between the Plymouth colonists and the Wampanoag Native Americans was as it is today: an expression of gratitude, giving thanks.

Wild turkey was on the menu from the Pilgrims.

The Native Americans brought five deer for the venison meat.

Indian corn and gourds were crops raised and harvested by the Native Americans.

Gratitude to my blogger friends!

Sources:

Dancing with the Wheel by Sun Bear, Wabun Wind, and Crysalis Mulligan.

Sacred Drumming by Steven Ash.

The First Thanksgiving, article by Kathleen Curtin, Historian at Plymouth Plantation.

the last of his tribe

2009-11-17T22:42:00.014-05:00

Ishi, the last survivor of the Yahi tribe, Shasta County, northern California,
ca. 1860 - 1916

My pioneer ancestors settled in this area, creating a ranch on Bear Creek.

My father was raised here after the last remaining Native American, Ishi, had died.

Ishi returned to Deer Creek with anthropologists from the University of California where he showed them the Yahi method of salmon spearing.

Years later, my father fished a different way.

My parents traveled a different way.

My parents are on the original family homestead.

My grandparents on the right were born and raised here when a handful of Native Americans still lived there, too (my parents on the left).

My grandmother told my sister and me the following story: "One day in the late fall it started to feel like the first snow of winter: geese were flying overhead, squirrels were scurrying around collecting acorns, dark clouds were forming, and the sheets weren't getting dry on the line. I brought them in for ironing.
As I went back to the woodshed for more firewood, I found myself staring at a shriveled up, tiny Indian woman standing there stark naked. She began speaking rapidly in a language I couldn't understand. She pointed to her stomach and I could see her ribs sticking out. The first thing I thought to do was grab a housedress and hand it to her. How could I even think of communicating with her standing there totally nude?"

"She took the dress, distractedly folded it up and put it in a bundle she was carrying made of birch twigs and deer hide. She was so distressed she did it without thinking and continued gesturing and speaking excitedly.
I just could't invite her in undressed, so I ran to get something for her to eat. Some dried venison and a jar of canned cherries were the best I could do that afternoon. She carefully wrapped the food in the dress and securely fastened it into the backback, touched her heart, and ran away."

Ishi's tribe dwindled down to just him in 1911, and he walked to Oroville, California, where he was ultimately turned over to the Department of Anthropology at the University of California. They were very kind to Ishi and in turn learned much of an extinct civilization from him.

Ishi died from a "white man's" disease, tuberculosis, in 1916 at the age of 56. This is his death mask.

Something Told the Wild Geese

2009-11-14T01:26:00.002-05:00

Something told the wild geese
It was time to go.
Though the fields lay golden
Something whispered,--"Snow."
Leaves were green and stirring,
Berries, luster-glossed,
But beneath warm feathers
Something cautioned,--"Frost."
All the sagging orchards
Steamed with amber spice,
But each wild breast stiffened
At remembered ice.
Something told the wild geese
It was time to fly,--
Summer sun was on their wings,
Winter in their cry.
by Rachel Field

peaceful moment at end of day

2009-11-09T15:05:00.011-05:00

(photo montage by Carol Jessop)
a cup of tea tonight

a fire in the chiminea this afternoon

later a walk down to the woods past the glowing chiminea

(photo by David Grewcock)
the hoot of the owl in the moonlight to his friend

the blooming Christmas cactus as a centerpiece

("Seven Metals, Singing Bowls of Tibet" by Benjamin Iobst)
the chiming resonance of the singing bowls in the background

the pets nestling down in the quiet

("The Breakfast Room" by Pierre Bonnard)
the tranquil, aromatic cup of tea

quiet, calm time

Recipe from Aromatherapy by Valerie Gennari Cooksley, R.N.:
"Tea for Two"
2 tsp rose petals
1 tsp spearmint herb
1 tsp licorice root (ground)
1 tsp hawthorn herb
a pinch of the following:
coriander, cinnamon, and nutmeg
vanilla or ginger honey to taste
Bring three cups of water to a boil.
Place the herbs in the hot water and simmer on low for three minutes.
Remove from the heat and steep for five minutes.
Strain and drink.
(I substitute any missing herbs with drops of Young Living Essential Oils.)

the frost moon

2009-11-06T23:38:00.006-05:00

(photo of moon over Mt. Fitzroy in Argentina by Space.com)

"The Child and Grandmother Moon"
Grandmother Moon,
Teach me how to touch the stars,
To give the sky a smile,
To wait for the rainbow after the storm.
And I will share with you
The laughter in my eyes,
The warmness of my love,
The trust within my heart,
And the innocence of my greatest joy--
Knowing I am watched over by you.
~from Earth Medicine by Jamie Sams

"And the Dark Has Encapsulated the Nighttime, and the Trees Are Gone"
The moon was out last night, mysterious as ever,
Janus-faced, casting its light over the stubborn trees,
and when I went out, singing beneath the willow,
who else but the lucky owls, the inscrutable fox,
the secretive hedgehog, and the scotopic moles
would have seen me there, who else might have
known that I was singing to no one? . . .
~ from And by Michael Blumenthal

icon Leonard Cohen

2009-11-03T22:04:00.007-05:00

Bird on the Wire by Leonard Cohen
"Like a bird on the wire, like a drunk in an old midnight choir, I have tried in my way to be free. Like a worm on a hook, like a knight bent down in some old-fashioned book, it was the shape of our love that twisted me. . . "

Leonard Cohen, icon, poet/songwriter

Composer/performer of the most amazing song, Hallelujah:

Suzanne by Leonard Cohen
"Suzanne takes you down to her place near the river, you can hear the boats go by, you can spend the night beside her. And you know that she's half crazy but that's why you want to be there, and she feeds you tea and oranges that come all the way from China. And just when you mean to tell her that you have no love to give her, she gets you on her wavelength and she lets the river answer that you've always been her lover. And you want to travel with her, you want to travel blind, and you know that she can trust you for you've touched her perfect body with your mind. . . "

Book of Longing, poetry and drawings by Leonard Cohen

from Book of Longing by Leonard Cohen

from Book of Longing by Leonard Cohen

from Book of Longing by Leonard Cohen

in loving memory

2009-11-01T16:34:00.001-05:00

In loving memory of those who have gone on before.
All Saints' Day ~ All Souls' Day

precognition at Halloween

2009-10-30T20:12:00.002-04:00

As the wise old owl flies in front of the full moon, imagine that you are Cerridwen, at once the past, the present, and the future. You stir your cauldron in front of a fire and make an intention from your heart. Gaze at the fire and clear your mind. Allow guidance from your inner self to present itself.

And please have an M&M, my treat this Halloween!

Autumn Leaves, Les Feuilles mortes

2009-10-27T15:39:00.016-04:00

"The falling leaves drift by the window.

The autumn leaves of red and gold

I see your lips, the summer kisses

The sun-burned hands I used to hold

Since you went away the days grow long

And soon I'll hear old winter's song

But I miss you most of all my darling

When autumn leaves start to fall."

"Oh! Je voudrais tant que tu te souviennes

Des jours heureux ou nous etions amis.

En ce temps-la la vie etait plus belle,

Et le soleil plus brulant qu'aujourd'hui.

Les feuilles mortes se ramassent a la pelle.

Tu vois, je n'ai pas oublie . . . "

"Les Feuilles mortes" was written by the French surrealist poet Jacques Prevert.
The English translation, "Autumn Leaves," was written by Johnny Mercer, American lyricist and singer. Here it is sung in English by Nat King Cole.

Happy Halloween!

2009-10-25T21:28:00.013-04:00

Meet Cerridwen, the wise Welsh witch who points the way for us at this time of change, Halloween, Summer's End.

"Double, double, toil and trouble," chants Cerridwen as she stirs the boiling cauldron of possibilities.

Cerridwen is testing the current of what is to be.

On Halloween night the "unearthly otherworld" is allowed to be visible. Ghosts might appear!

Cemeteries might be disturbed!

Mummies awaken from their ancient slumber.

Our own dark sides might haunt us.

Jack o'lanterns ward off evil spirits.

Happy (Samhain - Summer's End) Halloween!

My roots are buried here.

2009-10-21T21:25:00.015-04:00

bookend: Mt. Shasta

Fragrant fern and
Flowers; colors of the heart.
Garden offers life.

See the jungle maze?

Foliage thrives in a riot

Of green, breathing life.

Bird song, rustling leaves.

Turning leaves, ripening grapes, autumn: all point to change.

Content to stay in safety behind the rock walls~

But encouraged by the fiery red horse to jump for freedom~

("Cabin Fever" by Susan Rothenberg)

I follow the stepping stones to the unfettered path.

Seashells! Mild, steady, stable at sea level~

Opposite the challenges of the mountain peaks~

bookend: Mt. Lassen

up, up, and away!

2009-10-13T11:27:00.013-04:00

Taking a week's vacation to California; will be in touch!

"Feels like home

Feels like home to me

Feels like I'm on my way to where I come from

Feels like home to me

Feels like I'm on my way back to where I belong"

"Feels Like Home" by Randy Newman

Give my regards to Broadway

2009-10-08T17:38:00.013-04:00

"Manhattan has been compelled to expand skyward because of the absence of any other direction in which to grow. This, more than any other thing, is responsible for its physical majesty." ~by E.B. White

Empire State Building
"I am an American boy, standing up to the world.
I sleep the city sleeps. We dream
the riveter's dream, held island-fast.
I wake to taxi alarms.
I am a 102-stop elevator ride to heaven. . .

. . . I am ten million bricks of unshakable faith.

I capture imagination at its peak.

I hugged King Kong, he hugged me back.

I look down on Broadway for a work of art,

the Fulton Fish Market for a slice of life,

United Nations Headquarters for a little peace. . .

. . . It's lonely up here without my twin brothers,
the World Trade Center Towers.
Wait here on my doorstep, Central Park,
while I look over Harlem.
I am an American boy, face to face with the world."
~by J. Patrick Lewis

In a Square of Times Square
"Evidence suggests a clock and its fast hand
is the most fitting tribute for continuity.
Times Square (light-lit night) . . .

. . . is the backdrop for our story, just as Eden
as an orchard is one narrative
beginning. In that one, the snake
as a tempter announces time's end. . .

. . . The Square sits in a city that is less a set
idea and more a disdain for sameness.
Times Square was always changing.
Of course truth was always one side . . .

. . . of certainty. She stops and looks up and sees
the scenic depiction of a drama-charged life
on the Times Square billboard above,
where an actress is asking a moment, . . .

. . . "What are you?" Asking and asking
to the sound of a whistle calling a cab."
~by Mary Jo Bang

" . . . while I walk on
the sunny pavement of Greenwich Village,
down Manhattan, clear winter noon, and I've been up all night, talking,
talking, reading the Kaddish aloud, listening to Ray Charles blues . . . "
~by Allen Ginsberg from Kaddish (I)

We had this calendar framed at the end of August 2001 to commemorate our son's last year at Columbia University. Two weeks later, the Towers were gone.

"The city, for the first time in its long history, is destructible. It used to be that the Statue of Liberty was the signpost that proclaimed New York and translated it for all the world. Today Liberty shares the role with Death."

~by E.B. White

the Boss, Bruce Springsteen

2009-10-05T23:57:00.009-04:00

The dream of a lifetime was being at Giants Stadium in New Jersey to see Bruce Springsteen's Working on a Dream tour. "Bring on your wrecking ball. Come on, take your best shot," was the opening number in tribute to all the concerts Bruce and the E Street band had performed at this stadium, now to be torn down and replaced.

photo from concert program

Standing in the pit, we began the E Street Shuffle which was originally started at The Stone Pony in Asbury Park down the shore. This was followed by Bruce's signature song, "Born to Run."
photo by Ben Pangert

Born in Freehold, New Jersey, Bruce was drawn to "Jersey Girls." "Now baby won't you come with me Cause down the shore everything's all right. Nothing matters in this whole wide world When you're in love with a Jersey girl." The Urban Dictionary says, "Girls from Jersey are absolutely different from just normal girls. Jersey Girls create their own definition. Jersey Girls are about being the life of the party, and not caring whom they're with or where they are; they will still make the night memorable in every way possible. Skanky? Yes they are, but they have the attitude to make you love them. They don't view life as hell; they view life a a huge party, and they're going to take risks more than be controlled and reserved. They wear caked make-up and shaggy-cut, multicolored, teased hair."

photo from concert program

Bruce values the American dream, from despair to hope. He is, after all, "Born in the USA."
photo from concert program

2009-10-05T23:56:00.003-04:00

I thought of the beach today.

2009-10-03T16:46:00.004-04:00

I thought of the beach today.
I remembered the warmth, the freedom, the sound of the crickets,
The luscious book, the delicious cold water,
The heat engulfing the night.

Larger and larger it loomed.
The sea was glimmering with sparkles!
The air shimmered in the sunset!
The shells were spun of pure gold!

But now I hear the crackling of the fire,
Smell the aroma of simmering cider,
See a panorama of turning leaves,
And think this too will be bittersweet.

Open your mind, James Agee!

2009-09-28T19:54:00.003-04:00

Open your mind, James Agee!
Ease your brokenness from the inside.
Burn the fragrant wood for a moment of peace.
Beat your message on the drum.
Paddle up the river, and swim with a moose.
Your inner self is waiting through the arched doorway.
The fields of nature, the circles and wheels,
The paths to self.
Slow down the chirping of the wood thrush
'Til they sound like dolphins,
Soothing, the "ruah" breath.
Leave your door open, James.

Collage and poem by Margaret

experience coming to the New World

2009-09-25T00:11:00.012-04:00

Far

We've been travelling far

Without a home
But not without a star

Free

Only want to be free

We huddle close

Hang on to a dream

On the boats and on the planes

They're coming to america

Never looking back again

They're coming to america

Home, don't it seem so far away

Oh, we're travelling light today

In the eye of the storm

Home, to a new and a shiny place

Make our bed, and we'll say grace

Freedom's light burning warm

Everywhere around the world

They're coming to america

Every time that flag's unfurled

They're coming to america

Got a dream to take them there

They're coming to america

Got a dream they've come to share

They're coming to america

Today, today, today, today, today

"America" by Neil Diamond

the signs of summer's end

2009-09-19T02:49:00.014-04:00

An abundance of seeds are dispersed.

The tomatoes begin to thin out.

Full grown pumpkins? Must be the garden jokester!

Brilliantly-colored leaves drop to become food and shelter.

The days are getting shorter.

The Art of Catnapping

2009-09-16T23:27:00.007-04:00

Revitalize yourself by taking a catnap during the day.

Step One
Relax with the scent of a sedative essential oil, such as lavender, rose, mandarin, jasmine, sandlewood, or marjoram.

Step Two
Play some calming background music, such as Celtic, Invocation, Reiki Whale Song, Seven Metals, Floating on Evening, Bliss, or Moon on the Water.

Step Three
Touch a soothing piece of fabric, such as cashmere or silk.

Step Four
To become even drowsier, put on a quiet video, such as The Quiet Man or Cash McCall, or read a few pages from a short story by Katherine Mansfield, Doris Lessing, or Mavis Gallant.

Step Five
Awaken after 20-30 minutes feeling refreshed--your mind clearer and more alert--and energized to greet the rest of the day.

2009-09-14T23:26:00.002-04:00

Chinese Medicine, one-act play by Margaret

2009-09-14T22:32:00.010-04:00

"I got seven pictures of Buddha

The prophet's on my tongue

Eleven angels of mercy

Sighin' over that black hole in the sun

My heart's dark but it's risin'

I'm pulling all the faith I can see

From that black hole on the horizon

I hear your voice calling me

Let it rain, let it rain, let it rain

Let it rain, let it rain, let it rain, let it rain"

~from Mary's Place by Bruce Springsteen

Twig: "Come on, Flame, light my fire."

Flame: "Sorry, but I'm pretty burned out, Twig, and I have to conserve."

Twig: "Please! I just need a spark!"

Flame: "Can't do it, Twig." (exasperated)

Twig: "River, quench my thirst!"

River: "Sorry, but my well has pretty much run dry, Twig, and I have to conserve."

Twig: "Please! Just a drop to wet my lips!"

River: "Give it a rest, Twig." (exasperated)

The two men nod conspiratorially at each other.

Flame and River: "OK, Twig, we'll give it up. Stand in the earthen basket."

The two men come closer, brandishing fire, metal, and water.

Twig, intimidated: "Look never mind! I don't want your fire and water! Please, stop!"

Flame ignites the parchment.

Twig screams over and over in protest. She becomes fainter as the flames consume the parchment.

River pours a vial of water over the remaining embers; all that remains is a pile of ashes.

Twig lifts up the crystals that had generated from the ashes and holds them in the palms of her hands. Joyfully she says, "Thank you, Flame and River, for purifying me, for releasing me into this radiant new entity!"

The Circle of Life

"It's the circle of life

And it moves us all

Through despair and hope

Through faith and love

Till we find our place

On the path unwinding

In the circle

The circle of life"

~by Elton John and Jim Rice

2009-09-14T21:16:00.007-04:00

feelings

2009-09-11T16:30:00.007-04:00

Fear

Caterwauls his need to feel safe.

His paws on the windowsill

Knock on the glass to escape the smoke and explosions.

The worry of danger, the unknown.

Desire

Pushes it paws at a confining window,

Switches its tail in impatience;

Intent on being outside in the grasses,

He resignedly awaits his chance.

Content

To carry the Water to a lavender garden,

To glide across the water's surface,

To careen down water's freefall:

Pleasure.

"I am . . ." poem, inspired by poemcrazy, freeing your life with words

2009-09-09T21:47:00.008-04:00

I am the glad color of yellow, being carried rapturously away.

I am the shape of a spiral, spinning in an ever-widening labyrinth on life's river.

I am the movement of flying down snow slopes and rushing rivers.
I am the sound of shrieking, a car without brakes.

I am a maple tree, inspired to paint my own leaves.

My maple tree reaches out to encourage everyone to paint.

Now, most days, I am a gentle, cuddly, napping cat.

beliefs about nature

2009-09-04T20:33:00.007-04:00

Could that be a bird-headed snake goddess in Brooklyn?

A sea urchin's panorama?

Take a heady whiff of nature;

Touch a green leaf.

pastel by Georgia O'Keeffe

So peaceful

The sleeping lady of Malta,

The sea undulating around her.

painting by David Finn

The illusions of the mandrake root:

A shoal of gold fish.

A bowl to hold a bell, a conch shell, or holy water.

watercolor by Barbara Bash

The inner child and its dragon lanterns.

Add a drumming circle.

The Moroccan cloth carder spins fiber into thread.

Wasn't that the task of Venus de Milo?

photo by Corbis/Kevin R. Morris

The sacred trinity,

The fawn, the doe, and the old doe,

New moon, full moon, waning crescent moon,

Rooted, supported, nurturing.

watercolor by Barbara Bash

where some famous authors lived

2009-09-02T00:12:00.007-04:00

Monk's House in Sussex, England, was a refuge to Virginia Woolf who did so much of her writing there: "emotion recollected in tranquility," to paraphrase Wordsworth. It was therefore all the more shocking that it was from this house that she walked to the River Ouse to drown. A feminist forerunner, she said in her essay A Room of One's Own, "A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction."

William Butler Yeats lived his middle years in Thoor Ballylee near Galway, one of those square stone towers one sees all over Ireland. It was here that he and his wife Georgie developed automatic writing for inspiration. It was also here that he wrote The Wild Swans at Coole, The Tower and The Winding Stair. A few of my favorite lines from The Song of Wandering Aengus:
"And pluck till time and times are done
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun."

Karen Blixen, aka Isak Dinesen, had to leave her intoxicating life in Africa at its apogee to return to Denmark. Like Woolf, she also spent her remaining years writing "emotion recollected in tranquility," notably Out of Africa and Babette's Feast. Raymond Carver quoted her as saying in Writers at Work, "I write a little every day, without hope and without despair."

Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa was one of a dying breed of Italian aristocracy: he was a prince under King Victor Emmanuel III living in a magnificent palace and was deeply embittered when this world collapsed with World War II and the bombing of his home. He re-created something of his old lifestyle with the purchase of a palace in the Via Butera in Palermo, Sicily. He described the old world in The Leopard (Il Gattopardo) which was made into a movie.

Jean Cocteau lived the last years of his life here in Milly-la-Foret near Fontainebleau in France. A pastiche of photos of friends--Jean Marais, Coco Chanel, Picasso, Edith Piaf--and collectibles line this wall draped in leopard print. A suurealist and forerunner of the New Wave movement, Cocteau wrote the novel Les Enfants terribles and the original screenplays for Beauty and the Beast and Orpheus. He also wrote for Diaghilev and the Ballets russes.

Photos by Erica Lennard

boundless generativity

2009-08-30T14:10:00.007-04:00

No startling sensations.

No toxic release.

Just gentle, soft possibilities.

In my garden is the pulsing web of life.

Ask an angel. Truth chants from the

Blue-winged butterfly, the yellow-winged bird,

And the hum of the potatoes.

At the jazz piano bar

I held a rose between my teeth.

He played the ever-turning rhythms--

Passions of jealousy.

Blue wings sedate.

The dragon fighters surrender.

Anger lodged in the spinning of the wind.

Butterfly photos by Rick Sammon.

New York Times Book Review cover illustration by Olaf Hajek.