a matter of perspective

Life seems overwhelming sometimes. And, I have learned through the years that it is usually a matter of perspective. I was deep into my own thoughts and concerns today, not focusing well on what needs to be done, only ruminating on what likely cannot be done and what should never even be considered. I needed to find some healthful vegetable for dinner and walked to a nearby Latin grocer. As I came around the corner, I saw for the second time in two days an elderly man going to do his shopping. He is in a wheelchair and is blind. He uses his red-tipped cane to gauge how close his wheelchair is to buildings, cars and the curbs. He was smiling. I was not. My dreary outlook had no element of the courage this man exhibits in just doing his daily outing. It is a matter of perspective, as I am sure that he did not see tapping his way along the street as a matter of heroic effort. I did.

This photo is just of beauty. I need that today and the rain drops on this rose are simple beauty.

without serenity

It has been nearly 2 weeks since I posted. Lots of busyness and a lot lethargy. Then, that dreaded computer crash and the hours of each day seemed to change. The simple awareness of how much technology has come to be a participant in my life, outlook and even self-esteem has been a true wake up call. I have one techie friend who takes “technology breaks” and won’t look at email, surf the web or use his phone for anything other than necessary phone calls for a pre-determined time. It is intentional on his part. My break was forced and I did not deal with it in serenity or even with pleasure. I am going to contemplate when and how those placid interruptions need to come into my life.

The photo: The grip of the metal on metal seems to be much like where life has been for awhile. But, behind it is an amazing blue sky....with just a hint of clouds to let me know the day is probably cool, as our summers here tend to be. And, I love that!

not quite universal

Awareness seems to come to me slowly sometimes, or in big batches demanding attention. Over the past week it has been about kindness. It has come to me in daily inspiration passages, in overhearing kind or unkind remarks, thinking about my own opportunities for kindness that have been missed, or those that have manifested. I looked through my journals for other times this was in my thoughts and found several quotes. I had not remembered even writing some of them down. So, awareness does come slowly.A brief internet search brings up thousands of quotes, poems and prayers. Obviously not just my concern, but one that is nearly universal!

Quotes on kindness:

Wherever there is a a human in need, there is an opportunity for kindness and to make a difference.

            Kevin Heath

Practice kindness all day to everybody

and you will realize you’re already

in heaven now.

            Jack Kerouac

The best part of life is not just surviving,

but thriving with passion and compassion

and humor and style and generosity

and kindness

          May Angelou

What wisdom can you find that is greater than kindness?

            Jean Jacques Rousseau

Remember there’s no such thing as a small act of kindness. Every act creates a ripple with no logical end.

          Scott Adams  

Be Kind to Humankind Week (August 25-31) was created in 1988 by Lorraine Jara, after she heard a report of passersby ignoring a drowning man in distress. She was inspired to foster greater kindness in the world.

sharing art on the street

An artist who lives on my street has been hanging 3-4 art pieces every week for several months on the street level window screens of an apartment building. Some are collage, some drawings and few oil or watercolors. They are meant to be taken by passersby. I have been pausing each time I go by to listen to comments of the folks who stop to look. They are usually positive, sometimes expressing a great deal of appreciation. Most people look and then leave them in place. But, in a day or two, all of the art has been claimed by someone. The artist dates the pieces. Some are new and some are from past years. For those of us who write or paint or do photography with virtually no hope of making a sale, it seems like this sharing is a viable and sensible way of getting “recognition” for your work---and for clearing out your house!

inspiration to passion

The “artists’ book” is art that is realized in the form of a book. There are major collections of these works and the Pacific Center for the Book Arts mounts a significant exhibition every three years at the San Francisco Public Library’s Main branch. The passion and devotion of artists for their special area of work was so apparent last Saturday at a walk-through with the artists. From concept to completion of a final work may take months, even years. The central medium of the art ranged from non-traditional book forms, including photography, collage, hand-made paper to more traditional art forms of printing and the plastic arts. As each artist discussed their work, I thought of how we are called to a “passion”. In sports, dance, writing, in caring for family & loved ones, or for preserving a cultural heritage ─ what inspiration takes an individual from interest to passion?

I did not take any photos at the exhibition, but thought in this time of the World Cup, the passion of so many of my neighbors seems to be soccer and this photo might do to represent it..

lost in the sunlight

Are we given dusk to see what would be lost in brilliant sunlight? Do the smudgy, darker days of our lives sometimes have a greater clarity than those full of sun? Or, is it that the gloaming slows us for night?  Night followed by dawn. And, then it all repeats in a slightly different variation. Life, I guess.  (However, I did get a chance to use “gloaming”…which was the word that came to me when I took the picture.)

a second butterfly moment

Several years ago, on a warm summer day a magnificent painted lady butterfly landed on my arm. It was one of the most amazing moments of interaction with nature that I have ever experienced. We, the butterfly and me, stood silently interacting for long moments and then the painted lady moved on. This morning, sitting in my garden enjoying the soft fog-littered breeze, a Monarch landed on my arm and seemed to be observing me. It then moved to a flower, its more normal site. The photo is terribly out of focus, but so glad to have it. The poem is from the previous encounter.

When a painted lady touched my arm

Vanessa Cardui.  Hina,

messenger of truth.

Wings in symmetrical mandala:

symbol and man in a gyred dance.

You migrate from a somewhere:

on a code,

a portent, a command?

Unsure passing:

as real as death, certain as life—

signaling the intricate contingencies of love.

Oh, butterfly. Be not the trickster. 
Be the painted lady who touched my arm.