1
Summer’s pond
autumn’s dance floor
winter morning
2
A passing car…
I look up startled to see
a patch of blue sky!
3
honk! honk! honk!
a distant chorus merges
with the empty sky
Late December, #63
winter
Early winter gift, #62
gift’s gift
the hand of passersby
music fills the air
A new day, #13
I was reading a chapter titled “Live in the Present Moment,” when I was stuck by this quote, “Remember that this moment is not your life, it’s just a moment in your life.” (1) I thought to myself how this would be a good thing to share here in my blog. But as I thought about it more, the realization came that in the act of thinking about this, I went from being in the moment to not being in the moment!
I find this quote a good practice in these difficult times in the world and in my immediate surroundings; To feel gratitude for being present and to ask what I can do to flatten the curve while continuing to be social and offer assistance to my neighbors. I’ve reached out to neighbors and friends to offer friendship and an openness to ask if there is anything they need, responding as the moment requires. It also occured to me that to simply stop doing and to stay home is a compassionate act toward others, especially those that are at a higher risk.
Part of my practice is to be diligent and with intention be considerate of my neighbors. I look forward with curiosity about how the next several weeks will progress and how this event will shape our relationships with each other and this place we call home.
The wild grasses
Painted with a thin spring frost,
The morning light pops!
(1) Ryan Holiday, The Obstacle is the Way (Penguin group, 2014)
48
afternoon, #12
melting snow on edge
layers embedded with stone
roaring waterfall
morning, evening, #11
cool quiet morning
flock of birds above full moon
light as a feather
moist patches of green
peeking through winter stubble
welcome this spring rain
Morning Winter Sun, #8
First image in the light in dark investigation:
Winter air frozen
sleeping berries sun fading
morning moon rises
Last image of the light in dark investigation:
Snow-Mountain blankets
blossoms awaken moon fades
morning winter sun
As spring approaches morning walks have given way to light from dark. This is the opposite of when I started this investigation last fall when the morning gave way to dark from light. I invite you to view the gallery of images of the journey between here:
Passing Winter Breeze, #6
Cold temperatures have returned to the Palouse for the time being. My walk to the tea shop was much cooler today than the walk I took last week on my way to have tea with a friend. During our visit my friend shared something that made me think of intention. Afterwards I wasn’t so sure and asked myself, “What would it be like to take a photograph of intention?” So I set out to do the opposite of what I usually do. Rather then let the photograph come in the moment, I tried to intentionally take a photograph of “intention.” The week went by and I had not taken a single photograph. Finally I did take a photograph, but it wasn’t what I set out to do. The photograph I took happened in the moment when I stopped being intentional.
Looking up ‘intention’ in the dictionary I found these common words: purpose, goal, target, and aim. This to me was the opposite of my experience. When I made it a goal to get a picture, it didn’t happen, but when I let go of that intention on one of my walks later in the week, I was open to experience my surroundings.
During that same week I was considering a lifestyle change because of an offer I received at work. Because of this, my work day experience shifted. I stopped thinking of my future at work. I found myself focused during meetings and projects, helping and feeling gratitude for others rather than being concerned about a process or a perceived outcome of a project or task. There was a letting go of what I thought were my intentions, of goals and targets. Instead my ‘intention’ became an awareness of my actions with no goals or targets. For the first time in a while, I experienced a peaceful joy on the job.
Now I wonder, what possibilities did I miss last week that were right there with me when looking to photograph intention?
Fallen leaf floating
the frozen grasp of waters
Passing winter breeze
A word, a sound, #4
Do you ever feel like you’re walking along, the is air calm and warm, and then a word, a sound, changes everything? The breeze becomes cold flowing from the core, rippling to the surface.
This kind of energy has been flowing through me on and off the last few days as I’ve considered some changes. What does one do with this energy?
Walking on, when I got to the light I stopped. I looked back at the person I barely noticed passing. Did I say, “Good morning?”
The light changed and I walked on still shivering. Passing another person I said, “Good morning.” They replied with a kind smile. I heard them say to another behind me, “Good morning.”
Branches sway cracking
ripples inward outward flow,
Silent lion roars
Light in Dark, #3
This photograph is part of the investigation I am currently exploring titled “In lightness and darkness.” It began when the sun started showing up much after my morning walk and drive to work. Instead of putting the camera away because of the darkness, I brought it with me to investigate what this time of day had to offer.
The experience I had taking this picture was different than most of the other photos I’ve taken so far in this investigation. Along with a beautiful experience, I found myself having thoughts of judgement: “Who in their right mind would leave a couch out here!” “It looks terrible! What an eyesore!” And yet, at the same time, the experience had a beauty of its own.
Could I have met this water swollen couch on the corner as it was, without judgement, in the same way I would meet a beautiful deer walking down the street?
Does the camera judge when the shutter is activated? Or does it become part of the action and receive the light of the moment?
These are questions I will keep in mind on my walks light and dark.
Rising weathered bones
below high cliff water trickles
springing winter bud
Sitting quietly, #2
A friend shared a book he was reading titled “Haiku” and I found this:
*”Sitting quietly, doing nothing,
Spring comes, grass grows of itself”
On the internet I found that haiku attributed to Matsu Bashio along with a commentary on doing nothing, just to be. However, I find the winds are not always still and to ‘just be’ not so easy.
I had just finished shoveling snow and raking the roof when I noticed the potted bamboo under the weight of the snow sitting quietly. The snow on the bamboo sitting quietly. And the barrel and dirt sitting quietly. It was then it occurred to me that the winds will always blow and that the practice is to sit quietly and ‘just be’ within them.
Right after I took this photograph, I pondered about changing the title to “Sitting quietly”.
*Reginald Horace Blyth (1952): _Haiku_, Tōkyō: Hokuseido pg.20