Amends, Thinking About Lessons, and To Whom It May Concern

I often fail to see the Grace in a thing
until after, sometimes still, long after.

I often fail to express the Grace in a thing
my heart and my mind just cannot pin it down, with words that carry my meaning.

I grieve to think
that my lack somehow, has not taught you to notice nor to feel Grace.

I smile to think
of the many times that I fell down and then I got back up, to feel Grace myself.

I cry a little
to think of the bumps and mistakes that you will have to make, from which I failed to save you.

I grin a little
to know that I would make such a glaring mistake, and keep you from your own Grace.

I watch, and I wait, and I hope for you a life of joy, of peace, and of a love that truly suits you.
With all of my being.

Labels, Fate, and Change, The Daily Aries Ponder (52)

Dear Reader, I moved all of the Daily Aries Ponder posts to their own blog. In the last weeks and whiles, many of those close to me are having various life on life’s terms experiences–which is the way it is, and, well, today I just happened to look and I found that this particular ponder might be of assistance or some word for somewhat helpful. here follows the repost of The Daily Aries Ponder (52).

Goooooooooooood Evening!!

Waves like Granny Clampett!~~~

Life on life’s terms WOW!! Moment after moment moving into the next. Sometimes parts of life literally demand that one stop being in the moment that keeps them grounded and sane, and forces them to revert to a horrible behavior of what if and guess guess and forecast far into the future and all of this to people please! GAG!!! It’s interesting to watch systems and people in groups function. Many of them at core, no matter their espoused purpose to begin with, end up with expectations of one sort or another. It amazes me that so many are sad and depressed at all of the hoops and hurdles and shoulds and barriers that oppress, and yet we as people force ourselves into this state of feeling to begin with, with social cliques and norms, ostracizing all that is foreign to us. Even in the help books we read or the lessons people offer, if we see or feel a different way, people feel threatened enough to attempt to shepherd us or shut us up–going against what on the surface seemed to be the reason for publishing the book or teaching the lesson to begin with. None of us are Saints and sh…stuff happens 🙂

I read the reading below, and part of me recalled this weight of oppression. Then, I felt the storm. I shut my eyes, and thought of the freedom of my eyes to create and to view that which is near and dear to me while I move through all of that sand. I lifted me above the storm to see the sun dancing on the clouds in a rainbow of colors. I noticed that when I stopped reacting and figuring what to do, I saw the glint of light that filtered down to my eyes from each small grain of sand who’s faceted surfaces bounced against each other with joy to remind me where I am.

“Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn’t something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn’t get in, and walk through it, step by step. There’s no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That’s the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine.

And you really will have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You’ll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others.

And once the storm is over you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.”
– Haruki Murakami
Kafka On The Shore
lassie and timmy

Dancing Through A Storm,
Elisa, One Aries

Midsummer Evenings–June First Friday in Downtown Williamsport, PA

Good Evening!  I felt forced–I can DO that to myself, can you imagine it?!?! (snorfle)

I went back to the car and got the camera and the parts pleased to have some enjoyment time where all of the kiddos were occupied, smiled at the bright blue sky, hefty camera in hand, and exhilarating and creative evening breeze.  The insistent upon forced bit just really seemed to wish to badger me and say no no get to work no exhilaration!  And THERE, under the trees was…

Pan laughing at me and digging in his lil goat heels...

And I laughed while frowning at this shot that still isn’t my taste as I’m writing now.  And I looked around for an idea to shoot, which if you have read of my image shooting before does tend to get me ‘flat’ images, rather than those that speak and breath life.  One important aspect to life for me is knowledge, stimulation, input, and pondering things.  I turned, felt the golden light and…

James V. Brown Library Main Entrance

I frowned and thought that two shots did not make a Midsummer’s Evening.  I thought to decide NOT to decide what I would post and to simply walk along taking images and let them form themselves or for me to pick and choose later and not tell anyone.  Music and art galleries and crowds pulled me to join them and so, I went.

Beautifully Restored Building Downtown

I heard piano music next!

Beautiful Piano Notes Floating On The Air

I was at Bloomington Gallery: Fine Art and Antiques

There were disconnected heads to be decorated with different hats and posh clothes in order to fit impressions, though it seemed the mask had cracked a bit from working so hard not to notice the myriad reflections in the handy mirror, of course just ever so helpfully out of view of the ever so prim and proper head.

Perfect Mask

Mirror for A Mask

I was very pleased with all of the things to see in this place.  And the amazing people that I met!  An artist was sketching and I realized that she was one of the first people to come and to look at my images at the first of these First Friday Events, when I had a table and JOY OF JOYS!!  She remembered me!  That felt very nice.

Her name is Aly Mitchell.  Tonight, I got to see her works and a portrait creation in progress.

I also met the one sitting for the portait and his friends and family, who are also connected to the owner of the shop, who was out of town for the evening.

The man’s name is Nellie Stutzman.  Someone referred to him as “The King of East End”.  East End is a section of town.  Before I could get more of that story, his wife said….did he tell you about the shirt?  And I said noooooooo….TELL ME ABOUT THE SHIRT!

I went and asked him about the shirt…he made his face very flat and he blinked and he said, “I got this shirt at Bar Harbor at an Irish Shop.”  I did not write down his exact words, but I was sniffing a funny.  He also mumbled about it being a perfectly FINE shirt as evidenced by the tuxedo bits.  He kept a straight face and asked me what I thought was the matter with his shirt.

I said oh NO, it was THOSE female type persons over THERE in that far corner.  He said oh yes I know them(was his wife) and said…”you go back over there and tell them that I do not like them.”

In between all of this I got pictures of Nellie sitting, mostly still and of Aly drawing him.

The King of East End

I had a really nice evening and I learned that I need to adjust for motion as I go along!  Wonder what I’ll find tomorrow night?

Morning Trip (39)

“One of the most curious characteristics of human beings – particularly westerners – is that pain and inconvenience stimulate their vitality far more than pleasure. In a very precise sense of the word, human beings are spoilt. A spoilt child is one who has come to expect certain privileges and accepts them as rights. He is not grateful for these privileges; in fact, they bore him. The only time he feels strongly about them is when they are curtailed; then he sulks. All human beings take their happiness for granted, and only question life when they are in pain.”
– Colin Wilson
Beyond the Outsider