Desert wildflower.
We look upon it as if on display at a gallery
We do not realize the stemmed navigator
Returning surveillance
With petal-laden aperture.
-DMM
Friday, April 29, 2005
Opaque Slivers in the Mist
Desert wildflower.
We look upon it as if on display at a gallery
We do not realize the stemmed navigator
Returning surveillance
With petal-laden aperture.
-DMM
Thursday, April 28, 2005
Copasetic Retina
"I'm convinced my eyelids know things I don't."
-Alex Caldiero
Alex Caldiero was [and still is] as common as chips and salsa and drinking out of the backyard hose at my home growing up. His personality is as warm as his words and poetry are odd and thunderous. We like Alex. I am excited to introduce my little ones to the haze of "Arvadic" communication Alex deliveres.
Links to Alex's endeavors
http://www.lib.utah.edu/spc/rar/westward_bound/26.html
http://www.artistsofutah.org/15bytes/05feb/page4.html
http://www.slweekly.com/editorial/2003/arts_2_2003-09-04.cfm
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=4579360
Have a listen to Alex's "Poetry is Wanted Here" (NPR)...
http://www.npr.org/dmg/dmg.php?prgCode=DAY&showDate=06-Apr-2005&segNum=12&NPRMediaPref=WM&getAd=1
Wednesday, April 27, 2005
Anne Frank Memorial - Boise, Idaho
I stopped by the Anne Frank Memorial in Boise, Idaho on the lone way back to my hotel room. It is an emotional experience to stand amidst such thought and tribulation. Here are some of the mural's quotes:
"Believe me, of you have been shut up for a year and a half...Cycling, dancing, whistling, looking out into the world, feeling young, to know that I;m free--that;s what I long for..."
-Anne Frank
"Here, root yourself beside me.
I am the tree planted by the river
Which will not be moved.
I, the Rick, I, the River, I, the Tree
I am yours--your passages have been paid.
Lift up your faces, you have a piercing need
For the bright morning dawning for you.
History, despite its wrenching pain,
Cannot be unlived, but if faced
With courage, need not be lived again
-Maya Angelou "On the Pulse of Morning"
"It's never too late to give up your prejudices."
-Henry David Theroux
"It's better to die on your feet than to live on your knees."
-Emilio Zapatas
"I have fought against white dominion, and I have fought against black dominion. I have cherished the ideal of a democratic and free society in which all persons shall live together in harmony and with equal opportunities. It is an ideal which I hope to live for and achieve. But, if need be, it is an ideal for which I am prepared to die."
-Nelson Mandela
"All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing."
-Edmund Burke
Universal Declaration of Human Rights
"Whereas recognition of the inherent dignity and of the equal and inalienable rights of all members of the human family is the foundation of freedom, justice and peace in the world."
"We dedicate this tree to freedom, which grows best when planted deep and nurtured by all."
-Trus Joist
Colored Bridges
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. Color elicits an array of emotions. My favorite color is sky blue. It is not alarming nor bland. It is welcoming and oddly infinite. When I meet someone wearing sky blue--I am inclined to like them.
What about white? A color? The absence of? Herman Melville writes "whiteness refinement's enhances beauty." He illustrates white has been made significance of gladness. The Romans marked a white stone as a sign of a joyful day. He continues, "this same hue is made the emblem of many touching, noble things--the innocence of brides, the benignity of age;...whiteness typifies the majesty of Justice in the ermine of the Judge...milk-white steeds...symbol of the divine spotlessness and power...snow-white bull...sacred White Dog." Whiteness is a symbol of cleanliness and purity. It is also refreshing. A youthful air permeates when a laundry load of "whites" comes out of the dryer. Whiteness requires a degree of comfort which I will explain after eluding to Melville's opinion of whiteness.
"...With whatever is sweet, and honorable, and sublime, there lurks an elusive something in the innermost idea of this hue, which strikes more of panic to the soul than that redness which affrights blood." Melville mentions objects of this innermost hue eliciting such emotion:
White bear of the poles
White shark of the tropics
White steed of the Praries
White Albatross
Albino man
Gauntleted ghost of the Southern Seas
White equally
New-fallen snow
White Friar
White nun
White Tower of London
White Mountains of new Hampshire
White Sea
"The tall pale man"
Shrouded phantom of the whitened waters
Snow-howdahed
White depths of the milky way
White elephant
Albino Whale
I believe one has to be able to handle the "whiteness" of this world. Too many of us are hard on ourselves to a default. Many people, situations, thoughts and actions can be frightening. Melville compares these white doings to terror, horror, discomfort and darkness.
I believe life is full of light and white things are good. The most important aspect of whiteness is a clear conscience. A white conscience will permeate when an individual is "white" to oneself, their family, their fellow-men and most importantly to God. Striving for whiteness in life is a worthy endeavor. Life will never be perpetually white. Our conscience will remind us of what we need to do to improve our life. A wise man once said, "a fragile conscience is a sign of a healthy spirit." As we strive to be squared away with ourselves, our family, our fellowmen and God we are more happy and content with simple nuggets of happiness life has to offer.
"Or is it, that as in essence whiteness is not so much a color as true visible absence of color, and at the same time the concrete of all colors."
.
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
Whales are Scarce as Hen's Teeth
In Herman Mellville's Moby Dick he refers to "The Mast-Head." I feel all individuals have their own personal mast-head in their life--a somewhat contrived place or thoughts of escape:
"There you stand, lost in the infinite series of the sea, even as ships once sailed between the boots of the famous Colossus [huge statue; one of the Seven Wonders...lost in the infinite series of eh sea, with nothing ruffled but the waves."
I often find myself on the cusp of envy when driving by a small farm or visiting an undecorated hospital room. This is because of the perceived simplicity of life. Living in a bare cement room or beneath a lush tree on a small island seems refreshing and enlightening. There would be nothing to do except concentrate on what supposedly matters the most. Post-simple thought tells me there would be no way to maintain a sense of dignity if I were not anxiously engaged in a good cause. Life is beautiful because it is full. Life is even more beautiful when it is shared by the Good Lord and a loving family.
"The tranced ship indolently rolls;the drowsy trade winds blow; everything resolves you into languor. For the most part, in this tropic whaling life, a sublime uneventfulness invests you; you hear no news; read no gazettes; extras with startling accounts of commonplaces never delude you into unnecessary excitement; you hear of no domestic afflictions; bankrupt securities; fall of stocks; are never troubled with the thought of what you shall have for dinner--for all your meals for three years are snugly stowed...your bill of fare is immutable."
Life is not meant to be walked alone. However, a mast-head for all is necessary to escape the immutable roar of busy life to be able listen to the beauty of God-given life and be thankful.
"There is no life in thee, now, except that rocking life imparted by a gently rolling ship; by her, borrowed from the sea; by the sea...But while this sleep, this dream is on ye, move your foot or hand an inch; slip your hold at all; and your identity comes back in horror"
Don't drive drowsy.
"There you stand, lost in the infinite series of the sea, even as ships once sailed between the boots of the famous Colossus [huge statue; one of the Seven Wonders...lost in the infinite series of eh sea, with nothing ruffled but the waves."
I often find myself on the cusp of envy when driving by a small farm or visiting an undecorated hospital room. This is because of the perceived simplicity of life. Living in a bare cement room or beneath a lush tree on a small island seems refreshing and enlightening. There would be nothing to do except concentrate on what supposedly matters the most. Post-simple thought tells me there would be no way to maintain a sense of dignity if I were not anxiously engaged in a good cause. Life is beautiful because it is full. Life is even more beautiful when it is shared by the Good Lord and a loving family.
"The tranced ship indolently rolls;the drowsy trade winds blow; everything resolves you into languor. For the most part, in this tropic whaling life, a sublime uneventfulness invests you; you hear no news; read no gazettes; extras with startling accounts of commonplaces never delude you into unnecessary excitement; you hear of no domestic afflictions; bankrupt securities; fall of stocks; are never troubled with the thought of what you shall have for dinner--for all your meals for three years are snugly stowed...your bill of fare is immutable."
Life is not meant to be walked alone. However, a mast-head for all is necessary to escape the immutable roar of busy life to be able listen to the beauty of God-given life and be thankful.
"There is no life in thee, now, except that rocking life imparted by a gently rolling ship; by her, borrowed from the sea; by the sea...But while this sleep, this dream is on ye, move your foot or hand an inch; slip your hold at all; and your identity comes back in horror"
Don't drive drowsy.
The End of the Game
An insightful song of recent adulthood...
Sting - End Of The Game Lyrics
The fox has done running
And the beast is at bay
We'd run them in circles
By the end of the day
They chased him through brambles
They chased him through the fields
They'd chased him for ever
But the fox would not yield
And some saw her shadow
On the crest of a hill
When the hounds were distracted
Away from the kill
One day we'll reach a great ocean
At the end of a pale afternoon
And we'll lay down our heads just like we were sleeping
And be towed by the drag of the moon
We ran through the forest
We ran through the streams
We ran through the heather'
Til we ran in our dreams
You were my lover
And I was your beau
We ran like the river
For what else did we know?
One day we'll reach a great ocean
At the end of a pale afternoon
The dogs are all worn out
And the horses are lame
The hunters and hunted
At the end of the game
Our love was a river
A wild mountain stream
In a tumbling fury
On the edge of a dream
They chased us through brambles
They chased us through fields
They'd chased us forever
But the heart would not yield
When the fox had done running
At the end of the day
I'm ready to answer
I'm ready to pay
And this rivers still running
And time will come soon
Carried to the great ocean
By the drag of the moon
MIDI version:
http://www.findmidis.com/download.go/1633
Sting - End Of The Game Lyrics
The fox has done running
And the beast is at bay
We'd run them in circles
By the end of the day
They chased him through brambles
They chased him through the fields
They'd chased him for ever
But the fox would not yield
And some saw her shadow
On the crest of a hill
When the hounds were distracted
Away from the kill
One day we'll reach a great ocean
At the end of a pale afternoon
And we'll lay down our heads just like we were sleeping
And be towed by the drag of the moon
We ran through the forest
We ran through the streams
We ran through the heather'
Til we ran in our dreams
You were my lover
And I was your beau
We ran like the river
For what else did we know?
One day we'll reach a great ocean
At the end of a pale afternoon
The dogs are all worn out
And the horses are lame
The hunters and hunted
At the end of the game
Our love was a river
A wild mountain stream
In a tumbling fury
On the edge of a dream
They chased us through brambles
They chased us through fields
They'd chased us forever
But the heart would not yield
When the fox had done running
At the end of the day
I'm ready to answer
I'm ready to pay
And this rivers still running
And time will come soon
Carried to the great ocean
By the drag of the moon
MIDI version:
http://www.findmidis.com/download.go/1633
Maple Rise
Welcome friends. This blog's creation has been insipred by the tree city of Boise, Idaho. I don't know much about "blogging" but I do like how my brother's blog "Wheatburn" has introduced me into his world and unique insights.
I am wedged beneath a Marriott hotel desk anticipating Sushi in 30 minutes...Edamame and Wasasabi are mere garnishings to the soul of a lone traveler.
I am wedged beneath a Marriott hotel desk anticipating Sushi in 30 minutes...Edamame and Wasasabi are mere garnishings to the soul of a lone traveler.
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