Missed.

Missed. There's a missing, in mist. But the beauty lies in what's not seen, scene, known. What I look for, is what's not there. But what is there, but not seen. There's something beneath. All ways. That's what I look for. Where sky meets water, mist conjoins, miracle -- redound. ---- waves come back ---- [Origin: 1350 1400; ME redounden < MF redonder < L redundāre to overflow, equiv. to red- red- + undāre to surge (deriv. of unda wave; cf. undulate); cf....

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The recluse

The recluse Since I was young, I've been attracted to the alone. That is, places that are lonely. And, too, being alone. People say -- how can you be alone? Isn't it...lonely? How can you travel by yourself? While I love being in, with other people, I also savor being alone. Being silent. Speaking nothing. I think this came from a time when I was young, that being alone was common and that exploring, finding things, objects in nature, engaging in fantasy was a common examination and play....

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Finding Fire.

Finding fire. Liquid heat. Isn't that something, the character of flame, found -- licking and consuming; hungry and self nourishing? Shooting fire is a compulsion (along with starting fires). I like the study of fire -- watching it closely. But, like anything, it's hard to shoot, it keeps moving. And sparks, like... life. Easy to be consumed. Find fire, your self. --- T

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the figure, wheels

Note to Greg Furman | The figured wheel by Robert Pinsky G. thanks for sharing this rich piece of writing, soulful, tormented, yet clear, in vista... his sweet self Which he hereby unwillingly and inexpertly gives up, because it is There, figured and pre-figured in the nothing-transfiguring wheel. Isn't it so, then that the spinning wheel... really changes nothing -- because it is change itself? That it rolls and moves and crushes, ornamented and made of the minerals of being, dust motes in...

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Light and presence

Light and presence. A couple of years back, in being with my parents at their home overlooking the waters of Lake Coeur d'Alene, I'd sat up, sometime around 5 am, out on their deck, looking into the trees, and painting the light as it came through the grand pines, that reach skyward. And from that, I'd redrawn these visualizing a kind of spirit of light, coming through the trees, flickering the glimmering of the morning bound, rippled and water shimmer, warm light refracting. I was there a...

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come back to me.

come back to me Some things go out, go out -- and they are gone, they never come back. Like the little ships of paper in Bali, the papered lit and floating sky cylinders in memorial in Thailand, the fired and floating vik drums of Scandinavia, the floating pyres of India, set adrift on the shore of the Ganges. They go out, they don't come back. I believe, in way, that they do, they always come back -- what energy goes out, there, out there, at some point, it returns. And perhaps that return is...

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Pattering patterning | this morning Decatur; last week, NYC

Pattering patterning | this morning Decatur; last week, NYC ---- There's a pattering, the patterning of sound, this morning. I'm writing about sound, I suppose, because it's pure black, this morning. You can't see anything, out there -- it's all blackened sound. But all morning, since sometime past midnight, it's been raining. Here, that's meaningful. The island house is designed as a kind of echo chamber for sound. The overhanging galvanized structure captures sound from above, and scoops it...

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Dense, the sound

Dense, the sound. I was so tired, this morning. I'd arisen at 3.30am --NYC. That, after 3 hours of sleep; I'd worked till midnight. Past then, I suppose, half past. Then I'd boarded in Newark, flying away before 7am, EST. I got into Seattle 5.5 hours later, taxied to Queen Anne, then bolted northbound. Island bound. When I arrived on the island, getting organized, setting myself up, there was a rough, dense, scratching sound -- a scruffing, roughing, scuffing sound. It was like there was...

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Gabrielle Girvin, cairn builder

I've been setting stones in balance for decades. I like the idea of setting stones as, just that, finding balance. You set them, they align, the gravity pulling them, the string reaches to the center of the earth. And sometimes, they stay in alignment. And sometimes they fall -- and you have to rebuild them, if that's what you'd like to do. Or you can leave it be, and contemplate what's been done, and what's changed. Things are built, find their balance, then fall. It's the way things go....

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Jack Lenor Larsen | 80

Jack Lenor Larsen at his apartment55 Park, NYC There are influencers in life -- people that connect with you, and connect you with others, that are profound change agents in your experience. I can recount a number of them -- people that generously did things for me, with me, that changed me forever. I walk back through four and more decades, in my mind, and think: who changed my life?Surely I'd count my parents as key inspirators. In no sequence, then...try this yourself. I remind my self of...

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