by Tim Girvin | Jan 24, 2011 | Diary
In Portland, last night, I could see the glimmer of the moon, fullish — hidden in the mists of the late sky; there were no stars to be seen — except straight up, in the darkest part of the arc of misted blackness. I was thinking about the moon, her...
by Tim Girvin | Jan 21, 2011 | Diary
Photo by Tim Girvin As I walk the abandoned farm land of pressed grains, weeds and rushes, since there is a chill – I can hear the needles of cedar, pine, crackling like ice. And there, in the field, is a piece of rusted iron, found in the sea, but now resting...
by Tim Girvin | Jan 19, 2011 | Diary
Photo by Tim Girvin To the wood, the physical practice of chopping wood is the distinction from the hard, and blood scenting brace of cold iron — the blade of the ax — to the splitting wet of the wood that is new, and just fallen. And older timbers, that...
by Tim Girvin | Jan 14, 2011 | Diary
Matthew Girvin, on the day of his receipt of his Unicef passport – the global passcard of commitment to humanity It was today, ten years back, that my father called me to let me know that we’d lost my brother Matthew Girvin. Matt was on a helicopter...
by Tim Girvin | Jan 13, 2011 | Diary
BRIGHT LIGHT Photo by Tim Girvin LIGHT MIND. METAPHORS OF THE LUMINOUS INTELLIGENCE I’ve been working with scientists, these days, exploring ways to tell stories in a manner that people can understand. Or better still, ways that truly celebrate the power of what...
