by Tim Girvin | Mar 6, 2011 | Diary
(a hallway meandering found, a personal photograph of a detail of Cappy Thompson’s glasswork, Swedish Hospital: http://bit.ly/hvwWQu) MY FATHER AND MOTHER HAVE INSTILLED A LOVE OF PLANTING IN OUR FAMILY. The planting inheritance, a flourishing of the verdurous...
by Tim Girvin | Mar 5, 2011 | Diary
I’VE BEEN WALKING, THE LATE NIGHTS, THE EARLY SHIFTS. SOME AIR, IN EITHER — BOTH FROSTED IN THE MORNING — CHILLED, THE WIND AND RAIN AS DAY FALLS. I went out walking late, Vancouver. That night, the rains came, then they turned to mist, and finally...
by Tim Girvin | Mar 4, 2011 | Diary
GOING DOWN, TO THE CENTER OF THE EARTH THERE’S A HARD LIGHT, TO THE MINERALS THAT CRACKLE AND COMPRESS, CRYSTALLIZE IN THE DREAM OF BEING I was dreaming about that: be in the center of the earth and see what vista you can see and find what you shall find It was...
by Tim Girvin | Mar 3, 2011 | Diary
IN THE MIDST OF THE CROWD, YOU CAN BE ALONE, IN THE MIDST OF THE ALONE, YOU CAN FILL ALL ONE. It’s an interesting balance, the idea of the alone. And the all one. Milling in crowds, in the journey of the tribe, the concept of the connected and the disconnected,...
by Tim Girvin | Mar 1, 2011 | Diary
AND TURNS AGAIN. When a map becomes clear, there’s a path that could be drawn. It might not be for all to see. Others might — and some: never again. ––––– There is one sphere, made from crystals and ice and sand from millions of years back. I’d found...
by Tim Girvin | Feb 28, 2011 | Diary
THE LEGENDS OF THE LIGHT FINDER I was holding light, an illumination that reminded me of a salamander of the luminous, curling like an embryo — light lizard. This, on a full-mooned night, the radiance spilling down and lighting the stones like glistening...
