INTO THE MIST
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 ice -- snow gathered. I could see it in the water coursing, like cotton in the street channels. But it was snow, the ice a patterning of small plates that collide and drift like tiny scraps of hardened, translucent paper -- the asphalt, black...
THE LIGHT OF THE (H)EARTH
Photo by Tim Girvin 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 less to visioning and more about the fastness of the nestling -- nurtured there in the center of the earth. It was of the taste of iron, that sharpening glint of nickel, bronze, stone -- the palette, tongued, of...
BEING ALONE, BEING ALL, BEING ONE
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, it's a balance to the nature of the reach. What is the reach -- out; and what to the reach -- back? That reflectivity is part of the marvel -- in the being, alone, and the being -- all one. That notion of connection, the fulfillment of...
THE STONE THAT TURNS
Photo by Tim Girvin 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 it, out on a washed beach, with a collection of other stones that -- each and every one -- told a story about their millions of years, that they've been round. All glisten brilliantly, as they look up, out of the water,...
THE BIRTH OF LIGHT
Photo by Tim Girvin 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 diamonds, clattering the beach -- those waves flickering the light stones. Dawn Clark took this picture -- light drawing, in the stern of a night boat, running back to the other shores of silence. I think about the legend...
THE TURNING PATH
Photo by Tim Girvin THE PATH THAT TURNS, AND TURNS AGAIN. EVERY TIME, BACK TO A PLACE. In the blinding snow, the sun so bright that the trees are lit from beneath, it's a brilliant day. Light filled. Out in the middle of no where, there is no way to go, but back to the center. And of course there's a sign there, that says - "for the path, if there's any way to go, it's back to the center." There's a red thread, that will take you there; and there's a point where it begins, and where it ends....
IN THE HOSPITAL
I was in the hospital recently, and walking the halls, I came to a series of glass compositions created by a friend of mine, from college. Cappy Thompson -- Seattle glass artist; and she is still exploring and experimenting -- the same, since our connections in the 70s, at the Evergreen State College.. These are a beautiful and inspirationally created series of treatments. They are very quietly arranged, in a subtle and meditative array -- a southern corridor of ideas, words, translucent...
DRAWING IN THE DARK
Photo by Tim Girvin Last night, as I was on the shore, waiting for the night boat to come crossing, I was drawing in the dark, with light. Dawn was shooting these images, with the full moon behind, and the character of these strokes of light, a kind of light calligraphy, in the fore -- like hands of light, scribing notations of luminous nothingness. This morning, this word was pointed to me -- lucubration \loo-kyoo-BRAY-shun; loo-kuh-\, noun: 1. The act of studying by candlelight; nocturnal...
SCRIBBLE BOOK | THE JOURNAL AS MAGIC MARKINGS
Photo by Tim Girvin I have some books, journals that I've made, that only contain scribbles. Scratching. Scarring. Scripting. They are drawn in scripts that only I know. They are circle books -- collections of circular strokes. Or books that are writing, symbols, gestures and markings. They are flow books -- letting it go, letting it get out of one system, on to another -- of mind, to arm, to wrist, to finger tips -- thought, to paper. But, my take, to magic. The idea of a collective, a...
BEARING YOUR SOUL
Photo by Tim Girvin I was writing a piece, earlier today, on the concept of baring -- that idea of revealing, versus the other similarly sounding expression of bearing -- which is more like "carrying" something. To bare, to lay open, uncovered -- and to bear, or to cart, carry, hold and embrace. I can't bare it? Or, really, I can't bear it. I can't expose it -- laid bare, for all to see? Or actually, I can't bear the carrying of this -- a burden -- any longer. Either way, there is meaning....