There is a blessing, that calls to the heart of the place, the heart of the person and the heart of the offering. And it's all ways about that, isn't it -- the heart of it; the spirit found and the finding of it? And my office, my working space, the blessing of it, the blessing of the work and the place that I'm working. That work, that found, that finding...Blessings by Lama Jingme. I'm wishing well, in every thing, well -- wishing. And heading out to India and Bhutan, tonight...

The architecture of silence. ---- 3.55am | d e c a t u r i s l a n d This morning, the world was so silent. And I wondered, where is anyone? Any one. And there was no one. It was just that, profoundly quiet. So quiet, that there was barely a sound anywhere. No breeze, no shuffling leaves, no shuttering barked skin on the Madronas, no; there were no licking waves -- and nothing in the air, flying; some distant jet, some night bound airplane sputtering along. No thing. I contemplated that, the...

In walking, wandering -- that other side of the work, the world, I do like getting out, getting a way, being some place else. Being over there. And I savor the storm. I am that, storm seeker. Because on the edge of any storm is the light. By any call, there's a cracking of brilliant light, in the curled clouds the thunderhead, stormbringer. Light emerges. And so does my spirit. ----

Looking at light and pattern, I see a figure... Rain comes to St. Louis in great sheets of water, coursing, flooding, running. And last night, after returning from St. Charles, a storm emerged of fabulous magnitude. Lightning. Thunder. Gales. Driving back, it ran so densely I could barely see where I was going. I even drove off the road, sort of, since I couldn't tell where the actual street was. And I was the designated driver... Being a storm lover, I had to be out in it. Shooting. ---- Tim...

A note to Eartha Kitt --- Dear Ms. Kitt, I've long admired the character of you. Your song. Your acting. Your spirit. And now, your love of nature; it was the one thing that I'd not known about before. And now I do. I loved your story about your experience as a child, being one that roamed and explored, easily happy in being alone. And I was like that, and I am like that. And I did (and do) love the hymenoptera: the vespid(ae), the solitary and paper wasps, the masons. All of them in that...

I'm looking for paths. The turning --- Every thing turns and spins in its order. What, that? I've been out, looking at the stars, pondering the turning. Listening to the water, waves like a river, riffling. It's turning, that tide, a worldly whirl, that I sense, this moment. And this dark morning, I wonder about that dawn; she's now far away -- but coming, in brilliant light, later this morn as she did, yesterday looking east in the rising. Seeing that was a turning for me, pondering that...

Taking flight : NYC -- Bye Bye! Happy Sunday ! ---- T ---- the Day: Autumnal Autumnal. Of all adjectives associated with seasons, this is the only one that has a literary ring to it - perhaps because autumn is our only season word that comes from Latin and not from Germanic sources. We salute the adjective today on the first day of autumn (or fall, if you want to be all Germanic, all the time) in the northern hemisphere.

LOOKING : FOR LIGHT ---- Aren't we all looking for light, looking into the light? Seems that way. I look in the light and I look into the dark. I live in both of those presences. That which illuminates, that which darkens. What I'm about, what I'm exploring is all about that -- like a true geminarian, the search for the balance between one, and the other -- and the mist in between. So I think about that, the light, the dark, the mist. and I'm drawn to all this. And I look for it, to be there,...

flying to eastern washington | storm emergent stormfinder --- out there when you are storm comes wind bound rain cast force driven I go there see that love that into the heart of storm unknown swirling whirl, into the soul of the whorl I go there will be there, in the eye of it. ---- 11000 ft. south central washington | tsg

Stone, found. I was working with the Reynvaan family on a project for their vineyards, and I'd been walking the ancient stone scattered grounds of their viticultural lands, with them. This land is powerful; this land is their land; this land is at the very heart of their work -- the grape, distilled. This terroir is a matching geology to the rough scrabble of the classic vineyards of Spain and certain regions in France; these stone bound regions create a version of growth that is strengthened...