Tuesday
10.1.2019
"Forgive Yourself, you're only Human."
10.1.2019
"Forgive Yourself, you're only Human."
Bears, especially the comfort-companion kind, can't lie.
They see everything for what it is;
Accumulated stress.
~*~
Wednesday
10.2.2019
Rain on the way at 5 p.m.
Waiting for the bus,
she's playing scrabble
A disheveled older woman begging
blocking the entrance to the Deli
At the Zendo
6 p.m.
We included Bernie Sanders in our prayers
~*~
Thursday
10.3.2019
Posted a Package and Monthly Bill payments.
Misty Manhattan.
Sometimes a day can feel like a year and a year like an hour:
"In our consciousness of time
we are doomed to the past.
The future we may dream of
but can know it only after
it has come and gone.
The present too we know
only as the past. When
we say, "This now is
present, the heat, the breeze,
the rippling water," it is past.
Before we knew it, before
we said "now," it was gone. If the only time we live
is the present, and if the present
is immeasurably short (or
long), then by the measure
of the measurers we don't
exist at all, which seems
improbable, or we are
immortals, living always
in eternity, as from time to time
we hear, but rarely know. You see the rainbow and the new-leafed
woods bright beneath, you see
the otters playing in the river
or the swallows flying, you see
a beloved face, mortal
and alive, causing the heart
to sway in the rifts between beats
where we live without counting,
where we have forgotten time
and have forgotten ourselves,
where eternity has seized us
as its own. This breaks
open the little circles
of the humanly known and believed,
of the world no longer existing,
letting us live where we are,
as in the deepest sleep also
we are entirely present,
entirely trusting, eternal.
Is it concentration of the mind
our unresting counting
that leaves us standing
blind in our dust?,
In time we are present only
by forgetting time."
Thursday
10.3.2019
Posted a Package and Monthly Bill payments.
Misty Manhattan.
Sometimes a day can feel like a year and a year like an hour:
"In our consciousness of time
we are doomed to the past.
The future we may dream of
but can know it only after
it has come and gone.
The present too we know
only as the past. When
we say, "This now is
present, the heat, the breeze,
the rippling water," it is past.
Before we knew it, before
we said "now," it was gone. If the only time we live
is the present, and if the present
is immeasurably short (or
long), then by the measure
of the measurers we don't
exist at all, which seems
improbable, or we are
immortals, living always
in eternity, as from time to time
we hear, but rarely know. You see the rainbow and the new-leafed
woods bright beneath, you see
the otters playing in the river
or the swallows flying, you see
a beloved face, mortal
and alive, causing the heart
to sway in the rifts between beats
where we live without counting,
where we have forgotten time
and have forgotten ourselves,
where eternity has seized us
as its own. This breaks
open the little circles
of the humanly known and believed,
of the world no longer existing,
letting us live where we are,
as in the deepest sleep also
we are entirely present,
entirely trusting, eternal.
Is it concentration of the mind
our unresting counting
that leaves us standing
blind in our dust?,
In time we are present only
by forgetting time."
'Leavings' by Wendell Berry
.
Trinity
"Brahma (creator), Vishnu (preserver) and Shiva (destroyer) are a trinity (the Trimurti), and are aspects of the one, infinite, deity."
~*~
Trinity
"Brahma (creator), Vishnu (preserver) and Shiva (destroyer) are a trinity (the Trimurti), and are aspects of the one, infinite, deity."
~*~
Friday
10.4.2019
Finding sky from a South East facing apartment window:
I stretch outward, camera firmly in hand, twist to the left and look up.
Morning
Early Afternoon
Late Afternoon
5 p.m.
Self Portrait
Song for Autumn
by Mary Oliver
In the deep fall
don’t you imagine the leaves think how
comfortable it will be to touch
the earth instead of the
nothingness of air and the endless
freshets of wind? And don’t you think
the trees themselves, especially those with mossy,
warm caves, begin to think
of the birds that will come — six, a dozen — to sleep
inside their bodies? And don’t you hear
the goldenrod whispering goodbye,
the everlasting being crowned with the first
tuffets of snow? The pond
vanishes, and the white field over which
the fox runs so quickly brings out
its blue shadows. And the wind pumps its
bellows. And at evening especially,
the piled firewood shifts a little,
longing to be on its way.
7 p.m.
Visit with Friends Margaritta and Trudy
Attempt to catch portrait of 'Lucy"
Not cooperating
Not having it.
Then
Trader Joe
Everything elses eemed to have pumpkin in it.
~*~
Not having it.
Then
Trader Joe
Everything elses eemed to have pumpkin in it.
~*~
1 comment:
a quiet week with deep thoughts
love
yvette
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