September 28th, 2011
Rain fell early this morning - in fact - as early as 2:30 a.m it resounded outside my Juliette doors. In darkness, the rain sounded like wind-teased corn husks swaying together. By the time I brewed a pot of Turkish coffee, it ended. I was reminded of the reason I fell short of sleep, and wished I could step outside and take a few photos of the new day.
Life shows itself according to the way you look at it. Ralph Waldo Emerson, in his essay, "Compensation" wrote:
"The universe is represented in every one of its particles. Everything is made of one hidden stuff. The world globe itself is a drop of dew. ...the true doctrine of omnipresence is that God appears with all His parts in every moss and cobweb."
At first light I brought my camera outside and took a photo of the spike thistle. Barely a spider's web passed its silk
around it, mindful that without a strong foundation, it cannot make a home. The Queen Anne's Lace, milk thistle and other flora and foliage seemed to crowd together en masse, a thicket of botanical species joined in friendship.
How we see, and the essence of what is perceived varies for each of us in the blink of an eye, or in the wink of the camera lens. As Autumn sets in, those whose passion is photography will travel new pathways and uncover an abundant lifeforce that has been captured in a shared and secret way through the eye of a fresh and radiant onlooker.
I found a photographic mentor. http://www.guywhiteleyphoto.com/ I have asked him to teach me to see with new eyes all the 'hidden stuff' I have yet to witness. Particles that haven't yet been represented by a wide-angle fisheye lens, a panoramic landscape, or a polarized, malleable, cloud filled sky.
Full article published on http://www.examiner.com/spirituality-in-toronto/after-the-rain
September 11th, 2011
Please see my article at http://www.examiner.com/spirituality-in-toronto/nine-eleven
This morning the sky spoke in rememberance of 9/11. It was flecked with clouds of darkness, yet beneath were rays
of light igniting a renewal of a breathing, living universe. Souls move on, souls remain, time travels onward.
My memento begins each day. Those memories most vivid do not dissipate, nor evanesce.
We wail to our friends now gone from our visual view, but who lay in the memory stream unforgotten.
Their light shines unending.
Somewhere, peace unites and weaves a sinewy thread of love that tethers each one of us to
Hold tight the thread of humanity.