If you visit Alex Hyner's web page you can see these images in higher resolution and even buy a print if you want. He's on the web HERE.
“In a consumer society, contentment is a radical proposition. Recognizing abundance rather than scarcity undermines an economy that thrives by creating unmet desires. Gratitude cultivates an ethic of fullness, but the economy needs emptiness.” ~Robin Wall Kimmerer
"And the LORD, he it is that doth go before thee; he will be with thee, he will not fail thee, neither forsake thee: fear not, neither be dismayed." ~Deuteronomy 31:8
I've read the religious texts of all the major religions and a lot of the minor ones, and "fear not" is a common thread that runs through them all.
But I do fear.
I worry about Mona's health, my father's health, my friends health. I worry about finances. I worry about plumbing. I worry about the hoodlums next door, who use drugs and sell drugs openly. (Yes, we've called the police; No, it didn't do any good.) I worry about the big things, climate change and fascism that no longer creeps, but leaps. "Proudly Stupid" is a movement that seems to be growing daily.
My favorite person in the Christian bible is Jesus' dad, Joseph. He didn't do great things; he didn't preach stirring sermons or walk on water. He just rolled with the punches. He came home to find an Angel of the Lord in his tent, and didn't freak out at all. They just had a little conversation, then he packed his bags for the trip.
I wish I were more like that.
That little glass room on the second story has become an architectural staple locally. Not just drug stores, but banks, restaurants, pretty much everybody puts one up there.
I don't necessarily want to live up there, but I'd like to turn it into a greenhouse, maybe have a few brightly colored parakeets flying around; a rocking chair.
“There are such things as ghosts. People everywhere have always known that. And we believe in them every bit as much as Homer did. Only now, we call them by different names. Memory. The unconscious.” ~Donna Tartt, in The Secret History ©1992
"There is a Zen story about a student who felt he hadn’t really received the deepest essence of his master’s teaching, and so he went to question him. His master replied, 'On your way here, did you see the cypress in the courtyard?' Perhaps the student was not yet very mindful. The master was saying that if, on the way to see our teacher, we go past a cypress tree or a beautiful plum tree in blossom and we don’t really see it, then when we arrive in front of our teacher, we won’t see our teacher either. We shouldn’t miss any opportunity to really see our cypress tree. There are wonders of life we walk past every day, and yet we haven’t truly seen them. What is the cypress tree on the path you take to work every day? If you cannot even see the tree, how can you see your loved ones? How can you see God?" ~Thich Nhat Hanh, in The Art of Living ©2017
"Remember ye not the former things, neither consider the things of old. Behold, I will do a new thing; now it shall spring forth; shall ye not know it? I will even make a way in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert." ~Isiah 43:18-19
It's strange how poets and poetry can hit you at different times in your life.
I've known about Ted Berrigan for most of my adult life, and I thought he was Okay, but for some reason he is resonating with me now in a way he didn't before.
Via the Electronic Poetry Foundation:
by Ted Berrigan
Before I began life this time
I took a crash course in Counter-Intelligence
Once here I signed in, see name below, and added
Some words remembered from an earlier time,
"The intention of the organism is to survive."
My earliest, & happiest, memories pre-date WWII,
They involve a glass slipper & a helpless blue rose
In a slender blue single-rose vase: Mine
Was a story without a plot. The days of my years
Folded into one another, an easy fit, in which
I made money & spent it, learned to dance & forgot, gave
Blood, regained my poise, & verbalized myself a place
In Society. 101 St. Mark's Place, apt. 12A, NYC 10009
New York. Friends appeared & disappeared, or wigged out,
Or stayed; inspiring strangers sadly died; everyone
I ever knew aged tremendously, except me. I remained
Somewhere between 2 and 9 years old. But frequent
Reification of my own experiences delivered to me
Several new vocabularies, I loved that almost most of all.
I once had the honor of meeting Beckett & I dug him.
The pills kept me going, until now. Love, & work,
Were my great happinesses, that other people die the source
Of my great, terrible, & inarticulate one grief. In my time
I grew tall & huge of frame, obviously possessed
Of a disconnected head, I had a perfect heart. The end
Came quickly & completely without pain, one quiet night as I
Was sitting, writing, next to you in bed, words chosen randomly
From a tired brain, it, like them, suitable, & fitting.
Let none regret my end who called me friend.
"The majority of us lead quiet, unheralded lives as we pass through this world. There will most likely be no ticker-tape parades for us, no monuments created in our honor. But that does not lessen our possible impact, for there are scores of people waiting for someone just like us to come along; people who will appreciate our compassion, our unique talents. Someone who will live a happier life merely because we took the time to share what we had to give. Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have a potential to turn a life around. It’s overwhelming to consider the continuous opportunities there are to make our love felt." ~Leo Buscaglia