beneath the surface
of your fading skin
the slow pulse
of a year's stories
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
"let the beauty we love be what we do" rumi
my bicycle blog
blogs i admire
-
-
coming to terms2 days ago
-
GAZA IS A DOOR6 days ago
-
Hello darkness my old friend,2 months ago
-
Final4 months ago
-
-
Passion/Dispassion6 months ago
-
Cooking Back8 months ago
-
Spinoff the book of the year10 months ago
-
-
An Important Anthology1 year ago
-
Tear of Hope1 year ago
-
-
Just a week3 years ago
-
Tuesday, September 115 years ago
-
-
Later Gator5 years ago
-
New Births on the Edge of Winter5 years ago
-
-
Quietly Tending7 years ago
-
No Turning Back7 years ago
-
-
I beg to differ7 years ago
-
While you fly.8 years ago
-
Mag 3128 years ago
-
repressed action8 years ago
-
Coastal Cleanup9 years ago
-
I've moved blog houses9 years ago
-
-
New Blog9 years ago
-
-
-
A Fond Farewell10 years ago
-
Ultimate Dumfries and Galloway11 years ago
-
potato time11 years ago
-
-
Raincheck in a drought12 years ago
-
washed stones: a new space to write12 years ago
-
To deliver oneself up to silence12 years ago
-
Book Ten, Page Twelve12 years ago
-
A bit of earth12 years ago
-
With our thanks12 years ago
-
Deeds not Words12 years ago
-
Moon in Telescope12 years ago
-
-
Time to Play!13 years ago
-
Melody Gardot - I love this voice....13 years ago
-
A Full Year of Rumi Readings13 years ago
blog archive
-
▼
2011
(365)
-
▼
October
(31)
- inside the emerging moment
- while the water rushes by
- all the skies of today
- now the great wheel
- light
- leaving the beginning behind
- on reflection
- rainy day commuting
- we rise
- late october
- thin line of colour (ii)
- flail
- ruth
- down from above
- forever and ever
- thin line of colour (i)
- the starting point
- fallen leaf
- dawnfast at tess's house
- this blue
- the river trees
- the fitful tracing
- this day
- blue room
- this empty vessel
- almost
- the mere presence of rain at night
- the castle
- madrigal sky
- passage
- breaking
-
▼
October
(31)
16 comments:
Fantastic image, but one that tells more than a year's stories. Actually, I identify with that fading skin... :)
Rick
The dried veins in the leaf's skin catch my eye. You're right, Steven, they could tell a year's stories.
Oh, that's sad because there's only a little time to hear them...
rick - i'm watching my body change. it's fifty four and a bit years old now and of course it's been changing since i was born but i didn't really watch . . . until now. steven
elisabeth - i would love to hear some of those stories so that i could retell them as they really are experienced by this leaf. steven
rachel a lot of the leaves are going silent as i write. steven
an important photograph, i think. how the ridges cut so deeply. one year, you say? seems like countless.
this reminds me of the surprising last line in william michaelian's poem, revolution, found here: http://recently-banned-literature.blogspot.com/2011/10/revolution.html and of course, this reminds me of the martha wilson piece i just wrote of and referenced, too.
there is so much to be gained in the acceptance of our fading.
xo
erin
Nice!
Oooo, it IS so skin like... stunning image....
being a caregiver for nearly 7 years now, I have seen the beauty beyond the wrinkles, beyond the sagging skin. As I help my clients rub lotion on their skin, the story that they tell me about the past is what count the best. And they have taught me a lot of lessons. That while I am still young, I have to do what can make me happy without stepping on someone's toes, so I can lessen if not avoid regret any part of my youth. At my age now, 41, some may say young but I am starting to see changes, esp my eyes...
I love this Sir!
JJRod'z
erin thanks so much for the link. this is what i found there that swept my soul off: "and oh, how i love the autumn — this colorful leaf i am, soon to die, soon to be swept aside, even as the browned fiber of me yearns for the next life, and the next, and the next, eloquent food for worms." steven
ellen thanks. steven
valerianna - the leaf was alone at a time of year when leaves are rarely alone. but for that i might not have noticed it. steven
jj you are such a good man! steven
Perception and awareness make the moments of my life extraordinary. That's what I appreciate here.
ruth - thankyou for that. steven
Post a Comment