do you . . .

do you pay regular visits to yourself? 

rumi

one way to begin a day . . .

an early morning breakfast down by the river with my brother and friends . . . .

life stream

time is the substance from which I am made.
time is a river which carries me along, but I am the river;

it is a tiger that devours me, but i am the tiger;

it is a fire that consumes me, but i am the fire.

jorge luis borges 

what is the grass?

a child said, what is the grass? fetching it to me with full
hands;
how could I answer the child?. . . . i do not know what it
is any more than he.

walt whitman

travellin' light

jj cale flew away last night . . . fly high dude!!

superlatives

i find reasons to ride my bicycle every day . . . 

here are two moments on a one hundred and sixty three kilometre ride that took eight hours . . . 

eight hours in which every moment was entirely different - a superlative for each . . . 

a simply beautiful day

sitting on the bank of the otonabee river, about fifteen kilometres northeast of peterborough.

a small shared snack on a bike ride.

an indescribably beautiful sky!

absorb

"a tree uses what comes its way to nurture itself.  by sinking its roots deeply into the earth, by accepting the rain that flows towards it, by reaching out to the sun, the tree perfects its character and becomes great.  ...  absorb, absorb, absorb. that is the secret of the tree."

-   deng ming-dao,  everyday tao, 1996, p. 18.  

tranquil

grasses are misty,
the waters silent --
a tranquil evening.

buson

sometimes

sometimes, when a bird cries out,

or the wind sweeps through a tree,

or a dog howls in a far off farm,

i hold still and listen a long time.

my soul turns and goes back to the place

where, a thousand forgotten years ago,

the bird and the blowing wind

were like me, and were my brothers.

my soul turns into a tree,

and an animal, and a cloud bank.

then changed and odd it comes home

and asks me questions. what should i reply?

hermann hesse

what can i say?

my home has no address;

my tracks leave no trace.

i am neither body nor soul--

what can i say?

rumi

keep the light

deep in their roots all flowers keep the light.

theodore roethke

you wonder . . .

toronto skyline      .      july 2013

“you wonder what I am doing? well, so do i, in truth. days seem to dawn, suns to shine, evenings to follow, and then i sleep. what i have done, what i am doing, what i am going to do, puzzle and bewilder me. have you ever been a leaf and fallen from your tree in autumn and been really puzzled about it? that’s the feeling."

(t.e. lawrence to artist eric kennington, may 1935 )

we have to imagine . . .

old shed   young's point   july . 2013

“sometimes we think we should be able to know everything. 

but we can’t. we have to allow ourselves to see what there is to see, and we have to imagine.” 

david almond       .        skellig

this softly painted place

i live

in this softly painted place

knowing it as

a wonder

a small magic

somewhere

to see

the world from

what a difference!

front porch      .       july 7. 2013

gardening much of the day

and then the rains arrived

and so i sat on my front porch

with a good book and luxuriated in the very simplest

of nature's and man's pleasures . . . . 

what a difference happiness makes!

and this our life . . .

in my mother's garden      .      july 2013

and this our life, exempt from public haunt,
finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
sermons in stones, and good in everything.

william shakespeare    excerpted from 'as you like it'

breath of song

cobourg harbour

blow, breath of song! until i feel

the straining sail, the lifting keel,

the life of the awakening sea,

its motion and its mystery!

henry wadsworth longfellow

your inescapable soul

in my mother's garden       .       july 2013

i am glad to set down

the first and ultimate you,

your inescapable soul.

stephen spender   (excerpted from  "a childhood")

charted currents

canal structure       .       july 2013

more beautiful and softer than any moth

scarcely disturbing charted currents of air

here they may see what is being done.

stephen spender   (excerpted from "the landscape near an aerodrome")

light falls

the light

falls

through the trees

the stone cottage

it’s a wonderful world
and you take and you give
and the sun fills the sky
in the space where you live

it’s a day full of dreams
it’s a dream of a day

and your heart feels so wide
and your heart feels so strong

it’s a wonderful world
full of wonderful things

(i hear him, he’s talking out loud
sometimes he whistles while walking)

david sylvian   (excerpted from "it's a wonderful world")

i can't stop pointing . . .

in my backyard       .       july. 2013

i can't stop pointing to the beauty. 
every moment and place says, 'put this design in your carpet!' 

rumi

observe the wonders

north of lock 19 on the trent canal     .      july 2013

observe the wonders as they occur around you. 

don't claim them. 

feel the artistry moving through, and be silent.

rumi

the bird of gardens

in my backyard       .       july. 2013

the bird of gardens sang unto the rose,
new blown in the clear dawn: "bow down thy head!
as fair as thou within this garden close,
many have bloomed and died." she laughed and said
"that i am born to fade grieves not my heart . . . "

hafiz

as long as i love

in my mother's garden       .       july 2013 

as long as i love beauty i am young,
am young or old as i love more or less

words excerpted from john davies' "seeking beauty"

summer music (i)

summer music is so different to the music of the rest of the year . . .

abdullah ibrahim - whom i first heard while in high school on records borrowed from don mills public library on a one week loan - and who was then known as dollar brand . . . playing a tune called black and brown cherries . . .

wild and disquieted

charles demuth wild orchids 1920



“my soul is impatient with itself, as with a bothersome child; its restlessness keeps growing and is forever the same. everything interests me, but nothing holds me.
i attend to everything, dreaming all the while.”

fernando pessoa, the book of disquiet





wayne shorter's wild flower . . .

i have wondered almost all my life . . .

tucked away behind some tall grasses . . . 

who looks out with my eyes? what is the soul?

i cannot stop asking.

rumi

my work . . .

found in my garden this morning!

everyone has been made for some particular work, 
and the desire for that work has been put in every heart.

rumi

a holy and transparent time

there comes a holy
and transparent time
when every touch
of beauty
opens the heart
to tears.

rumi