An old Cherokee chief was teaching his grandson about life... "A fight is going on inside me," he said to the boy. "It is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves. "One is evil - he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, . . .
We mostly operate on auto pilot. While driving the car we go off into day dreams and don't even know where we are sometimes. How is it we can't remember what we were doing this time last year, or even last week? Auto pilot is our normality. We are always more aware on special days; when . . .
Would you be mad for that little speck of rainbow in the deep rain filled sky? Or this bush, with its brazen head of golden curls? And would you love how he made a fence from sawn up trees, lining them up on the ditch like children, posing for family snaps? And would you be giddy . . .
This morning, the beauty of another day. Small things, coffee, toast, silence. And how amazing is fruit? Having choice? Banana or blueberry? Egg or beans........? The sun in the east, the full moon setting in the west. The faintest pastel pink in the sky at the horizon. The same view . . .
It's a time of the year for mulling things over. Today, in a lull, between rain storms, I stand on the shore in Annestown and feel the power of the sea overwhelm the questions I have queuing up from 2015. Like fragments of flotsam and jetsam they end up in flithers on the high tide . . .
Today I'm re-posting these tiny dewy rainbows from 2012. Would you like to join me in a moment of reflection? While we both take a slow deep breath? And while we continue to breathe, here are some explorations of contemplative photography practice And while I was breathing . . .
There is human time and there is wild time....... Clarissa Linkola Estes This morning it's wild time. A slow motion sunrise, where nature's spinners have draped everything in layers of lace. Barely present. Fragile and momentary. Later when the day fully arrives, dew drops are blow dried . . .
You are on your knees in a lavender patch, following the music of bees. In the distance a harvester is droning, and the evening sun highlights wings and petals. You are obsessing about the need for a soft bed and a warm hearth as the autumn sets in; . . .
It's quiet here and in spite of the proximity to the road, it remains wild. Darker than usual, fresh leaves block the sky. At dusk the light filters through at a rakish angle making long shadows and spotlighting the little blue flowers I have . . .
Sometimes aloneness is confused with loneliness. I know both and find that loneliness creates a heartache while solitude feels more like a salve to the soul. In some way loneliness and solitude are opposite states of being. In any visual practice solitude is key. Cutting out noise and . . .