Cranesbill Geranium: Geranium caespitosum (Mt. Lemmon, August 5, 2016) — Image by kenne
“For myself I hold no preferences among flowers,
so long as they are wild, free, spontaneous.
Bricks to all greenhouses!
Black thumb and cutworm to the potted plant!”
Eastern Bluebird — Computer Art by kenne
When you have seen one ant, one bird, one tree, you have not seen them all.
— E. O. Wilson
Monsoon Rain at Sunset in Tanuri Ridge — Image by kenne
. . . I would stand,
If the night blackened with a coming storm,
Beneath some rock, listening to notes that are
The ghostly language of the ancient earth,
Or make their dim abode in distant winds.
Thence did I drink the visionary power;
And deem not profitless those fleeting moods
Of shadowy exultation: not for this,
That they are kindred to our purer mind
And intellectual life; but that the soul,
Remembering how she felt, but what she felt
Remembering not, retains an obscure sense
Of possible sublimity. . . .
— William Wordsworth
Mountain Log on Mt. Lemmon — Computer Painting by kenne
A large old cut log
Garnished with yellow flowers —
Mount Lemmon summer.
Tom Turner — Image by kenne
The poem “Invisible Man,” by Pablo Neruda gets inside me, stirring my very being, mixing the past, present and images of the future. The poem has short lines making it seem longer than it is. Even so, I’m sharing some of Neruda’s powerful lines, which I have read, reread contemplating thoughts of my brother, Tom and existential invisibility.
“they fire against the people,
which is to say,
but my brother
was in love,
or was suffering
because all his emotion
is for the sea,
he loves remote ports
for their names,
and he writes about oceans
he doesn’t know,
when life is as full
as an ear of corn with grain
he passes by, never knowing
how to harvest it,
he rides the waves
without ever touching land,
he is profoundly moved
he is too big
to fit inside his skin,
he gets tangled and untangles himself,
he declares he is maudit,
with great difficulty he carries the cross
he believes that he is different from
anyone else in the world,
he eats bread every day
but he’s never seen a
or gone to a meeting
of a baker’s union,
and so my poor brother
is deliberately dark,
he twists and writhes
and finds himself
that’s the word,
I am no better
than my brother,
but I smile,
because when I walk through the streets
the only one who does not exist
life flows around me
I am the only one
who is invisible,
no mysterious shadows,
no gloom and darkness,
everyone speaks to me,
everyone wants to tell me things,
to talk about their relatives,
their misery and
everyone passes by, and everyone
tells me something,
look at all the things they do!”
— from Invisible Man by Pablo Neruda
(Click here to read the complete poem.)
“Where do you go when you’ve already gone?”
— from Tom Turner’s notes
Mexican Yellow Butterfly on a Mexican Bird of Paradice — Image by kenne
Many butterfly images
before one good one.
flies by, I focus
on a yellow one.
Snap, and Snap again,
trying to be invisible
in the bright sunlight.
A cloud moves by,
I change settings.
Why shoot manual?
Prefer working with
options, having choices.
The sun comes back out
only to give way
to more clouds.
move the flowers
as butterflies move on —
it is the monsoon season,
is a reminder.
“My Lady” — Computer Art by kenne
“I have one major rule: Everybody is right. More specifically,
everybody — including me — has some important pieces of truth,
and all of those pieces need to be honored, cherished,
and included in a more gracious, spacious,
and compassionate embrace.”
― Ken Wilber