
January Sunrise, Tanuri Ridge — Image by kenne
What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present.
— from Four Quartets by T. S. Eliot

January Sunrise, Tanuri Ridge — Image by kenne
What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present.
— from Four Quartets by T. S. Eliot

Fallen Leaves On Mt. Lemmon — Photo-Artistry by kenne
In my beginning is my end. Now the light falls
Across the open field, leaving the deep lane
Shuttered with branches, dark in the afternoon,
Where you lean against a bank while a van passes,
And the deep lane insists on the direction
Into the village, in the electric heat
Hypnotised. In a warm haze the sultry light
Is absorbed, not refracted, by grey stone.
The dahlias sleep in the empty silence.
Wait for the early owl.
— from Four Quartets by T. S. Eliot

A Tucson Sunset — Image by kenne
— from Four Quartets by T. S. Eliot

Eliot’s Four Quartets rests on my desk not only because I love his poetic masterpiece
but because my first copy was given to me by my brother, Tom, who wrote
“. . . I’ve become obsessed with it . . . with time . . . with memory . . . with language,
all of which are concentrated in this work. It has become such a part of me.”
Tom went on to write — “To use a few of Eliot’s words; ‘As we grow older the world
becomes stranger, the pattern more complicated . . . ‘ Complications, ambiguities, non sequitur
I keep searching for clarity . . . lucidity, and I know each time I seek that, I’ll
become more entangled. No. I’m not bored—just Scarred. I’m moving toward a sort-of silence . . .
I know what you’re thinking: ‘Bull-shit!’ Since the significant things, I want to say
have the wrong inflections, intonations for most arenas of conversation;
I ramble on into oblivion. A series of non sequitur.” (7/27/84)
I miss Tom.
— kenne
Old Western Morning (Sonoran Desert) — Photo-Artistry by kenne
— from Four Quartets by T. S. Eliot
Two-Windows (Tucson Arizona) — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Chase Morris — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Love is itself unmoving,
Only the cause and end of movement,
Timeless, and undesiring
Except in the aspect of time
Caught in the form of limitation
Between un-being and being.
— Four Quarters by T.S. Eliot
Esperero Trail In Sabino Canyon — Panorama by kenne
The SCVN Friday Nature Hike was Aspen Trail, Marshall Gulch Trail loop,
which would provide an opportunity to see the beautiful fall colors on Mt. Lemmon.
The Aspen Trail has a grove of aspens, which I blogged in a previous posting.
After hiking through the aspen grove, I began to get out in front of the nature hikers.
With less fall color on the remaining part of the Aspen Trail I decided to pick-up my pace.
I knew from past experience there would be plenty of fall color on the Marshall Gulch Trail.
I was aware that my buddies, Jim Thompson and Tom Markey, were hiking the trail;
hence, I might be able to catch up with them.
I first began hiking with Jim and Tom nine years ago. They were part of the Monday Morning Milers (MMM),
the first hiking group with which I started hiking.
Most of the MMM were lifetime hikers in southeast Arizona, many of whom were in their 80’s.
Jim recently celebrated his 90th birthday.
While Tom is a youngster like me, he’s 79.
Images by kenne
It seems, as one becomes older,
That the past has another pattern,
And ceases to be a mere sequence —
Or even development: the latter a partial fallacy
Encouraged by superficial notions of evolution,
Which becomes, in the popular mind,
A means of disowning the past.
The moments of happiness — not the sense of well-being,
Fruition, fulfillment, security or affection,
Or even a very good dinner, but the sudden illumination —
We had the experience but missed the meaning,
And approach to the meaning restores the experience
In a different form, beyond any meaning
We can assign to happiness.
— from “Four Quartets” by T. S. Eliot
Voiceless Wailing — Photo-Artistry by kenne
There is no end of it, the voiceless wailing,
No end to the withering of withered flowers,
To the movement of pain that is painless and motionless,
To the drift of the sea and the drifting wreckage, . . .
— T. S. Eliot
Two-Tailed Swallowtail Butterfly — Photo-Artistry by kenne
— from Burnt Norton by T.S. Eliot
Esperero Trail In Sabino Canyon — Image by kenne
— T.S. Eliot
Goldeneye Wildflower — Grunge Art by kenne
Morning Thought:
Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go.
— T. S. Eliot