Hiking In The Age Of Social Distancing — Image by kenne
I Am Much Too Alone in This World, Yet Not Alone
I am much too alone in this world, yet not alone enough to truly consecrate the hour. I am much too small in this world, yet not small enough to be to you just object and thing, dark and smart. I want my free will and want it accompanying the path which leads to action; and want during times that beg questions, where something is up, to be among those in the know, or else be alone.
I want to mirror your image to its fullest perfection, never be blind or too old to uphold your weighty wavering reflection. I want to unfold. Nowhere I wish to stay crooked, bent; for there I would be dishonest, untrue. I want my conscience to be true before you; want to describe myself like a picture I observed for a long time, one close up, like a new word I learned and embraced, like the everday jug, like my mother’s face, like a ship that carried me along through the deadliest storm.
Mr. Joe (December 21, 2003) — Image and poem by kenne
This image and poem predate selfies and my blog.
Why is the poem addressed to “Mr. Joe?”
I have no idea.
“Do not seek answers
which cannot be given you . . .”
Surely all art is the result of one’s having been in danger,
of having gone through an experience all the way to the end,
where no one can go any further.
Sunset Panoramas (May 30, 2017) — Three Merged Photographs by kenne
Sunset
Slowly the west reaches for clothes of new colors which it passes to a row of ancient trees. You look, and soon these two worlds both leave you one part climbs toward heaven, one sinks to earth.
leaving you, not really belonging to either, not so hopelessly dark as that house that is silent, not so unswervingly given to the eternal as that thing that turns to a star each night and climbs-
leaving you (it is impossible to untangle the threads) your own life, timid and standing high and growing, so that, sometimes blocked in, sometimes reaching out, one moment your life is a stone in you, and the next, a star.
Somewhere between reading Rainer Maria Rilke and listening to Ray Wylie Hubbard’s CD, “The Grifter’s Hymnal,” the following just flowed out — as usual, no rewrite, you get what you see.
THE BODY SLOWS ME DOWN
The body slows me down, but the blood still flows, the soul hasn’t slowed fostering a deep and necessary intimacy with life.
The body slows me down, but I count my blessing without a 60-cycle hum, freed from habitual trains of thought.
The body slows me down, but the poets still, please with a taste of bittersweet chocolate, burning through the words manifested in music.
The body slows me down, but my mind leads the way to an enigmatic mystery, seeking a Rilke Maria’s moment freed by Ray Wylie’s applause.
The body slows me down, but I keep running from the ghosts that keep on coming around the bend.
The body slows me down, but its dividing outline is no longer there providing a membrane between inner and outer worlds.
The body slows me down, but I can still hum Polk Salad Sally, framing cosmic image descending from invisible heights.
The body slows me down, but I still use my imagination to inspire conscious thinking, allowing “the damn fox do what a damn fox does.”
kenne
“The days I keep my gratitude higher than my expectations, I have really good days.”
— Ray Wylie Hubbard
Forming an archipelago in the northwest corner of the contiguous United States, the San Juan Islands are between the US mainland and Vancouver Island, British Columbia, Canada and are part of the U.S. state of Washington.
— kenne
“Be patient toward all that
is unsolved in your heart
and try to love the questions themselves,
like locked rooms and like books that
are now written in a very foreign tongue.
Do not now seek the answers,
which cannot be given you because
you would not be able to live them.
And the point is,
to live everything.
Live the questions now.
Perhaps you will then gradually,
without noticing it,
live along some distant day
into the answer.”
— Rainer Maria Rilke (from Tom Turner’s book of quotes and notes)
“After all, works of art are always the result of one’s having been in danger,
of having gone through an experience all the way to the end,
to where no one can go any further. The further one goes, the more private,
the more personal, the more singular an experience becomes
and the thing one is making is, finally, the necessary, irrepressible,
and, as nearly as possible, definitive utterance of this singularity…”
The following contains copy of a posting one year after starting a blog in November of 2005. I began a draft of this post in November 2014.
There have been a few distractions since then.
The Blue Door — Computer Art by kenne
Prose and Photography, like Life, has its own Justification.
One year ago, 135 entries later and approximately 9,500 views, this blog began with the purpose of sharing existence through the experience of one with the desire to generate other views on our place in time and space. In doing so, I have come to the realization that this poetic gesture may be nothing more than bullshit to someone else.
So, on this anniversary I’m taking this moment to share a few words from the renowned moral philosopher, Harry G. Frankfurt:
“One of the most salient features of our culture is that there is so much bullshit. Everyone knows this. Each of us contributes his share.”
And I would add, some more than others. But then, one person’s truth is someone else’s bullshit.
“As conscious beings, we exist only in response to other things, and we cannot know ourselves at all without knowing them. Moreover, there is nothing in theory, and certainly nothing in experience, to support the extraordinary judgment that it is the truth about himself that is the easiest for a person to know. Facts about ourselves are not peculiarly solid and resistant to skeptical dissolution. Our natures are, indeed, elusively insubstantial – notoriously less stable and less inherent than the nature of other things. And insofar as this is the case, sincerity itself is bullshit.”
This view may cause some confusion. But, not in our upside-down world in which the normal order of things seem to be completely reversed.This often exist because the, “. . .more you try to stay on top of water the more you sink; but when you try to sink, you float.”Effort is good, but effort exceeded can have the reverse effect. The key is knowing how to assess the effort.
. . .remember to assess the effort, but poetry and photography, like life, has its own justification.
kenne
. . . from Turner’s notes —
“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.”
Somewhere between reading Rainer Maria Rilke and listening to Ray Wylie Hubbard’s latest CD, “The Grifter’s Hymnal,” the following just flowed out — as usual, no rewrite, you get what you see.
THE BODY SLOWS ME DOWN
The body slows me down, but the blood still flows, the soul hasn’t slowed fostering a deep and necessary intimacy with life.
The body slows me down, but I count my blessing without a 60-cycle hum, freed from habitual trains of thought.
The body slows me down, but the poets still, please with a taste of bittersweet chocolate, burning through the words manifested in music.
The body slows me down, but my mind leads the way to an enigmatic mystery, seeking a Rilke Maria’s moment freed by Ray Wylie’s applause.
The body slows me down, but I keep running from the ghosts that keep on coming around the bend.
The body slows me down, but its dividing outline is no longer there providing a membrane between inner and outer worlds.
The body slows me down, but I can still hum Polk Salad Sally, framing cosmic image descending from invisible heights.
The body slows me down, but I still use my imagination to inspire conscious thinking, allowing “the damn fox do what a damn fox does.”
kenne
“The days I keep my gratitude higher than my expectations, I have really good days.”
— Ray Wylie Hubbard
Hiking In The Age Of Social Distancing — Image by kenne
A Grove of Saguaros in Sabino Canyon — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Mr. Joe (December 21, 2003) — Image and poem by kenne
Over The Wall — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Mexican Metalmark –Photo-Artistry by kenne
Two-tailed Swallowtail Butterfly — Digital Painting by kenne
Two Merged Photographs
Two Merged Photographs
Sunset Panoramas (May 30, 2017) — Three Merged Photographs by kenne
The Blue Door — Computer Art by kenne
