secret notebooks • wild pages: Rust on a Wave

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

Rust on a Wave

"Show me any object, I'll show you rust on a wave." — James Galvin

8 comments:

Christina said...: i want to run my hand over these beautiful textures. ever since i was a little girl, i have loved rusty objects.
beautiful, my friend.
xo; September 22, 2009 9:41 AM
magpie said...: YUM!; September 22, 2009 11:36 AM
elk said...: this is an incredible group of rust ...the beauty is striking; September 22, 2009 4:03 PM
Alicia said...: such beautiful rust photos! love the colors! it's been a while since i've been over here... gotta lot of posts to look through :); September 22, 2009 6:54 PM
Josh Wachtel said...: Really nice photo's. I love the textures...each one is it's own world.; September 22, 2009 8:33 PM
m. heart said...: Josh, these were all taken not too far from you guys. In fact that first photo is from something you've probably seen a hundred times ;); September 22, 2009 8:41 PM
Poetic Artist said...: Wow wonderful, rust, old and color.
A wonderful combination.
Katelen; September 22, 2009 11:24 PM
JC said...: I love old rusty stuff. I've never been able to capture it in photos the way it looks to my eye. Your photos are great!; September 28, 2009 10:50 PM

Meditation on Affliction

Assailed by afflictions, we discover dharma and find the way to liberation. Thank you, evil forces!

When sorrows invade the mind, we discover dharma and find lasting happiness. Thank you, sorrows!

Through harm caused by spirits we discover dharma and find fearlessness. Thank you, ghosts and demons!

Through people's hate we discover dharma and find benefits and happiness. Thank you, those who hate us!

Through cruel adversity, we discover dharma and find the unchanging way. Thank you, adversity!

Through being impelled to by others, we discover dharma and find the essential meaning. Thank you, all who drive us on!

We dedicate our merit to you all, to repay your kindness.

— Gyalwa Longchenpa

Who Says Words With My Mouth?

All day I think about it, then at night I say it.
Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing?
I have no idea.
My soul is from elsewhere, I'm sure of that,
and I intend to end up there.

This drunkenness began in some other tavern.
When I get back around to that place,
I'll be completely sober. Meanwhile,
I'm like a bird from another continent, sitting in this aviary.
The day is coming when I fly off,
but who is it now in my ear who hears my voice?
Who says words with my mouth?

Who looks out with my eyes? What is the soul?
I cannot stop asking.
If I could taste one sip of an answer,
I could break out of this prison for drunks.
I didn't come here of my own accord, and I can't leave that way.
Whoever brought me here will have to take me home.

This poetry, I never know what I'm going to say.
I don't plan it.
When I'm outside the saying of it,
I get very quiet and rarely speak at all.

— Rumi

The Journey

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice--
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do--
determined to save
the only life you could save.

Mary Oliver

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

Rust on a Wave

8 comments:

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