November 30, 2012

November 30, 2012

(All photos and pictures adapted from photos are mine unless noted. You can bring the pictures up in full screen by double clicking on any image. Click on a border to return.)

   Lee and I spent the four days of Thanksgiving on Grand Manan Island off the coast of New Brunswick in Canada. We stayed at a wonderful cottage on the southern end of the island in a house named "Dorothy." It was not just a place to stay but a house with a delightful history. It was owned by a woman from New Jersey who spent her summers there and in her eighties sold the cottage to a couple who already have two other cottages close by. Her selling was finalized as she knew the place she loved so much would be used by many others who could have something of the experience she enjoyed for so many years. The current owners, Shayne and his wife Anna-Marie are keeping with the desire of the original owner and are holding her legacy in a most wonderful way.

    Take a look: 

http://www.grandmanancottages.com/Driftwood_Cottages/Welcome.html

   "Dorothy" in Frank L. Baum's Wizard of Oz was a girl of this world arriving in a magical place. "Dorothy" the cottage, with its charm and view of the ocean are not magical - I experienced it an eye opening event that was only about the present moment which let me know that I was in a special place removed from the usual passage of time of daily events that tend to fill the days. The words awesome, startling in its beauty, and the offering of a solid "Yes!" are inadequate to describe the joy of being there. The daily grind gives precious little of knowing that there is a 'self" within that can rise to the present moment and know something of the reality of God's immense gifts to us. 

   We were both Graced to have been there this past weekend.

   The photos and the captions below may offer something of the things I am trying to convey with words. All references to "Dorothy" are used as a noun, pronoun, along with the implication of an underlying adjective to express the 'soul' of the cottage and the experience of being there remembered. (Perhaps it can also be a metaphor for God's loving care for us.)

      The sun will not rise 

until Dorothy releases the dawn

from its nightly rest -

where she held the ever new day

with a gentle embrace

until the doors open

and the Light of day arrives for work.

 The angelic birds of heaven draw back the night

and lead it to safety into Dorothy's loving arms

 The Morning Light will shine through 

the cleansing surf as another day begins anew

for the shore, and for our awakening, each twenty-four hours

There are few words for the quality of mornings light.

The best way to see and know is to go and be there at sunrise.

   When Dorothy reclaims the day

She releases the night for its shift -

The cycle of the day,

is the cycle of our daily being present to the Gift 

that is given every twenty-four hours.

God knows we have built-in forgetters'  

and will remind us of our Creators patience

with great frequency. 

------------------------------

   I have posted this short audio several times before and I ask that you listen to it again, or perhaps hear it for the first time. 

   Simple Grattitude:    https://www.box.com/s/a7262dad1064ab730005

-----------------

A little humor:  The current definition of  "partisan politics" - perhaps .....

Peace until next week,  Bill Lagerstrom

November 5, 2012

November 5, 2012

(All photos and pictures adapted from photos are mine unless noted. You can bring the pictures up in full screen by double clicking on any image. Click on a border to return.)

   Creativity now appears to come from the place in myself that I have identified as the abode of the One who created and continues to create everything in this world and in the universe. There is a flow, an outpouring of desire to offer something of beauty that arrives without my invoking  this calling to "particular work." (See Rumi below.)

   The photo of the flower below, called a 'Cosmos," bloomed until late October as it ignored the cold nights and continued to offer its beauty to me each morning as I looked out the window upon wakening. A fitting metaphor for this  man in life's Autumn using photography as the vehicle for the creative flow that seems to arrive with great frequency these days. Age and Season have no bearing on vision and the offering of the movement inside me to give away what is presenting itself as it detaches itself from the loveliness that is ever-present in this body and in everyone.

                                                                -----------------

   "Here is one thing in this world that you must never forget to do. If you forget everything else and not this, there's nothing to worry about; but if you remember everything else and forget this, then you will have done nothing in your life. It is as if a Queen has sent you to some country to do a task, and you perform a hundred other services, but not the one she sent you to do. So human beings come into this world to do particular work. That work is the purpose, and each is specific to the person. If you don't do it is as if a priceless sword were used to slice rotten meat – or it's a golden bowl used to cook turnips, when one filling of insight from the bowl could buy a hundred suitable pots.

   Remember the deep roots of your being, the presence of the Only Being. Give your life to The One who already owns your breath and your moments."

                                                               Rumi

Looking at the back side of any flower

reveals its support,

a strong stem that is rooted

in the mystery of the earth,

anchored for a while 

as its marvelous beauty 

is revealed for our enjoyment.

-------------------------

Sandy in Maine for a brief visit as a photographer

waits on the moment to reveal itself.

Below is a rendition of the photo that I like.

----------------------------------

One of the myriad of dirt roads in Northern Maine.

Nine miles north of Greenville on pavement and seven miles

East on this road. One pickup truck was seen in two hours.

I would go back except for the traffic.

Some of the colors of Autumn.

-------------------------

   Here is a massive site on all things Therevadin Buddhist. You can find the excellent writings of Thanissaro Bhikkhu here - 

                                            http://www.accesstoinsight.org/ 

                                      --------------------------------------------------

Some humor for those who are not retired and may have a boss like this one:

                       Peace,  Bill Lagerstrom

October 29, 2012

October 29, 2012

(All photos and pictures adapted from photos are mine unless noted. You can bring the pictures up in full screen by double clicking on any image. Click on a border to return.)

   As Fall winds down and the onset of Winter is at hand, images seem to arrive at a fast pace which as I pause allow me to incorporate the old with the new in more than a fact-of-the-matter manner. The changing of the seasons is more than a scientific explanation which once known enables the miracles happening all around us to remove our habit patterns which usually place events neatly in small boxes somewhere in our memory banks. 

   A single leaf changes and before it dies offers a wondrous look at the beauty of  its final stage of growth. Yes, growth, as the next stage is to decompose into food for all that will be nourished, plants, grass, trees, everything, seen more clearly as our heart's eyes develop a different view of what God is doing in us and in the world. As we die, physically or of the things that are no longer useful in life, we can also show the grace and splendor of what has and is continuing to transpire as we grow into the fullness of who we truly are. 

    How? I hear the question asked. Listen to the beautiful answer of someone who "sees" in a most extraordinary way. It will take only five minutes of time -

                                 Click Here:  Listen With The Heart

Sonnet LXXIII: That Time of Year thou mayst in me Behold

BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

That time of year thou mayst in me behold

When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang

Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,

Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.

In me thou see'st the twilight of such day

As after sunset fadeth in the west,

Which by and by black night doth take away,

Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.

In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire

That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,

As the death-bed whereon it must expire,

Consum'd with that which it was nourish'd by.

Winter's onset

a violent abuse by Mother Nature

seeming to wipe out all equanimity..... 

Pay no mind

Spring, Summer and Fall

have stored their life deep within you,

accessible with the gentle touch of memory.

The Bird of God's Spirit

will emerge from our soul's depths

in an instant that sears the heart

with the memory of "What Is"

Never with what was, or what will be. 

--------------------------------

A Little Humor:

Peace until next week,

                 Bill Lagerstrom