Thursday, March 23, 2017

March 24, 2017

March 24, 2017

All photos are mine unless otherwise noted.

To see images full screen click on any photo.

   All images in this post have photography as the first step in developing what is presented here in a more painterly way. Take a break from the new national sport of politics and spend a few minutes seeing the real beauty of what is around us waiting to be enjoyed. Better yet get out and have a walk among nature wherever you can find it. God did not create all the hubbub that seems to constantly vie for our attention. See what is happening in the present moment of the gifts being offered to soothe our ruffled nerves.

   Here is a beautiful blog I discovered last night that has many poems and great quotes from people who have for the most part learned to live their lives in the "Now." It opens in this link with a nature poem by Denise Levertov -

http://beautywelove.blogspot.com/search/label/Denise%20Levertov

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

     

The political nature of trees


The non-political nature of the Buddha


Some trees have a middle of the road nature


Some trees just enjoy being trees


Other trees find the way to their inner self

So ......


Take five long breaths and enjoy simply breathing.

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   All the images with the exception of the Buddha were taken in this last week.



All rocks and growth in the forest have a story -
A song to sing just for for the one engaged with their true self. 
The woods also ask for your song in return.
What song do you want to sing in the Gardens of Creation?


Winter has many colors which can easily be overlooked,
so casual wandering in Love's Gardens
can be easily improved to enter into relationship 
with our Creator, the Great Mother.


This rock marks the beginning of a wondrous journey
that can take us to places unexpected -
Grace does not come with any labels.


Like any journey a first step is the beginning of the journey.
Look the the crest of the wave just beginning to break
on its way to a full crashing leap into the "New."


Winter grass combed by the wind.

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Just a picture I like.

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Some humor:

    


Peace until next post,

    Bill Lagerstrom











Saturday, March 11, 2017

March 10, 2017

March 10- 2017

   All Images are mine unless otherwise noted and are photographically based as they start with a photograph.

    To see images full screen left click on any photo.

     This blog is, and will always be a politics free zone. Rest here awhile.

     Winter gave us a big surprise two weeks ago with a storm that was the fourth largest in Maine's history. Surprisingly we never lost power and of course didn't go anywhere for a day or two. As always in places where snow is something to be dealt with matter of factly, the roads were usable within 24 hours. Quite a difference from snow in NYC which was always considered to be a disaster shutting down not only roads and transportation but killing any sense of wonder and awe at the marvels of Winter in virtually everyone over the age of 18. 

     This post has images taken over the last few weeks and at the end is a beautiful poem about Winter by David Whyte, one of my favorite poets. 





Halfway through the storm cars became useless
allowing us to simply enjoy the day where we are.
Part of the problem in modern life is the constant rush
to be somewhere else. 


Winter scene somewhere on the Schoodic peninsula. 


This red cardinal stood proud and wise,
never flinching in life's storms.
A lesson from the other side of the world's fences, 
how to stand in the winds that try to blow us down.


Winter is quite lovely as long as we see it
from the right viewing spot.
From Schoodic Point.

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The next four images I offer without comment.












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"Didn't  anyone tell you that green is out this year?"


The ocean off Schoodic Point.

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Two creations on my part ..........




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  Some humor:     

   One of the first stories I heard after we moved to Maine was that if summer fell on a Sunday, well we would have a picnic. 

    So two scenes that represent this idea of  'Summer In Maine.' "Get the shorts out Ma, it's Summer!"





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Winter

No one but me by the fire,
my hands burning
red in the palms while
the night wind carries
everything away outside.
All this petty worry
while the great cloak
of the sky grows dark
and intense
round every living thing.
What is precious
inside us does not
care to be known
by the mind
in ways that diminish
its presence.
What we strive for
in perfection
is not what turns us
into the lit angel
we desire,
what disturbs
and then nourishes
has everything
we need.
What we hate
in ourselves
is what we cannot know
in ourselves but
what is true to the pattern
does not need
to be explained.
Inside everyone
is a great shout of joy
waiting to be born.
Even with the summer
so far off
I feel it grown in me
now and ready
to arrive in the world.
All those years
listening to those
who had
nothing to say.
All those years
forgetting
how everything
has its own voice
to make
itself heard.
All those years
forgetting
how easily
you can belong
to everything
simply by listening.
And the slow
difficulty
of remembering
how everything
is born from
an opposite
and miraculous
otherness.
Silence and winter
has led me to that
otherness.
So let this winter
of listening
be enough
for the new life
I must call my own.
David Whyte

Peace until next post,

    Bill Lagerstrom






Friday, February 10, 2017

February 10, 2017

February 10, 2017

All photos are mine unless otherwise noted.

To see images full screen click on any photo.

Any poetry is mine unless ascribed to another crafter of words.


      Winter has settled in for its duration, a visitor that didn't ask to come and stay but is always welcome to this, our home in Maine. 

      Winter always brings a certain amount of gray, a darkness that seems to touch a longing for unidentified things lying deep within the center of my being. This happens most at dusk when there is still some visibility before the night arrives for its tour of duty. The first two images are from Acadia Park on the loop road which is closed for the Season. 

   All photos were taken in the last two weeks.







    Dawn breaks and the first rays of sun brighten the tops of mountains as the rest of the landscape waits for its share of light.




A small patch of light attempts to wake 
the still gray forest at Schoodic point
where the rest of this post's images were taken.


   The waves at Schoodic were not breaking on this day, but when they do we try to get there. The Continental Shelf that prevents really big waves from arriving to the shores of Maine takes a break at Schoodic. We regularly have ten foot seas of better during storms that can arrive from any direction. 

     In this photo the wind is up and blowing the water into a rough surface.



Morning has broken and the days clouds are in place,
slowly drifting across the landscape.
Mt. Desert Island seen from Schoodic Point.


    Winter is never colorless or totally gray, the reindeer lichen grows all year round, trees are painted in red, orange, brown and sometimes with a soft shade of purple. One has to look closely while releasing the preconceived constructions of what Winter is supposed to look like in order to see a different palette of colors that the Master Painter is using.


An unused road in Schoodic.
Many paths to travel that are worth looking for.


Rocks are paying homage to the lichen.
Perhaps the green patches are offering a seminar 
on Winter's beauty.


Settled in to patiently wait on Spring's distant arrival,
the leaves of the next Season are in place,
in miniature perfection in a protective coat
keeping new growth safe.


Beauty is everywhere.
Even in seeming barren death life is still there,
holding the promise God gives each Winter
that cold and snow are not permanent. 


Moonlight and a scene worth remembering.

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Some humor:


   We always look for birds but on this day we only found one, a fine specimen 
of the most rare white woodpecker. 

   (This was the only bird we saw, a nice light moment.)

Peace and serenity in these troubled times,

              Bill Lagerstrom