Walking the Blue Hole

Your now seldom trodden paths fall under new feet, withstanding each impact of soul and sole, bearing up upon unyielding and ancient rock the weight of another exploration, an adventuring spirit, another of the millions of creatures that you have felt wander across your very spine, and with thoughtless query your impatient question of 800,000 years rises again...

Will this be the one? Will this be only another impertinent and transient creature that errantly uses the earthy mystery of this space for gathering dirt and stone, or ripping foliage aside for consumption, or splattering in fury another's blood upon you hoping you will shroud its evil from detection? Or will this one impede human conquest and domination long enough to pause momentarily, stand still enough - long enough to allow your archaic message to creep from the core of this vain of our origination and stir as deeply within them as it resides within you, the tendril of impervious and undaunted myth that is your message?


NOTE: Written after walking the 
Blue Hole path in Bermuda.

A Conversation with Myself

Him – Lets go hiking this weekend.

Her – Sure. I’d like that.

Him – We could go up to Pilot Mountain. The same trail we did last time.

Her – Sounds good.

Him – Maybe we will beat last week’s time!

Her – Why is it always a competition with you?

Him – What? I’m not trying to beat you.

Her – Not me. Why is always about performance, being better.

Him – Huh? Something wrong with wanting to be better?

Her – That’s not the point. Why can’t you just be…

Him – I am…being better!

Her – Not funny. I give up…

Him – Sorry. Seriously, I don’t follow you.

Her – Why can’t you – we – us just be on a hike? Why does it always have to be about performance, accomplishment? Can’t you just be?

Him – Of course. I am being, I guess. You mean like being one with nature? Meditation and all that?

Her – No. Never mind.

Him – Ok. I don’t have to push for a better time. You can lead. You can set the pace.

Her – Fine…

Him – Look, seriously, it isn’t that important. I really just like hiking with you. I like the way you talk about all sorts of things, and I like listening. I really like being with…

Her – Yes??

Him – I just got it.

Her – Good. So we can just hike together?

Him – Yes. But, we still might make good time.

Her – You’re impossible.

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Quoting

"It is a paradoxical but profoundly true and important principle of life that the most likely way to reach a goal is to be aiming not at that goal itself but at some more ambitious goal beyond it."
  - Arnold Toynbee

Birthday Song


Today is my Birthday, so I'm singing this special birthday song.

"Thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis is your birthday song,
It isn't very long."

Bye.

Quoting


Stuffed deer heads on walls are bad enough, but it's worse when they are wearing dark glasses and have streamers in their antlers because then you know they were enjoying themselves at a party when they were shot.
  - 
Ellen DeGeneres

Quoting

If a man is offered a fact which goes against his instincts, he will scrutinize it closely, and unless the evidence is overwhelming, he will refuse to believe it. If, on the other hand, he is offered something which affords a reason for acting in accordance to his instincts, he will accept it even on the slightest evidence. The origin of myths is explained in this way.
  - Bertrand Russell

Spring has sprung


The view from my front yard...


Repost - Sacred Moment

I saw the face of God the other day. 

I was in a stranger’s home, where my new work often takes me, and was taken by an unframed painting hanging in the foyer. After dealing with several matters of business, I could not help but ask.

Me: I hate to pry, but who did that painting?

Proud Mother: My daughter. 

Me: It is lovely, very moving, actually.

Proud Mother: That one over there was the first painting she ever did. (She pointed toward the dining room)

 

I am a father. I have seen the ‘firsts’ of a lot of things. My daughter is a good artist, and her first attempts look just like that: efforts that show promise, but lack the presence of an educated and trained talent. This painting showed nothing, and I mean nothing, of being a first, except the first masterpiece. I then heard how this young artist had never as much as drawn a stick figure (beyond childhood), nor shown any interest in art until her senior year in high school. Her family had moved her to North Carolina from New York the summer before her senior year and she reacted as one might expect. To make matters worse, not only had she been ‘forced’ to leave her friends and classmates, because of the North Carolina educational requirements, she had to take two art classes, one a junior class and the other a sophomore introductory art class. After a brief introduction to the use of canvas and paint, she had responded to her first assignment with a painting, a painting that now held me captive. Her muse had been a photo taken of her cradling her cat. She had decided to paint the self portrait and replace the cat with an infant child.

I wish you could see the work as it is now permanently burned upon the canvas of my mind. I wish I could post a photo of it for you to see. I wish that my ability to write could come even within a universe of describing what I saw hanging on the wall in that home. I wish you could feel the chills running up your skin as I did. I wish that every human could see the wonder and awe of the creative moment that she managed to capture. It is pure beauty. I long to describe what I saw, but alas I cannot. I will simply honor the wonder and miracle of that moment when the efforts of a young woman captured for me and gifted me in that moment of time with a glimpse of the Divine.

I saw the face of God the other day.