Rhonda's Room

Moving On

2012-02-18T09:40:00.001-05:00

Due to Google's new censorship policies (http://rt.com/usa/news/google-starts-censoring-blogs-375/) I am planning, as a small protest, to move my blog to Word Press. I'm sure Google will sit up and take notice when my blog disappears. They will regret their decision and beg me to come back!

The new url will be: http://www.rhondakprince.wordpress.com I have imported the posts from this blog but still have some sprucing up to do before I delete this one.

Until then there are a few blogs I would like to recommend, though they may be occasional blogs, as mine has been, they are worth watching!

Paul's Lightroom

Swimming with Chickens

to have and to hold

2011-12-18T12:31:00.007-05:00

Small fragile fear, like the wing of a bird…

gently fluttering overhead.

then the vast storm that sweeps in

and seals the room in its fury

blowing about until nothing is

left but meaningless words

and timeworn stories.

Sometimes you are drowning

in the darkness

hoping to find something
to hold on to...

But other times you are waiting

for the giraffe...the one
you've always wished to have...
a lion comes but you send
him away knowing it is not
what you need.

For a moment you follow

the sweet fragrance

of freedom and escape.

It is an illusive aroma
that leads you to the edge
of the abyss
and suddenly you are spinning,

your feet planted firmly

yet sensing the turn of the earth

until someone takes

your hand and the twirling stops

The startling silence is broken

by the voice

that will navigate you through

the strong current that threatens

to send you adrift in the river,

lost forever

under the sky so clear

it holds no clues

to finding your way back.

A Mother's Love

2011-11-30T21:02:00.000-05:00

TO WASH A CHILD
by Pablo Neruda

Only the most ancient love on earth
will wash and comb the statue of the children,
straighten the feet and knees.
The water rises, the soap slithers,
and the pure body comes up to breathe
the air of flowers and motherhood.

Oh, the sharp watchfulness,
the sweet deception,
the lukewarm struggle!

Now the hair is a tangled
pelt crisscrossed by charcoal,
by sawdust and oil,
soot, wiring, crabs,
until love, in its patience,
sets up buckets and sponges,
combs and towels,
and, out of scrubbing and combing, amber,
primal scrupulousness, jasmines,
has emerged the child, newer still,
running from the mother's arms
to clamber again on its cyclone,
go looking for mud, oil, urine and ink,
hurt itself, roll about on the stones.
Thus, newly washed, the child springs into life,
for later, it will have time for nothing more
than keeping clean, but with the life lacking.

MoDA Photography Setup by Paul Boocock

2011-11-23T09:25:00.003-05:00

MoDA: MoDA Photography Setup: Lights in working position The new photography equipment is finally in place and working, it has taken a little longer than expected due to...

Tears by Tiny Dancer

2011-09-25T12:13:00.008-04:00

photo©Rhonda Prince

I’ve always wondered
Why tears should only come out of your eyes
And if there’s a secret supply of tears
Hidden away in the back of your head

But if
If tears were stored away in the back of your head
like storage, but with water
A water tower in your head
your brain
And when you cried
the tears would pour out of your
Nose
and your
Mouth
and your ears, too

So I guess it’s a good thing you have tearducts
because if tears came from your
Nose,
and your
Mouth
and your ears, too
you would drown
in your tears

And there would be a whole new meaning to the saying
“Drowning in your sorrow”

text©Sadie Gren 2011

Than Paper and a Pen by Mervyn Peake

2011-09-12T20:55:00.001-04:00

Than paper and a pen

What is there, then

Needed besides

To make the cold ink burn?

Only a leaping brain;

Only the heart's hot tides;

Only the frond of a fern.

In the skull for a feeler,

Touching on pain-

(Neither hurter nor healer)

Touching on joy -

(Nor for love nor for gain)

Touching on all

for its singular stain.

Summer Holiday - Day 13 and departure

2011-08-30T23:15:00.002-04:00

Day 13: Cambridge- a university town filled with students and their bicycles, Gothic architecture alongside modern buildings, churches and colleges, wide open parks and public spaces, open markets, street performers and punt boats on the River Cam. Beautiful and exciting, yet with a peaceful charm that made me want to stay longer...or visit again...

Catholic Church of Our Lady and English Martyrs

Jesus College

The Church of the Holy Sepulchre (aka The Round Church)

Left Cambridge by train to Audley End where Paul's sister, Sue drove us to Saffron Walden for an excellent dinner of Turkish food. Train back to Enfield. And for one last time the familiar walk down Ordnance Road past the shops, restaurants and houses to the flat.

photo©Paul Boocock

Day 14: packed clothes, souvenirs, tea, oatcakes, ginger nuts and a bag full of memories for the trip home.

Day 15: back to Heathrow airport... farewell to London with heartfelt promises to visit again... thank you for the days...

Summer Holiday Days 10 - 12

2011-08-27T10:13:00.001-04:00

Day 10: A train to Liverpool Station then the tube to St. Pancras. There was a small street photography exhibition there. But mostly I loved the statues by Paul Day and the poetry of John Betjeman and the beauty and history of St. Pancras Station.

After St. Pancras we spent a few lovely hours in the British Library followed by a picnic lunch in the courtyard of the library

Traveled on to Waterloo Station. Visited the Silverprint photo shop. Then the south bank of the Thames. Had tea near the Royal Festival Hall. Then crossed Hungerford Bridge and walked to 84 Charing Cross Road, stopping to shop for Derwent art supplies near Trafalgar Square. Back to Paul's flat via tube and bus.

Day 11: No pictures of this day yet because they were film that hasn't been processed yet. Bus to Waltham Cross to shop at Sainsbury. Tea and muffin in the store cafe. Saw Eleanor's Cross then walked to Waltham Abbey: saw the lock, the church at Waltham Abby where Harold's Tomb is located as well as the ruins of the Abbey. Tea and scones at Philpotts with a stop later at the Welsh Harp. Walked back to Waltham's Cross - bus to Enfield with a stop at the Coop. (Pictures to follow later I hope!)

Day 12: Returned to Central London to cross the Wobbly bridge to the Tate Modern. Viewed the Diane Arbus exhibit. Then to the Royal Academy and the National Gallery. Exciting, inspring art...

Summer Holiday Days 8 - 9

2011-08-19T21:09:00.000-04:00

Bus to Enfield Town to exchange more dollars! Visited Lidl grocery store. Walked through Enfield Town Park and, of course, had tea and cake in the park cafe. Whenever things get hectic or frazzled I take myself back to those lovely times of tea and cake and London...

Day 9: Paul's sister, Angela and her beautiful son Kaelan, picked us up. We drove to Braintree in Essex for a lunch of Vegetable Pie at The Mulberry Tree. Met her fiancee, Doug Bell then visited two beautiful villages (Stisted and Finchingfield) in Essex. You have to love the old world charm and the thatched roofs (and the tea and cakes at the Picture Pot Cafe). If I was rich and money was no object I would have a summer home in one of those villages...the house with the yellow doors in Finchingfield...


Kaelan

All Saints Chapel in Stisted

The Village of Stisted

The Village of Finchingfield

Summer Holiday - Days 4 - 7

2011-08-11T18:46:00.006-04:00

Day 4: After picking up the rental car in Edinburgh I drove about the city with Paul navigating the best way to get out of the city centre and find our way across the Forth Road Bridge that crosses over the Firth of Forth (a really fun thing to say, especially fast). I'll admit I was a bit terrified driving on the wrong side of the road and on the wrong side of the car in a busy city. Paul gently suggested I was too close to the curb but I felt I was too far the other way. When my mirror on the left side of the car banged into something I had to admit he was right and tried to adjust my position in the lane. I wasn't always successful at that. And right turns and roundabouts were a challenge but I did get us safely out of the city. After stopping for tea and cakes we moved on quite easily, stopping only at Aviemore (a beautiful Scottish village) before reaching Kita McIntosh and Ken McInnes' Bed and Breakfast. The scenery was jaw-dropping beautiful. Our final destination that night was another room owned by Kita called The Wee Residence. Maybe wee but perfect and homey!

The Wee Residence

Day 5: Woke to a sunny day! The car safely parked at the Wee Residence we walked to the Foley Store and I had a fortifying breakfast of haggis, tomatoes, mushrooms, eggs and tattie scones at the Waterfall Cafe. I mailed postcards and then we began our journey to see Loch Ness and Foley Falls. We walked down to Lower Foley and sat at the edge of the loch. I believe it is magical there. We then walked up toward Upper Foley to see the top of the falls that flows into Loch Ness. Yes, definitely magical! The day ended with driving (yes I drove again...) to Dores where a man sells Nessie's made out of clay next to the edge of the loch and with a delicious dinner of spinach and pine nut cannelloni and a dessert I still dream about from time to time. It was a Guiness parfait with black currant compote and burnt toffee.

Day 6: Drove in to Fort Augustus for souvenirs. The ride through the mountains was gorgeous. Had to stop several times just to take it all in. A camera can never really show the grandeur but I took pictures of it all as a reminder of scenes I never want to forget. We came back to have lunch with Kita at the Whitebridge Hotel. Vegetable Risotto...warm and filling...then drove to Kita's house and took many pictures of her delightful garden. Stopped at the Boleskine Church and Cemetery. Dinner at the Wee Residence of soup and homemade bread from Ken.

Day 7: We traveled back to London today. First we said a tearful goodbye to the rental car at the airport in Inverness. Then we spent awhile in Inverness searching for purses handwoven in the outer Hebrides. I have one and some of my family wanted one too. Then tea and teacakes at Victorian Market. And finally a train ride back to Edinburgh that was one of the highlights of the trip. Granted, part of the time we didn't have a proper seat but it didn't matter. The view of the countryside was too perfect to worry about seating. Back to Edinburgh, bus to the airport and a delayed flight back to London.

Summer Holiday - Day 1 thru Day 3

2011-08-03T21:23:00.002-04:00

And so I traveled to London and Scotland for two weeks to visit my dear friend Paul...it was every bit as perfect as I hoped it would be, even the situations that didn't go smoothly (like me driving a rental car in Edinburgh) became part of the charm and beauty of the trip. Some have asked about pictures...so I thought the easiest way would be to post them here. Day 1 on Saturday there were no pictures. I was more concerned with arriving. We traveled to central London from Heathrow airport for fish and chips at Hamilton Hall Pub then back to Paul's flat in Enfield.

Day 2 we went back into central London to see the Cult of Beauty Exhibit at the Victoria and Albert Museum. We also saw an excellent photography exhibit from South Africa. I snapped away with an Olympus film camera...only to find out later I had forgotten to load film (I blame jet lag and Dramamine)....so day 2 is recorded in my mind...Day 3, we traveled from London to Edinburgh and spent Monday afternoon and evening exploring there...

The roof of the Scotsman

Greyfriar's Bobby - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Greyfriars_Bobby

Where I had my first taste of haggis

Paul

Princes Street Gardens

Edinburgh Castle and Ross Fountain

Waverly Station

Scott Monument

against the current...

2011-06-27T15:57:00.004-04:00

So we beat on, boats against the current

born back ceaselessly into the past.

F. Scott Fitzgerald

These images were taken with a Kodak folding camera made in 1935 and a roll of 120 film wedged in with a cut-up pad of sticky notes to hold the film in the center. It's not the quality of the images, the light leaks, the scratches and dust that matter to me...it is the overcoming of inertia and trying...

spin and twirl

2011-06-22T20:02:00.003-04:00

I embrace the rain.
I escape the
shrinking walls,
to soar on damp
passages that
steer me to a
fresh point
of view.
My eyes meet
the eyes of
the homeless,
the lost,
and the guide.
I become
each one

in turn.
I wait,
I search,
I follow.
Then aimless
and drifting
I spin and twirl
and lurch forward
toward home.
And there
find solace
in the songs
and whispers
of the
night.

sounds

2011-06-11T23:04:00.002-04:00

All was quiet today.

I only heard the sounds

of my own breathing

a silent, soft inhaling

then a louder

exhale, almost a sigh

as the breath

left and traveled to

another place. I know

there were other sounds

of rain and wind and voices

but I shut them all just

to follow the gasp

and shudder of my own

pant entering my heart

...searching for the

breeze and waiting for the

sound of knowing.

your shirt

2011-05-14T20:15:00.004-04:00

I wore your shirt tonight.
You know the one I mean.
Fingering the soft fabric,
lost in thoughts of spring,

being lost and being found.
A loud knock at the door
broke my reverie.
No one there but the moon,
a warm breeze and
bright stars in a
velvet black sky.
The streets were flooded.
so wearing your shirt
I waded through the
cool water in bare feet.
Once I turned to go
back but I was compelled
to go on...walking
further and further
away from my home.
The light from the
moon drifted across
the face of the water,
following its path
led me full circle,
bringing me
back to you.

Sitting on the Edge

2011-05-06T21:22:00.003-04:00

Sitting on the Edge by Rhonda K Prince | Make Your Own Book

inside and out

2011-04-05T00:40:00.002-04:00

We had a storm tonight.

the kind that shakes

the foundation of your

house and soul.

Window panes

rattled, lightning

filling the darkness

with bright flashes

of light. The thunder

matched the pounding

in my chest. The heavy

downpour brought the

start of my own tears.

The wind is still

pummeling against the

walls and I no longer

know if the storm is

coming from outside

or inside me.

I sit where you

once were and let

it all wash over me.

Maybe it will make

it all seem real

again.

Or maybe

it will float

to a further distance

where I can hold it

forever in my heart.

as in Rome...

2011-02-26T20:12:00.001-05:00

Angels descend on Noah’s Ark

while Curious George gets shot

out of a circus canon. The

man in the yellow hat rescues

him again from disaster. The

boy’s steel blue eyes, coupled

with an ingenuous smile seem

bent on pursuing salvation on

the edge of a crumbling abyss.

The Christians give him a dollar

and he waits for his turn to

to be thrown to the lions. They

promise the moon but instead

deliver fables and myths that

soothe him briefly. Eight chairs

and a fly on the wall are not

enough to save him from the

hungry beasts sniffing at his heels.

At first the clamor of the

bloodthirsty mob frightens him.

His eyes grow dark, his brow

furrowed. Then he tires of the

noise and lies down, plunging

into deep sleep. Let him have

this peace for now. Even if he

wakes to more danger his

fitful slumber offers the only

escape he knows.

Ode to an aunt

2011-01-22T10:09:00.001-05:00

I tried to decide what you gave me

so I could thank you and be grateful.

Tuna casserole you gave me.

Aloe on my burnt lip when

I hovered too close to the

Steaming hot dish trying to

inhale all its cheesy goodness.

You gave me peanut butter perfume,

sweet lies, and a place of refuge

from the ills of the world.

And I realized you gave me

the gift of laughter.

I never saw you unhappy.

I’m sure you were sometimes

but I never saw it.

You gave me warm

embraces, encircling me

with love and acceptance.

Taking my face in your hands

You would tell me how pretty

I was even though I didn’t feel it.

When you no longer knew my

name your eyes were still lit with

recognition and delight. You always

had dancing eyes of joy.

I would rather you forget me

though if it would mean you

also forget the pain of losing

everything. May your eyes only be

lit with Peace until the end of your days.

window

2011-01-15T19:49:00.000-05:00

“If a window of opportunity appears, don't pull down the shade.”

Tom Peters

1-1-11

2011-01-01T09:59:00.002-05:00

As I drifted off to sleep

the sounds of the incoming

New Year kept me awake.

I lay counting the gentle

raindrops that began to fall

Sirens, thunder, fireworks,

then hard, heavy rain

pounding furiously; the

drops too numerous to

count. Floating in and

out of sleep while bits of

dreams flashed…

a wink, a kiss,

a million fireworks…

through it all there

came the plaintive

cry of a frightened

animal pleading

to be rescued.

Dying slowly

2010-11-26T16:54:00.002-05:00

I haven't been writing much lately, in fact not at all. So I'm posting a poem by Pablo Neruda today that said what I was thinking.

You start dying slowly
if you do not travel,
if you do not read,
If you do not listen to the sounds of life,
If you do not appreciate yourself.

You start dying slowly
When you kill your self-esteem;
When you do not let others help you.

You start dying slowly
If you become a slave of your habits,
Walking everyday on the same paths…
If you do not change your routine,
If you do not wear different colours
Or you do not speak to those you don’t know.

You start dying slowly
If you avoid to feel passion
And their turbulent emotions;
Those which make your eyes glisten
And your heart beat fast.

You start dying slowly
If you do not change your life when you are not satisfied with your job, or with your love,
If you do not risk what is safe for the uncertain,
If you do not go after a dream,
If you do not allow yourself,
At least once in your lifetime,
To run away from sensible advice…

Space 90 - 591 Photography Second Anniversary Exhibition

2010-11-09T18:51:00.001-05:00

Space 90 - 591 Photography Second Anniversary Exhibition

Open the door

2010-11-06T15:28:00.005-04:00

Almost all the doors in my house are these kind of doorknobs and regularly I am unable to open doors because the doorknobs fall off into my hands when I try. This happens with my oven door as well. Could be a metaphor...could be the person that put them on didn't do a very good job....I tend to try to make everything into a metaphor or have meaning...but I do know love won't open my doors, it takes a screwdriver.

give me the man...

2010-11-02T18:37:00.005-04:00

Give me the man who will surrender the whole world for a moss or a caterpillar, and impracticable visions for a simple human delight. -Bruce Frederick Cummings

subterranean

2010-10-27T03:13:00.001-04:00

Rode the elevator seven floors down

And walked outside to palm trees

And cool breezes.

There was a bus there waiting for me

Inside the bus were donkeys

And elephants

And dainty ballerinas stretching and

Preening

I started to leave until a hand reached out and touched my arm

I turned to find a man who looked

Like Bob Dylan but told me his name was Jose.

He led me to a seat beside him

We rode in silence ignoring the circus animals

And their wild commotion.

At a park the bus stopped and let

Jose and I exit leaving the noise

And smells behind

We walked to a bench and sat across

From each other.

His brown eyes held the weight of the world

But his voice transported me to a quiet place

Where I could breathe

He asked if he could help me, ease my burden,

Calm the tumult in my soul

I smiled and asked him if he had the credentials to perform such magic.

He laughed at my innocence and told me

All he could do was be there and

Watch me spin into the wind and

Minister to my wounds when I tumble and fall.

I thanked him and said that would do just fine

Until I learned to catch the wind

And soar on my own.

The bus returned and took us back

To where we had begun.

I left the unruly circus crowd and my friend

Jose to ride the elevator back up the seven

Floors to where I lived. The doors slowly opened

And I walked outside to face the storm.

591 Permanent Exhibition: Wallace Rollins - Something's Happening Here

2010-10-25T00:26:00.001-04:00

591 Permanent Exhibition: Wallace Rollins - Something's Happening Here

always safe, 50% of the time

2010-10-02T11:45:00.001-04:00

Tiny Dancer's birthday...my present was to take her and a friend horseback riding. I used to ride horses every weekend when I was a teenager so I was excited to share this experience with her. Making arrangements with the owner of the ranch was a nightmare. She never returned phone calls or emails. And when she did she had 10,000 (maybe an exaggeration) stipulations and instructions. This should have been a sign but we trudged on...The day of the ride was glorious, sunshine but crisp and cool...perfect day for sitting astride a magical steed and riding into the sunset. We arrived early because the owner had directed us to arrive early. We had water and sunscreen and signed releases absolving the ranch of any responsibility for any mishap. When we approached the barn, after climbing a fence or two we found one lonely horse grazing in the yard but no human present. We waited at the barn gate, peering inside and seeing only dogs who acted as if they would eat us alive if we entered the gate. Finally a woman's voice called to us from the dark recesses of the barn.

"Can you please tell me who you are?" We identified ourselves but she was not convinced and said she would call our cell phone to make sure we were really who we said we were. We told her we didn't have our phones with us. Finally she said the words that carved a mental image in my brain that will be with me for awhile. She said..."I can't come out yet. I'm not dressed...I'm nursing puppies." She then berated us for being early though she had instructed us to be early the day before. As we waited outside she would occasionally shout out complaints and excuses and we began to wonder if we should run in the other direction. She finally came out, fully dressed and with no puppies attached to her. She whistled one loud long whistle and about 10 horses came running from some hidden corner of the ranch...it was a thing of beauty and our spirits brightened as we were allowed to enter the barn.

Terri was a small wisp of a woman but with hair and a personality that were bigger than life. She began to explain about the puppies, their mother had a rabies shot while pregnant which caused some complication in the birth and the ability to nurse her own puppies. So Teri had been giving them their mother's milk every two hours with a turkey baster. She said she was covered with milk everytime she fed them so had begun to change into her 'milking' clothes whenever it was feeding time. It took hours for the ride to start as Terri told us story after story, cleaned the barn, fussed over the puppies and finally got the horses ready. In between she would give the young girls gems of wisdom like, "opportunity has two faces, one with hair, one that is bald, if you don't grab opportunity by the hair then you will be bald." She told about learning to ride when she was very young and her trainer yelling at her because she wasn't a good rider at first. She asked her trainer why he stuck with her since she was so bad and he explained to her that he had stayed because he was in love with her mother. Her father finally kicked him off the ranch because of his excessive drinking. Terri warned the girls that she would be yelling at them during the ride, like her trainer yelled at her, but only because she wanted them to be safe and learn how to ride.. But she assured them, "I am your friend, in a few years when you get into some trouble in the middle of the night and can't call your parents, you can call me and I'll come get you at the police station, if I remember you...well I'm come get you anyway if you tell me you rode here when you were younger." When the horses were saddled we found these were not ordinary trail horses that respond well but horses with spirit and minds of their own. I wondered about the wisdom of placing inexperienced riders on such horses. It soon went from excitement to tears when the girls couldn't control the horses even inside the barn.

In an effort to make things better Terri went ahead and took the riders outside to journey across rocks and deep gullies and ravines on horses they couldn't control. I stayed at the barn with instructions to check on the puppies and make sure the mother dog was not suffocating her babies by sitting on top of them. Soon I heard the cries of Tiny Dancer begging for someone to let her off the horse she couldn't control. Terri's warning that she would be yelling at them was no empty threat. She began screaming directions in a loud harsh manner. When that didn't solve the problem she began calling the girls babies and the worst riders she had ever seen. There's nothing like name calling to motivate children to want to experience something new and difficult. Finally she helped Tiny Dancer off the horse, sent her into the barn with me, telling her she was done with her. More sobbing and self-recrimination as we waited for the other riders to be allowed to dismount and return to sanity. Climbing back over fences, we made a clean and quick escape. Happy Birthday Tiny Dancer! Next year I'm giving cash...

downpour

2010-09-23T01:07:00.000-04:00

No sleep. My mind racing 100 mph. The lump in my throat growing bigger. The knot in my stomach is rising and soon will meet the lump in my throat and cut off my breathing all together. Heart pounding, head throbbing, eyes refusing to close. Loud claps of thunder fill the room so that there is little space left for anything else. Then it comes...the sound of heavy rain soaking the ground and easing my spirit. Lulling me into sleep and rest and hope for tomorrow.

just one...

2010-09-01T22:42:00.001-04:00

A tiny trace

The smallest hint

A gossamer allusion

To what was before

Sends her in swift retreat

To the murky recesses

Of the corner closet

Cradled in shadows

Wrapped in a mantle

Of moonlight

That trickles through

The window and

Presses into the cracks

And crevices filling

The dark sanctuary

With a glimmer of light

Which she grasps

With both hands

As the floor falls

Beneath her and

She floats into the

Starless night sky…

vavava voom

2010-08-14T22:28:00.001-04:00

Bone against bone

Flesh against flesh

We each suffer in our own way

The old man

Shakes his fist at the moon

The young girl sits in her

Room knitting purple thread

Into a sacred cloth

That will blanket her pain

And the heat, oh god, the heat

The drops of rain evaporating

Into steam as soon as they

Hit the pavement.

The blond twins smiling as

They order wine and appetizers

All the voices in the room

Dissolving into a dull roar

Of laughter and empty words

While her eyes search the crowd

For that one face that will

Recognize and know her for

Who she is and not just

Love her for her stylishly

Tilted hat and her green

Coat with the fox-trimmed collar

Signs

2010-07-31T22:59:00.001-04:00

I'm always searching for signs. The night of the Full Buck Moon, when its light flooded my room, anointing me with good fortune, I began looking for signs to confirm the blessing that had been bestowed on me. And for the right music...I listen to music sometimes to find hidden messages from the universe...kind of like a soundtrack for my life. Earlier this week I was driving to the hospital for my father's surgery and fervently searching for some symbol of hope to hold on to when Leonard Cohen's 'Hallelujah' began to play. I looked out my window as hundreds of birds suddenly rose up from a thicket I was passing. The birds, the song...it was awe- inspiring. I knew I had received my sign.....but from who? God, the universe, or do we create our own signs to comfort ourselves? Of course that afternoon while eating steak in a country roadhouse I heard the song, 'Cause the more I drink...the more I drink.' I think I'll stop looking for signs.

bubble dance

2010-07-14T23:40:00.003-04:00

This is one of the students at our school in the multi-handicapped class...I took this picture last year for our school yearbook. Tonight he is surrounded by family and friends in a hospital bed in critical condition with no options left to save him. They are waiting for him to leave this world believing that he will be in a better place and will finally be able to freely run and play and talk...

Bessie Smith Strut - 2010

2010-07-06T21:20:00.000-04:00

Buskers by Paul Boocock and Rhonda Prince

2010-06-30T01:24:00.001-04:00

Buskers by Paul Boocock and Rhonda Prince

cheers from Florida

2010-06-25T10:49:00.001-04:00

We were getting ready for my sister's second chemotherapy yesterday. We packed two backpacks and a lovely Pierre Cardin bag with everything we thought we would need for a six to seven hour stay at the cancer center. We were refusing to let cancer and the pumping of toxins into her bloodstream distract us from work and play. Or maybe we were trying to shut it out by bringing a plethora of toys with us. We packed books, laptops, ipods, cellphones and cameras into our bags and headed for the hospital. If we were occupied with our 'stuff' then maybe we wouldn't be thinking about the hard questions. When will her hair fall out? What strange things will happen to her body from the chemo this time? How nauseated will she be? What is this strange rash on her shoulder? What were the results of the PET scan?

First stop was the blood draw center where they would take a little blood to make sure her blood counts are where they should be. Then we sat in Starbucks sipping chai tea while we used the laptop and watched soccer. Then we had an appointment with the oncologist. We sat in the waiting room and watched...soccer! Then we were called back to the exam room. And that is where things began to unravel. It seems my sister's white blood count was not high enough to receive her treatment. We would not be able to have chemo until the count was higher. They are expecting it to be higher on Tuesday. We spent time discussing meds, measuring tumors, rescheduling treatments and arranging more precautions against the inevitable nausea that will follow the next chemo. We were discouraged, disappointed and defeated. And so we dropped off our bags of technology paraphernalia at home and escaped to the safety of a dark theater to watch a wonderful foreign film from South America. We were the only two in the theater and it did the trick.

So today she returned to work and I to my computer. Monday I will travel to Gainesville with my parents to find out when my father will have surgery on his spine. He is in pain and unable to walk. He is not a happy camper, to say the least. And my mother in her stubborn, stalwart manner tries to take care of everyone and fix everything because...that is who she is. So we will fill our weekend with distractions and move on into next week with renewed strength and optimism...and maybe a little less 'stuff' in our bags.

I promise not to bore everyone who reads this blog (all three of you) with continued details of my family's illnesses but it's my life this summer and where my mind and my heart will be for now.

Paul Boocock

2010-06-10T22:28:00.001-04:00

Paul Boocock

photo©Paul Boocock

tiny slices

2010-06-06T16:44:00.002-04:00

Watching the world

through the slats of the blinds

The soft breeze

Blowing the bamboo leaves

The drops of rain

On every tree glistening

In the evening sun

I think I like life better

In tiny slices through the blinds

Instead of all at once.

Interview with Rosalind Solomon on 591

2010-06-03T01:15:00.002-04:00

Rosalind Solomon

Buk time...thanks to Paul Shelasky

2010-05-26T04:55:00.002-04:00

Recently I ran across an excellent blog and not only was I inspired by the photographs it reminded me of how much I love Buk....so today I'm posting a poem by Charles Bukowski. I'm off to Florida this afternoon...be back soon!

photo©Rhonda Prince

Straight up and down
and then maybe sidewise
for a while
and have your guts
scrambled by a
bully
and the demonic
ladies,
you've got to run
along the edge of
madness
teetering,
you've got to starve
like a winter
alleycat,
you've go to live
with the imbecility
of at least a dozen
cities,
then maybe
maybe
maybe
you might know
where you are
for a tiny
blinking
moment." - Charles Bukowski

Pure passion, still bleeding and forever young - a conversation with photographer Goro Bertz

2010-05-15T23:26:00.003-04:00

photo © Goro Bertz

Pure passion, still bleeding and forever young - a conversation with photographer Goro Bertz

Posted using ShareThis

under his wing

2010-05-03T22:43:00.003-04:00

The man she used to love

stood outside her window

offering tea and oranges.

He wrote a message

on the back of a maple leaf

ripping it from the tree

and letting the wind take

It from his fingers.

The same message was

written in braille on his

wrist and all she had to

do was take his hand

and touch the words

with her fingertips.

Instead she let her hand

rest on the smooth

bodhi seeds and glide

past the turquoise bead.

She felt the words enter her

heart and take hold

growing wings and flying

out of her chest…out of the window…

past the man she used to love

and finally soaring up toward

grey clouds and

disappearing forever.

Bittersweet Symphony

2010-05-01T16:15:00.001-04:00

One of my favorite photographers has a permanent exhibit on 591... yeah!

Denial isn't just a river in Egypt

2010-04-26T22:30:00.004-04:00

Icarus: All limits are self-imposed.

It's true! Sometimes I'm in denial about it but it's true. So the journey begins to find what I really, really, really want and to stop imposing the limits that have prevented me from finding what I really, really, really want...

More thoughts on denial:
http://phdcancer.blogspot.com/

Wrestlemania – for Bill

2010-03-20T16:57:00.006-04:00

My dad was a soldier, a lifeguard, a wrestler and finally a bricklayer. I posted this story about him in a comment on Cafe Selavy’s blog and he asked me to share it here too, with a picture. A few years ago a student I had was so impressed that my dad was a wrestler that my dad sent him a copy of this picture with this email:

YOU WOULDN'T KNOW ANY OF THE WRESTLERS THAT I WRESTLED. IT WAS A LONNNNNNNNNG TIME AGO.

WE DIDN'T USE WEAPONS, WE ONLY USED OUR MUSCLES AND HAD TO BE VERY STRONG AND IN GOOD SHAPE TO HOLD OUT. SOME OF THEIR NAMES WERE-- ANGEL FACE --LOU THEISS- DUSSACK BROTHERS- THE RED DEVIL. THE MOST FAMOUS PERSON I CAME IN CONTACT WITH WAS HEAVY WEIGHT CHAMPION BOXER, JACK DEMPSEY. HERE IS A PICTURE OF HIM AND ME. GOOD LUCK IN SCHOOL.

BIG GEORGE

The only story I remember well from the wrestling days, which were before I was born, was this one:

After my mother and father were married he took her to a wrestling match. He was the referee that night for some women wrestlers. During the match the women jumped on my dad, pulling him to the floor and one lady wrestler was sitting on his chest, her legs wrapped around his head. The crowd went wild...people sitting near my mom kept talking about how lucky the referee was and how much he must be enjoying it and how it was all carefully planned beforehand. My mom wouldn't speak to him for days and that was the end of his career.

sometimes good things happen

2010-03-10T20:48:00.004-05:00

take heed, take heed of the western wind

BORN IN THE 80'S

2010-03-07T11:04:00.002-05:00

BORN IN THE 80'S

whispers in an empty room

2010-03-06T23:21:00.004-05:00

She sat in the silence of the tomb

and opened the envelope

now empty and torn,

though it once held

a letter written on

perfume-scented paper decorated

with lavender flowers .

She knew the words by heart

reciting them to anyone

who might listen.

If she could give them all away,

then the words may

have a life of their own

spiraling past chimney smoke

And gabled roofs to travel

to stuffy and cold sitting rooms

in far-away places,

each syllable finding a path

that will secure its own immortality

and flaunt contempt

for those who hear the whispers

of the wind and mistake it for

their own voice.

reprieve

2010-02-22T07:35:00.001-05:00

A slight reprieve...the house I'm moving into is not ready so I have an extra two weeks. I'll do it right this time...I won't panic...take it easy...easy as pie!

fallen or just sleeping?

2010-02-18T07:04:00.001-05:00

"I said, tell me brave captain
Why are the wicked so strong
How do the Angels get to sleep
When the Devil leaves the porch light on?" ~Tom Waits

the grass is always greener...

2010-02-16T11:54:00.004-05:00

...or so they say. I am putting my hopes on that idiom. It's not just the move, it's all the other things in my life that seem to be crowding in right now. I'm drowning...

"When you're drowning, you don't say, 'I would be incredibly pleased if someone would have the foresight to notice me drowning and come and help me,' you just scream." -John Lennon

I'm not the screaming type but don't think it hasn't crossed my mind a time or two...

another fine mess..

2010-02-15T22:58:00.003-05:00

I don't do well with moving, and packing, and change

today I packed one half a box then ran away

to do something else. But they canceled school tomorrow

due to inclement weather so now I'll work twice

as hard tomorrow to make up for my lollygagging today.

I was going to write about it all...I thought that might be cathartic

but it just feels like one more thing I have to do...

so instead here's a picture of the inside of my head!

moving on...

2010-02-06T23:43:00.001-05:00

I'm moving soon. No not here but moving to a delightful little house in an older neighborhood close to the school where I teach. I think I'm going to be very happy in this house but the move itself is a tad overwhelming. But as moves usually go, I will wait until the last minute and then panic and start throwing things in boxes and somehow it will all work out. I promised myself I would start early and be really organized this time but I don't think that's going to happen. Life tends to get in the way and I procrastinate and make excuses. I should at least make a list, isn't that what people do when they are getting ready to move? Even making a list seems overwhelming at the moment.

Still...once I get moved there will be sunbeams and bluebirds...I just know it!

bask

2010-01-23T13:19:00.004-05:00

I took a deep breath,

And in the sacred moment between taking in breath

And letting it out,

I searched for a tiny bit of silence.

Seeking that one infinitesimal second that

miraculously holds

The entire universe in a diminutive space…

But there was something missing.

Something out of kilter, something askew.

I turned in rage against those to blame

For its absence.

I found many to reproach for being

Inept and careless.

They had ruined my peace and

Must be held accountable.

And when they had been reprimanded soundly

I sent them on their way and out of my life.

I was sure I would find the harmony I needed.

But there was always one person left.

No matter how severely I accused her

She was still there…repentant and sorrowful,

begging for absolution…

I don’t think she’s going away.

She may be the one that was

Sent to save my life or for me to

Save hers.

So we simultaneously breathe and hope and let go

in silent contrition.

591 call for submissions

2010-01-12T06:50:00.018-05:00

Sarah, b1980

http://www.591photography.com/2010/01/591-spring-exhibition-countdown-for.html

Steven

2010-01-05T22:03:00.000-05:00

This is Steven. I met him at a bus stop in Florida. He needed to use my cell phone to check on a taxicab he had called an hour earlier. He said his dad was really steamed at him. He had spent his bus money at a store and when he realized it the store wouldn't give him a refund. So his dad was going to pay for a cab but take it from his next paycheck. He wants to go to college to major in business and software developing so he can design video games. He said his dad was really steamed at him.

a mini-mart for bea

2010-01-03T12:01:00.003-05:00

This mini-mart reminded me of some of Cafe Selavy's posts lately about the global soul and the multi-cultured environment we live in...and mini-marts always make me think of bea!

coupling

2009-12-31T20:48:00.006-05:00

It's New Year's Eve again when my thoughts turn to failures and disappointments of not only the last year but the last decade. Why don't I concentrate on and celebrate the successes? But instead my mind turns to the dark side...

Which brings me to something I noticed while visiting family during the holidays...and am especially aware of tonight...New Year's Eve, aka Couples Night. If you don't have a date for New Year's Eve is it really a fate worse than death? In Florida I was keenly aware of the coupling of America. I watched the care my mother gave my father after 54 years of marriage, met my sister's new beau who spent Christmas with us, marveled at the lament of a 10-year old girl about boys in her class, listened to the discussions of other married couples in my family and wondered about the homeless couple huddled together on a bench under an umbrella clinging to each other for warmth...I also went to four movies this vacation and all of them, if not directly about relationships, had some romantic content. This includes the newest Disney film which had the usual prince/princess conflict to be resolved as well as a cajun firefly who was in love with a star he mistook for another firefly. It's everywhere! And most of the time I'm okay with that but on New Year's Eve I start to feel the void, question whether I will always be the woman men love but are not in love with and if being just me will ever be enough?

"The greatest happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved... loved for ourselves, or rather, loved in spite of ourselves." - Victor Hugo

home for the holidays

2009-12-23T19:43:00.002-05:00

Rules for a successful holiday:
1. Get together with the family
2. Relive old times
3. Get out before it blows (Brian Andreas)

missing the guinea hen

2009-12-18T07:29:00.002-05:00

I have nothing left to give

since the guinea hen disappeared.

I considered giving the magenta morning sky

or the flock of geese in v-formation

but instead I offer the gift of pain

because it is what I know best.

I will sit with you and shed light on

the charm of misery and despair,

that is yours for a song.

Together we can sing the ballad

that will capture the anguish

and fill your soul with the

exquisite ache.

Then we will weep in somber unison

when the geese take flight

at first light through the pink skies of dawn

Mickey G

2009-12-09T21:30:00.005-05:00

Mickey G. and me are lovers.

We are kissing under the stars.

His car will not run.

He fears I won’t love him,

so he chooses another.

She is strange and foreign.

Transvestites wearing pearls

crowd into the dimly-lit room.

I scurry away to the boulevard

where every person wears red.

Mikey G finds me there dressed in blue.

He holds me tight and

we float into morning on a river of

sheets and pillows.

Everyone carries around his own monsters

2009-11-29T23:52:00.007-05:00

About a year ago I started on this project...still not finished but here's Chapter 1:

video copyright Rhonda Prince 2009
Music Credits: Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da by The Beatles

your voice

2009-11-26T01:11:00.001-05:00

In my dream I was navigating uncharted territory,

totally susceptible to the influence of the full moon.

In a small vessel floating through tainted waters,

I heard echoes of your voice and what you once said to me.

I tried to follow your voice in the distance but I can’t reach you.

Maybe you’re not there; it’s only your words shattering my soul.

My boat takes me far out in to the crystal ocean, still and calm.

Your song has ended but I hear moonbeams floating on the waves,

and the soft pleas of all the lost begging to be found.

I wait in my tiny vessel. I wait for time, I wait for change,

I wait…

voices and visions (for Brandon)

2009-11-13T17:18:00.002-05:00

Intricate pattern-block designs
In primary hues,
“I haven’t been able to do
this sort of thing for about two years,”
They are not his patterns.
The voices from his past life
channel their creativity
through him.

The hippie jet has no missiles
It comes in peace.
Jesus is on the cross
even though
He is reincarnated, no
that’s not right…resurrected.

The butterfly becomes a rabbit

when there is nothing small

Enough to make the antennae

Look at the girl in a dress,

Bees sting, lions roar…

It just comes to him from

A place we cannot touch.

It has to be 720 because there

must be three digits

And then multiplied by 8

Can’t you see the puzzle?
Look inside the box this time

Because hexagons go on forever…

silence of the goats

2009-11-07T23:02:00.003-05:00

Okay, it's official now...
I am a total, certified, card-carrying, hopeless sap. Why do I let movies do this to me? My daughter and I like to go to movies together. The tricky thing is she lives in Boca Raton, Florida. So we find movies that are playing at the same time and go together by cell phone until we reach the theater. Then travel home again via cell phone to discuss the movie. Sappy, I know! But we enjoy it. Tonight we went to see Men Who Stare At Goats. Great cast, great premise...was looking forward to a funny, escapist type movie. Seems I don't do escapist... I escape in the story but I still find meaning and relevance to my life in most everything, it's the same with books, always looking for that magical scene or sentence or even word that will transform me into 'being all I can be' (a catch phrase in the movie)...And all the important themes were there - failure, loss, taking risks, discovering your destiny, memento mori, belief, belief in yourself, belief in others, belief in something bigger than yourself, belief in the universe, all wrapped up in a laugh out loud cinematic treat. But then one of the characters, Bob, asked another character, Bill, the BIG question...the one I want an answer to more than anything else..."Do you believe in redemption?" You'll have to see the movie to find out his response but as for me, at least for today, I'm going to believe in redemption. The challenge is finding my own personal redemption...and recognizing it for what it is...

What is art?

2009-11-04T13:53:00.005-05:00

Ruby's Folk Art and Produce Market, Plant City, Florida

I saw a video clip of Ruby talking about her painting of an angel eating with her feet and she said that "sometimes something comes into your spirit-being and if you don't do it it follows you and follows you and follows you until you finally do it and then your spirit-being can be free."

not there yet

2009-11-03T14:37:00.002-05:00

Any life is made up of a single moment, the moment in which a man finds out, once and for all, who he is.
-Jorge Luis Borges

lifeguard

2009-10-31T12:52:00.001-04:00

I said I would post the picture of the lifeguard from Boca beach that I asked to take his picture. Here he is. He was looking away from the camera because I told him of my shyness when photographing people. He thought it would make me more comfortable if he was looking away. Isn't he sweet? After seeing it now I thought of what I would've done differently...isn't that the way...

everything being a constant carnival...

2009-10-29T22:29:00.005-04:00

Four days into a new work week and where's the clarity? Seems I need the open road in order to think clearly.

She rode sixteen ferris wheels

in one afternoon,

each one spinning

faster than the last.

Synchronized revolutions

of light and motion

left her shaken and wobbly.

She stumbled into an open field

where an old oak waited

to offer her refuge.

She was cradled in his

knotted limbs,

her head against

his coarse bark.

She begged to stay for 300 years,

there in the shady respite.

But as she slept the sounds of the

carnival plagued her rest.

Frenzied screams of terror

or delight interrupted

her dreams.

Unable to sleep she

left the comfort of the oak

and staggered drowsily

back to the fray,

back to the wild rides.

Buying sixteen more tickets,

and with a nod to the moon,

she mounted the ride,

braced herself against the side

and began to spin again...

day 8 - fly away home

2009-10-27T18:54:00.001-04:00

Yes back in the car with my cd's and cameras. Many pictures yet to be developed and edited. The shots I missed preserved in memory. One of the lone zebra roaming in a herd of brown cows...why didn't I go back for that one?

Returning home with new resolve to face my problems and make changes. You know how it is when you go away from your normal routine and suddenly there is clarity! THIS is what must be done...THIS is what needs to happen....THIS is what I will do now that I see things clearly. You know how it goes...

I was listening to Don Quixote on the way home. Fighting his windmills and trying to right all the wrongs ...inspiring character even if he was a bit daft...aren't we all? He said that, "he was spurred on by the conviction that the world needed his immediate presence." I don't think the world needs my immediate presence...but I do know I need to be present in my world...every day...every moment.

The list of what I see clearly now is growing...so on to the work at hand...home is where I should be for now...

day 7 - nothing really

2009-10-26T14:12:00.003-04:00

Day 7 was a quiet day. Nothing remarkable to speak or write about. A little shopping, a little packing for the return trip, a little napping. That evening we went through my mother's music collection. She had all of her old vinyls that I remember from my childhood and some old cd's. I played some Leonard Cohen for her. She said the old songs, from her youth, like Cohen's cover of Tennessee Waltz, just made her sad.

I'm ready to go home, ready to stay, ready to make a change...

day 6 - being defensive

2009-10-24T22:21:00.006-04:00

Today I attended a dissertation defense. Academia is a different world. They have their own set of rules and customs. I felt like a stranger in a foreign land. Yes, I'm a teacher but these were the PhD's, the administrative staff of a college...those that discuss pedagogy and Paulo Freire with ease...

I was fascinated by the entire research methodology and thought I could apply it to my own life. I began asking questions...a good first step for research, I think. Then I was flooded by questions, hundreds of self-directed queries about myself and the path I'm on...what have I done with my life, what should I have done with my life, where am I going next, when does my life really begin, who said I had to do what I've done with my life, how can I change my life, why do I feel dissatisfied with my life etc., etc., ad nauseum, it went on in my head for hours.

Following the design of a phenomenological study I found several central themes arising from the stream of questions. The themes were Who, What, Where, When, Why and How. Interestingly enough, those themes can also be my research questions. Now for collecting data and reaching a conclusion with a proposal for future research. Wow, will I then have a PhD in me?

day 5 - expanding horizons

2009-10-23T23:39:00.001-04:00

Heading back across the state today to Tampa. Before I left Boca Raton I went to the beach to take a few pictures. A gate attendant at South Beach let me park for free. We talked for a few minutes and then she asked me if I could come back at 1:30 and have lunch with her. She had moved to Florida from Michigan and said she hadn't been able to meet anyone just to go out with for a bite to eat. She said I seemed so nice. I told her I did know someone in Boca who didn't work and was about her age, so she gave me her number and I promised to pass it on. I would never be able to do something like that, no matter how lonely I was...suffer in silence. I appreciated her bravery. I hope she makes a friend soon...

On the beach the waves, the sand,were refreshing. I had a discussion with a friend this week about overanalyzing photography...thinking about it too much (especially when I want to photograph people) and then ending up talking myself out of taking it at all. In the spirit of transformation I approached the lifeguard and asked if I could take his picture. I told him about my hesitancy to photograph people. He readily agreed...I wish I had taken the gate attendant's picture too...I will post his picture here when it is developed. I was quite pleased with myself...

I continued my journey, back north on the Florida turnpike, then revisiting Yeehaw junction, then through mile after mile of rural Florida...cows, sod farms, wide open spaces...wait till you see Ruby's Folk Art and Produce Market...a hidden treasure in the middle of nowhere. I've been nowhere for some time now....hoping these travels into nowhere lead me somewhere...

day 4 - Tiny Dancer revisited...

2009-10-22T23:52:00.011-04:00

Today I travelled across the state to Boca Raton, the city of beige and pastel colors, the rat's mouth. I suppose it is the way a beach town should be....

On the way I discovered a little town called Yeehaw Junction. There was a building called Desert Inn that held the history of the town. Over the years it has been the jail, the saloon, a restaurant, and even a brothel. Yeehaw is Indian (west not east) for wolf because as late as 1920 there were rare dire wolves in the area. The town was once called Jackass Junction but when the Florida Turnpike was built the powers that be decided the name should be changed to something more sedate and polite.

Spent time with Tiny Dancer...dinner and 'Where the Wild Things Are" Great movie, the lines were so perfect we found ourselves repeating them over and over on the way home.

Not much to say today...just family time... falling asleep now...

Song for the day: How does it feel? How does it feel? To be on your own, With no direction home, Like a complete unknown, Like a rolling stone... (Bob Dylan)

day 3 - Gwendolyn and Leonard

2009-10-21T23:48:00.009-04:00

I have an aunt who lives in Florida. Her name is Gwen. She is 79 years old. I have always loved and admired her. We are losing her bit by bit as Alzheimer's destroys her mind. Today I went to visit her. Upon arriving my mother told her who I was and she responded by taking my face in her hands and saying, "Of course, I know who she is!" She looked directly into my eyes with recognition and love. I don't expect her to be able to do that much longer but today she knew me. I would like to share a story Aunt Gwen told me. I should preface this recollection with the fact that my mother's family lived in poverty in rural Tennessee in the 30's and 40's. Their father, my granfather, was a moonshiner, a gambler, an adulterer, a bigamist and a child abuser.

Imagine a young girl, grammar school age, joining her siblings to hold their mother down on the wooden floor of their small house. They were trying to prevent her from charging out of the house with a gun to shoot their father. My grandmother had just found out that her husband was living with another woman. She was hurt and angry. As they struggled and pleaded with her there was a knock on the door. My aunt realized it was a peddler at the door. A few weeks earlier a contest had begun at school. There would be a prize for the student who had the cleanest teeth. My aunt was determined to win. But the only toothbrush she had was a stick from the hickory tree. She wanted to buy a real toothbrush but there was no money then for such luxuries. She had arranged to trade the peddler wild blueberries for the toothbrush she wanted. She had spent most of her day in the woods picking buckets full of juicy blueberries. When she heard the knock she faced a dilemma, should she let go of her mother or go let the peddler in to make the trade? She paused only a second before she went to the door to give the blueberries to the peddler and retrieve her toothbrush. She did win the contest. I don't know what the prize was and neither did she. Years later, when she was 13, she married a 36 year old man who carried her to Florida to be his bride. She smiles as she remembers this and says he thought she was 16. They were married, raised children and loved each other for over 50 years. Sometimes she forgets he is gone and sets a place for him at the breakfast table.

Tonight I went to a Leonard Cohen concert...Gwen and Leo...aging icons of a more graceful time...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uyMC5MJYOZ8

Day 2

2009-10-20T00:28:00.007-04:00

Under close scrutiny

she came unraveled

trying to hold secrets

that weren't hers to keep.

Poked and prodded by

strange instruments meant

to cure her of her ills,

she receded further into

silence.

Dreams of gnarled hands,

poisonous snakes and

paths that never end

haunted her sleep.

Her only plan was

to return to the

edge of the precipice

and hope for

forward motion.

Road Trip - Day One

2009-10-18T12:29:00.006-04:00

The week before I left was filled with a multitude of signs and omens. My problem was I couldn't decide whether they were telling me to cancel my trip and stay home or leave earlier than I planned in order to escape. The week was filled with emotional drama, financial woes, a trip to the ER for an injured knee, and finally a core-shattering disaster... it was all too much...but plans had been made, people were expecting me..I had to leave. Day one dawned fair and bright and within the first 100 miles I felt such freedom, such release...in fact, I may become a modern-day nomad, living out of my car, traveling for pillar to post seeking my bliss. Yes the problems left behind rose to the surface but I could keep them from drowning me with a myriad of distracting rituals...mantras...music...books on cd...often opening every window and letting the fresh air blow away the cobwebs...

Thought for the day: I must learn to 'sacrifice my attachment to limitations and illusion...'

(John Major Jenkins)

this way out

2009-10-06T20:55:00.005-04:00

I want to be lost,

adrift in the silence of om,

floundering in peril,

forgetting past blunders,

breaking old patterns,

mystified by the beauty of the puzzle.

I want to love the bewildered,

study their aimless truth,

follow their disoriented paths,

hold tight their hands as we

leap into the baffling rift,

between now and forever.

I want to travel in confusion,

go astray into dark rooms,

where others fear to enter,

to find the secrets of the forlorn,

in the haven of the perplexed.

And there I will find rest.

wild dogs

2009-10-04T21:19:00.005-04:00

Enough already
she told me to say.
He said to end my
attraction to the past
and find adventure.
He touched her
pink shirt with
warm fingers of love
and I finally knew
he was where he should be.
Leaving me with the cobbler,
staring at my shoes,
and calculating the cost
before I even asked.
finding what I need while
smoking cigarettes and
drinking whiskey.
the moon coaxing me
to leave myself and
run with the wild dogs,
in search of the lost path.
If you hear my story
cry for me,
smile for me
rescue me...

Now showing...

2009-10-03T12:17:00.006-04:00

photo © Alfredo Muñoz de Oliveira

One of the things I enjoy most about photography (besides taking pictures) is the community of photographers I have met and correspond with from all over the world. Today I was pleased to present Alfredo Muñoz de Oliveira and his amazing work. Check it out if you have the time!

beloved be the one who sits down

2009-09-28T10:22:00.005-04:00

Today I am staying home from work recovering from a cold or the flu or something...watching the dark comedy, Songs from the Second Floor inspired by the poem Stumble Between Two Stars by Cesar Vallejo:

Beloved be the unknown man and his wife.
My fellow man with sleeves, neck and eyes!
Beloved be the one who sleeps on his back.
The one who wears a torn shoe in the rain.
Beloved be the bald man without hat.
The one who catches a finger in a door.
Beloved be the one who sweats out of pain or out of shame.
The one who pays with what he does not have...
Beloved be the ones who sit down.
Beloved be the one who works by the day, by the month, by the hour.
Beloved be the one who sweats out of pain or out of shame.
The person who goes, at the order of his hands, to the movies.
The one who pays with what he does not have...
The one who sleeps on his back.
The one who no longer remembers his childhood.
Beloved be the one who sits down.
Beloved be the just man without thorns.
The bald man without hat.
The thief without roses.
The one who wears a watch and has seen God.
The one who has honor and does not die!

mar adentro

2009-09-21T22:06:00.001-04:00

Count your blessings,
he scolded me sternly
Stop complaining.
Remember how easy
your life is…

But still the waves
swell and surge.
Dark clouds drape
the eastern sky.
The colors of the sea
fading as I
am carried further
from the shore.

unsuited

2009-09-05T11:20:00.004-04:00

I’m not suited for this.
Maybe some day I will be,
I cannot name the year or time.
Certainly I fear my soul will shun peace
Until that moment breaks.

But if escape offers some reprieve,
I will gratefully embrace its bounty.
I eagerly await its arrival to divert
The yellow noise of distraction
Into the calm blues of flight

I will return to the ample expanse
Where following breath leads to
Quiet void, most excellent and fair.
And finally sends me back to exquisite pain,
The customary price for touching bliss.

"It's always darkest just before it goes pitch black"

2009-08-24T15:24:00.009-04:00

Storm's a' comin'... I can feel it.
My body braced for the full impact.
I can't control the weather.
All I can do is adjust the thermostat
inside my head.

So I'm boarding the windows,
battening the hatches,
securing the valuables
in preparation for the squall.
Then again, maybe I should let it all
blow away in a cyclonic clearing of the debris...

The gale-force winds could destroy me
or allow something new to emerge
from the wreckage.
The goal and my current mantra is to
surrender to opportunity...

one single solitary day

2009-08-17T23:12:00.006-04:00

Today was indeed an auspicious day! Not only was it my birthday on the Gregorian calendar it was also my Mayan birthday. I'm told this does not happen very often in one's lifetime. I didn't find out until the end of the day but I wished I had known earlier. I would've planned differently for the day...I'm not sure how but I would've used this opportunity in some spectacular fashion. As it is, my family and friends made this a wonderful day. And tonight I saved a life. My friend took me to dinner and as we enjoyed our meal, suddenly she choked on a piece of meat. She was choking and motioning to me that she could not breathe. I went behind her to perform the Heimlich Maneuver. I've never done the Heimlich Maneuver...my mind was racing to remember long ago first aid classes...thinking that I sure hoped someone in the crowded restaurant knew the Heimlich in case I failed. I stood behind her and wrapped my arms around her and squeezed gently...she was still choking. So I took my fist and pressed harder, sending the lodged piece of meat flying across the table...just like in the movies! The strange thing was that no one at the neighboring tables or any of the service staff noticed. It was like we were in a bubble...facing death...conquering death...laughing at the joy of being alive. It was an auspicious day. Gregorian birthday, Mayan birthday, saved a life...I'm sure it is the beginning of change...it must be...

balance

2009-08-13T14:02:00.006-04:00

It's my biggest challenge...finding balance admist all the chaos. I have elaborate plans for finding balance that tend to burn bright for a brief moment, then sputter and become ash. I have this hope that in the ashes there are tiny sparks that can be kindled into a flame again. This morning I rose before dark to do yoga with my favorite yoga teacher. It was incredible and exactly what I needed. If I could just hold on to that feeling all day I would be centered, calm, peaceful...and stress would roll off my back effortlessly. It's a dream...

During yoga this morning we used a visualization of my heart being an ocean, breathing into that ocean, watching it expand past the borders of my physical self to include everything, the breaths being the waves rising and falling...and if negative thoughts entered my mind I was to imagine them as raindrops falling into the ocean...flowing into the current...not disturbing the water or the ebb and flow of the waves...drifting away into nothingness. In the quiet, dimly lit room before sunrise it was easy to lose myself in that ocean...at one with the universe for a fleeting instant...later at work I've tried over and over to bring that image back into my consciousness but instead the ocean has become a stagnant pool of negativity and self-doubt but I will continue to breathe and seek balance and try to float out to a tiny island where I will find peace....

following my own voice

2009-08-11T10:27:00.005-04:00

Because I was born so late in life
I am afraid I will never catch up
I will always be running hurriedly
To try and retrieve missed opportunities
But will feel like I am plodding
Taking two steps backward for each
one step forward.
Because I was born too late in life
And will surely never catch up
I must steal the adventures of the
Fearless and live vicariously
Through their exploits and follies
Lamenting the loss of my own life
Finding solace in back streets and alleys
Because I was born late in life
I fear I will never catch up
So I listen for the whispers in the night
Hoping for that one still small voice
That will guide me through the
Twists and turns of this existence
And maybe even sound a little bit like me..

in a buk mood

2009-08-08T16:30:00.002-04:00

there's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out but I'm too tough for him,I say, stay in there, I'm not going to let anybody see you. there's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out but I pour whiskey on him and inhale cigarette smoke and the whores and the bartenders and the grocery clerks never know that he's in there. there's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out but I'm too tough for him, I say, stay down, do you want to mess me up? you want to screw up the works? you want to blow my book sales in Europe? there's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out but I'm too clever, I only let him out at night sometimes when everybody's asleep. I say, I know that you're there, so don't be sad. then I put him back, but he's singing a little in there, I haven't quite let him die and we sleep together like that with our secret pact and it's nice enough to make a man weep, but I don't weep, do you? - Charles Bukowski

What I did on my summer vacation

2009-08-01T15:38:00.009-04:00

Music: Shining in the Light by Page and Plant

dusty mall ball

2009-07-29T11:22:00.003-04:00

This week I did something I haven't done in years. I entered a mall. Almost like an out-of-body experience bringing back memories of a life I no longer live. It's true what Alice said: "...it's no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then."

a new day

2009-07-26T09:12:00.011-04:00

Somehow the bright sun filled the room,

though windows were closed and curtains drawn.

The light crawled in through cracks and crannies

and spread through the darkened room,

as quickly as water flows from a broken glass.

With nowhere to hide and everything revealed,

The people donned bright clothes and festive hats.

Celebrations continued all day and through the night.

Joyous music spilled out of the windows and into the street.

Merriment overflowed from the room, floating in the night air.

Pachyderms and hyenas danced together in the mist.

The taste of contentment was sipped from every glass.

Revelers began to tire and curl up in the sunlit room to rest.

All is quiet; all is bright as sleep fell over the space.

They dreamt of the sun and the way it sparkles on the dew.