Thumbnails. How many times has it happened?
Those itty bitty pictures that just beg to be clicked. I saw one today and had to follow it.
I was certain it was an antique textile and I had to have a closer look . . .
this, of course, was the tattered lace edge on an old black dress.
I've come to accept the fact that I just don't see things as they really are. It happens so often
I really can't ignore it. I see what I want to see.
I think it's a habit, this misinterpreting reading into things. Dunno why I embellish with
some sort of alternate reality, but this I do . . .
There's an upside to this penchant . . . I head into new territory without even meaning to.
By following that "tattered lace" thumbnail, I discovered a photographer doing some wondrous things
with completely ordinary objects.
Oh, how I admire this! Don Taylor is on Flickr and has an amazing eye for capturing metallics - yes, metal -
to the extent of being poetic in his renderings.
This is metal . . . and all I saw was fabric. My alternate reality.
In fact, I see textiles or work with cloth, in all of these photos.
Call me crazy, but this is how they look to me . . .
How good that the clouds travel, as they do, like the long dresses of the angels of our imagination,
or gather in storm masses, then break with their gifts of replenishment, and how good that the trees shelter the patient birds
in their thick leaves, and how good that in the field the next morning red bird frolics again, his throat full of song,
and how good that the dark ponds, refreshed, are holding the white cups of the lilies so that each is an eye that can look upward,
and how good that the blue-winged teal comes paddling among them, as cheerful as ever,
and so on, and so on.....
~ Mary Oliver ~
When I am outside, it is far easier to see (feel) the big picture than when I am sitting here in my chair, sometimes worrying over what isn't helped by worrying. You'd think I'd learn after all these years to stop wasting time on useless habits. All it takes is changing my perception - and sticking to it. But how to hold on to that? I think our deepest frustrations arise when reality doesn't mesh with our deepest desires. How to let go of that?
The other day, my dear friend wrote to me, "you have to find pockets of paradise." I have not been able to get this out of my head. How perfectly true. More than that...how attainable. I started to think about where my "pockets" might be and once I started to pay attention, they were not hard to find.
Here is an amazement --- once I was twenty years old and in every motion of my body there was a delicious ease, and in every motion of the green earth there was a hint of paradise, and now I am sixty years old, and it is the same.
~ Mary Oliver ~
Paradise....an illusive wish-I-were-somewhere-else place....a place of outstanding natural beauty that serves as a buffer to the out-there-over-there world....somewhere one has landed due to much good luck and the fortunate movement of the stars? Ha. It's what I make of it. Nothing more. No matter where I am.
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I found a very heartfelt interview with poet Mary Oliver over here. It's from March of 2011, then age 75.
She reveals some astounding truths about herself
and offers a few glimpses into why she is braver now...
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Still learning & working with textures in PSE...for the cloud photo, I used two from Distressed Jewell and for the bracelet, one again from DJ and another from Tim_in_Ohio.
Some scribblings & random notes ... those of a beadworker, picture taker, natural dyer, stitcher of stories and garden maker ... happily unleashed with my soul-mutt dawg, wandering the Pacific Northwest of America and venturing down all sorts of paths of inspiration. Sit, stay awhile ... I'll put the virtual tea on. Welcome to my blog ~ Christi
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Friends along the path
Find my beaded story cloth, 'Summer Rain,' here:
The Complete Photo Guide to Beading, by Robin Atkins