What are cruel works for man?
The siren paves a way
rage to be heard
or hurry to offer remedy
someone cries for help
arrival then silence
Start of another story
One may not walk away
drastic alteration of meanings
the grief rises when
one doesn’t listen
but invisible energy emerges
when someone cares
After all this thinking
I arrive at a camp at Lake Millinockett
to fish for brown trout.
note: The book I’m reading: When Things Fall Apart by Pema Chodron
“Joy like a river in her soul”, words of a young boy
Sharing his mother’s state of being.
A town nestled next to a river
How does one tear down and build anew?
River dredging begins Flood Control Master Plan.
Town awakens, sounds of bulldozers and cranes,
People wearing helmets working
Design to demolish, preserve, develop, convert
Empty complexes, aging structures, dormant land
Long deliberations in what the town needs:
Hotels, shops, restaurants, or something abstract
Community park in summer turns flood diversion space in winter.
Building a promenade on riverfront,
Passageway along railroad tracks,
Connecting Vine Trail, continuity without impediments
Collaboration with artists and role of the arts,
A time for coffee and twisted cinnamon rolls.
One accent, the Passages, a segment of passageway
Once a haven for graffiti’s passion and restlessness
Now a channel for artistic expressions,
Vivid, vibrant, living project
Come, look, linger, get involve.
Walking home I hum a Dave Brubeck’s tune
I prepare smoked salmon and cream cheese sandwich,
A bowl of peach yogurt and blackberries for lunch.
I take my time. I do not eat with haste.
Like town dreamers, like my friends
I, too, have choices and concerns
Should I join the frenzy of high technology
Pulsing reminders of “constantly possible productive moments”
Or walk with artists and pilgrims in shared humanity
Learn value of life, bear the task, persevere?
In my solitary walk, my mind can’t remain still
How will the young boy paint the river?
Let image follow imagination like spells of delight
Art’s idea whispers, shouts, bends then leaps to clarity
A journey of praise of what one truly loves.
In art and life, one will leave one day, the other stays.
I will write my praise.
Have you seen a cat weeping?
Or a thirsty squirrel?
A pause, practice deep involvement
From a splendid height
A kestrel watches
Graceful speed, finesse.
Lots of letters to answer
Diminish the clutter
Walk softly on the circled path
You live, find meaning
Practice virtues
Not incomprehensible
Even if you live in Istanbul or Damascus
Or in time of pandemic
Each day can be of gratitude.
Art does not explain
You experience beauty or riddle
Or something significant.
I walked farther today than the previous days: three miles. I crossed Napa River on an elevated bridge and connected to the river trail, to the downtown then returned home on another street.
It was 65 degrees, sunny with a cool breeze. I met along the way other walkers and cyclists. We all practiced the safe distancing. There colorful flowers and plants and art.
I stopped a lot to take photos.
El Greco’s masterpiece which is located at the Cathedral of Toledo, Spain.
Mrs. Abstract and I toured the cathedral yesterday. Lots of hard walking ascending and descending narrow, small-stone covered streets before arriving at the cathedral. 11,000 steps.
A moment of each day.
Mrs. Abstract and I meet with our friends in San Francisco
and tour the art exhibit of Paul Gauguin at the de Young Museum today.
A discomfort in my walking
looking from one art work to another
a pebble in my shoe
“In Japan there is a kind of reverence for the art of mending. In the context of the tea ceremony there is no such thing as failure or success in the way we are accustomed to using those words. A broken bowl would be valued precisely because of the exquisite nature of how it was repaired, a distinctly Japanese tradition of kintsugi, meaning to “to patch with gold”. Often, we try to repair broken things in such a way as to conceal the repair and make it “good as new.” But the tea masters understood that by repairing the broken bowl with the distinct beauty of radiant gold, they could create an alternative to “good as new” and instead employ a “better than new” aesthetic. They understood that a conspicuous, artful repair actually adds value. Because after mending, the bowl’s unique fault lines were transformed into little rivers of gold that post repair were even more special because the bowl could then resemble nothing but itself. Here lies that radical physical transformation from useless to priceless, from failure to success. All of the fumbling and awkward moments you will go through, all of the failed attempts, all of the near misses, all of the spontaneous curiosity will eventually start to steer you in exactly the right direction.”
-Teresita Fernández, sculptor
quoted by Maria Popova in Brain Pickings
Am I leaning on you?
She examines herself on the mirror
without admiring or questioning
She wonders what the day can offer.
She wishes to be anonymous
but doesn’t want to spend the dawn alone
well, someone may descend from the stairs.
note: the two photos are from Downtown Napa. The top one is from the Veterans Memorial Park. The one below is from the Artist Alley.
edgarone2
simpleimages2 