TRIUMPH OF SPIRIT IN LOVE, NATURE & ART

Macro Photography

Inside Little Worlds


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“My Aunt Lilly”

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Divine Intelligence


“God is manifest in everything! Look at the beautiful earth, and how nature keeps it in balance– how there is a plan, an Intelligence behind everything in creation.”

Paramahansa Yogananda


A Flowering Friendship


“The duty of friends is to continuously help each other to develop themselves. When souls seek progress together in God, then divine friendship flowers.”

Paramahansa Yogananda

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Lessons of the Lily


“FEEL THE INFINITE LOVE OF GOD WITHIN YOUR HEART. LET YOUR HEART EMANATE THAT LOVE FOR ALL… THE FORCES OF GOOD ARE HUMBLE AND UNASSUMING.”

Paramahansa Yogananda

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Simplicity


Live more simply, so that you can find time to enjoy the little pleasures of life.”

Paramahansa Yogananda

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Fly in a Lily, Millbrook, New York


The Life Cycle of a Dahlia


You’re born…

You open up to life…

You blossom and your beauty…

Unfolds…

You interact with other lives…

Of all kinds…

You slow down…

You wilt…

You get old and ailing…

and die…

Becoming dust…

Falling to the earth in rebirth…


Good Grief


It is Springtime and I am doing my annual Spring cleaning– maniacally giving away old and unused clothes and items that no longer serve or never did.  Some things I remember as I go through the linen chest– others are totally forgotten as to origin and use.  And then it hits.  In the corner of the chest is a neatly folded piece of green check cotton cloth.  I immediately know its source.  It is the cloth my Mother used to make curtains for her kitchen.  Mom was always making curtains.  When my husband and I were married she made curtains for our first apartment.  Seeing this green check cloth brings me back to a hard period in my life when seeing my Mother was my only joy… we are sitting at the table in her kitchen having tea and laughing.  It is a happy meeting…  So many years ago.

And now with the sun shining and the birds singing and fresh air wafting in through the windows I am struck with a clutching stomach of grief.  Tears that feel they could go on forever when I was in my fifties now are gone some 20 years later. Loss has hit again since then… a few times and those times are more sore. I let the sun beat down on me to soothe the memory.

Grief is not just a human phenomenon.  Elephants will stand over the dead body of one of their herd, in some way showing respect for the departed spirit.  And I think of examples close to home.  The doe we saw one day going over to the dead body of a fawn on the side of the road.   Or the baby rabbit we saw crossing into the middle of the road where a large mass of flesh with fur lay.  And even closer to home– my husband and I adopted my Mother’s dog once Mom got too sick to care for her.  Ko-ko had stayed with us many times in our house and loved being there.  We never took her to see Mom again because the parting was too hard on both of them.  We did take her toys though, from Mom’s house one night, and put them in our bedroom, among them a corroded rubber Santa.  We were sitting at dinner that night and Ko-ko went into the bedroom.  We heard a blood-curdling yelp and then whimpering.  We went in and found Ko-ko with her old Santa in her mouth.  The Santa was her version of my green check curtain.  A stabbing wound and tears.

Clearly animals feel grief.  Some die of grief just like humans.   Grief binds us together, human and animal, and perhaps provides the special appeal of the new life in Spring.  Yet when Spring inspires happy faces and a general feeling of well-being, and flowers are blooming everywhere, the contrast can be cruel.  As T.S. Eliot so eloquently put it: “April is the cruelest month.”  But once it is May the new life has settled in and we can go out in the yard and bake in the sun– the universal giver of life. And then with June… “And what is so rare as a day in June? Then, if ever, come perfect days…” (James Russell Lowell)

We humans have no prerogative on grief.  Our lives entwine with happy moments and tragic in this vast web of existence, and Spring and loss are just two facets of possibility.

For contributions to Michael’s Makindye Foundation providing a home for street children in Uganda click on the link below. Michael and Angie appear in a photograph below the link.

https://www.gofundme.com/f/sustainability-support-for-the-makindye-foundation


A Growing Movement on WordPress


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My blog started out as a mental health blog because I am Bipolar. I started it to showcase my book on Amazon, “Eye-locks and Other Fearsome Things.” But I found little interest in mental health subjects and the blog soon morphed into a forum for my nature columns, photographs and paintings, recording the beauty of nature, trying to best describe and display God’s creation. Recently I have found that there are those who have used this platform to set themselves up as self-proclaimed experts, putting down others’ religious leanings and telling readers what they should do with their lives and what they should believe. In all fairness, everyone is entitled to say whatever on this platform although I don’t appreciate pornography which occasionally appears. Most bloggers have been tremendously responsive and I thank my many followers for their prayers during my husband’s surgery in whatever religion they subscribe to and their following. I thank them wholeheartedly and will not forget them. But recently I find posts putting down the religious practices of others. These comments and blog posts seem judgemental and possibly intolerant. Someone actually wrote all meditation is self-hypnosis, arguing against the many religions that use this in their practices, saying to follow his guidance. This sort of arrogance is astounding to me, and seems unduly prejudiced specifically against Hinduism. Another blogger told me to go out and heal the world… never mind that I no longer believe in the healing power of some alternative medical practices, have a major mental illness and am a recluse due to limited mobility. I had always thought WordPress to be a generous forum but apparently the growing conservativism across the planet has meant it is now okay to tell people what to do and how to live. I think in times of such utterly dreadful conflict and anger between peoples around the world, and in the spirit of the holiday season, we should refrain from such divisive comments. So to my 1, 120 followers, I am not following WordPress for awhile. I am really disheartened by these developments on this platform. I may visit to look at the posts I follow… or not. But I will think long and hard about posting again.

May you all be blessed this holiday season!


The Inner World of Flowers


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Beetle and Fly in Goldenrod

Fly in Asian Lily

Fly in Asian Lily

Fly in Asian Lily

Ladybugs in Weeds

Bee in Joe Pye Weed

Snail and Ant on Leaf

Spider? in Dahlia

Katydid in Wilting Dahlia

Butterfly in Joe Pye Weed


My Ant Lily


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Welcome to samples of my work in various art forms showcasing “Eye-locks and Other Fearsome Things.”  “Eye-locks” is a Bipolar/Asperger’s memoir in narrative form that describes the triumph of love over mental illness.


Sounds of Summer


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Coming out of the winter silence– a silence so deep that one can hear the sound of one’s own nervous system–  slowly nature’s musicians warm up in Spring.  Gradually they gather and by summer we are hearing the full orchestra of the wilderness.  There are so many sounds, one might talk of layers of sound. 

Distant sounds waft through the air like a bank of clouds floating towards us.  We hear the raucous cry of a murder of crows flying over some carrion far off in the forest.  We hear the dogs down the road barking at some intruder into their world.  From deep inside the dark woods comes the unmistakable throaty call of a turkey.  And from the field across the way, the cooing of a dove.

And then the sounds of nearness, so familiar perhaps we no longer notice them:  The wind blowing through the dark green summer leaves, each type of tree with its distinctive rustle.  The chirping of sparrows and other frequenters of the back yard.  The whine of a pair of grackles.   The frequent complaint of the ever-present blue jay. The crystalline voice of a yellow warbler singing an aria.  The plaintiff cries of a gaggle of geese flying far above.  While in a nest under the eaves fledglings squeak waiting to be fed.

Bumblebees buzz across the lawn, miraculously defying gravity with their weight and size. They mix with the menacing whirr of wasps in a huge nest overhead.  Flies and mosquitos hum literally in our ears as the occasional vibrating zum of a humming bird, jewel-like in the sun, flies around in the Joe Pie Weed.  Dragon and damsel flies whizz by and hover in the air, occasionally even landing on us.  All this reaches our ears above the constant background drone of crickets and cicadas.

As the day progresses, the late afternoon brings the intermittent twang of wood frogs hidden in the bushes, calling to each other from all directions.  It seems we are surrounded by wood frogs and tree frogs who have replaced the frenetic, unceasing peeps of the spring peepers.  Bird song reaches a crescendo and then dies down to silence for the night.  The day sounds are replaced at night by the haunting hoo-hoo of a very close, but invisible, owl.  The occasional crying baby sound of a bobcat cuts through the cricketed silence, and in the full moon the poignant howling of coyote fills the black night air, illuminated by silent fireflies.

And then there are the sounds of man and his machines.  Noise pollution.  Lawn tractors, airplanes, cars on the road, all terrain vehicles, weed wackers, motorcycles, trucks, lawn mowers, steam shovels.  The list continues and grows in strength drowning out nature’s sounds of summer.  With natural habitat dwindling, all the creatures of the wilderness are dying out or moving to last holds of their breeding grounds.  Villages have become cities, masses of land covered in concrete and asphalt and steel, punctuated by tiny pockets of manicured nature.  

Certain species of frog are becoming extinct around the world.  The bee populations are dwindling leaving us to wonder who will pollinate the flowers.   And the songbirds are dying out.   Conservation biologist, Bridget Stutchbury in her book, Silence of the Songbirds, says this is partially due to habitat loss and predation but she believes the real culprit is pesticides.  She says we are losing barn swallows, Eastern kingbirds, Kentucky warblers, bobolinks and wood thrushes.  Pesticide can kill 7 to 25 songbirds per acre of application.  As Stutchbury says we can stop this destruction by buying local and organic produce, in-season food and shade-grown coffee.  As she points out, the balance of ecosystems is at stake because birds eat the caterpillars that fell forests.  “If you take birds out of the forest, bugs are going to win.”

Though the current state of affairs looks grim there are activities one can do online to safeguard the future of the wilderness and its inhabitants.  On one website you can click for free every day to give food and aid to animals.  The address is http://www.animalrescuesite.com.  On other websites, if you click on the “take action” button you can become involved in lobbying for animal rights and conservation of the wilderness with a modicum of effort, signing a letter, for example.  And although you absolutely don’t have to, you can always make a donation.  A select group follows …

http://www.sierraclub.org (The Sierra Club)

http://animallegaldefensefund.org (The Animal Legal Defense Fund)

http://farmsanctuary.com (The Farm Sanctuary)

http://www.peta.org (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals)

http://humanesociety.org (The Humane Society)

http://defendersofwildlife.com (Defenders of Wildlife)

Add your voice to the sounds of summer, speak for those who can not, and insure the future of the symphonies of summer.

Welcome to samples of my work in various art forms showcasing “Eye-locks and Other Fearsome Things.”  “Eye-locks” is a Bipolar/Asperger’s memoir in narrative form that describes the triumph of love over mental illness.


Unity of Being


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Carl Sagan, Astrophysicist:

“We are all star stuff.”

Professor Brian Cox, Particle Physicist:

“Every atom of carbon, every living thing on the planet is produced in the heart of a dying star.”

Sergio Toporek, Artist:

The atoms in your body are 99.9999999999999999% empty space and none of them are the ones you were born with, but they all originated in the belly of a star.”

Dr. J.S. Bell, Quantum Physicist:

“No theory of reality compatible with quantum theory can require spatially separate events to be independent.”

Richard Dawkins, Evolutionary Biologist:

“Organisms can never be totally unrelated to one another, since it is all but certain that life as we know it originated only once on earth… Go backwards, no matter where you start, you end up celebrating the unity of life…”

The Beatles, Musicians:

“I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together.”

Russell Targ, Physicist and ESP researcher and Dr. Jane Katra:

“… connection has been demonstrated repeatedly on the microscopic quantum level in experiments where pairs of photons (quanta of light) are sent off in opposite directions at the speed of light, but retain a connection, even after traveling many kilometers, whereby a change in the polarity of one photon observed by a researcher in Basel causes a corresponding change in the other photon observed by a researcher in Zurich.”

Joanne Elizabeth Lauck, Author of The Voice of the Infinite in the Small:

“… small changes in dynamic systems produce changes of great magnitude… small events emerging out of this wholeness give rise to nonlocal events, because all is connected.”

Albert Einstein, Theoretical Physicist:

“A human being is a part of the whole called by us universe, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feeling as something separated from the rest, a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty.”

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Scientists and artists agree.  We are all one.  They just use different vocabulary.

In my tiny life, I have only found the experience of connectivity demonstrated twice. Once, when my father died in hospital across town from where I was working and I “felt” his death at the minute of his dying. I “knew” it. And the other, when my brother collapsed suddenly in Michigan from what was later determined to be lung cancer, and I lost my balance and fell simultaneously in New York City.

Of course, there are the little syncronicities: thinking of someone and then seeing them a few moments later or dear ones calling each other at the exact same minute, or saying the same thing at the same moment, thinking the same thoughts simultaneously, etc.

It is not just family and those close to us that are connected to one another in this life (and perhaps in previous lives), but all of life is tied to one another, born of a dying star, born of star-dust material. And yet so often we see the “other” as foreign.  As Einstein so eloquently said, this is the “optical delusion” of our consciousness.

We are all connected. Not by cell phones and computers and the social networks, but by the very building blocks that compose us. And, if we can rise above the everyday pettiness, a Herculean feat to be sure, and feel the one consciousness that flows through us all, we could tap into a limitless ocean of empathy, and a unity of being.


My Cathedral


Another reblog…

stockdalewolfe's avatarMOONSIDE

The wilderness
is my cathedral
Spring Trees at Sunset  (digital photo)
The sky
my steeple
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The trees
my buttresses
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Hay bales
my statuary
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Flowers
my stained glass
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A babbling brook
my organ
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Frogs and toads
my choir
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Fields of wildflowers
my incense
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Thunder storms
my high mass
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A very diverse congregation…

From cows

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to snails and turtles

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to gazillions
of insects

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030 (3)

Deer sometimes come round

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Butterflies abound

398

Moths, too

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Birds of every hue

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All that’s missing is you

but you worship your own way

doing charity every day

more than I can say

View original post


Circle of Life



Spirit in Summer


Summer spirit

whispers to

the lowly weeds

dances round

the graceful trees

and sends peace

to pacify

an observant cow

 

 


Transformation


Fears and tears
in the sunshine
of April
“The cruelest month”
New life
overcomes
the death
of winter
and with it
its hope
of escape
in dying
Can’t it
just end
Samsara
No poetry
No muse
No spirit
Oh, April,
the killer
month
The Soul
Snatcher
The menacing
life force
that most
revel in
kills my
will
to join
in the spirit
of rebirth
I see only
the cruelty
of Samsara

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April raindrops
dry tears
and Spring clouds
sooth
my parched soul
and bring back
will and spirit
to join
the living
once again.

 


When the Snows Come


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My husband and I sit in our living room with all the little still-intact dairy barn  windows showing flakes falling as if we are on ship at sea in a snowfall.  Except for the high ceiling the living room has the feeling of a ship cabin, our converted dairy barn, and I think it is most beautiful when the snow is falling.

The glass doors at the pentagon of the far end of the barn gives us perfect view of the suet bird feeder.  The bird feeder in winter is our television.  We watch male cardinals, bright red in the stark white, feed and contend with the beautiful, bullying blue jays.  And the more modest and gentle little juncos and sparrows touch our hearts with their humility.

Like many barns, ours was built near the road so we do get some traffic noise.  But in the meadow out back beyond the marsh and stream, we are far removed from the road and from all.  And when it snows, it is so beautiful in the quiet, looking at the animal tracks and feeling the spirits in the nearby now-graveless graveyard.  Our secret little piece of Paradise.  And to stand there in the silence, in the virgin white, and see the abstract patterns of the snow on the surrounding hundreds of trees is Divine.

Christmas card 2

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Entangled in the Web of Thoughts


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Fall Day One Microscape


A whisper

of the riot of color

to come…


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Hieroglyphics on a Blade of Grass


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My Cathedral


The wilderness
is my cathedral
Spring Trees at Sunset  (digital photo)
The sky
my steeple
DSCN0719_edited-2 copy
 The trees
my buttresses
RSCN2558_edited-1 copy
Hay bales
my statuary
P1140436_edited-1
 Flowers
my stained glass
P1140264 copy P1140427_edited-1
A babbling brook
my organ
WP_20130818_13_56_38_Cinemagraph
Frogs and toads
my choir
P1140019_edited-2
P1060116_edited-1
Fields of wildflowers
my incense
P1140395_edited-1
 Thunder storms
my high mass
DSCN3251_edited-1

A very diverse congregation…

From cows

P1120605_edited-1

to snails and turtles

P1140162 copy

P1020418

to gazillions
of insects

P1130998_edited-2

P1130813_edited-1

P1140194 copy

030 (3)

Deer sometimes come round

P1140299

Butterflies abound

398

Moths, too

P1090654

Birds of every hue

 P1140388_edited-2

P1050664_edited-3

All that’s missing is you

but you worship your own way

doing charity every day

more than I can say


What Katydid…


030 (3)

What Katy said…


Nature’s Prayers


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Still yourself

and fold your hands

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humbly

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stand in awe

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radiate His light

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with eyes upwards

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towards

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the telephone

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to the sky

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and comtemplate

Wolfe.7

the glory that is He


The Cycle of Life


Youth unfolding


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in the bright sunlight

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 blossoming in shade

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‘tainted’ by age

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becoming fragile

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the delicacy of death

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From an old Dahlia series, attempting  to show the robust beauty of new life as it grows older,  finally reaching the unsung beauty of death.