TRIUMPH OF SPIRIT IN LOVE, NATURE & ART

Posts tagged “Flowers

Flitting and Flirting on a Flower

Butterflies mating
on a flower petal bed
The perfume of love
in a plethora of hues
Fleeting moments
of life
of the present
past in a blink
of the eye
or the flutter
of a butterfly wing.


Infrared Spring

and one lone color red


Dying, Lying Croci

This year the Croci

may die cause they told a lie

saying it was Spring

what they said don’t mean a thing

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for Spring arrives on Friday

and what the weathermen say

this year the winter just won’t go

and they’re forecasting snow

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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

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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.


Starburst

 

“Dear ones, the light of God is moving through me this day… I am in His sea of Light, in that eternal land.  Wherever I am, in this life or beyond, I am always roaming in that eternity.  I want you to come there also, for you are my brothers an sisters and I cannot bear to see you left in delusion.” 

Paramahansa Yogananda


Bee in Dahlia

Click on link below for short article on the ongoing bee disaster…

http://www.theguardian.com/environment/2012/jan/13/honeybee-problem-critical-point


Humble Lily

 

After the crash

from

mania

to

depression…

humility

shame

gratitude

grace


Image

Lily with Raindrops

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Resurrection

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“From winter’s tomb of lifeless blossoms, thou, O Christ, art resurrected in new buds of roses, marigolds, bluebells, jasmine, and worldful varieties of flowers.  Ever-mutating, multicolored flowers of lifetrons growing in the gardens of the astral land are fragrant thrones of thy Presence” ~  Paramahansa Yogananda

Hallelujah!  He is risen.


Electrified, Giggling Flowers, Talking Trees, and Thanksgiving with Visuals

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Mom told me one day why Dad’s African Violet plants in his office flourished.  “He talks to them,” she said.  “He teases them and tells them jokes.”  That was very Dad.  Once, on a trip to Gloucester, we sat eating breakfast and were admiring a rowboat on the front lawn, planted full to the brim with pansies.  Suddenly it began to rain.  Big drops fell on the pansies and my father insisted he could hear the pansies giggling.  It was then, I think, I thought about the interesting connection my father had with flowers.  Mr. Macho Dad had a soft spot for the flowering plants, well, more than a soft spot, a communication.
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He wasn’t the only one who spoke of these things.  I spent much time in grammar school at the house of my Polish friend whose mother was an artist.  She told us about trees talking and, she used to say, talking to them made her feel happy.  At the time I did not think much of it.  But now, many years later, on walks, occasionally a tree will say something.  Utter a benevolent greeting.  And now, I find myself so in love with trees, I shoot portraits of them constantly, singly or in groups, with their “friends and relations.” P1120427 copy

Any doubts I had about trees communicating were put to rest when I read in this paper, in J.Gordon Douglas’s column in the now defunct Dutchess CountyRegister Herald, about how trees in an area communicate with one another in planning their reproduction strategies for the season or warning each other chemically about caterpillar infestations.  Scientists are not sure how.  Maybe through the roots.

Not only do plants have feelings, they can also generate energy.  See the website by artist, Caleb Charland.  He used apple trees to generate light.  Perhaps one day we will use plants for alternative energy– just another amazing aspect to nature’s ways:

http://www.fastcoexist.com/1680497/turning-apples-into-alternative-energy-and-surreal-photographs?utm_medium=referral&utm_source=pulsenews#comments

Of course, hearing them “talk” is a little different.  However, Valerie Wormwood, one of the world’s leading aromatherapists, in her book entitled The Fragrant Heavens, tells us not only does the earth hum but it emits a low frequency radio signal known as the ‘Shumann resonance” and this signal can be detected coming off trees. She relays that researchers in America wanted to know if this signal could be altered by human thoughts or feelings.  They had a group of people circle a tree and say Native American prayers, sending the tree love.  They attached electrodes like those measuring human brain waves to the tree. A response not only registered but the sensors went off the scale.  Clearly some form of communication went on, confirming my Polish friend’s mother’s belief and many others as well. When trees are cut down we are not only destroying the tree we are cutting down and giving it a terminal sentence as firewood or worse, but we are also upsetting all the trees around the “victim.”  The surrounding trees must witness their friend and neighbor being chopped down.  Do they feel outrage, fear, sadness?

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We do know now that they feel something.  Wormwood tell us that in 1966 Cleve Backster, a lie detector expert in New York, had a group of students go into a room with 2 plants next to each other on a table.  One of the 6 students was chosen to “murder” one of the plants, hacking it to bits and then they all left the room.  After the attack Backster attached the lie detector to the “survivor” and had the students enter the room again one by one.  The sensors were quiet as the “innocent” students entered but when the “attacker” entered they started jumping “wildly.”  I think of this as I weed the gardens in the summer. Sometimes we are forced to cut down a tree and we must pick vegetables to eat.  And we have to weed the gardens.  But perhaps it is in how we do it.  If we can express gratitude and appreciation and maybe an apology.  Or if we could ask permission perhaps, as the Native Americans do.  When they take from the earth they give an offering as well. Scan10_edited-1

The Native Americans had the real idea for giving thanks, for thanksgiving.  It was not about stuffing oneself with sweet potatoes and gorging on gravy and turkey.  They gave Thanksgiving to Spirit in the earth, in the trees, in the animals, for whatever they took. Flowers “giggle” and trees “talk”.  If only we would be attuned enough to listen.  Sentient beings surround us and we must follow the lead of the Native Americans at Thanksgiving and give thanks for what we take from the earth, and, of course, from the animal kingdom, and give back something in return.  Even if it is only words, but words with heart behind them, words that understand the sacrifice made by sentient beings for us, words that capture the true spirit of Thanksgiving.


White Flowers in Blue Trees

White flowers in Blue Trees

My husband pronounces this a cow

standing among greens

well if it is a cow

don’t eat him

he is a sacred cow

as we all are sacred

I see him standing among the brush triumphant

for no one has turned him into hamburger

but

I say they are blue trees

at twilight

filled with white blossoms

well if they are blossoms

don’t pick them

and extinguish their life of beauty

grabbing Nature

as if She were our own

meant to serve us

when She is there to teach us

about the Great Being

benevolent with His gifts

such as blue cows

or blue trees with white flowers

as Nature whispers in our ears

as She manifests the gifts of the Great Being

and we boorishly

 cut them down

and put them in vases

(if I am right and they are blue trees with white flowers)

where in a day or so they die

having given their lives

for the mundane, bourgeois folly

of decorating our homes

or

(if my husband is right and they are cows)

 we boorishly eat them

despite the disgust of eating flesh

at the expense of deaths by extreme cruelty

a travesty of justice

crimes against Nature

when She is to be untouched

and admired

just as She is

for She is the perfect

creation of our Heavenly Father.


A Microcosm of the Macrocosm

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To see a cathedral in a flower,

 to be drunk with its nectar,

under an opalescent sky.

*

Infinity is our Home.  We are just sojourning awhile in the caravanserai of the body.”

Paramahansa Yoganada~

 

(Click http://www.independentauthornetwork.com/ellen-stockdale-wolfe.html  for information on, and to purchase my Bipolar/Asperger’s memoir.)

 


Starbursts

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Starlike

explosions of blue

with an

out of season

dusting of snow

a foretaste

of  the approach of winter

a sugary confection

one is tempted to ingest

a similar temptation

(I suppose)

as those tempted by coca.


A Wee Life

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Oh wee one

how I envy thee

trudging up and down

the raindrop slopes

of rain and nectar

safe within the confines

of radiant yellow

 succulent pink

in a self-contained

world of beauty

however short-lived thy life.


The Intimate Intruder

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Je suis tres intime

avec les fleurs

I am very intimate

with the flowers

and fear I am intruding

into their secret

world of silent sensuality

visited by bees and butterflies

and other tiny creatures

seduced by their siren song

of quiet sexuality

seductive to all

who pause to peek

inside their blooms

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Heresay Hear Today

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In

sin

u

ation

over

what

Katy

did

or

didn’t

do

to

Dahlia

is

here

say

prattle

of

goss

i

ping

blooms

filled

with

en

vy


Oh Dying Lily

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Oh, Lily

in the valley

of despair,

the devil’s lair,

thou seemeth to be shy

with your glossy, glassy tears.

One day we all must die

and we all have fulsome fears

of dying.

It is not

for lack of trying

 your life to live;

it is not from sins of lying

or reluctance to give.

You lived your life purely,

always kneeling demurely,

and though your petals turn to crepe

your form still has a humble drape,

still praising He who made you

in your last living days

and inspiring us to follow suit

in your reverent ways.


Insectual Flirtation

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“You’ve got a lovely thorax, my dear!”


The Stealth Kiss

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Unseen by a background of fellow flowers

 he rushed towards her purple petals

to plant the blossom of her bosom

with a kiss

when

blew a breeze

that steathily stole his kiss,

before she ever knew, sending it wafting

 above the treetops to the forever fields of lost loves.


It’s All Relative

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In the land of the giant Lily

the little ant is King! *

Man thinks himself giant, so important, even grandiose, at times,

when, in relation to the universe,

he is of microscopic stature,

 less in size than the tiniest of insects

who live in a veritable macroscosm beneath our feet.

(Adapted from the proverb: ” In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king.”


The Infinity of Spring

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Light embraces each flower

encasing it in color

energizing each blade of grass,

an infinity of green,

creating the world we see,

the dream screen

photons of energy

we drink with our eyes,

as our total being,

like the infinity of blossoms,

is caressed by the Light.


Cruel Beauty

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The nature of paranoia

feels persecuted by nature

 sees flowers gossiping

their pistols pissing/hissing

stamens wagging

with stories about

the outsider

who turns away in tears

malicious, vicious words

pollinating the silence

while venomous stamens

 draw ovules of blood

as the razor sharp leaves

slit  slender petals


Fragile Croci

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Oh, brave town crier of Spring

bursting forth before all others

in the cold

you age

as I watch

wrinkles in your petals

still beauteous with inner glow

as you close your countenance

against the chill wind