Patience

I've had some scanner issues so I haven't been able to upload the SoulCollage® I've been working on recently. Here's one though with a message of Patience.

More to come...



Background is called Ta Prohm or "Ancestor Brahma" was erected in 1186 by Jayavarman VII solely to house a statue of his mother. It was abandoned and overtaken by the Cambodian jungle.

Robert Frost - Wind and Window Flower

LOVERS, forget your love,
And list to the love of these,
She a window flower,
And he a winter breeze.

When the frosty window veil
Was melted down at noon,
And the cagèd yellow bird
Hung over her in tune,

He marked her through the pane,
He could not help but mark,
And only passed her by,
To come again at dark.

He was a winter wind,
Concerned with ice and snow,
Dead weeds and unmated birds,
And little of love could know.

But he sighed upon the sill,
He gave the sash a shake,
As witness all within
Who lay that night awake.

Perchance he half prevailed
To win her for the flight
From the firelit looking-glass
And warm stove-window light.

But the flower leaned aside
And thought of naught to say,
And morning found the breeze
A hundred miles away.

Happy Birthday Robert Frost

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

~William Wordsworth

Transformative March winds blow through me and the trees

chasing the most timid and reluctant autumn leaves from their winter hold and

display fiery colour as yet hidden from view.

And I sense a change come over me.

I observe.

I feel the fecund earth move underneath my footsteps.

I breath.

There is a path before me and a path that went before

I am anchored only to my center.

(c) 2010

Artwork: Boreas, 1902, from John William Waterhouse

R.I.P. ~ Mark Linkous

I am devastated to learn of the passing of Mark Linkous today. Mark is nothing less than a musical genius whom I had the pleasure to meet in SF after a Sparklehorse show in 2007. And although I could never connect the pieces to confirm our blood relationship we are both nevertheless a part of the Linkous family and, more importantly, a part of this vast cosmology of which he sang so beautifully and painfully. A gentle soul has moved on from this world...Rest in Peace.