Stickup Artist, Living in the Wild Wild West

Cold Mountain

2012-02-06T17:48:00.001-08:00

I’m on the trail to Cold Mountain.

Cold Mountain trail never ends.

Long clefts thick with rock and stones,

Wide streams buried in dense grass.

Slippery moss, but there’s been no rain,

Pine trees sigh, but there’s no wind.

Who can leap the world’s net,

Sit here in the white clouds with me?

~ Words from Cold Mountain by Han-shan, translated by A. S. Kline

Aquarium, Part 2

2012-01-28T07:59:00.001-08:00

Aquarium of the Pacific, Part 1

2012-01-19T18:37:00.001-08:00

Driving Into the Night

2012-01-11T17:12:00.000-08:00

I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope,

for hope would be hope for the wrong thing.

And wait without love.

For love would be love of the wrong thing.

Yet there is faith.

But the faith and the hope and the love, are all in the waiting.

And the darkness shall be the light

and the stillness the dancing.

~ T.S. Eliot, from The Four Quartets

Hiding, Seeking, Lost and Found

2012-01-03T19:41:00.001-08:00

I have entered into the Desert, the place of desolation.

The Desert confronts me haughtily and assails me with solitude.

She sits on a throne of light,

Her hands clasped, her eyes solemnly questioning.

I have come into the lean and stricken land

Which fears not God, that I may meet my soul

Face to face, naked, as the Desert is naked;

Bare as the great silence is bare:

I will question the Silent Ones who have gone before and are forgotten,

And the great host which shall come after,

By whom I also shall be forgot.

As the Desert is defiant unto all gods,

So am I defiant of all gods,

Shadows of Man cast upon the fogs of his ignorance.

As a helpless child follows the hand of its mother,

So I put my hand into the hand of the Eternal.

~ From The Poet in the Desert by Charles Erskine Scott Wood

Unexpected...

2011-12-14T19:46:00.001-08:00

When I moved here almost three years ago, I would drive in different directions on Route 66 just to see where it would take me. Route 66 drops off and picks up at various points in southern California and driving east from my location, it runs smack into the San Bernardino Mountains. It was in that direction I drove one chilly, rainy morning earlier this week and eventually, ended up in a blizzard! I couldn't stay long even at this low elevation without renting snow chains, but it was an unexpected joy to briefly be engulfed in the cold, muffled silence of falling snow.

The Ground Beneath Her Feet

2011-12-07T22:26:00.001-08:00

All my life, I worshipped her

Her golden voice, her beauty's beat

How she made us feel

How she made me real

And the ground beneath her feet

And now I can't be sure of anything

Black is white, and cold is heat

For what I worshipped stole my love away

It was the ground beneath her feet

Go lightly down your darkened way

Go lightly underground

I'll be down there in another day

I won't rest until you're found

Let me love you true, let me rescue you

Let me lead you to where two roads meet

O come back above

Where there's only love

And the ground beneath her feet

~ Salman Rushdie (song by U2)

Abalone Cove Tide Pools

2011-11-29T19:04:00.001-08:00

Thankful...

2011-11-23T08:42:00.001-08:00

This year was kind of rough but even so, I still have so much for which to be grateful. And I want to extend my gratitude to all of you who have visited, left comments, sent emails, and shared so generously your uplifting and inspiring personal and artistic journeys. Thank You!

May you always walk in Beauty.

~ Navajo Blessing

Talking Leaves

2011-11-14T20:02:00.000-08:00

Talking Leaves is the name given to the Cherokee written language, or syllabary; a graphic representation of the Cherokee language that took Sequoyah, a Native American silversmith, over twelve years to complete. After realizing its worth, the Cherokee embraced Sequoyah's invention and by 1825, the literacy rate of the Cherokee surpassed that of surrounding European-American settlers. This was the only time in recorded history that a member of a non-literate people independently created an effective writing system.

The name Talking Leaves was a satirical reference regarding the white man's words that "dried up and blew away like leaves."

November Rain

2011-11-05T10:31:00.000-07:00

Among the Rocks

2011-11-03T18:38:00.001-07:00

Oh, good gigantic smile o' the brown old earth,

This autumn morning! How he sets his bones

To bask i' the sun, and thrusts out knees and feet

For the ripple to run over in its mirth;

Listening the while, where on the heap of stones

The white breast of the sea-lark twitters sweet.

That is the doctrine, simple, ancient, true;

Such is life's trial, as old earth smiles and knows.

If you loved only what were worth your love,

Love were clear gain, and wholly well for you:

Make the low nature better by your throes!

Give earth yourself, go up for gain above!

~ Robert Browning

Gone Haunting...

2011-10-31T16:00:00.000-07:00

Have a Frightfully Delightful Halloween!

Sighs of Autumn Rain

2011-10-27T17:45:00.001-07:00

In autumn rain, the grasses rot and die,

Below the steps, the jueming's colour is fresh.

Full green leaves cover the stems like feathers,

And countless flowers bloom like golden coins.

The cold wind, moaning, blows against you fiercely,

I fear that soon you'll find it hard to stand.

Upstairs the scholar lets down his white hair,

He faces the wind, breathes the fragrance, and weeps.

~ Du Fu, volume 216, no. 15 in the Complete Tang Poems, yr. 754

Autumn Rain on the Chaparral

2011-10-19T16:57:00.001-07:00

Tyger, Tyger

2011-10-13T16:28:00.001-07:00

Sea Fever

2011-10-06T17:22:00.001-07:00

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,

And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,

And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,

And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide

Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;

And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,

And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,

To the gull's way and the whale's way, where the wind's like a whetted knife;

And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,

And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.

~ John Masefield

Check out post-processed photography by other bloggers at Pixel Dust Photo Art hosted by Bonnie.

Adrift in a Foggy Reflection

2011-10-01T07:11:00.001-07:00

Check out reflections by other bloggers at Weekend Reflections hosted by James.

Above the Sea of Fog

2011-09-26T18:14:00.001-07:00

My Brilliant Image

2011-09-19T17:52:00.001-07:00

One day the sun admitted,

I am just a shadow.

I wish I could show you

The Infinite Incandescence

That has cast my brilliant image!

I wish I could show you,

When you are lonely or in darkness,

The astonishing Light

Of your own Being!

From I Heard God Laughing, Renderings of Hafiz, translated by Daniel Ladinsky

When Birds Come Back

2011-09-13T17:58:00.001-07:00

These are the days when Birds come back —

A very few — a Bird or two —

To take a backward look.

These are the days when skies resume

The old — old sophistries of June —

A blue and gold mistake.

Oh fraud that cannot cheat the Bee —

Almost thy plausibility

Induces my belief.

Till ranks of seeds their witness bear —

And softly thro' the altered air

Hurries a timid leaf.

Oh Sacrament of summer days,

Oh Last Communion in the Haze —

Permit a child to join.

Thy sacred emblems to partake —

They consecrated bread to take

And thine immortal wine!

~ Emily Dickenson

Check out bird photos by other bloggers at Pine River Review hosted by Springman.

Ahhh...

2011-09-04T09:12:00.000-07:00

Song of the Open Road

2011-08-30T18:10:00.000-07:00

AFOOT and light-hearted, I take to the open road,

Healthy, free, the world before me,

The long brown path before me, leading wherever I choose.

Henceforth I ask not good-fortune—I myself am good fortune;

Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing,

Strong and content, I travel the open road.

The earth—that is sufficient;

I do not want the constellations any nearer;

I know they are very well where they are;

I know they suffice for those who belong to them.

(Still here I carry my old delicious burdens;

I carry them, men and women—I carry them with me wherever I go;

I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them;

I am fill’d with them, and I will fill them in return.)

~ from Song of the Open Road by Walt Whitman

Man vs. Nature

2011-08-23T19:37:00.001-07:00

I've had an idea for a photo essay I want to do, so yesterday I ran up to the high desert to start scouting out locations. I stopped briefly on old Route 66 at the bottom of the Cajon Pass off the Mojave Freeway and took a few shots looking far out over the Mormon Rocks where the train snakes through the landscape. It was a beautiful hot, dry day; the clouds taking some edge off the intense summer heat.

Once in the high desert I stopped at the first location that caught my attention and soon got talking to a guy in the parking lot. When I told him where I was from and what I was doing he said, "There's a wildfire down the mountain." Well, there's only one way up and one way down from the high desert so I had to hightail it back down the Cajon Pass before I ran the risk of getting stuck up there with no way of getting home.

Here I am at the top of the Cajon Pass taking some quick shots of the wildfire from the Mojave Freeway before the race to the bottom.

I took the first exit off the freeway at the bottom of the Cajon Pass to position myself on old Route 66 looking up at the charred hillside.

A special firefighting helicopter leaves to refill with water at nearby Glen Helen Park after dropping its load deep within the canyon.

The brave firefighters start a strenuous climb up a hill in single file to mount an assault from the ground.

The police chased me off so I drove into the town of Devore and watched the plumes from the other side of the Cajon Pass.

The orange color is caused by the colored fire retardant these planes were dropping which marks where the retardant has been dropped.

Residents on the hillside prepare for the worst. Luckily, this ranch was spared and today the fire is totally contained. Over 350 acres were burned and one mobile home was burnt to the ground. No lives were lost and no injuries to residents or their pets were reported. A great big thanks to the brave and experienced firefighters of San Bernardino County.

Songs of the Southwest, Part 2

2011-08-16T17:24:00.001-07:00

Lone, vast, eternal as Eternity,

The brown wastes crawl to clutch the wrinkled hills —

Till night lets down her solemn dusk and fills

The waiting void with haunting mystery.

Here solitude hath made her dwelling place,

As when of old amid untrodden sands,

Slow-journeying, wise men of alien lands

Sought at her feet life's hidden roads to trace.

All ways of earth, still glad or sad they go,

The roads of life — till breath of man shall cease —

Silent, the desert keeps her ancient peace,

At that last secret which the dead may know.

From The Desert by Sharlot M. Hall