010311: telling my story one picture at a time...

~stop. so that you can see~

~peeling paint, lush grass, forgotten leaves~

~paintings on the sidewalk~

~the imperfect parts of us that we dare to display~

~while we preen~

~decide if it's time to swing~

~and ponder the magic of the heavens above~

~i find i'm at a crossroad~

~what lies ahead is mysterious and partially obscured~

~but i think it's gonna be good~

love will surely burst you wide open

into an unfettered blooming new galaxy...

~hafiz~

~it's been awhile since i've been on a road trip, my wheels are worn~

~but something tells me i'm not in kansas anymore~

~there is shelter by the roots of a wise old tree~

~ i feel i've been jolted alive~

~i am not afraid to stand on my own~

~though i might ask for a hand~

~i listen to the buzzing hum of the power station~

~promise myself to slow down and live the life i have, right now~

~to show my true colors and not forget to play and be silly~

~to notice the tiny things all around~

~the things i could easily miss~

~rejoice in what is mine~

~take a moment to sit by a warm wall and observe~

~and laugh because my dog pretends to ignore me~

~and build my empire~

~out of the pieces that remain~

~it's no small fissure that has split me wide~

~and set my soul adrift on the soft whirling wind~

~open to messages of all kinds~

~to intoxicating scents of things blooming~

~to whispers of my childhood: ballerinas spinning~

~oma's chamomile tea~

~silly things on my doorstep that remind me to not be so serious~

~and yet, to remain grounded~

~an impression~

an impression

a leaf left

an impression in the gutter.

the gutter

she carries water

& collects fallen leaves and other beautiful things.

the gutter

often overlooked

she is like a treasure chest.

you have left

an impression on me.

i will gladly hold what you give.

i will let you quench my thirst with water.

i will be your treasure chest.

place your best in me.

then open me

and watch me sparkle and glow.

~sparkle & glow~

~collected on my walk~

a collection: examined as one

my heart is

open

worn & wise

with potential for growth

fragrant

solid

un-nailed

a collection: in parts

~living seed pods~

filled with potential

for a nurtured life

one that welcomes change

new beginnings

~spent seed pods~

they have served their purpose

i let them go

discarded

not forgotten

for they have brought me to where i am

and i honor that

~lavender~

your soothing

calming

scent

whispers to me

slow down

explore

with

all

your

senses

~rocks~

there are six.

one a perfect egg:

holding life.

one a kidney bean:

come spoon with me,

comfort me.

one tinged with the blood:

of my heart, my love.

one white:

pure and sparkling are my intentions.

one a piece of a whole:

not broken, just the half i bring to the table,

to the one.

a heart:

mine

to have and to hold

and to share.

~a nail~

worn & abandoned.

you once

held

shut,

as if in a coffin,

was

dead

to the world.

now

i am

open

undone

unravelling

unleashed.

i have

no use

for

nails

anymore

free

~pavement~

an eruption

no small crack in the pavement

no small crack i can ignore

a giant fissure

from which i ooze

from which i rise

my strength

it does not scare me

it propels me

carries me

to new adventures

which i help to create

~a wooden bird skull~

thru these open eyes i see

and through this beak i will sing

my tales~

my joys

and

my woes

~leaving the house for the second time in one day, finally the flu has lost it's grip~

~follow the signs~

~though my path may wander, it is my path, i create it as i go~

~beacons in the night~

~welcoming other's in~

~dressing up like a kid, because it is silly and fun~

~and wearing hats even if part of me thinks it looks silly~

~and saying yes! to sequin mini-skirts over skinny jeans with rockin' cow-girl boots, yee-haw~

And if you are not too tired, and weary, please read this story. A piece of the story behind the pictures.

010311

Rose Colored Lenses:

It’s amazing to me that I can go on a walk in the neighborhood I’ve lived in for 10 years and still discover things. How is this possible?

This morning I reached for a book, “The practice of being aware, right now, every day….Buddhism Plain and Simple” by Steve Hagen. I’ve owned this book for ten years, and I’ve tried to read it, as well as numerous other books on Buddhism. I never get past the first few pages without my mind moving elsewhere. So how is it possible that today, I pick up this same book and it all is so clear?

He speaks of “enlightenment” as “nothing more or less than seeing things as they are, rather than as we wish or believe them to be.” Isn’t this the same message my therapist gave me, “stop filling in the blanks, Elke”? He goes on to say that, “Buddhism is about examining the world clearly and carefully, about testing everything and every idea. Buddhism is about seeing. It’s about knowing, rather than believing or hoping or wishing. It’s also about not being afraid to examine anything and everything, including our own personal agendas.”

I read a few chapters and was thrilled that I finally seemed to be able to grasp the concepts. The day went on, still moving slowly, still feeling the effects of the flu. Eventually it was time for Noodle’s walk. So out we went, the sun was shining, it was my second walk in 12 days! What normally would take 20 minutes took 60 minutes. I took 300 pictures on my iPhone. I told you I am….a bit neurotic and suffer from an OCD-like condition called documentalism.

I saw a man up ahead, maybe in his 60’s. Initially I noticed 2 things—a sea ranch sweatshirt and the guys doing yard work for him.

Instead of plowing along I slowed down, and said, “wow, nice work, can you guys help with my yard next?”

The sea ranch sweat-shirted guy, smiled, “I’m sure if you paid them they would!”

“Great job.” I said.

“They’ve been working for my late wife and I for 10 to 15 years now.”

We continued to chat about the gardeners, whether or not they were good at weeding, he gave me their card, said they were like family friends. When we finished with the lighter stuff, there was a lull in the conversation. I leapt into it.

“I’m sorry to hear about the loss of your wife”

“Thank you…..” he paused, hands in his pockets, “it was one of those things when you start hoping for the day they’ll die though…she had cancer…she fought it for 3 years….but then it was time, her mother, her son, and I, we all wanted her to pass, to not suffer anymore.”

“I know what you mean,” I offered, “my father died last year of cancer. Though he only lived 6 months after being diagnosed. I know what you mean. It’s hard.”

“Yes, but Annie and I were Tibetan Buddhists, with a strong spiritual practice, so that made it easier. We had her lama here, and Tibetan caregivers.”

I told him of how I discovered the Buddhism book this morning and how it was making sense to me.

“Huh, interesting. Well I didn’t discover Buddhism until I was 40..”

“I’m 41,” I smiled.

“I was living in the Santa Cruz Mountains at the time, there was the big earthquake..”

“I lived in Santa Cruz during the big earthquake,” I smiled.

“Annie and I got married when we were 45.”

“Ah,” I said, “you give me hope! I have yet to marry!”

“Well you seem like a bright, attractive, nice lady…”

“Thank you, but it seems there have been some obstacles in my life…”

“What do you do?”

“I work as a physical therapist, at Alta Bates hospital.”

“Annie had her surgery at Alta Bates, they thought it was an ovarian cyst, it was cancer. She survived 4 years. By the way, my name is Richard,” He extended his hand.

“My name is Elke.”

We continued talking. They too had opted for hospice, she had stayed in the back room, overlooking her garden. I told him my mom and I were holding my dad’s hands when he passed.

Again, there was a lull in the conversation. I had a feeling. I took a breath and said, “my father died on September 30, 2009.”

He paused, and gently smiled, “Annie died 2 weeks before him, on the 15^th.”

I knew it. We nodded our heads. Each bit of information, not a coincidence, but gentle reminders, to be open, to share, and you will receive.

I told him I had noticed his sea ranch sweatshirt initially, “I went there often as a child, my father taught me to ride a bike there.”

“Well, I’ve been a few times, but actually I got this at the Goodwill near my law office in downtown Oakland.”

We chuckled, he gave me his Buddhist teacher’s name and info, as well as his own phone number.

“I will keep in touch, it’s been lovely talking with you Richard.”

“I would like that, thank you!”

And off I went, continuing my walk, taking time to notice and document every little crack in the pavement, the power station that hummed softly, the raven’s overhead~ preening and cawing, the leaves in the gutter, a flat tire on a VW bus, mushrooms smaller than my finger tip, and lions and tigers and bears oh my the list goes on. I thought to myself, “boy the world sure is pretty!” And I paused, and checked, but I was not wearing my sunglasses with rose-colored lenses, these were a simple brown. “Ah,” I signed, “It is just me. Seeing. That is all.”

I sat down on the sidewalk, squatted over the road, stopped traffic standing in the middle of the road, lay down in driveways~ anything to get the shot that spoke the words I needed to write my story~ one picture at a time.

this post is dedicated to a beautiful woman named swan~

who has inspired me for years with her willingness to share her beauty, vision, heart and soul with her voice, her poems and her photographs.

thank you swan...