Discovering Beauty in Everyday Life

Go back to the grassy shimmered place with a peach colored mist and flattened bubble gum.  Go back to  nights alight with honeysuckles, Go back to awaken with a robin's nest and two blue eggs in the poplar trees. Go back to the grasshopper path with stickers  and bare feet and horny toads and mud.  Go back into a summer evening, with a cricket  and an arching cigarette, flicked by a silent smoker on a porch.  Come back with green and gold and clear red under underpinnings.  Come back with a small ball of open sky to play with.

Things are not good economically, as we know.  Not one but two of  Squiva's regular clients have cancelled because of poor economic conditions.  Frankly, Squiva is concerned about the rent.  He (or she) asked me couldn't I please use another Union photo, and of course I said yes.  As you can see, we selected the picture in three quarter view to avoid any thinness in the face.  Squiva is concerned that the tail is losing a certain fluffy well-being, but I think it is quite beautiful, and Squiva did look much happier after the shoot. 

Now and again one comes across a wooded sanctuary.  They appear when needed by a being to rest the body, the mind, the soul, for the moments of its creation.

I've been told recently that gratitude and paying attention in the moment will "hold me in good stead". I  have passed on this advice without wondering what in the world? Stead? Can you be In Stead? At Home in Stead? Well! The New Century Dictionary clarified with the following quotes: "Fly therefore, fly this fearefull stead anon" (Faerie Queene) or, "The Souldier may not move from watchfull sted [sic]" (same Faerie Queene). Ok?

I took a walk this afternoon into that place in childhood, where I became too many. That farm house, with those warm smells and cattle milking, no room, no inn, no port of call, Where the barnacled imposter settled in under the ribcage. I guess it had a job to do to save the new born seed from dying, I thought I lost it hitching along the gravel, chipping away at the soles, wearing down the tread, cutting to the hubcaps, hanging onto the late night juke box squeal; one more, once more, I thought I dropped it along the path from glory. There’s an old wood now behind that farm, with tall grass full of winter apples. There’s a red shale gash along he dry field where a palomino watches. I can feel a crack spreading through me, and yes, I feel the husky grip loosening around the stony seed I grieved for long ago.

While preoccupied and searching elsewhere for  a random hidden message,  I photographed these branches just for fun. To my amazement, beyond this tangled twiggy web emerged a Magic Pyramid!  Who knows what beauty lurks inside this hidden pyramidic heart? So here's our mission for today: 1. Locate a nearby  Magic Pyramid. 2. Look inside to see what lies beyond our own reflection.

Inch, inch, inch, In a pinch, in a pinch, in a pinch. Away with the can't and the probably not, Forget all the oughts and the naughts, what rot! Hold onto the wings and rings and things, With their wishes and kisses and cabbage and kings. Soft as a petal and sharp as a bee, It can happen to you, just wait, you’ll see Just an inch and a pinch, It’s a cinch!

The substance on which these duck fowl are travelling is as yet unidentified.  It is clearly thick and viscous, else it would not bunch up as though it were a heavy silky satin (or warm tar, as the dictionary tackily puts it). The substance is deeply pigmented, and some have suggested it is actually a blue form of  heavy  rubbery cream.  It appears to support vegetation.   The duck fowl seem unharmed, even happy.  Other researchers have suggested that the surface substance itself is edible.  The  duck fowl also appear to be suspended on the surface itself rather than to be floating within it. The surface is also reflective of fauna while remaining optically neutral to flora.

There is no denying it; This colorful morning is a harbinger of an elegant and playful summer!

Edward Kemeys in 1883

You may not believe this (I didn't), but the roof curators at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, who do not give up easily, have come up with the following pigeon plan.  Erect a huge mirror.  Confuse Monster Pigeon (and Mate).  How?   Here is the story as told by a reliable anonymous source.  Mirrors confuse large vampires.  Vampires drink blood. Therefore, mirrors confuse large pigeons. Ok? Moreover, if there exists a large mirror whose only purpose is to deflect and confuse vampires, then there is a vampire living in the nest next door.  Q.E.D.  The matter is Quasi-Experimentally Determined.  It's practically scientifically proven ( "quod erat demonstrandum").   Right?  

Oh look!  There's a nice rest haven in the midst of things.  Just it for a late afternoon.  But wait.  Why are those people carrying an umbrella?  Is not the sun shining? And what does that sign say? It's very dim.  Does it say a Dairy?  What?  Here?  No way.  There is not a solitary cow.  And a Gift Shop?  But,        w ho's afraid of the big bad wolf, the big bad w...       What?  Did you say something?      so early in the morning.   Ha, Ha.  It's just the rain.  But, the sun,         and who is nibbling at my house, house, house?  Is it a mouse, mou....   Wait a minute! What time is it?    the big bad wolf.....nibbling at my house, house, house..     It's after seven!  It should be dark!    But it's such a...

I entered the resting park to capture the twilight reservoir. Beauty unleashed (check).  Buildings, inconceivably reflected (yes, got it). Buried fountain, recycling the reservoir ( Check)!    There it is,  just to left of the mirrored towers, reflected and transparent. Oh than you Central Park Conservancy, for once more digging out this beautiful fountain from its icy winter sleep.  

Gloaming is such a soft and soothing word. "In the gloaming oh my darling, when the lights are soft and low, and the quiet shadows falling, softly come and softly go..." Well, not in New York City! Our gloams rock! See the blaze of passion sweep the trees? Are they alight? Oh, yes! Radiant with obsession, haunted by coal-hot desire to consume the spaces in between. What hope is there for any squirrel or wren, who lingers on a limb sticky with molten sap? So if you come across a trace of morning ash, remember that liquid evening sun. Lyrics by Jonatharr Brooke

I love a bi-model bifurcated tree. See the yellow grey arms with their fingers in the dirt and the grey black steady trunk and branches?  It's daylight and we can curl into a hideout crevice, happy as a new penny.  I do love a two-tone tree. Keep a night watch out though, for Hansel and Gretel walk these paths.  Those sinewy fingers may not stay rooted to the dust, and where did that rounded knob come from?

Yea!!!  Who is that?  I don't know; must be elected to something! Whose that in the car?  The Mayor?  Could be!  Park People cleaning up after horses, pedestrians, policemen!  Yea!!!  Isn't that the guy that gave me that ticket?  Hurray!!!! It's a definite get-out-of-jail-free day!

I thought I'd go around the museum this afternoon to say ’hello’ to Squiva, and guess who I saw? Robino! He was hopping up and down he was so excited. He told me he had been practicing his poses, and he wanted another picture so much. "Couldn’t you take a photo? Would you? Please? Just one? I'll be elegant! I promise," he said. "I have been practicing!" Well of course I had to do it; after all, he had been Practicing. This is the pose he selected, since he feels his breast looks so velvety and beautiful, and his demeanor is elegantly tasteful.

Listen.  It's raining, but a quiet rain that clings to pale colors.  Can you smell the clean air and damp sidewalk, and the wet dust settling?

Mission for Today:  Learning to spin.   Option One, Desk Chair: 1. Sit in chair with feet raised. 2. spin around and around and around, but remember, you are not a Sufi! Observe results in self and perceived world; take a note. Option Two,  Central Park 1. Locate Wollman Rink near 63rd Street 2. Purchase a ticket, climb on and ride! WHeeee E..E... E. E...eeeeeee...E..E.E E EEE !   !    !

These rugged seafaring individuals have just survived the treacherous East River Passage on their epic voyage to discover the coveted inland passage to Central Park.  This candid photo shows them taking a well earned rest on a nearby couch.

It's time for an Art Appreciation experiment.  1. Find a collection of work from a favorite artist:   In a museum, a website, a book. 2. Let a few pieces seep into your soul.  Mmmmm. 3. Walk around until you catch the essence of the artist in your everyday life. Here's mine:  Cezanne!  Perhaps an elixir of the Etang des Soeurs at Osny

There's a fragment of exposure, with light too bright to see beyond the surface. Give me a starfish to hold my hand, and take me back into the sea. Or, a sweet bird on a fence might know the way.

Attention,  Attention, Pigeon alert!  Pigeon alert!    Do Not Move.  Do not move.    Be very quiet.   There is no time to run for shelter.   Uh Oh , the yellow shirted gentleman is wobbling! Sir! Sir! Hold on! Hold on! I repeat, Do not move! Ohmygosh! Don't look! Close your eyes!!! Ugh! Eeeeeee aaaaaaaaakkkkkkkk COO, COO, COO, mmmmahhhmm   (Burp) FLAP..FLAP....Flap.......flap.......... flap........ flap.... The all clear has been sounded, ladies and gentlemen, but it is my sad duty to report that yellow shirt is no longer with us.

This is too boring!  Everything seems like a finished product.  Summer.  Green, green,  grass, grass, barbeque, barbeque.  Too old, too late, too bad, next!   What if nothing ever happens?  What if things just come and go without a mark?  What if life stammers and the spark just misses that dry and tinder leaf?  I think it's time to make a wish.  Let's give that waiting leaf a nudge!  Ok, now count to three. One~~~~~  Two~~~~~~ (go ahead)~~~~~~  THREE !

Meet our magic summer princess dressed up in green and dancing leaves.  No gnarly winter bones today!  Young and foolish, ardent and gay, tossing a leafy ruffle, she is off to entertain the sultan and seduce the king.

Things are quiet at this moment on the roof of the Metropolitan.  Monster Pigeon is far off searching for another roofy twig to add to his growing aerie.  Monstress Pigeonette is still at large.  We may therefore investigate the architecture of this edifice and even climb up on it briefly.  Yet beware of every inching shadow, desist at any hint of Coo, walk softly with a quiet foot. A solitary error could undermine the fragile balance, and a single snap could bring back Monster Pigeon.  Remember, even a little 10 inch pigeon can fly at 50 miles per hour !                                                               ...