Category: POSTS BY MONTH

A City Called Life : Alley Cats. Feasting on what can be found

From A City Called Life series: Alley cats: Feasting on what can be found .

This is based on a photo of feral cats looking for scraps one evening, behind a restaurant in Spain, surprised by the light being turned on. It’s old, (1960s) and I am not happy with the quality of it, but it serves well to illustrate the subject.

There have been many “messages” of one sort or another which have helped me throughout my life, from various teachers, friends and traditions. One that really speaks to me is the idea of “feasting on what can be found.” A friend and teacher, with whom I meditated for many years, used to say something like, “If you can’t do what you would really like to do at the time, think about what it is which the desired experience offers you. Then find something else which is available and offers you some of the same.” During this Covid time, many of us do this out of necessity. We can’t go to concerts, so because we need music, we go to virtual ones or play our old CDs, or we can’t travel, so maybe we watch travelogues on TV. Those are obvious ones, but some of our needs or wants take a little figuring out!

One of my mother’s favorite sayings – which used to annoy me as a child, but has stood me in good stead – was, “Enough is as good as a feast !” That has followed me through my life since my wartime and postwar childhood, when substitutions were so necessary. Putting that together with “feasting on what can be found”, today, when due to the pandemic, health issues and aging, I can no longer get around to find or do all I might like to, I don’t have much problem feasting on lots of small joys instead of missing large ones.

Covid Time : Three versions!

Representing Normal Time, pre-Covid

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Covid-Time 1 : Time Stretched

Covid-Time 2: Time Shrunk

One of the odd things about this Covid time is that for me, and for many people it seems, time itself appears to either speed up or to crawl! It’s hard to believe it will soon be Summer when I have hardly become used to the idea that it is Spring .. and what happened to Winter? Some days I can’t believe it when I see that it is only 3:00 PM when I thought it must be at least 6:00 PM; other times, the days speed by faster than ever and there isn’t time to do all the things I meant to. And it always seems to be the weekend again every few days! Strange.

So I thought I’d have a bit of fun and try to depict that visually.

At the top, is a picture which might represent a chunk of normal Time, with all its ups and downs, ins and outs, lights and darks. (Dont take it too literally: perhaps this was a day I spent looking at flowers, waiting at traffic lights, or making a spinach and tomato soup, then trying not to snooze while watching TV) : ) Then to follow there are Time Stretched and Time Shrunk.

All three are made by manipulating the same original picture, just as our brains seem to do with time!

In the Forests of Kefiristan

There is no such place as Kefiristan! This is to show an example of making a picture of branching trees out of something else that branches : dregs of some kinds of liquid, in this case of dregs of kefir (a fermented milk drink) in a glass, turned upside down. Many slightly thick liquids, such as kefir, thin yogurt, some flour-thickened liquids, pea soup, and some paints will leave a pattern like this on a glass or bowl. The photo below is the original, turned upside down.

Both the trees and the dregs are examples of the Branching Pattern found in nature. To read more about the pattern, see the page in the Header: The Branching Pattern in Nature. ( Under construction. Coming soon)

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Old tapestories wear thin!

Tapestories. No that’s not a typo! This is made from a photo of a tapestry, which did indeed wear thin. It was also attacked by moths and it became so worn that, sadly, I had to throw it out.

Stories are a part of everyone’s life: family stories, family histories, (not to mention history and herstory), religious and cultural histories, myths and folk tales, even nursery rhymes. Then there’s the personal stories, the ones we tell ourselves and those we tell other people, not necessarily the same thing!

There are schools of thought which say that we are our stories ! Our self is our story. I would not go so far, but I do believe that all these stories, from those of our culture, to the personal ones we hold inside ourselves, play a large part in who we are.

The stories we tell ourselves can often be very limiting. “I’m just a person who can’t do this or that”; “this is the way it’s meant to be”; “it’s all so-and-so’s fault I am the way I am”; “I’ll never get over it”; or whatever! We run these tapes, stories, over and over again in our minds. Part of growing older is the joy of finally seeing that these tapes/ stories are wearing thin, and we can toss them!

Once, a Church.

I made this one after looking at a wonderful, but very sad, album on Flickr by someone who had phot0graphed dozens of derelict or abandoned buildings of all kinds: municipal buildings; railway stations; schools, concert halls, and many many churches and other places of worship, often places with amazing historical architecture or interior design. It’s hard to imagine what could have led to them becoming abandoned.

Coincidentally, soon after that, in Paris, there was a disastrous fire which destroyed part of Notre Dame Cathedral.

I find old churches very interesting and moving, tho I am not a Christian. During my childhood in England I lived in a fairly rural county which abounded in churches, many of them medieval and some dating right back to the Saxon period. Those old stone churches were the centre of village life in those small towns. My uncle, who was an artist, used to take me along on some of his sketching trips as we visited village squares, castles, seashores and meadows and lots of churches and their graveyards where various people of historical importance were buried. At the churches, I loved to look at the gargoyles on the pillars and the stained glass windows from inside. Those windows taught me that something which looks dark and boring from the outside, can be light and colourful from the inside. I particularly liked the mandalic-shaped rose windows!

Also, in England at that time, (during WWII and the postwar years) the churches, particularly the great abbeys and cathedrals, played a huge part in the public events of Royalty and of the national life. During my last visit to England in 2006, I was saddened to see that a lot of church buildings, some with beautiful architecture, had been turned into restaurants, bars, bingo halls and flats and so on. I don’t know what I’d want for them, some kind of community gathering place, perhaps, but not businesses!

The Tree of Five Minutes to Midnight

From the Tree as Symbol Series :The Tree of Five Minutes to Midnight

Five minutes to midnight refers to the Doomsday Clock. The poor tree here (in this case representing the world and its peoples, of whom we individuals are each a part) has got some kind of blight and has lost its leaves; the trunk has been shored up with bricks. The wheel represents overproduction.

I made this maybe a decade ago, when the Doomsday Clock was “only” at five minutes to midnight; it is a lot closer now. Shockingly close. If you want to see how close, check the URL below.

The Doomsday Clock, in case you don’t remember, represents the danger that scientists feel that the world is in. It started out in 1945 standing for the risk of atomic destruction but now, “The Clock has become a universally recognized indicator of the world’s vulnerability to catastrophe from nuclear weapons, climate change, and disruptive technologies.” The good news is that the clock setting has sometimes gone backwards as well as forwards.

(If you want to know more ): https://thebulletin.org/doomsday-clock/current-time/

A City Called Life: The Path Less Travelled

From the City called Life series: The Path less travelled.

ROBERT FROST

The Road Not Taken
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves, no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by.
And that has made all the difference.