Tag Archives: writing

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Lens-Artists Photo Challenge: Saudade (Longing)

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We met in High School. He was 17; I was 15. He was my first love and the love of my life. All of the songs about first love come to mind: the awakening, the thrill, the thought that no one could ever have felt this powerfully in love before…and yet, of course, so many have. The absolute certainty that this is THE ONE!! We were so young, so hormonal, so smitten, so carefree.

photo by my brother, Dave

I was 21 when we married. I was 22 when we had our first child…28 when we had our fourth and last.

It was only a few months after I took this photo that my husband had his first heart surgery. He was 31. I am so grateful that we had more time to raise our family, to grow up together, to become strong and passionate and faithful.

We got 16 more years. When he died, he was 47 and I was 45.

And now, I’ve been without him for more than 17 years. Those are the numbers, the chronology. But ‘saudade’ is about the feeling. It is about the tapestry of visual memories, of the sound of his glorious tenor voice in song, of feelings I cannot imagine ever having again, of the trust I gave him and the identity I built around him. All of these things I miss. I will feel forever nostalgic, forever bereft, and forever grateful for knowing him. I long for my husband with all that I am, physically, mentally, spiritually. And he is out of reach, yet somehow always accessible inside. Perhaps this is what this foreign word translates to in my own life.

I thank Egidio for introducing me to this word and for the opportunity to introduce Jim to all of you. May you enjoy your longing as something that helps you know that you love.

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Lens-Artists Photo Challenge – Looking Back to 2019: Creativity

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Lens-Artists are starting a periodic series of retrospective challenges. This week, Ann-Christine is reaching back to revisit “Creativity”. Click HERE to view my original post on that theme.

So, once again, creativity inspires more creativity, like a series of mirrors.

I can’t say that I’m a painter, except that last month I helped paint the interior of a preschool. I used a roller and a 4-inch brush. I did exactly as I was told, with very little creativity.

Sometimes I will try hard to do a craft. Again, I follow directions and try to copy the example. The results are routinely unremarkable.

I am more adventurous with music and dance and often improvise. I love the freedom of expression I’ve gained after decades of practice and years of aging to the point of no longer trying to impress. Maybe that’s something the very young, the very old, and the very confident can get away with.

Once upon a time, I gave dinner parties. I’ve never been a good cook, but I can follow a recipe. What I really enjoyed as a creative exercise was setting the stage!

My daughter Susan is a very good artist. She took me to an open studio bar once for a Mother’s Day gift. We had a blast, and I got to keep all the art.

At a healthy, creative restaurant and store in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, I came across this re-purposed cigarette vending machine that was selling original artwork the size of a pack of cigarettes. I’d never seen anything like it before or since.

No one creates in a vacuum. We are all influenced, we all use shared resources. We are co-creators or collaborators, really. I’m most proud of the contribution I made to creating four wonderful human beings. They are all stunning, vibrant, living works of art. I’m proud of the work I do each day to try to create meaning. I’ve scrapped much of that work, but I keep at it. The exhibit that is my Life is a work in progress. I’m grateful for the opportunity to engage in the process that Einstein called “intelligence having fun”.

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Lens-Artists Photo Challenge: It’s a Wild Life!

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“To see a world in a grain of sand
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand
And eternity in an hour…”
– from Auguries of Innocence by William Blake

Calypso bulbosa, or Fairy Slipper orchid

Wildflowers are beginning to bloom in Oregon. When I first discovered that there are species of orchids native to this area, I was delighted and astonished. I felt privileged to live in a place that contained such exotic beauty!

Trillium

“…The wild deer wandering here and there
Keeps the human soul from care…” – more of Auguries

The wild life that is natural, undominated or shaped by humans, is what keeps me sane these days in a world that is often wild in another way – unrestrained and violent. I have been fortunate enough to have visited wilderness areas around the country, and I contribute to protecting them. The portion of my blog dedicated to those stories and photos can be found HERE. I find the wisdom of the Wild to be one of the best teachers. Those Spiritual Lessons from Nature can be found HERE on my blog. If you care to explore those links, I would be honored, dear Reader. In the meantime, I’ve been given permission to post five more images on this Challenge, so here are some of my Wild favorites.

Wild Geese by Mary Oliver
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting –
over and over announcing your place in the family of things.

Thanks to Egidio for this worthy challenge that has inspired the sharing of so many beautiful images! Please visit his post HERE.

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Lens-Artists Photo Challenge: Bold

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“If you can’t fly then run, if you can’t run then walk, if you can’t walk then crawl, but whatever you do you have to keep moving forward.” – Martin Luther King, Jr.

puddle

There’s something incredibly bold about a toddler. If you’ve ever seen the pure joy on a youngster’s face when they’re beginning to walk, it might surprise you. They’ve fallen down a million times, but still the prospect of being upright and moving forward is so compelling that they are happy to try again. Maybe it’s the exhilaration of satisfying a primal urge; maybe it’s the encouraging smiles and excitement from a care-giver. Being able to do what the grown-ups (or slightly more grown up) are doing is a huge accomplishment, and it is so thrilling to know you belong. With the proper footwear, you feel invincible. Mud puddles aren’t hazards, they’re opportunities.

“Whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it.” – Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Perhaps there’s an element of play in boldness as well, a courageous experimenting. Toddlers who are given permission to play boldly learn quickly. As we get older, we’re expected to mitigate risks, be more efficient, fail less. I feel the constraint in my body. Perhaps I will strap on my bright green boots of invincibility today and stride out on muddy paths to stomp in some puddles. There are mountains to climb, hard rocky roads to traverse, wrongs to be set right.

Thanks to Sofia for this challenge: a worthy theme to ponder. Do visit her site for more inspiring, bold images.

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Lens-Artist Photo Challenge: There is a crack in everything

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“Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in” – Leonard Cohen, Anthem

“The perfect is the enemy of the good.” – Italian proverb

“We asked for signs
The signs were sent
The birth betrayed
The marriage spent
Yeah, and the widowhood
Of every government
Signs for all to see

I can’t run no more
With that lawless crowd
While the killers in high places
Say their prayers out loud
But they’ve summoned, they’ve summoned up
A thundercloud
They’re going to hear from me” – Anthem, cont’d

My country is suffering and divided. There is a crack, deep and wide, in our governing system. So many people have forgotten the good that was intended by the democracy we tried to create. It is terrifying to contemplate a future with an aspiring dictator. I’m hoping that our vote next week is a bell that can still ring for justice, for freedom, for government of the people, by the people, for the people.

There is a Japanese art called “kintsugi” where broken pottery is mended with gold, filling the cracks, drawing the pieces back together. Its spiritual significance is that if we choose to embrace our struggles and repair ourselves with the precious metal of love, we can become more beautiful for having been broken. My friend uses this idea in her garden, where she mends broken glass with small, colorful chips. Her garden is a riot of colors – dahlias, vegetables, and ornaments. Many of her decorations have become cracked and worn over time, left to the elements.

I spent this last week at my friend’s house, caring for her dog Bodhi, while she traveled.

Bodhi is an older rescue dog. She has only one eye, with a cataract. She doesn’t hear very well, and she is currently battling bladder stones. She becomes very anxious when she is left alone. Even with these imperfections, she is a sweet presence of love, always wanting to be beside me, stretched out in the sunlight on the warm carpet, and even more thrilled when she is allowed to jump onto the bed with me.

All week long, I have been thinking of the lyrics of Cohen’s Anthem. I have been thinking of “The Gifts of Imperfection” (a book by Brené Brown); I have been pondering the state of the Union. I have been willfully ringing the bells that still sound in my community: justice, equity, transformation, pluralism, interdependence, and generosity. And I have been trying to pour Love into every crack, every heart, every word, every action I engage with. I do this with faith that the Light will pour in.

May it be so!
Thank you, Ritva, for this beautiful inspiration!

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Lens-Artists Photo Challenge: Connections

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“She would only point out the salvation that was latent in his own soul, and in the soul of every man. Only connect! That was her whole sermon. Only connect the prose and the passion, and both will be exalted, and human love will be seen at its height. Live in fragments no longer. Only connect, and the beast and the monk, robbed of the isolation that is life to either, will die.” – E.M. Forster, Howard’s End

My mother, a Radcliffe English major, used to quote Forster often. “Only connect!” she’d say, referring to a variety of ways that she’d joined thoughts and anecdotes and facts and trivia. I was mystified by this reference for a long time. I wrote a poem about her once, comparing this practice with my visual memory of her pairing up socks while sorting laundry. Helpfully, a Google search has led me to a new interpretation of that quote. The connection of prose and poetry, of head and heart, of physical, sexual, spiritual and intellectual energy alluded to in Forster’s novel reminds me of the theme in the 1927 film Metropolis – the intersection of industry and humanity.

I searched my recent photos to find illustrations of this concept. I quickly realized that I’d set my aspirations pretty high. I’m reaching for artistic expression that mirrors sweeping novels and ground-breaking cinema in my amateur snapshots! Well, let’s embrace that absurdity. Why not?

I finally came across a display of Love Locks on this pier on the Mississippi River in New Orleans. Here’s an AI generated summary of this cultural phenomenon (nodding to John’s challenge of last week): “Love locks, or padlocks of love, are a way for couples to symbolize their love by attaching them to a public fixture, such as a bridge, fence, or statue. The locks are often engraved with the couple’s names or initials, and sometimes the date, and the key is thrown away to symbolize their unbreakable bond. The tradition is thought to have originated in Serbia over a century ago when a young woman named Nada died of heartbreak after her lover was unfaithful. Inspired by her tragedy, local women began attaching padlocks to bridges with their names and those of their loved ones. The poet Desanka Maksimović later memorialized the story in a poem that helped spread the practice around the world. Today, love locks can be found in many cities: Paris, Cologne, Malta, Mount Huangshan.”

How do you anchor passion and hope? How do you create loving connection that endures in this technological age?

I find a precious connection in this moment between my sister and my son-in-love. It depicts two different generations connecting face to face, while his cell phone is idling in his hand.

This modern world can be overwhelmingly distorted and fragmented, filled with hard angles that force our soft bodies into tight spaces. How do we live in connection with all this, in right relationships where we are good for and good with the world around us?


Donna at Wind Kisses initiated this wonderful online connection between us Lens-Artists. Do go visit her post HERE for beautifully illustrated and intricate connections in Italy, Greece, and Turkey.

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Lens-Artists Photo Challenge: One Image, One Story

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“For Sale: Baby Shoes, Never Worn.” – a six-word story attributed to Ernest Hemingway.

Actually, the shoes in the photo above were worn, by my son. Then for years and years they hung from the rear-view mirror of my late husband’s car, until they became quite faded and dry. Now they reside in the Welsh dresser left to me by my grandmother.

“Josh lassos the sun for Daena.” – ala Jimmy Stewart in Frank Capra’s It’s A Wonderful Life.

“Life itself is the most wonderful fairy tale.” – Hans Christian Andersen

“Tell me the facts and I’ll learn. Tell me the truth and I’ll believe. But tell me a story and it will live in my heart forever.” – Native American Proverb

How marvelous to embrace the photographer’s role as storyteller with this week’s Lens-Artists challenge! I’m grateful to Ann-Christine for suggesting it and posting marvelous examples on her site. Click HERE to visit and learn how to participate.

“Careful the tale you tell, that is the spell. Children will listen…” – Stephen Sondheim (died November 26, 2021, aged 91)

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Alice Through My Lens

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(Reblogging from 2012. Today would be Alice’s 61st birthday, but she will be forever 20 years old.)

Blue eyes.  That was one thing that made her unique among 4 sisters.  She had our father’s eyes.   She was the shortest among us; I believe I grew to have at least a half an inch over her.  But that took a while.  Since she was 3 years older, I trailed behind her most of my life.  I definitely didn’t mind following in her footsteps.  I adored her.  She was the sweet sister, the kind one, the one who loved children and animals and had friends.  She somehow spanned the gap between being a nerd and being popular.  Not that she wasn’t picked on early in grade school.  We all were, and she was very sensitive to it.  When she was 10, she ran away from a boy who was chasing her down the sidewalk.  He caught up to her and managed to grab the back of her coat hood. He yanked her down hard, and she fell backwards onto the sidewalk, hitting her head and fracturing her skull.  The boy was sent to military school, and Alice recovered amid cards and gifts and angels surrounding her bed. 

She started dating first among us, though she wasn’t the oldest.  I wanted to learn how this “boyfriend” business worked, so I watched her very closely, sometimes through the living room drapery while she was on the porch kissing her date goodnight.  She modeled how to be affectionate in the midst of a distinctly cerebral family, shy about demonstrating emotion.  She gave me my first pet name: Golden Girl or Goldie, and then the one that stuck in my family, PG or sometimes Peej.  By the time I was 16, we were very close friends as well as sisters.  She invited me to spend Spring Break with her at college, and enjoyed “showing me off”.  She told me that the boys were noticing me and that she’d need to protect me.  I was thrilled!

Alice and Mike in Los Gatos, summer 1979

We spent that summer at home together in California.  I introduced her to my new boyfriend, who eventually became my husband.   She begged our parents to allow me to be her passenger on a road trip back to campus at the end of the summer.  She had just bought a car, and although I couldn’t drive, I could keep her company, sing with her along the way, and be her companion.  The road trip was a travel adventure flavored with freedom, sisterly love, and the sense of confidence and brand new responsibility.  We flopped the first night in a fleabag motel in the same bed.  She woke earlier than I and told me as I roused and stretched how sweet I looked cuddling the stuffed bunny my boyfriend had bought me.  Then we stayed with her friends in Colorado.  Our next day’s journey was to go through the heartland of the country and hopefully, if we made good time, get to Chicago for the night.  We never made it.

Nebraska is flat and boring.  We’d been driving for 6 hours.  I was reclined and dozing when we began to drift off the fast lane, going 80 mph.  Alice over-corrected, and we flipped.  She had disconnected her shoulder strap, and flopped around, hitting her head on pavement through the open window.  Her fragile, gentle head, with two blue eyes.  She was dead by the time we came to rest in the ditch.

Life is an experience, a journey of unexpected and unimagined happening, a verb in motion, not a noun.  Alice was in motion, at 20, and may be even now…somewhere, in some form.  I still taste her sweetness floating near me from time to time. 

Three of four sisters, Christmas 1978

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THE BeZINE, Vol.2, Issue 12, Environment/Environmental Justice

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This is what I’ve been working on. Besides editing, I wrote 3 pieces and Steve wrote one. Please click on the Be Zine link and enjoy all the contributions! I couldn’t be more enthusiastic about sharing. This is a hugely important arena, encompassing life, health, and EVERYTHING!

The Bardo Group Beguines's avatarThe BeZine

September 15, 2016

The Environment is a complex array of interconnections and interbeing (as Thich Nhat Hahn would say). Steve & I have various metaphors for this. He likes to refer to “his bowling pins”. He imagines setting up a toy set of pins on a lawn and bowling at them. When they scatter, you set them back up exactly where they landed and bowl again. This takes you all over the neighborhood in endless permutations. I think of “trophic cascades”, changes in an ecosystem that originate at an extinction or other dramatic altering of balance, similar perhaps to “the domino effect” but less linear. However you try to wrap your brain around it, the nature of Life on this planet is intricate and incomprehensible. We are wise to approach it with the utmost humility. Because we are intrinsically involved, however, we must not fear to engage. We are already…

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Tell Me: What IS Environmental Justice?

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As a Contributing Editors of The Be Zine , we are currently accepting submissions for the September 15 issue (submission deadline Sept. 10) that will focus on Environmental Justice, which is also the theme of our 100 Thousand Poets (and friends) for Change virtual event on September 24. In order to propel the discussion into deeper focus from the outset, we invite and encourage contributing authors to ponder a few things about their perspective and their voice on this topic.

When we talk about Justice, it is sometimes assumed that people will agree on what is ‘the right thing to do’. However, as with anything else, our decision-making about Justice is influenced by our values, by the things that we deem ‘special’, ‘important’, or ‘sacred’. I propose that there are (at least) three categories of valued environments, or ‘Holy Ground’: Nature, Place and Community. Think about these three different arenas and how you see Justice being applied to them.

For example, if Community is your value, you may feel that Environmental Justice has to do with how people are impacted and how human activity creates change. If Place is your value, then questions about Justice probably will involve a particular area with borders of a physical or conceptual nature. It may be that feelings of injustice are felt in terms of ‘This, not That’ or ‘Us, not Them’ or in a desire to see a Place resist change. If Nature is your value, then you may see Justice in more fluid terms as the balance of resources between producers/consumers and prey/predator is in a state of constant flux with perhaps no ultimate goal.

So, as you sit down to write about Environment Justice in your unique voice, identify your values. Perhaps use the lenses of Nature, Place and Community to focus. What is important to you? Why? How does it affect your decision-making? What factors impact this ‘sacred’ ground? How do different cultural models or systems impact your cherished home? What feelings arise in you – what empathy for Living Things or Living Habitats? What fears?

Thank you for spending time with these concepts and these questions. Your presence, your life energy, your embodiment of love is a gift that we are privileged and honored to receive. Please, share your thoughts, your words and pictures with us!

— Priscilla Galasso and Steve Wiencek