March 31, 2005
Snowdrop Dialog
Good Enough Self: Oh god, spring is here. Are we about to be subjected to a barrage of flower photos again? Can we skip the mundane? This isn't the Westchester Garden Club site, you know.
Big Baby: Oh, but I do love rolling around in the mud under the trees, taking a hundred blurry pictures of some little bud, trying to figure out how to focus my new camera. Besides the colors are so pretty. Please, please.
Helium**: Pleeeeeeeease, Pleeeeeeease
Good Enought Self: Do you REALLY think folks can stomach yet another crocus? Try to be considerate.
Big Baby: But what about all the shut ins, the Eskimos, the Ugandans who never get to see spring flowers at all?
Heluim: Essssssssskiiiiiiimooooooozzzzzzz
Good Enough Self: Let them google "crocus" .
Big Baby: We could use this for a wedding , it's plain white.
Good Enough Self: We gave up weddings remember?
Big Baby: Pretty please with sugar and honey on top. I am very close to whining. I know how you love that. I completely gave up talking about George W. Bush, so that you don't have to live in murderous rage. Can't I have SOMETHING???
Good Enough Self: (to the reader, with exasperation ) Please bear with us through this season. Like any parent, I have to chose my battles.
Helium: Seeeeeeeeeeason
**Text note: I borrowed Helium shamelessly from the fabulous Strindberg and Helium because I decided that I could use an aspect of self just like her/him/that. A vacuous bubble gum pink aspect, filled with unabashed optimism. I have Natalie to thank for the reference, as well as for many hours of superior amusement. Just to prove the point, yesterday, simply by mentioning Helium to an energy practitioner, a constricted little knot of electrons vaporized . Heeeeeeeeeelium.
March 30, 2005
Signs of Spring
upon
a wave of
gritty
snow
melting
six segments
twisted
a broken
circle
fertile
field for
sacred
meaning
Photo note: See above
March 29, 2005
Budding Jasmine Rose Tea
The gourmand in the family appeared on Easter bearing two succulent ducklings, plucked, drawn, quartered and prepared to perfection as per Cook's Illustrated . As if that wasn't enough in the spectacular dining department, we were graced with a new tea experience as well.
The tea, budding jasmine rose, was recommended by an old classmate working at the upscale tea supplier, Ito En . in New York City. This is what she chose, when asked for her most exotic. It is a chrysanthemum flower wrapped around a clover blossom. When dropped into a glass teapot-- and it must be glass to appreciate the show-- the chrysanthemum opens to reveal a rosy surprize. The flavor, as you would expect, is mostly chrysanthemum, but I doubt that anyone drinks this for the flavor. This is just a well, since at $7.50 an ounce, you wouldn't want to like it too much.
Photo note: I like to think of the little triangles in the corner as sacred geometry.
How's this for an Easter scam?
March 28, 2005
The Virgin Mary - Matrix Four
Ah, quite a day in the life the emerging spirit. It began with my ladies' group. I reported the successful, however anguished, claiming of my inheritance for purposes of selfish indulgence , which was heralded with much approval and applause. I was reminded that this is a metaphor for claiming self, not a grasping, greedy gesture that hurts others, and will get me into big trouble .
Where ever did I get this idea? My dear, deceased mother did not take kindly to differentiation. In fact she was quite unrelenting when she found an area in my psyche which was not in complete harmony with hers. She used her full arsenal of influence on that little difference until it rolled over, flattened and disappeared into the great beyond, never to be available again. That's where the idea originated, though it lost it's usefulness long ago. But I digress.
We did our usual coughing, gagging, toning, talking and general psychic good housekeeping in an attempt to make room for our enlightened selves to fully enter our bodies. Most of us aren't quite there, but we're chipping away at it.
And then I went to see my dietician. We got right down to business, since there is much to do. I was Snifferina for some reason, perhaps the spring.
Let's see, first she consulted my guides -- there is quite a substantial group, I am happy to report. She said that no one meditates an hour everyday for four years without attracting quite a crowd. (Now I blog much more and meditate much less.) One of them was named Jeremiah. It's nice to have a name when you're making a call.
They told her (rather precisely, I thought) that I will not fully integrate all the aspects of myself for eight weeks, starting from last week. The reason for the delay is so that the process happens gradually, and doesn't blow me out of the water (they are a bit old fashioned in their language, so I'm taking liberties) Al Pesso has a wonderful term for that, "ego wrapping". Esther Hicks would say that there's no need to water the garden with a fire hose. I certainly can wait seven weeks, besides there's much to do in the meantime.
I asked my dietician if she's always so spontaneously spiritual, so out of the shadows, so openly chatty with her cosmic consultants. She said that she tries to be, so that people will get used to it, although she loses a client every now and then because of getting spooked .
Here are my Good Friday messages from Jeremiah and the Guides .
. I will be involved in some automatic writing - (I think this is it folks, but stay tuned.)
. My grandmother has her own healing table and I have mine. My dietician saw a large wooden table with clay and wooden bowls on it that were filled with herbs. I was sitting behind one and my grandmother behind the other. This image was repeated again at the end of our session to reiterate it's importance. It's interesting that my mother's mother was into the esoteric, impressively for a German hausfrau , due to her energy cure from rheumatoid arthritis. I have only one memory of her, showing me the beauty of a tomato worm in the garden.
. Allergins were identified. My Cluster made it clear that isoflavones were giving me loads of trouble in every system. One of the most common isoflavones is soy, but there are others and they are all biochemically related to estrogen. My intestines always protest mightily when soy is introduced. In any case, we took care of that one energetically, in no time, and then we worked on my feet, which are improving.
. I needed electrolytes. I'm just finishing off my third 16 oz bottle of Gaterade as we speak.
Not bad for a day's work.
Photo note: the Virgin Mary with her head in the trees, her back to the wall and a jewel at her feet. What can I say? It just jumped into my camera on Good Friday. A double combo metaphorophoto and metamorphophoto.
Easter Greetings - Belated
I could
wait
another
year
to post
this picture
but
by then
I would
never
find it
in my pile
of electrons
forgive me
I was
cooking
March 25, 2005
"The Penthouse"
the elevator: heavenly
the view: academic
the location: perfect
the price: inflated
the place: sucked
I suppose I could spend alot of time riding in the elevator, and looking out the window.
Photo note: Real estate agents, like some significant others, do not have the time or the inclination to spend while you make certain that your photograph is perfect. A girl just has to do the best she can when documenting her adventures. Good practice for sports photography.
March 24, 2005
needs work
Do not
mistake
the metaphorophoto
for commentary
on property
seen
Photo note: Yummy color
March 21, 2005
Manifesting a Monkey Chandelier
My mother left me a little money when she died in January. Rather than being a good sport and dumping my inheritance into the common pool, where I would be able to visit it once a year, and admire the interest it has earned, I had the idea that I could buy a room of my own-- a studio- a healing place-- in which I could loll around on the material plane, so I set about manifesting one.
Esther Hicks, channeling Abraham always recommends that one take an emotional journey before one takes an action journey. With that in mind, I got myself really excited about having this little place in the city. Sometimes I imagined a sunny balcony, a roof garden , or a deck, then there was the fireplace and the off street parking space. I have been savoring the fantasy since January. As Esther Hicks points out, you don't have to dust a fantasy, which is one of the reasons for making the process of manifestation last a long time. In fact you might enjoy the process so much, you may never have to have the real thing.
When I shared this idea with my dear friends , they all got excited with me. One of them knew a wonderful real estate agent with a Ph.D. in English who is scrupulously honest and has great taste . When I called him he was just leaving his office that minute for a three week sojourn to India. I was happy to wait. We got in touch a day after he returned, and he called me back with something that had just come on the market minutes before. It was priced to sell.
I went to see it that afternoon. There was a tree with red berries in front, which I took as a sign. Why not?. In spite of the fact that this was the first property I had seen, and I knew better, I made a formal offer on it the next day. As it turned out, someone else made an offer slightly higher than mine -- the beginning of a bidding war. I decided not to participate. Although the place was adorable, I needed a bit more space. Besides, the monkey chandelier was specifically excluded from the sale.
It was a studio - a room 13x14 with a bay window facing the street, painted forest green with white woodwork - (the tiny modern kitchen in back was periwinkle, and the frig full of beer). The room was almost completely taken up by a covered pool table. There were two upholstered chairs, a bar, a Larkin desk with a cue rack, and a stethoscope hanging on the closet door. There were matches and printed napkins lying around with the name "Monkey Bar" printed on them. The Chinese rug beneath the pool table had a tropical theme, and there were monkeys rollicking everywhere in posters, figurines, and masks, including three, holding lamps on the chandelier.
It had deeded off street parking for two cars in tandem and a basement storage space which in a pinch, could have been gussied up for other purposes. It was directly across from the smarmiest bakery in town, and a grocery/cafe combo store, just in case refueling was ever necessary. The bus stopped right around the corner.
What WAS this place used for, pray tell? A private men's pool club? It definitely had a mildly
That's that. I'm not sorry I passed it up, given that it wasn't quite large enough for my purposes, whatever thay may be. Close , but no cigar, as they say in the billiard room.
I hope this entry and it's dark photos aren't too much like a bad real estate ad. I did want to share my first manifestation attempt, since I'm likely to be working on this project for awhile.
Addendum: Davi Small at Sisal Lighting wrote to say that they have monkey chandliers for sale, should you be casting around for one yourself.
March 20, 2005
The Bud
I have been visiting a nutritionist. I was introduced to her by a man who had been talking about his work with her for more than a month. He asked me to contact her, so I did. She calls her practice Inner Nourishment, and has a shiny green card that looks like grass and emeralds, not unlike the green in the photo.
He described having had an experience with her that had all the qualities of a healing; white light, sense of more completeness afterward, the works. When I heard his story, I thought to myself --this is no ordinary registered dietician.
So, of course, when I talked to her (and she noted the allergies in my voice --allergies are one of her specialties), I made an appointment for myself.
Later in the week, I burst into her sweet, storefront office in a toney part of town, expecting a waiting room, and instead, walked directly into her welcoming smile. She greeted my astonished self warmly, from three feet away, offered me a water, and took a history, focusing on diseases and traumas to my body. We didn't touch the mental much, which was just as well.
All the while she chatted casually about her training which began rather traditionally, and departed mightily from the ordinary. She has moved from being a public health consultant with a specialty in diabetes, to homeopathy training, to operating in the great beyond .
Then I was hooked up to a sleek German machine, The BioMeridian , and instructed to grasp a damp diode with my left hand while she tested my systems by touching merdian points on my left hand with a probe. The readings from the probe were charted on a computer screen upon which was a graph with a wide, horizontal, green bar dividing the screen in half. If a system was functioning properly, a thin black line appeared within the confines of the little green bar.
I passed the systems lymphatic, endocrine, nervous, circulatory, soft tissue organs, and a few others with flying colors. My small and large intestines veered a quarter inch below the green band, but for a person of my advanced age, it was still impressive, I was told. And then we did allergies. The little black line dipped pathetically downward, inch by inch, until it was practically off the screen, all the while making a sad, sinking sound.
She began to experiment on screen to see what she could do, in virtual reality, to pump my sunken black line back up into green. She added virtual supplements to my on line allergies with her computer, to see if any of them would help . The usual antidotes like vitamin C and coenzyme Q-10, just didn't do the trick. We explored more homeopathic remedies and then some Bach Flower Remedies with only mildly satisfying results. Time was short, so we decided to see if she could determine what substances were the major culprits.
She started to do muscle testing, which I explained generally doesn't work for me, for some unknown reason. Undaunted, she asked me to place the print side of my right thumb in the center of my forehead, with my fingers waving outward in a na na, na na na position. Then she had me curl my fingers and twist my wrist until it was facing the ceiling . Then she had me bend my thumb at the first joint so that the thumbnail was facing my third eye. At this point I experienced a comforting relief throughout my body. It was like a bunch of keypunch cards (remember them?) nestling over the right peg and sinking into alignment. I was moved to tears. Something felt righter than it ever had. My registered dietician had just aligned my electrical system. Who knew I had one.
We had just enough time for her to read my aura, which, by the way, is blue green with lots of white light mixed in. I have magneta at the heart and a ribbon of bright yellow going from my yoni to my right shoulder (thus bringing the feminine into the world). She saw lots of bright yellow white emitting from my crown chakra. I have a large emerald at my throat. I will have to take her word for it, since the chakra around my third eye is closed, and I can't see a thing. Perhaps the powers that be thought seeing auras would interfere with my photography.
Most of my energy is located in the front of my body, the back is shut down by 25 percent. This means I'm not fully manifesting all of my potential in the world.
My second session involved testing my handful of daily supplements with the German machine. Many of them precipitate a virtual allergic reaction. We also dissolved my multi vitamin in mild vinegar water to see if it dissolved in my stomach in a timely fashion (20 minutes). It did.
Then she consulted her guides, which she felt free to do in front of me. She told me that the seed bud in my crown chakra is about to open. This would be very nice. She saw the shadow of a fourth child under my right elbow, which needs releasing. She pinpointed a little spot just under my right scapula, which I fondly call my bullet hole, for future attention.
I asked how she came upon her many gifts, noting that she had drifted a bit far from the scientific. She told me that she and her twin sister went to a Unitarian Universalist retreat for their fortieth birthday, She meditated for a week and came home with a gift. She unfortunately thought she was going crazy. However, her sister was experiencing the same phenomenon, so she decided to explore it. Hence she became a channeling registered dietician with a foot in the beyond. Really, she's just what I've been looking for.
We decided to do a lttle something with my etherial body, or maybe my astral body, one of those. By using a set of dowsing rods we determined that I had three trouble spots, that had something to do with occurrences in one or two of my six past lives. (Yes, six - I couldn't get a sense of exactly what that meant. Maybe I'm a slow learner, maybe I spent three of them as an earthworm , given all my subservient energy, or maybe I am wise beyond my years. Maybe all of that is true. )
We set out to correct those things in my body which didn't happen in this time zone, with some table work. This involved a bit of toning , (which I adore), a bit of light visualization (which is hard for me to do without the use of my third eye), and bit of energy field poofing up. And then it was the end of the hour.
She was reluctant to leave me with such an expanded field for streetwear, but her guides said I'd be okay, I just wanted to experience the feeling of having my whole self in the world. They said they'd take care of closing me up after we had a little fun. And I did.
Photo note: This is a picture of the seed bud of my crown chakra, or as close as I could come, anyway. I pulled it out last week while searching for moire, before any mention was made of seed buds. The color of the leaves is the color of her card.
March 17, 2005
Winter Pond, Death, with Moire, Maybe
The funeral yesterday was heartbreaking, especially the tributes from my friend's husband and sons, who so clearly adored her. She is the third member of our little group to die well before her time. The cemetery was especially bleak. In the Jewish tradition (she was Jewish, her husband is not) members of the family were invited to throw a shovelful of dirt into the grave. The coffin was at least ten feet below us, and the hollow sound of the dirt hitting the wooden box resonated such grim finality.
There was a discussion at the gathering afterwards regarding the practice of living each moment to the fullest, which was the bereaved family's practice, especially during the last four years. One of our widow's (there are two) second husband said that his wife is so incredibly overbooked and busy because she doesn't want to miss any opportunity to have an experience in life, lest it be taken from her without warning. She attributes her behavior to the sudden loss of her first husband, at age 49 (of a heart attack on the racquetball court - remember racquetball?) Her new husband's idea of living life to the fullest involves watching the sunset from a deckchair at the beach and contemplating the meaning of life, for which she saves little time. So there you go. It's a good thing they both play tennis.
There was also much admiration voiced for my friend, who was a child of the Holocaust, because of her mastery of the fear of death, through various spiritual practices, and for the opportunities that she gave her family, and her friends to express their love for her in her final days, as well as for the ways that she showed her love to them.
It was noted that people often die the way they lived, and she died a loving, peaceful death - a great accomplishment under the circumstances, especially when she had been facing her mortality, full on, for four years.
I met a number of women, members of her cancer support group, who were very shaken by her passing. She is the first of their group to die. Many of them have the same kind of cancer she had, and I'm certain that her death has greatly increased their sense of the fragility of their own lives. I hope that her example of grace under the circumstances was of some comfort to them.
Photo note: This was not taken at the cemetery. I was respectful enough to leave my camera in my backpack, although that is not always the case.
Another photographer told me that trees are blacker this time of year. He thought it was because the sap was beginning to run, or not run. I had never noticed the blackness before, but it seems to be true. I took this picture a few days ago, because I thought I saw some moire in the fence. It seems to capture mourning in some strange way.
It was also pointed out to me yesterday that good digital cameras are built with several specific mechanisms especially designed to eliminate moire. If it's any comfort to the engineers who did this, their devices are working perfectly.
March 16, 2005
On the way to moire
Truant today
but for an visit
from Anna Isabella,
infant,
and her mother,
who never imagined
she would come to be
A chance to sniff
the sweetness
wafting from her
baby brain
And a funeral too
such sadness
for my friend
who will never
breathe
that scent again
a day of
life and death
within an hour
touching
both the edges
of existence
Photo note: It's not moire, but it's across the street from some almost-moire, as you can see, and it's interesting. Almost a metamorphophoto, giving one a sense of motion through time.
March 15, 2005
Internal moire
In an attempt to rid my blog of poker and porn advertisements which I did not think would be of great interest to my readers , I have deleted Mike Levad's request to use my photo, with faux moire, in an exhibit at the
Franklin Institute , and thus have erased the reason for my recent obsessive quest for a small shot of moire. Oh well. It has been an interesting project.
I have actually been thinking for the past few days that the painful disturbances I feel in my fascia are very moirical (as in maniacal) in nature. I imagine that my body holds energies that are crossing one another at a low angle and creating an internal dynamic pattern which is both uncomfortable and elusive. The energies aren't exactly in conflict, but they are not aligned, and the misalignment creates an entirely new set of circumstances, with a life of its own, like a moire. In my day, I have called up quite a few energies, and am probably suffering from the results of my eagerness.
If I were to name my oldest energy, the base pattern, it is probably that of subservience, subjugation . Five or six years ago, I was struck in the thigh with an excruciating bolt of pain , like Jacob , except that it happened while I was trying on shoes at Marshalls, and not on a river bank. A post modern wake up call, which sent me on a mission to relieve it. Since that time, I have called up lots of new energies, which are swirling around in my body, making moire in my fascia. It must be time to give up the subservience, and straighten things out. Would that I knew how.
Photo note: A fine example of the metaphoraphoto, rather imperfectly suggesting the the energetic patterns in my body. It is the ninety sixth photograph (of four hundred) of my sieve (memory), my seltzer bottle (armoured but bubbly inside) and my all too shimmery ribbon, on top of my washing machine (my subservience). How did you spend your weekend, Dakota? I think it has a spot of moire. I have become so fixated on capturing moire, that I have forgotten completely about composition. Thus I have several hundred unattractive pictures in my archives. All those electrons, down the drain .
Addendum: Notice the moire in the clickie for "bolt of pain"
March 13, 2005
The Gift
A friend is dying
four years of
cancer
breast
brain
liver
two sons wed
three daughters now
four trips abroad
two healing circles
forty CAT scans
a million
anxious moments
a thousand
joyful hours
now
the end
is near
and we,
her friends
are given
a gift
a plain red cooler
just outside
the door
while inside
she lays dying
a receptacle
for our love
and concern
which we fill
with offerings
each day
in turn
food for those
who keep
the vigil
a precious gift
something
to do
in the face
of death
March 11, 2005
Lantern Light
My daytime internet connection has been intermittent, then nonexistant for most of the week. Since we've had so much snow, I had a slew of cancellations during which to pursue my little hobby, but sadly, have been out of connection with the expanded universe.
It was not even two years ago, when I twiddled my thumbs waiting for a dial-up connection and fancied myself, Captain Video . Now look what I've come to expect. Which brings me to my point.
I just heard about Engineers Without Borders from friends who have a son who works with them. The organization models itself after Doctors Without Borders, and, I see from their website, that they have many projects all over the world. Fabulous idea, opening the potential for much more, Dentists Without Borders, Farmers Without Borders, Plumbers Without Borders, Investment Bankers Without Borders. Oops, it looks like Margaret Atwood had this idea well before I did. That's not the only one either.
Here's the project their son is working on. In many third world countries, when evening falls, there is no light, or just one dim, kerosene lantern for the entire household. The simple lack of adequate light with which to extend the day- which we so take for granted - is extremely limiting. If a child is fortunate enough to attend school, reading and homework are arduous by the lantern light. In addition, according to the World Health Organization, the use of kerosene lanterns and stoves is a leading cause of death in the third world as a result of serious burns and poisonous fumes.
Engineers Without Borders has been working to find a way to provide brighter light at the same, or lower cost than kerosene. They have developed a rechargable battery which powers a bright light, currently being tested in Kenya. Students bring the family battery to school with them and recharge it while they are in class. Thus the whole family has light after dark, prolonging the productive hours of the day for everyone. The student can read and study in the evening, and there is great incentive for families to send children to school in order to recharge the batteries. All around nifty
As I wrote this, I realized that there are a number of organizations working on this problem. The folks at Design That Matters are doing a similar project in West Africa. Their other innovative designs include condom vending machines for anonymous purchase in AIDs afflicted Muslim countries, and peeling and shelling machines for agricultural products.
And here I am, complaining about my internet connection and hunting moire. Get a life, Dakota.
Photo note: a little inadequate lighting along with some really inadequate tulips which I found in my archives.
March 07, 2005
oil slick
One day
on a foray
for moire
this lay
in the way
to protray
nerve fray
okay
okay
I must say
it's rather fay
Almost more moire
With all of
the play
between shadow
and light
you'd think
a moire
would
come
into sight
Although I am
trying with
all of my
might
that
damn
oblique angle,
I can't
get it right
March 05, 2005
Moire
I was so excited when Mike Levad asked permission to use my picket fence in the snow picture for a permanent exhibition on science and art at the Franklin Institute in Philadelphia. The reason he wanted it, was that it showed the moire pattern.
Well, guess what ? It was a faux moire, generated by the computer screen rather than the photographer. So I will not be shown in a museum anytime soon. Crushing. I will probably have to wait until posthumidity, if then.
Undaunted soul that I am, I am combing the archives for more moire, and I have found some, though not the most artful shots that I have ever taken.
I also set about to stalk the wild moire, and to cultivate some homegrown varieties.
After awhile, it gets very hard to see if you actually have shot a pure moire.
Do you think any of these qualify?
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