2913 E 117th St

It has taken me over a year to get these photos of 2913 E 117th St, Cleveland to the computer so they are viewable, and the scene has already changed so much since here, and it will only change dramatically more, as this building is set to be demolished within with the year....

In the true spirit of wabi-sabi....

view the full series here at:

https://plus.google.com/u/0/photos/104335158602581059145/albums/5911261818765052865

Hope Transforms

Yesterday, I received a timely surprise postcard from a good friend with a quote from Ralph Ellison's Invisible Man.  It read:

"Man's hope can paint a purple picture, 

can transform a SOARING VULTURE 

into a noble eagle or moaning dove."

She had sent it to me to because I had told her about a vulture that I had witnessed one early evening, perched up on the chimney of the house next door.  My daughter, Rosemary, and I had been out saying goodnight to the moon, it had been near Full, when the giant bird made his presence known expanding his wings as if to flap them dry.  He clicked his sharp beak across the top of the chimney.  And after several serious gazing moments, he took flight, dropping into the air, soaring right over Rosemary & I's head.  I almost thought he was going to pick one of us up.  I thought, something dead is near.

Currently, I am facing many deaths in my life, and I believe with every death comes Life.  This vulture, a hunter of the dead, the Gray Lady in bird form, who cleans up the dirty remains inspired me.  I took it as a great acknowledgment from the Universe that I am on my Path, and Death is necessary and glorious (just look at how he flew!).

Coincidentally, as part of the August Postcard Poetry Fest I am participating in (http://poetrypostcards.blogspot.com/) I just sent out postcards the past two days with poems about doves.  I will share one here, in the spirit of man's hope transforming a soaring vulture into a moaning dove.


Doves Separated

If you close the door
you won't hear the Dove, or
see his beauty or
feel his love.

You cannot have it both ways.
Quiet and joy is matched with pain.

He is unescapable
on every post and wire
unmated, lamenting,
as if his nest is on fire.

Close the door
and the coos will still vibrate,
for the Mourning Dove feels
with great weight
being separate.

written August 6, 2013


--------------------

As SMO wrote:
a large bird swooping from every rooftop
to surprise us all.

Thank you, smo!

---------------------
finally, for you to hear doves now where you are...

http://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/mourning_dove/sounds

Walking

Today I was given the great opportunity to walk along the main four-lane, six-lane in some places, highway that goes through my hometown.  Since I was in elementary school I have watched as the wild fields of Queen Anne's lace and goldenrod turned to grass monoculture, strip malls, and paved parking lots with lamp posts.  It still continues in this fashion, and there are a few last stretches left of these wild fields, and one of the last one, perhaps the longest and biggest stretch has just begun to be bulldozed, built-on and paved.  Every time I rush by in my car, trying to get here and there in suburbia, I sneak gazes out the window as I dodge traffic, attempting to catch a glimpse of the gorgeous mountainous clouds and the trees that are left still blowing in the wind.  I have repeatedly thought- oh, I want to spend time in that field.  It wants to be played in, admired, gazed, loved.  It is the beauty of the Universe and we are just passing it by and then throwing it in the trash.  Today was my chance to be with it.

I got out of the car and walked, maybe 5 or 6 miles, up 611, headed North, along four traffic lanes of rushing cars with turn-off lanes, and little sidewalk to be found.  There was the small stretch of emergency lane on the road, and the occasional patch of grass.  I was amazed at what was revealed to me.  First, it was the whizzing cars that pummeled by unknowingly.  I realized there was a chance I could be hit by a car, walking so close with little protection, but walking on I went.  I sang loudly and felt the vibration of my lungs and diaphragm like the motor of an engine.  It fueled me forward.  Then the great field opened up, and I saw the glen in its beauty.  Solitude and serene despite the rushing around it.  I could feel that even as the Speedy Carwash will take this field's wild place soon, this spirit cannot be removed.  It is in the sky and the clouds, and the wind; this cannot be denied.

Then I walked further, and began to smile at the glory and the gift of my legs, and my body, and my strength to carry myself.  My health that keeps me alive and strong.  I felt trust in the Earth that supported me under my feet.

With little to no sidewalks, and so many cars, it felt like I walked in an urban desert and ventured alone like an Elephant.  Then I saw a narrow footpath worn into the thin strip of grass along the road.  I knew then I was not so alone on this sojourn.  Many had gone before me, and many would go behind me, without the protection of a plastic car- only the strength of their body.  They, too, knew the power of our humanity to transform the landscape just by living in it.  They knew that one day, we may all learn to walk again and come close to the concrete and be intimate again.  I was with others in my awareness of being alone and strong in my self.

After a few miles, I came across a little forest, forgotten for now until the real estate agency gets the call to start building.  I have seen this alcove many a time driving by, but standing at its level it looked completely different.  Just as I stepped in the direction of the field, away from the road, I heard a hawk.  The hawk alerted me it was there, and alerted others I was there, and flew to another perch showing me their great wingspan.  He perched, and we gazed at each other as I sat on a concrete scrap of litter.  The beauty. The honor.  I was on my path.

.............

And there is more to this, but I must stop for now and let my legs rest and see the sun as it sets.  I am grateful for this day and the miracles it has brought me.

Love in Nature

For with Love in Nature -
first come Blossoms,
then come Seeds
then a pile of Compost.

three haikus

Beware the fuzzy
bumble bee kissing blossoms.
Grasp him and be stung.

          -------

The moon and two hawks
on a sunny morning blind
eyes that look skywards

          ------

Cicada, like pain,

shakes the body's attention.

Sit still, and silence.

     

for the full moon on moonday

THE CARDINAL

The Cardinal


I do not take lightly
the bright red cardinal
showing me the direction
in which he flies.