oil on copper, dream on day

blog moving day

2008-06-30T04:29:00.000-07:00

i switched blogs!

the new blog is up already, here the link:

virtual notes

bakery surprise

2008-06-29T07:22:00.000-07:00

there is a new shop in town. and of all possible locations, it found its place in the very street i walk down every morning when i go to the bakery.

so from today on, my morning bakery walk will be flavoured with pastel colours, and will lead past south france houses and across an autumn river.

yummy.

this cosmic touch

2008-06-20T11:13:00.000-07:00

solstice today, tonight
the sun touching the northern brink
the seasons switching
like ample lights, like flowers
green then pink

the sun, the earth
the angle that makes the difference
a cosmic touch of an asteroid
some millions of years ago

shaking up life, spilling it
into myriads of fragile, frantic
shapes - form
following function turning

into this chloropyhl green
sun yellow stawberry pink
earthly combination of genes
named cosmea

planted: today.

~

feathers and notes

2008-06-16T10:20:00.000-07:00

it looks like the moon. it is the sun, on a misty june morning. rising, like a song. rising, like the realization that one day, we won't be there to see it.

i never lost anyone close this way, until now, she said.

i thought of you when i read the news this morning, i answered.

later i listened to him play, listened to when god created the coffeebreak. esbjörn svensson. strange to get to know someone so playful that way, through leaving. strange to listen to those tunes, induced by his fingers, now.

~

and strange to receive this unrelated and fitting mail just today.

But there was a strange moment, too. I was startled by something hitting the kitchen window so hard it almost broke the glass, and when I looked there was something white on it. I went outside expecting to see something that someone had thrown at the window, but lying under it was a large dead dove. Some of its feathers were stuck to the window. And this dove has young, but fortunately they are nearly grown and probably will be ok. It was a shock, though, and a reminder as I buried her. We must do what is meaningful with our lives, before we follow the dove.

feathers and notes.

and the meaning of life. on monday. without coffee break.

Marazzi

2008-06-02T09:20:00.001-07:00

until some months ago, i didn't even know about the world of tiles. well, i knew tiles, simply as they are part of every bathroom and kitchen. but i never gave them much thought.

then came the idea to renovate the bathroom here. which developed first hazy shapes in January, with reflections on oldnew, followed by a tile of thought in February, when i visited some bathroom studios and tile galleries.

those first visits, they left me clueless, with the myriad of options on sale: aubergine wash basins and glass tiles. square bathtubs and granite plates.

then i saw them. those natural stones. they don’t even have a proper name, just a code: “MJ9W". but they are amazing. they are produced in Italy, and were delivered like fashion designer dresses, in huge white boxes, with silk paper between mosaic layers, together with their companeros, white tiles for the wall, and dune-structured tiles for the floor.

yesterday, i prepared the natural stones for the laying. it felt like opening a box of candy. those stones, they hold so many facets, so many variations to lay them: in strings of flexible height. or in a column.

that's what we tried today, the tile workers and i. it felt good, to join the little work crew for some time. to be part of the cutting and laying, of this process that turns an idea from a sketch on paper to walls in stone and mortar.

"this will look like a designer bathroom when it's finished," i said to the tile layer, still all excited. he smiled, and corrected me. "this is a designer bathroom," he stated. which made me think that seen like this, even the tile factory fits in, with their name that sounds like a designer label. Marazzi.

iris

2008-05-20T12:35:00.000-07:00

"i have seen them in italy," she said. "in all colours. they grow there, wild."

"they will open soon now. and then be gone in two weeks," i explained, once again wishing they would stay longer.

"that's how they are."

it's one of the things that keeps irriating me: the way they take a whole month to develop those exquisite petals, how they open all of them at once, in a spectacle of sheer abundance - and how they then turn to plain green again for the rest of the year. all this effort, for such a short while.

i shook my head. "like fireworks - sparkling in colours, then gone."

"just like us, when it comes to it," she concluded, and smiled.

sichuan, here

2008-05-15T00:38:00.000-07:00

life is so fragile, and the ground underneath our feet, as solid as it might feel, is holding its own tensions, carrying our world while moving with the powers to destroy it.

what a painful week. the pictures of Sichuan, when i first saw them, i could hardly connect them to reality. something terrible had happened on the other side of the world, in a region i couldn't even place. the impact of the news reached me later, deep in the night, in the safety of my bed, in a dream.

i am inside a house, in a living room, one that feels like a mix of my parent's home, and the home i live in now. there are wooden floors, a woven carpet, and a table with flowers on it, surrounded by chairs. all is peaceful – and then everything starts to shake. i am terrified, frozen in shock.
when the shaking ends, i don’t know what to do – and finally make myself step forwards, towards the window. outside is a piece of green land, and on it, a collapsed hut. the wall and roof lay scattered on the ground. has someone been inside? i can't tell.

that’s when i woke, still shaking and disoriented, thinking there was a quake here, while i slept. i got up and then finally realized that it wasn't even 5. so i went to bed again, and could sleep a bit, but the dream remained with me, under my skin, all day.

i tried to avoid getting back to the terrible pictures of people buried under buildings, schools collapsing. and then Burma, and the taifun. and the US, with all those tornados. what a time of dreadful disasters.

that was Tuesday. and then yesterday, there was this oddity that the electricity was turned off for 3 hours, for some major maintenance in this part of the city. they sent a letter last week, announcing it, and it went off and then on again 3 hours later, just like predicted. still it felt strange – it made me realize how many things are connected to electricity: the lights, the computer, the tv, the oven, the water heater, the washing machine.. so many elements of the day.

later, when the electricity was back, i browsed literary blogs, and came across a link to a blog from china. it’s from the magazine Time, with several posters, some from Sechuan region. here the link: time-blog.com/china

one of the posts – "In the disaster zone"- really touched me. i still try to avoid reading much about the quake, after i had this terrible dream Monday night, but this blog has another, more personal approach.

typing this out now, and looking at the dream again, makes me think that what i am really trying to avoid is not the news and the pictures, but the deeper truth they carry: that our life can collapse in a moment. just like that.

lost, found & stolen

2008-05-11T22:52:00.000-07:00

BluePrintReview Issue #16 - LOST, FOUND & STOLEN

the new issue of BluePrintReview is online!

a thief's trilogy and a discovered entry in a blog induced the theme for this issue this time - an issue that developed like a journey, went On Some Road, where it met Nomads Like Us, circled in a spot of Black and White, got Lost at Sea, went through bitter days, and eventually was Learning to Swim.

now it reached the point of completion, and is out there in space, its open pages waiting to be found. as so often, the process of putting the issue together revealed unexpected connections between the submitted texts and images - the same shapes in different photos, counterparting paragraphs in different texts. returning themes: the loss, not of things, but of one's way. the slow speed of time, ashen and sunfilled. the bolting spin of days.

it's always a bit of an adventure, to see how an issue turns out - you can't really plan it, and that's the beauty of it.

here the link: BluePrintReview #16 - Lost, Found & Stolen.

enjoy the read ~~

(& an additional note - the issue had another cover image first, a sky/cloud moment. like so often, when the issue came to finalization, it seemed to call for another cover, leaving it to me to find the fitting picture. which this time was found... almost right in front of the doorstep, where the tulips stood in bloom. bright pure yellow, they all were. apart from one. which carried a swift red mark on its petal. as if touched by the brush of evolution.

they are whithered now, the tulips. here a group photo of them, taken at dawn, their petals still closed and sprinkled with dew. they return every year, but never before had there been one with a red mark.)

at the bay

2008-05-05T23:51:00.000-07:00

the sand of spain is still in my shoes. to be at the ocean.. i wished there was a coast close to here. a beach to drive to for a day. there's something deeply energizing about being so close to such a huge body of water. to see the sun rise over waves. to see so many colours, in the course from dawn to dusk.

but i just been there again - in pictures. putting together this little mosaic. the place i been to: it's the bay of pollensa, at the north coast of mallorca island. not far from it, there's pollensa ville - a favourite place for artists. the painter miro has lived there for a while. here a link: puerto pollensa.

another link i meant to post: an e-zine i came across in February: qarrtsiluni. they are featuring theme issues that are hosted by guest editors, and are going online gradually. their last theme was "nature in the cracks". the issue is still running, developing since February in words and images. i sent an image to them, too - and it went online just while i was in mallorca. which was double fitting, as that's where i took it, a year before, right there at the bay of pollensa. here the link: "Reclaim."

and i just saw: the theme for qarrtsiluni's upcoming issue is "water". of all themes. how very neat.

reach out

2008-05-04T05:39:00.000-07:00

earth water seed
sun flower sprout

above its leaves
a ray hovering
whispering

grow,
grow towards
the light

reach out
for the sun

(this sunflower-to-be: i just hope
the hedgehog doesn't step on it
during his nocturnal hunt)

every day, try something new

2008-05-02T09:57:00.000-07:00

the moments journeys bring upon. walking along the shore, i day-dreamed of former journeys. and remembered this line i once picked up, and even had pinned to my pinboard:

every day, try something new.

i had it pinned up so long that i didn't even notice it any more in the end. that's when i thought i had learned it by heart. sitting there, at the shore, i realized that i had forgotten about it.

funny how we forget what we wanted to remember, while we remember what we wanted to forget.

the new thing i tried today is skipping the morning news, and instead browsing my favourite blogs. it might make for a different start of the day. a more personal one, and today, a funnier one - taking me right into the death star canteen.

which now leads to new try #2 of this friday: including a you-tube-video into blogger. now how does this work? .. click .. click .. click .... ... .. click.. ah, there. "embed". simple as that, once you found the right clue.

enjoy ~

listen --

2008-04-30T01:51:00.000-07:00

home --

the vast yellow green blue
of the day
after returning -

the found poem
in this blog
listen -

.....

the vast---

wondering
wandering
wondering

the vast of blue---
blue---

rock
stone
pebble.

precarious the balance---

the birds as guides.

listen---

almost

2008-04-25T12:59:00.000-07:00

I gather tao pebbles
To take back home
From this timeless bay

When I hear them call
I try to focus
Yet all I catch

Is the huge vast blue
Of the day
Before leaving

I stand and wait
For tomorrow,
For the seagull
To return

time

2008-04-12T04:42:00.000-07:00

off to Spain

for some time off

:-)

Land Logo Löwe

2008-04-01T12:53:00.000-07:00

tuesday, april, first. sun and ducks.
a spot in the city where i never parked before. free of charge.
so odd that i almost expected the car to be gone, while i was
standing in front of the thousand books
in the library, trying to figure out
which ones to take home today.

Annie Proulx. George Orwell. Amos Oz.
Rick Moody. David Mitchell (second try).
Jurek Becker. Ezra Pound.

from books to images, from the library to the villa
graffiti on bridges, white petals on trees without leafs
Emily Jacir, still so present in these rooms
that are now filled with the art of another artist

Daniela Keiser. such a different mood.
same gallery, two worlds.

how to fill the space
life offers?

exploring universal connections

2008-03-21T03:31:00.000-07:00

spring is there. at least officially. someone probably forgot to send the date to the skies, which are roaming with snow clouds now, in celebration of the full moon, and the new season.

the sweet moment of the day so far: getting a message from Cezanne's Carrot. their vernal equinox issue is up, and with it, a text i wrote: Lakes of Pain.

the real surprise came when reading their editorial: it seems they had a very similar experience when putting their issue together as i had with the last issues of blueprintreview: that there is tune to the texts coming in. here what they wrote about it:

Exploring Universal Connections
There is something very exciting—and comforting—about the way the Universe brings stories and artwork to us each quarter, works that seem randomly submitted, yet end up forming distinct patterns, themes of their own creation. We are just the organizers and packagers, blessed with the task of picking up the pieces of the new creation, assembling them, and then putting them on display for the rest of you to enjoy.

here the issue link: Cezanne's Carrot.

~

and more universal connections! last summer, i had a spacy e-mail conversation with a friend. it all started with a blue umbrella, and ended beyond the mayan calendar. the conversation now turned into a text that is up in the 1000-word-zine Pequin: Half Moon on Fry Day.

tile of thought

2008-02-28T11:01:00.000-08:00

enter brown sand
mosaic circle slide
glass metal nature
luna lesson: turn
a beige named red
square line left

imagine the room now
that you want
that you could
tile

unafraid

2008-02-19T05:42:00.000-08:00

sometimes, tiny riddles of life wait in the most common routines. this afternoon, i was in the garden, raking winter moss out of the lawn in preparation for spring, and suddenly i saw a mouse. sitting there. without making a move.

i kneeled down, afraid that i had hurt it. but no – the mouse was okay. it just sat there, looking. “hi,” i said. it hopped to the next grass seed and started nibbling on it. “are you new to this world?” i asked. “never heard that birds and cats and other big things chase mice?”

the mouse nibbled on. i couldn’t help it, i had to go and fetch the camera. it was still there. and when i kneeled down again, to try and take a photo – it came closer, to have a look at the camera. and then it sat again, curious and unafraid, seeming old and young at the same time.

and funny – later today, i will go to cinema with my parents, to see the new film named “Earth”. here the web page: http://www.loveearth.com/uk/film

but my earth moment today probably was .. this little mouse.

inbox

2008-02-06T10:06:00.000-08:00

i woke up with this longing for new books, for different pages. so i went to the library. didn't check the traffic news. and there i was. in the second major traffic jam this week that was caused by a turned truck. stuck between cars, i listened to music.

but it was all worth it. in the library, David Mitchell's Cloud Atlas waited. this book, i first saw it in December, in a bookshop. i was unsure about it back then, but noted the title, to read a review in the web. now it's here. together with Murakami and Musil.

from the library, i went to villa merkel - to see the Emily Jacir exhibition. it's ending this sunday, that's why i finally made it. plus, it felt like the right day for it. and it was. the wind blew leafs through the air as i walked to the villa, and kept them up there, kept them from falling. there were 2 girls with their mothers, chasing them. they all wore headscarfs. they all laughed.

i front of the villa, a construction ladder. but the door - open. just a few other visitors there, on this early wednesday afternoon. clouds playing with the shades, then sudden sunlight streaming in through the huge windows. it's such a precious place. its old walls and floors offering a base to modern photography, to acryl paintings, to installations.

and there it is. Jacir's tent. the one i saw in the web yesterday. now i see it for real. can touch it. can walk into it. can feel the hands of all those who helped to create it. next to it, an open folder - day pages. with lists of those who walked through the open door of her studio.

upstairs, a white room. it is empty. empty but for the white plates that run along the wall. i step up to the plates, and realize they are e-mails. copied by hand, copied word by word. line by line. electronic messages, made visible. words that were never meant to be published, unedited, uncorrected, unpolished. intense like life. inbox, the name of the installation.

it's like this day feels: all inbox, after days of outbox. that's what i think on the way back home, on another route, one that keeps me in safe distance from the fallen truck, from the traffic jam. one that takes me up the slope, to the edge of the valley, instead of keeping me inside of it.

back home, i find 2 petals on my desk, fallen while i was away, while i was watching leaves fly.

~

aviary

2008-02-02T01:31:00.000-08:00

sunday morning slide
of sky, still words
on writing resonate -
the coffee breathes
while it brews

~

I thought that if I could put it
all down, that would be one way.
And next the thought came to me
that to leave it all out would be
another, and truer way.
- from "A Writer's Aviary / John Ashbury"

The best piece of real and realistic advice
that I can give an aspiring writer is,
make sure you turn yourself into
a terrific editor of your work.
You have to realize that
most good writing that we know
is rewriting.
- from "WSJ / Elisabeth Scharlatt"

So many of my undergrads come in
and they think they're the best writers in the world,
they think they know everything.
So part of my job is to focus in
on what they don't know,
and whatever it is they do know,
that's what they need to be writing about.
You have to be patient.
- from "WSJ / Silas House"

endings, beginnings

2008-01-30T22:56:00.000-08:00

yesterday, i packed the yoga bag once more, like i had done so often wednesday evenings. it felt different this time, though, knowing this would be the last of the yoga lessons given by Margot.

i knew i wanted to make a gift for her that was about endings and beginnings – but it was only this weekend that i could think of a fitting one, remembering how i brought a white iris from the garden to the yoga lessons last year. and now, the iris are starting to grow again already. so i plugged one from the earth, and put it into a tiny pot. and printed the photo of last year’s iris in flower to go with it. the line next to the photo is “Anfang und Ende sind eins” – “Beginning and Ending are one”. when i typed it, i first thought of the ending of the lessons, that ending them now might be an open space for beginning something else.

and then, later, i had this thought- that whenever we begin something, we also induce a future ending. all that starts will end at one point. so beginning, in a way, is also the impulse that will later create an ending.

the yoga lesson was lovely. and Margot had brought a gift for everyone, too…. flower sprouts, ready to put in the earth. and little hand-written cards of wisdom. mine said:

Der Äther webt
das All
der Atem webt
den Menschen

after yoga, we went for a drink to the Barista. sitting there, i wondered when exactly i joined Margot's course. 2001 that was, probably, we figured out together, after i came back from my first trip to Asia. and then it was the end, but it didn’t feel like it. i am sure some of us will meet at Margot’s place, somewhen.

and now, Thursday, and it almost feels like Friday. the week was so full of moments already. there’s a chance of snow, they said in the radio.

veiled shapes

2008-01-28T11:02:00.000-08:00

a morning, veiled in haze, in scattered thoughts. later, during a routine visit to the doc, to get a prescription for allergy tablets, and some lotion to put on irritated skin spots, a line that put life and those littel red spots in an unintended perspective. and told about a patient who probably had been there before me this day.
"with this lotion, the cancer should be gone in 3 to 4 days," the doc said, then gasped. "spots, i meant. the spots. not cancer."

it gave me a feeling of thankfulness for my allergy. which is predictible. and yes, returning, every year, when the hazelnut trees start to flower in their strange, ribbly way. but after they are done, and the birches, too, the allergy leaves again, like a migrating bird that moves on to another place, to return the following year.

maybe now, after this line, it will be easier to befriend it when it returns, when it leaves its temporary marks on my skin.

life. and all its facets. and good that the sun broke through this afternoon, and i could be out there, plugging weeds, getting my hands dirty. the spring flowers are growing already, they are hovering just a bit underneath the surface now. almost like the new issue of BluePrintReview. which is growing now, developing more and more of the quality that will be the title of this issue: "Shape".

in an intermix of themes, i received some lines last week, in reply to the Doris Lessing quote, and maybe also to the idea of shapes - a passage from Lessing's nobel price lecture:

Writers are often asked, How do you write? With a processor? an electric typewriter? a quill? longhand? But the essential question is Have you found a space, that empty space, which should surround you when you write? Into that space, which is like a form of listening, of attention, will come the words, the words your characters will speak, ideas-inspiration.

If this writer cannot find this space, then poems and stories may be stillborn.

When writers talk to each other, what they ask each other is always to do with this space, this other time. Have you found it? Are you holding it fast?

i just looked for the whole lecture, it's online here:
On not winning the Nobel Price

smile. back to the shapes now.

~

being creative

2008-01-22T03:32:00.000-08:00

it's one of those days. i accomplished pages and pages in the last weeks, still i feel bad. for not being further. for getting things wrong. for daydreaming too much, while there is a world in turmoil out there.

and then, there, in the web, questions and answers, typed out on the other side of the world. lines that in their essence reflect my mood. that put things in a perspective that i wasn't able to reach on my own today.

I have another writing deadline and am tangling deep in the middle of a manuscript. Hence, I have no time to do anything else. Including art. Feeling guilty about that. - I can’t seem to shake the feeling of guilt hanging over me lately—can’t seem to ever feel like I’m getting everything done well enough, fast enough, etc–yet I can’t seem to figure out what to cut back on. Shouldn’t I have accomplished more by now?
- C.

being creative is finding ease with the constant sense that you are your own worst critic. I got to a place of peace when my sculpture teacher said to me in my post college years, that being an artist wasn’t about showing in galleries, or getting published. It was about living a life that made sense to you. about finding your own skin a place you wanted to be. that artists hung themselves when they defined their work towards goals that were not really theirs.
easier said than done.
- M.

this thought touched me to the core. even though it's nothing new. but i guess i needed to see it put in words today, to remember it: that being an artist isn't about showing in galleries, or being published. that it is about living a life that makes sense to oneself.

thanks for that, CM.

(backlink: because i've almost slipped off the face of the earth)

oldnew

2008-01-21T11:34:00.001-08:00

i wished this post was pure fiction but it isn't. last week, 2 constructors were here to have a look at the bathroom. their names: mr garlic and mr bleach. so now, i have sketches of possible bathrooms lingering on my desk, together with a heap of brochures. the bathroom above is the new trend, apparently: a room that looks oldnew. and costs more as it has less included. this is liquid logic.

apart from water, there were words. doris lessing, in the library: the golden notebook. i don't yet know what to think about it, but the introduction note is so curious that i just had to include it here:

"Throughout the Notebooks people have discussed, theorized, dogmatized, label, compartmented – sometimes in voices so general and representative of the time that they are anonymous, you could put names to them like those in the old Morality Plays, Mr Dogma and Mr I-am-Free-because-I-Belong-Nowhere, Miss I–Must-Have-Love-and-Happiness and Mrs I–Have-to-be-Good-At-Everything-I-Do, Mr Where-is-a-Real-Woman? and Miss Where-is-a-Real-Man?, Mr I’m-Mad-Because-They-Say-I-Am, and Miss Life-Through-Experiencing-Everything, Mr I-Make-Revolution-and-Therefore-I-Am, and Mr and Mrs If-We-Deal-Very-Well-With-This-Small-Problem-Then-Perhaps-We-Can-Forget-We-Daren’t-Look-at-The-Big-Ones."

reading those lines also made me remember the last Lessing novel i read. the good terrorist, this was. in crete. in the appartment with an ocean view. and with a bathroom that i was white, i think. and newnew. plus it came with two gifts: a body lotion and a shower gel. their names: Love and Earth.

today, the third constructor was here, to have a look at the bathroom - and also at the attic. his name: mr solace. he turned out to be Mr Let-You-Wait, though. just to become Mr I-Tell-You-Things-You-Could-Have-Figured-Out-Yourself-If-You-Stopped-Daydreaming. so here is the disillusioning news: turning the old attic in new living space by a constructor will cost a ridiculous amount of money.

the positive effects of this afternoon: while waiting for Mr Let-You-Wait, i worked on the new issue of blueprintreview. it's the Shape issue. and it starts to take more and more shape. plus, in the end, Mr Solace came up with some good advice how to approach the attic in do-it-yourself steps.

addition, one day later:
in the night, the topic of renovation reached even Mr Sandman. who has a strange humour. this is the dream i had: i was driving to a bathroom store, a huge one, with levels for showers, bathtubs, furniture – and i walked through it, but the things pointed out weren’t there. instead, they had glass lamps and porcelain figures and laptop bags. and an attic level. to reach it, i had to walk through a rain passage.

~~~

under a triangle roof

2008-01-14T09:47:00.000-08:00

monday, overcast, chilly. another winter day. yet something has happened. in the last days, an idea has been growing, or rather: unfolding - as if it had evolved slowly, almost unnoticeably underneath the surface of the days. to take shape now, in all its possibility.

the odd thing is that the source of the idea always had been there. all the time, since i live here: the attic. it was forgotten space, though, empty but for an old wooden box that gathered time. there is no easy access to the attic. to get there, i have to climb up a narrow steep stairway. that's why i never go there. and until last summer, it felt there is no point of going there anyway, as the attic holds nothing but dust.

then came the days of dry heat last summer, a heat that stood in the house and wouldn't leave. what to do, i wondered, and climbed up there one evening, to open the small windows for the night, to let in fresh air. and stood there, mesmerized by the view those tiny windows offered. a view that was hiding there, behind those old walls. and i found myself, imagining to take out those pieces of bricks, and put glass there. just an idea, i thought. and left it at that.

yet the idea remained. and this winter, i found myself, dreaming of sitting there, under this triangle roof, on a sofa, with the sunlight pouring in through the glass, or with orion rising at the horizon.

and isn't it perfect timing for this idea? january, the start of the year. the time of first seeds starting to reach for the light. the time of beginning. the time of printing poems of unknown authors, to put them on the windowsill, to catch this hazy mood.

This is the beginning of a new day.
You have been given this day to use as you will.
You can waste it or use it for good.

What you do today is important
because you are exchanging a day of your life for it.
When tomorrow comes,
this day will be gone forever;
in its place is something that you have left behind -
let it be something good.

~~~

reading and writing. and a rainbow.

2008-01-08T10:06:00.000-08:00

turning obstacles into benefits. that is one of the resolutions (or rather: directions) i want to follow this year. so yesterday, when the fridge was empty, and i needed to go shopping - and needed to take the car for it, as they closes the nearby small supermarket, i thought, okay, then at least take the camera and maybe go for a walk.

10 minutes later i found myself, driving right into the most beautiful sky moment. rain and clouds to the north, sunlight streaming from the south, and me - driving right along a nameless street that turned into rainbow alley. plus - i had the camera with me.

back home, i visited the topography blog - and found those beautiful lines about writing and reading in it:

"But I’ve rarely gone back to the masterpieces, the ones that have endured: prose and plot and construction indelible and profound across time. And lately, as I’m grappling with my own writing more and more, I’ve started to feel a hunger for these texts: knowing that as I read them, I’ll be carried across time, into the world of ideas, word by word.
Word by word, closer to what I need to know." (Dig in and Read.)

also part of the post: a book. Francine Prose, Reading Like a Writer. which again, via google, led to inspiring lines about books, and about reading.

"Gabriel Garcia Márquez once told an interviewer at the Paris Review that the first time he read Kafka’s Metamorphosis it nearly knocked him clear off his bed. “I didn’t know anyone was allowed to write things like that,” he said. “If I had known, I would have started writing a long time ago. So immediately I started writing.” (Reading and Writing)

words and the worlds they open up. i am still lost in the The Time Traveler's Wife, and don't want it to end.

under construction

2008-01-05T06:31:00.000-08:00

day 5 of the new year. it still feels strange to type 2008. strange like the air outside, warm today, under a grey, tired sky. the magic frozen forest has gone, together with the spectacle of snow sunrises. winter temporarily moved to spain and bulgaria.

i'm moody today. they closed the small supermarket 2 streets down, so filling the fridge now equals having to take the car. which made me drive past the swan lakes at least. only that they today came without swans.

smile. do i sound like i want to jump back through time, to the start of december? the book i am reading now could suggest such fancy thoughts: it's The Time Traveler's Wife, written by Audrey Niffenegger. who has a lovely website that looks very much like this new year still does: full of promise and almost completely under construction.

---

new: blueprint21 poem - 359 degrees

Zeitgeist

2008-01-01T05:51:00.001-08:00

first day of the new year. wind from the east, skipping snow flakes from twigs. a red wood pecker on the top of a fir tree. on the wall, the new calendar. a do-it-yourself version. all white yet, apart from January.

the word of the day: Zeitgeist. "The spirit of time; the general intellectual and moral state or temper characteristic of any period of time."

now to come: a cup of tea, and the last pages of the Eternals, a strangely fitting book to end and start a year. especially as, while writing this post, it now made me click into Neil Gaiman's blog and find this beautiful new year wish:

"May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you're wonderful, and don't to forget make some art -- write or draw or build or sing or live as only you can. And I hope, somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself."

---

new: the colour of this blog - white instead of black

2007 / 2008

2007-12-29T03:19:00.000-08:00

2 more days of 2007, then it's 2008. the fireworks are waiting in the floor already, in pink and yellow and red rockets. in the newspapers, some critical essays on blogging and all the unreglemented and unneccesary data masses the internet creates. at least that's obviously how some traditional journalists perceive it. it makes me wonder which pages they ever visited in the web - for me, it feels the other way round: there are more and more inspiring blogs out there, offering advice and reflections just when you are looking for it.

like these lines on resolutions, in a backlink from Reb Livingston, editor of NoTellMotel:

"Getting a jump start on 2007 resolutions -- hence I haven't been blogging.

1. Focus and work harder on outstanding projects (working on Shafer's book these past few days and I responded to all outstanding e-mail in my general mail folder, probably the first time all year).

2. Take better care of my health. Well, I half-started that. Back on the treadmill. Haven't improved the diet yet, there are still holiday chocolates to finish.

I try not to make unrealistic resolutions, mine are more in the vein of improvements. There was an AOL VP of Member Services (i.e. customer service) who was all about 1% improvements. The idea is we can always make a 1% improvement from what we're doing now and if we keep doing that, over time, wa-la, the noticeable difference.”(link)

i liked that: not planning to take huge steps, but take 1% turns.

and another interesting page, about habits – i found this one when following a link in lonely planet to an essay of Shelley Stile, who works with people who face changes in their life.

here’s a passage that sums the essay up in 2 paragraphs:

"Seek to develop new habits. If your life was run by bad habits then conversely it can be run by good habits you consciously choose. To develop a habit you simply must stick with for about three months and you are home safe. Just create the picture of what you want your behavior to look like and list ten habits that will get you to that picture of yourself.

It works the same with your life. Where would you like to be in ten years in terms of who and what you are and what you are doing? Think of ten habits that will get you to that Future Self and start today in adopting those guideposts. Work backwards from the future.” (Shelley’s blog)

all those thoughtful lines. today, i want to follow the path the last days sketched already: thinking about this year, and the next year – and then, maybe also make the larger step: thinking in longer time ranges.

where do i want to be in 10 years?

~~~

candle light rose beach time

2007-12-14T07:14:00.000-08:00

it's 7 days to winter solstice. from then on, the days will grow longer again. maybe the rose here in the garden knew about this when she decided to start to grow a petal. in december.

plus, in the mail, a postcard from Italy - with a summer beach picture. from Hotel David in Cesenatico. i was there, in summer 2004. they keep sending christmas cards since then.

the skies, though, are neither fooled by roses, not by summer postcards. the sun is setting right now, as i type, at half past 4, to reappear after 8 tomorrow. the night will last 16 hours, with temperatures dropping below zero again.

it's candle light rose beach time.

cloud traffic

2007-12-06T03:21:00.000-08:00

winter morning sketches
of thoughts
_________of dreams
on a paper
________in the sky
a white plane
---reaches
an invisible moon

~

time trips

2007-11-20T00:54:00.000-08:00

it’s tuesday. november. one year ago this time, i was walking the black sand shores of Lanzarote island. now i am walking the snow of home – winter came early this year, freezing the roses and the last of the sunflowers.

but as time has it, those sunflowers have just started to grow again – in the new issue of Serene Light. here the link to the page that holds the picture, and a poem about them, written in April: almost an asana

more online moments: a month ago, i was packing bags for Crete. i knew i would stay in a place with ocean view – but had no idea how this view would turn out. well. it turned out too large for the camera. so i put a photo collage together – and just while there, came across a call for hotel moments from the newspaper “Zeit” – “time”. so i sent the panorama there.
now it’s up in time online: miramar view

plus – and this still feels strange – i did my first interview! it’s 4 pages long, and published in print in the magazine 34thParallel. there even is a preview of it online, with a travel photo (yes, that’s me in the middle!) – here the link: a journey into words

right now, i am focusing on the writing project i am part of: 7 writers from 5 continents writing a futuristic novel with entangled storylines. more about that, hopefully soon. and i am putting together the last pages of the upcoming issue of blueprintreview – as it looks, it will go live next week, and coming with a number of night moments.

it's a good time.

november

2007-11-18T23:12:00.000-08:00

searching for words.
trying to feel the sand beneath my feet, gone now.

picking up pebbles.
remembering this poem named timeout.

cutting the last of the sunflowers.
the one that grew too late.

mixing up copy with paste, again.
which makes me end where i started.

~~

je suis symmetry

2007-11-11T08:04:00.000-08:00

making coffee
i hear a bird, a girl
look out and fall into
a perfect moment

this symmetry of reality
meeting photography

this matching number
of day, of month

elves, it flashes through
my leafy mind, and also,
élèves.

today, je suis symmetry,
i say to the sparkling room
and wait
for another word door
to open, somewhere
in my mind.

~

halfmoon

2007-10-21T08:36:00.001-07:00

half moon sky longing
a song of migrating birds
soon there will be snow

(posted via e-mail)

7 days

2007-10-15T22:46:00.000-07:00

7 days to Crete. the island shore, approaching like a ship on the horizon of time. while i am swimming through a lake of things that need finishing first. painting the floor of the cellar room.
freeing the garden lawn from that bad weed. writing a travel tale for transitions abroad. putting together the 2028 letter to dzanc. and - taking time to smell the flowers. who will be gone when i return.

how many things will fit in those seven days? and - how to keep a good pace?

i will try to see it as a marathon. not starting too fast, so that i won't run out of energy halfway through.. which would be Thursday. which is - and ain't that neat - the day of Lujong. of space earth wind fire and... water.

transitions abroad, i think. they bring transitions ashore.

~

chrysan themes

2007-10-05T02:29:00.000-07:00

october. a riot of colours, thrown in the air by flowers with names like serenades. chrysan themes. topin amburs. dew drops falling like tiny drums. bees humming, as if it was spring, not autumn.

it's gonna be a hard winter, she said.

maybe someneone should break that truth to the small sunflower who figured that these days were a great time to start growing, to weave first leaves, to develop an own curled idea of a petal.

it's gonna be life, the small sunflower answers.

~

what do you believe?

2007-10-01T02:18:00.000-07:00

monday morning, and through my kinja, i stumble into a blog entry of my topography that opens this week with the grand question:

"So now I really want to know:
What do you believe? Do you have faith, or do you live outside it? How do you rationalize your fundamental view of the world? Can logic define it, or is something lost in translation?"

a question that is followed by thoughtful lines and more questions and quotes.

"I don’t keep a drawer of knife sharp words to define the shape of what I know. Tautology. Ignorance. Deism. How do you use the scientific method to argue the depth or scope of spiritual faith? How do you use logic as the basis for accepting or denying that which you cannot know about the movement of another person’s heart?" - Christina

“Believe nothing, no matter where you read it, or who said it, no matter if I have said it, unless it agrees with your own reason and your own common sense.” - Buddha

"I believe we are all spiritual beings, seeking those things that power, position, or possessions can’t satisfy. Faith is a journey. It grows when nurtured. It turns stale and stiff when ignored. All I can do is live my life in a way that speaks to the love and faith I have found, to be authentic and open as the journey unfolds." - Lyric

"I read a quote once stating that there are two easy ways to get through life: to believe everything and to believe nothing. Faith, obviously, falls somewhere in between. Which is exactly why it’s not easy. And I don’t believe it is meant to be." - Julie

~

those lines moved me. and like most, i found it equally hard to define the shape of my faith in words. for me, faith is connected to life energy. to feeling the world, to feeling with the world. to trust in life. maybe that's for me is coming from the experience that you in fact can go and leap into a white page, and there is a net of words, of stories appearting. that connection is possible, across continents, beyond words.

another thing the question made me think of - i read a zen line this weekend, written by a monk, a long time ago.

Just don’t seek from others,
Or you’ll be far estranged from Self.
I now go on alone;
Everywhere I meet It:
It now is me; I now am It.
One must understand in this way
To merge with thusness.
- Dongshan Liangjie (807–869)

it touched me. this concept of merging with the world, with the thusness of now. to not go astray and look for abstract concepts, but to take the way to learn and follow ones own heart.

it was good and unexpected, to start the new week, the new month with those thoughts, and adding my thoughts just as the church bells were ringing eight, just as the sun was rising.

~

welt ist überall

2007-09-26T12:26:00.001-07:00

late afternoon. september winds, arriving from france, roam the trees here in the street, paint the grey sidewalks with whirls of yellow and red that keep moving. natural art, i think. leaf sculptures.

later i call a friend, and we talk about journeys to angkor and walks through autumn gardens. about long distance trips and short distance trips. about the time it takes to be in a place, to arrive there, to leave from there. leafs, i remember. leaves.

"die welt ist überall," my friend says -
"the world is everywhere."

~

world dart, blog play, ego politics

2007-09-25T08:29:00.000-07:00

the first autumn days. temperatures dropping by 10 degrees. sun and rain and clouds, changing by the hour. on the weather page, a new link, leading to a geography game that shows the map of Europe, tells you a capital, and hands you a virtual dart to aim at the location. fun. especially east europe. here the link: Europe Dart

and more games: blogger has a new feature: a stream of photos that was just uploaded. a wild mix from all over the world, named play.blogger

apart from web games, an odd mix of news. like coloured clouds, politicians coming up with silly ideas just to make headlines - like the one who suggested to end marriages automatically after 7 years, or our inner minister who thinks virus-mails sent from the tax office might be just the thing to frighten possible terrorists. turns out he basically frightened the public. on the other side, our prime minister had the courage to invite the Dalai Lama. now she is named "witch" in the Chinese web pages. well, i thought. rather a witch with an attitude than a political-correct smalltalk politician.

now for a photo to go with this post ... how about this one, 346, taken one year ago? - i like the thought that it might pop up in playblog now, somewhere in the world.

fake fantasy memory

2007-09-19T09:21:00.000-07:00

rita :: mae brown
comedy :: life
polar :: roses
perception :: memory
infected :: viral
fake :: honesty
relating :: three degrees
distraction :: attraction
gamble :: coins

unconscious mutterings, week 241.
& the photo.. photo friday, fantasy.

which altogehter makes it a fake fantasy memory. and makes me think of that article on neuronal scientists who discovered that our memory changes with every act of recalling it. that it connects with the situation that made us remember, and then is restored, slightly altered, in relation to the now. like a wiki entry that gets updated by current perceptions of reality. like sunlight reflected in the waterdrops of dusk.

~

listening to: Vanilla Sky
reading: Aldous Huxley, Brave New World

~

pink

2007-09-12T22:52:00.000-07:00

minutes leap unheard
sunbeams smatter keenly, pink
cloud howls, petals blush

~

that was automatic poetry, slightly adjusted to this week's photo friday task: purple.
and more automatic musings, an oblique strategy for today:

Discover the recipes you are using
and abandon them

~

celestial tea

2007-09-06T21:42:00.000-07:00

between night and morning
i wake from a dream
that doesn't leave a memory
get up in darkness
brew black tea

a cup later, still lost
in nocturnal musings
i open the window,
to let september air
touch my breath, lean out

and see her for the first time -
venus, dancing over dawn
while the moon sails so high
that it remained invisible
through closed glass.

~

3 unfinished thoughts

2007-08-30T10:39:00.000-07:00

(1)
this flower, i found it here in the garden, underneath the peonies that had blossomed in April. now it is August, and this flower, it isn't even a flower yet. it is just three hairy green leaves. "and how will you grow there, in the shade?", i say. the flower doesn't answer.
so i go buy a terracotta pot to plant her into, to move her to a sunnier spot. still i worry that it is too late already, that the year won't have enough sun left for the flower to finish its growth, that it will leave her unfinished, green, without

(2)
flowers. they are female here in Germany. die Blume. she flower. the opposite of flowers are trees. they are male. der Baum. he tree. and then there is the third

(3)
it happened years ago, in another city. it was summer, she's sure of that, as the heat was standing in the street, dense and vivid, even in the late evening. they sat outside, her and a colleague, drinking another drink, basically to postpone the moment of having to step into the hotel, into solid, temperature-filled space.
maybe it was the heat that melted the line between being colleagues and being friends, she still isn't sure of it. all she knows is that at one point, they were miles beyond small talk.
"there's this concept", her colleague said, her eyes suddenly all clear and open.
"or more something like a wish for life - to never

~~~

photo friday, challenge "unfinished"

summer crossing

2007-08-10T13:17:00.000-07:00

it's August, and i am wearing a sweater and socks. this is Germany, Middle of Europe, it really should be summer-ish here now, but temperatures are down in the cellar. and instead of sun, there is rain. and not just rain, but rainrainrain since Monday, to the point that rivers are starting to flood.

now the doorbell just rang. and i received a parcel from an online shop order. the nice thing is, they included a little inflatable gift. one that would be perfect for the season, theoretically. but now it looks both funny and sad: a blue water ball.

couldn't help it, had to take a photo of the ball, also because it oddly fits the book i am reading these days, a book that i brought from the library in the last week of July, assuming it would be the perfect read for the following month: Truman Capote's Summer Crossing.

~

photo friday, challenge "oddity"
listening to.. a band called AIR
reading.. stories in six sentences

recent publications

2007-08-08T11:13:00.000-07:00

august. sunflower petals carried away by green birds. rain drops falling like stars. old letters in a box, taking me back to Asia. white splashes of colour on my shoes. and - words in various sizes and shapes.

- 20 minutes in berlin (short story)

- renditions of her (poem)

- rave / transition / one / swallow / asleep (5 poems)

- Arriverci (short story)

the whole list, here.

~

reading: Truman Capote, Summer Crossing
listening to: REM, Around the Sun

drip drop

2007-08-07T02:23:00.000-07:00

rain, the weathermen had promised. the clouds arrived in the night, yet they kept all the drops for themselves, for the sky, oblivious of the earth's dryness, of the news forecast.

at noon, she went outside, and opened the lid of the water tank. she looked up to the sky one more time, one last time. then she filled the bucket, and made the way through the garden, knowing from past experience that it would start to drizzle just 5 minutes after she finished.

and it did, for whatever reason.

~

photo friday, challenge: wet

day / night

2007-07-28T22:49:00.000-07:00

in the garden
the last of the day lilies faded
leaving emptiness & a stick of memory
a token of petals once opened then closed

like dreams tinted
with emotions, with hidden truths
revealing themselves in the night
then curling up before dawn

leaving awakeness & a hunch of the clarity
that hovers beyond this realm
of the human mind
called conscious,

this folly of evolutionatory
vagary

~

reading: Jay Rubin / Haruki Murakami and the Music of Words
rediscovering: Oasis / Born on a Different Cloud

butterfly

2007-07-19T01:51:00.000-07:00

my arms folded, i move my body
to the left, to the right
as far as i can reach

you don't breathe into
the dephts of your being
my teacher states gently

then asks a simple,
yet intricate question -
since when is that?

i open my arms
and feel like a butterfly
for a second

i was the tallest in class
i answer, drawing my
shoulders in to explain

the ways we make
our selfs small,
my teacher says,

softly, like the wind
she tries to make us feel,
inside of us.

~

a different place

2007-07-09T01:51:00.000-07:00

between water and stone
i step into this thought

that a place
at a different time
is a different place

just like the same place
alone / with someone else
is a different place

~

a task for my week:

to step out of the trains
and chains of thought
every once in a while

to walk slower

to listen to the inner voice
of a place, a person,
a moment

to watch
the world news
empathically

~

question of the day

2007-07-05T01:48:00.000-07:00

is it me who is taming the garden -
or is it the garden who is taming me?

~

and the other question:
do the secondary petals of sunflowers,
the ones that develop not on top,
but along the stem,
always look like this?

and if so,
how come i never noticed it?

~

three moments

2007-06-28T10:08:00.000-07:00

(1)
out in the garden, trying to take a photo of this day lily named Siloam. hearing two birds cry, right above me. buzzards, i think. and look up. and there they are, floating in the wind, in wide, playful circles. and there i am, camera right in my hand.

(2)
at the desk, looking for a cupboard and a shelf for the cellar. opening pages, and seeing this sofa that just might fit into the living room. finding it also comes in the colour of sand, and is named - tylösand. going there, to the furniture house, to test the sand. and buying a small carpet that will match that sand, and that makes the wooden floor of the living room feel like a jetty.

(3)
in the web, browsing pages. being greated by a zen poem named the Art of Peace. and wondering how often i am just a step away from the sky, from the sand, from the peace.

The Art of Peace begins with you.
Work on yourself and your
Appointed task in the Art of Peace.
Everyone has a spirit that
Can be refined, a body that
Can be trained in some manner,
A suitable path to follow.
You are here for no other purpose than
To realize your inner divinity and
Manifest your innate enlightenment.
Foster peace in your own life and
Then apply the Art to all that you encounter.

- Morehei Ueshiba

growth

2007-06-18T01:21:00.000-07:00

monday and this thought
that time, like plants,

grows steadily
in a combination

of expected circles and
spontaneous sprouts

- photo friday, challenge "active"

black soul cat

2007-06-15T21:34:00.000-07:00

acoustic :: soul
sanity :: sleep
mambo :: black
session :: ended
hound :: dog
cat :: place
coward :: cowgirl
trunk :: drunk
hold me :: tonight
psychological :: walk

-unconscious mutterings, week 227

tranquility

2007-06-12T22:46:00.000-07:00

a path a stone
music fading voices

floating signs that point out
the dedicated way

i climb across the wood
that forms the reiling

i take 12 steps
and breathe in

tranquility

~

- photo friday, challenge: purity

sometimes

2007-06-06T22:30:00.000-07:00

sometimes the blue sky
is waiting in

the right lower corner
just beyond

the block of the
larger view

- photo friday, challenge: "large"

5 things are waiting to be done

2007-06-05T22:34:00.000-07:00

5 things are waiting to be done. that was a riddle a friend sent in December. and the state i seem to be in since weeks. or rather: since years. looking at to-do lists from the past months, i see that those 5 things are changing, though. which must mean that i am moving forward, right?

and looking back, it usually aren't the ones that were on top of the list that made the difference in the end. sometimes i feel, somewhere in the back of my mind there is a little neutronic net that knows very well what to do next, and what to leave waiting. only that it doesn't communicate in rational reasons to my consciousness. it communicates in whims and moods of the moment, making me feel like following follies instead of priorities.

2 more thoughts on this, or rather, quotes:

the goal i have: to never be finished - nie fertig werden.
that's what someone quoted to me years ago in Cologne, a wish for her life.

the more you do, the more you can do.
a modern day koan, sent from a san fran friend.

~

and then this, stumbled upon in the web, just at the right time:

I will not die an unlived life.
I will not live in fear of falling or catching fire.
I choose to inhabit my days, to allow my living to open me, to make me less afraid, more accessible, to loosen my heart until it becomes a wing, a torch, a promise.

I choose to risk my significance, to live so that which came to me as seed goes on to the next as blossom, and so that which came to me as blossom goes on as fruit.

- Dawna Markova

alles lyrik

2007-06-04T21:30:00.000-07:00

in between politics and finances
a whole feature of poetry
six pages long

starting with an editorial explanation
why this issue sees no other literal reviews
than lines in not even rhymes

adding, just in case of unknownness,
a cautious introduction into the nature of lyric:
poems aren't things, it states

poems are emotional states,
existing only while reading their lines,
neither before, nor after

ending with a soothing note
for all those who rather read novel size reviews:
those will appear in an extra-long-feature, next issue.

~

beyond instinctive rain

2007-05-30T10:01:00.000-07:00

dancer :: rain
intellectual :: death
direct :: call
tolerate :: difference
post :: modern
instinctive :: move
brink :: beyond
regain :: shape
repulsed :: impulse
distressed :: dreaming

- unconscious mutterings, week 225

amber

2007-05-19T13:44:00.000-07:00

amber is a colour
she learned on that rainy thursday morning
yet skipped looking for it
sure it would be far.

then found it
just an hour later
some metres from the doorstep
in the rain.

- photo friday, challenge: "amber"

road unplugged

2007-05-18T13:51:00.000-07:00

film :: cannes
dragon :: bird
hunger :: fridge
plucked :: unplugged
dissolving :: into petals
executive :: board
mist :: may
minority :: butterflies
map :: road

- unconscious mutterings, week 223

about butterfly

2007-04-30T22:18:00.000-07:00

about butterfly borders
contempt easter
first good garden

life living mine
photo pain peek
poem peace struggle

still travels time
unconscious trees
writer world write

writing your zeit

~

text: oil on copper zoom cloud 30.04.
photo: July 2006
dictionary peek: "zeit": german for "time"

cutback / backcut

2007-04-12T22:33:00.000-07:00

cutback / backcut

a home can be
a rounded piece of wood
in a cut back tree

i undertand as i sit
with my teacher
in a garden

that dates back to the time
when gardens where cut in sizes
large enough

to provide food
for people, to give
shelter for birds,

to encompass
the circle
of life.

~~

Rückschnitt / Fortschritt

ein zurückgeschnitter Baum
kann Raum genug sein
für ein rundes Heim aus Holz

verstehe ich als ich dort sitze,
mit meiner Lehrerin
in einem Garten

der aus der Zeit stammt,
in der Gärtenstücke groß genug
geschnitten wurden

um Nahrung anzubauen,
um Unterschlupf zu finden

um den Kreis des Lebens
zu umschließen.

~~

photo: 11. April
poem: 12 /30

imprints 2

2007-04-10T01:50:00.000-07:00

imprints 2

under the canopy
named oldest
a post of past April
forgotten yet stored
at the bottom of the blog

this house, the garden,
the street,
all covered in snow,
like dreaming
a winter dream

the only signs
someone was awake:
footprints in the snow,
leading to the door,
returning to wilderness.

not shoe prints,
but doe prints.

~

photo: April 2006, 10/30 or 1/3
poem: based on lines in a draft stored 03.04.06.
dictionary peek: canopy - a covering for an eminent person or a sacred object; an ornamental rooflike projection over a niche, altar, or tomb; a protective rooflike covering, often of canvas, mounted on a frame over a walkway or door; a high overarching covering, such as the sky; the uppermost layer in a forest, formed by the crowns of the trees; the transparent enclosure over the cockpit of an aircraft; the part of a parachute that opens up to catch the air.

swim

2007-04-09T23:23:00.000-07:00

shallow water deep
like lost time like illusions
learn to breathe then swim

~~

automatic alternative

gaudy petal blazes
agelessly, agelessly
jackals play, does rush

~~

photo: in the middle of the city
poem: 9/30
automatic haikus: here

wordsouls

2007-04-08T22:14:00.000-07:00

wordsouls

the book was sorted under c like cardenal
and had a mayan bird on its cover,
painted in coloured crayons

it dived into the metaphysics of language
right on its first page: the latin word carmen (song)
is derived from the sanskrit karma (holy ritual), it stated,

in a sentence so casual, so exciting. karma song,
i thought, my eyes lingering on a bird in the tree
who kept chanting, who speaks in notes, in verse

all his life.

~

photo: 25.3. - the return of the Rotschwanz, a migrating bird who prefers to spend the winter in Italy.
poem: sunday morning, 8/30
peek: wordsouls - "Wortseelen" is the name of the book mentioned: a collection of ethnic poems collected by Ernesto Cardenal, i came across it in the library.

east / west

2007-04-07T23:31:00.000-07:00

east / west

for her, the sun rises
beyond the tree hill
23 minutes later

than forecasted on the weather page
which seems to be based on a flat world
of no memory

yesterday gone already
the moment the hands of time
reach midnight,

while the easter rabbit and his chickens
are born in shelves of super markets
that forgot about the real meaning

of things
and times

~~

photo: easter 1 year ago
poem: 7/30

imprinted bluegreen

2007-04-05T23:23:00.000-07:00

imprinted bluegreen

in yards, evolution /
happens every hour...

(submitted)

~~

photo: 02.04., back yard
poem: based on a line on sculputers in a mail
dictionary peek: imprint - verb: to produce (a mark or pattern) on a surface by pressure: to impart a strong or vivid impression, to fix firmly, as in the mind; to modify (a gene) by chemical means. noun: a mark or pattern produced by imprinting; a distinguishing influence or effect; a publisher's name, often with the date, address, and edition.

Die Zeit Nr. 14

2007-04-05T02:16:00.000-07:00

Die Zeit Nr. 14

on the cover of
the newspaper named
like the time

eine Zeit

the world from far
distance beyond
a particle born in space

eine Welt

and we here, giving
numbers to issues to days
fourteen five four this one

ein Jetzt

when will
our time
come?

~

photo: 02.04.07
poem: written at 11.23 GWM (Greenwich Mean Time, which isn't mean, but median), 5/30
dictionary peek: eine Zeit - a time, eine Welt - a world, ein Jetzt - a now

receding still

2007-04-04T22:37:00.000-07:00

receding still

illusions drain light
within the mirror of self
sounds receding still

~

photo: good question. maybe last November, on the way to Lanzarote?
poem: draft since 13.2., based on an automatic haiku, redrafted today
dictionary peek: receding - to move back or away from a limit, point, or mark; to slope backward; to become or seem to become fainter or more distant; to withdraw or retreat.

learn the rules, so you know how to break them

2007-04-02T22:33:00.000-07:00

learn the rules, so you know how to break them

birds marking invisible borders with songlines...

(submitted)

~

photo: 11. April 2006, exhibition "Square"
poem: 2nd of April, full moon
dictionary peek: contempt - the feeling or attitude of regarding someone or something as inferior, base, or worthless; the state of being despised or dishonored; disgrace; willful disobedience of the authority of a court of law or legislative body.

NaPoWriMo

2007-03-31T23:25:00.000-07:00

It's April. And thus, NaPoWriMo. National Poetry Writing Month.
"Write a poem, every day, this month," the poems page said.
"Hmmm...," i said. "A poem? Would haikus, do, too? And sketches?"
"Write a poem a day, whatever that means to you," the page said, and added: "there really are no rules."
"So then," i answered.

invisible island

2007-03-24T10:59:00.000-07:00

san francisco :: windy
sadness :: lonely
spirits :: invisible
harriet :: marriot
state :: of consciousness
offense :: defense
timeless :: island
account :: numbers
refuse :: say no

- unconscious mutterings, week 215

Er-Leben

2007-03-17T05:39:00.001-07:00

yoga classes are back again. starting with a calming and slow lesson. with more explanations, as there are some new ones in the group, as some had to leave as they moved to another place. and it was good, to hear the basics again. on the blackboard, two lines that can’t really be translated:

alles Leben ist Bewegung
alles (Er)Leben ist Stille

all life is motion
all experience is silence

and interesting link: life is Leben. and to experience life is to Erleben. plus Leben when written without capital L is the verb: to live. leben.

the energy of life. parallel to yoga, it also rose in the pots where i planted the sunflower seeds last week. now they are growing on the window sill, and shedding their seed-shells. i took a photo, and a close-up which turned out zen-like.

alone

2007-03-02T10:39:00.000-08:00

he just came from meeting miro and erro in the Esbaluard. walked out of the door, and saw her. sitting there. in the perfect spot to be with the world around. in the perfect spot to be alone. he played with the idea of walking up to her and saying something original and witty. then he thought twice, climbed on the stones in front of him and sat down to be alone, too.

it was only after she had left that he realized that it had been a while since he felt so connected in such a fragile way.

- photo friday, challenge: "alone"

posi-tea-vity

2007-02-26T02:41:00.000-08:00

lipton :: tea
reason :: without
terms :: of acceptance
positive :: vity
example :: for
legacy :: extacy
solo :: clarinette
instrument :: tool
later :: today

- Unconscious Mutterings, week 212

every living thing

2007-02-25T02:33:00.000-08:00

sunday and it's rain. i stand in front of the terrace door, looking out to the garden, this garden of february, this garden of trees without leafs and flowers hibernating yet. but the first messengers of life are there already: a first flower opening. a first bee. a first butterfly.

the butterfly, it takes me back to last summer, to this photo i took there. it's the same, i think. the same butterfly. or rather: the same kind of butterfly. butterflies don't fly through winter. they fade when the frost comes, leaving only their memory, and some little butterfly eggs.

the search of the butterfly photo takes me to another page, one with a quote about struggle. i wanted to copy it right away, then forgot. all i remember is that it's from Rilke. and starts with "every little thing." i type the words into google. like magic, a second later, the quote appears, in an extended version, what that moves on from struggle to aloneness, the theme of this month's philosophy cafe.

"People have, with the help of so many conventions, resolved everything the easy way, on the easiest side of easy. But it is clear that we must embrace struggle. Every living thing conforms to it. Everything in nature grows and struggles in its own way, establishing its own identity, insisting on it at all cost, against all resistance. We can be sure of very little, but the need to court struggle is a surety that will not leave us. It is good to be lonely, for being alone is not easy. The fact that something is difficult must be one more reason to do it."
- from Letters to a Young Poet

thank you, butterfly.

so little, so powerful

2007-02-23T00:42:00.000-08:00

it's spring days here in the south of germany. it doesn't feel real, and maybe there will be winter coming back, but right now it's lovely. the flowers in the garden open, one after another, and they gave me the idea to start a flower diary.

here is the diary page: in the garden of colour. and here, an extra page for the latest entry, contributed by a little magic crocus, growing out of the green, unplanted, unexpected: so little, so powerful.

more to come. the narcisses are already building bulbs, just like the hyazinths.

- photo friday, challenge: "textured"

cross the invisible line

2007-02-18T01:04:00.000-08:00

threshold :: invisible
suspicion :: dark
tender :: touch
tempted :: cross the line
repulsive :: retro
bulldog :: catfish
garage :: door
racket :: ball

- unconscious muttering, week 211

all-eins

2007-02-16T13:19:00.000-08:00

alone, all one. it's the same in German. allein. all-eins. i never noticed this. then came yesterday, and with it, a philosophical cafe. which also made me look and find these lines about being alone. an invitation. in thought.

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for,
and if you dare to meet your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
for love, for your dreams, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon.
I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow;
if you have been opened by life's betrayals,
or have become shrivelled and closed for fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own,
without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own:
if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you
to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us to be careful, to be realistic,
or to remember the limitations of being human.

I want to know if you can be faithful and therefore be trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see beauty even when it is not pretty every day,
and if you can source your life from its presence.
I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine,
and still stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the silver of the moon, "YES!"

It doesn't interest me to know where you live
or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair,
weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done.

It doesn't interest me who you are, how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
at the centre of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself,
and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

- Oriah Mountain Dreamer, from the book The Invitation

orange

2007-02-13T22:57:00.000-08:00

sky is motion
towards a horizon
towards a new day
to take shape

orange is so much more
than a word
than a fruit
to slice in pieces

- photo friday, challenge: "sky"

under open trees

2007-02-11T09:26:00.000-08:00

the best things :: aren't things
hold :: close
rapture :: bite
cover :: under
restrictive :: open
baker :: street
author :: ship
pill :: pink
months :: trees

- unconscious mutterings, week 210

on writing

2007-02-07T11:24:00.000-08:00

going through mails i just came across this list of questions sent from the young cousin of a friend for a school exercise, and my answers. thinking of it, this in fact was the first interview i gave about writing.

Q: I also need some advice from you. You are a writer?
A: Yes, I am a writer - I write short stories and poems. So far I have one book published: "Masala Moments" - it's a travel novel, based on my own journeys through India.

Q: What are the skills that I need to be a good writer?
A: The skills a writer need are: curiousity for the world, and the patience to work with a text as long as it takes to make it good. Also it's important to read a lot. And to write a lot. Someone once gave me this advice: "Write a lot. Write everyday. Write as much as possible. The more you write the better your writing gets."

Q: A. says that you are German. Do you write in German or English?"
A: I am German, and I write both in German and in English.

Q: What do you enjoy most about writing?
A: What I enjoy most about writing... to create scenes and stories just by using a pencil and a paper. it's like magic, isn't it? there's the white page, and an hour later, there's a story or a poem that will be read by others, by people I have never met.
.

closer

2007-02-05T02:17:00.000-08:00

the world seen
from the point of view
of a crocus
is a larger world,
and at the same time
a closer world.

sky over now

2007-02-02T00:49:00.000-08:00

limit :: sky
voice :: over
change :: now
expression :: image
tailor :: shirt
lemonade :: ginger
thought :: dream
impression :: monet
sister :: flower

- unconscious mutterings, week 208

snow travels

2007-01-26T16:40:00.000-08:00

snow travels from the Pacific and is blow-dried on the way across the desert

snow travels at an average speed of 100 miles per hour in an avalanche

snow travels to visit a sultan and ask for his assistance

snow travels down to the bottom of the page

snow travels, living out its passion

- thursday challenge & google: "vacation / journey"

seen

2007-01-23T13:48:00.000-08:00

one passing moment
seen from the close distance of
a passenger's seat

- photo friday, challenge: "fast"

small things i'm grateful for

2007-01-23T09:54:00.000-08:00

chicoree salad with feta and balsamico

the peacefulness of the lilac flowers blossoming in the frosty earth right in front of my terrace door

sitting and listening to the church bells ringing noon

singular snow flakes dancing in the january air

slipping back into the warm bed after taking a morning shower

- inspired by my topography

the insides of colour

2007-01-17T15:24:00.000-08:00

trees sleep
time moves
through the insides
of dreams
of colour

- thursday challenge "white"

one open plot

2007-01-16T06:10:00.000-08:00

episode :: one
source :: open
jerk :: hidden
introduce :: heureux
stare :: sunglasses
cast :: away
scenario :: plot
flu :: aspirin
mad :: max

- unconscious mutterings, week 206

stone peace

2007-01-15T07:27:00.000-08:00

one of the most peaceful smiles i have seen on my journeys, carried by a carved stone figure in bayon, one of the temples of angkor wat, cambodia. best way to see it: get up at 4 (a.m. that is), get picked up by a motobike at 4.30, drive to the temples while it's still dark, to be there for dawn. sit down on one of the ancient temple terraces, and see the light return to the world, bringing back the colours and the sounds. and then, see this smile appear out of the haziness of the darkness, set there in a past that is still present.

- photo friday, challenge: "peaceful"

concentrate

2007-01-14T13:10:00.000-08:00

this week, the first yoga lesson of the year. starting with reflections on the new year. in my mind, the resolutions i think of, but haven’t yet written on paper. even though it’s the second week of january already. maybe i want to keep them lingering some more, still formable, still more alive than they might be when put in words.

one of them: write a novel. in German. get it published by a publishing house.

another: sort through all the things i own. let go of what i don’t need. make more space for the things that are precious to me.

and with that, in a wider sense: concentrate. intensify.

or, like someone put it in an art feature: make as much as possible with as little as possible.
this alreay reflects in the sunrise collage, based on the view of one single window.

and this one. printed on a memory stick: do more. share more.

also: just do it. and keep in mind that difficult things become easy by doing them, and easy things become difficult by not doing them.

this also refers to putting new year resolutions in ink.
~~

whirl

2007-01-10T13:31:00.000-08:00

new year time reel
resolutions spinning hopes
endings turning to
beginnings opening
floors of possibility,
doors to next levels

and what are your plans
i ask the woman in red
after sitting in a yoga circle -
to stay on the surface
of the stream, she answers,
to just not get caught
in the next whirl

- thursday challenge: "new"

try the missing piece

2007-01-09T08:33:00.000-08:00

incomplete :: missing piece
chopstick :: china
trauma :: healing
hesitate :: try
leap :: and the net will appear
magnify :: light
yards :: baseball
alexander :: elephant
fracture :: crack

- unconscious mutterings, week 205

call

2007-01-07T01:58:00.000-08:00

mangled nude absurd
brutalities meow, hearts call
call, meek

- real sky, automatic haiku

recent publications

2007-01-06T15:11:00.000-08:00

january - and it starts with three publications that form a coloured trip through time:

Cherry Charm - a 4-word poem, containing the words "bathrobe, plastic, juxtapose & impediment", to be read in eclectica

Lanzarote - an island diary, written in November under the sun of Spain, now online in Serene Light.

Wrapped in December - a street snack poem, to be unwrapped in the Cautionary Tale Food Spectacular (which comes with a tasty cook book-lette - check out it, there is a chocolate kiss waiting inside.)

the extended version of this list is up here: list of publications

january flowers

2007-01-06T02:35:00.000-08:00

the first friday of january was all rainy, but it was the nice kind of rain: it stopped just when she unfolded her umbrella and stepped out of the house. are you sure?, she asked the sky. as an answer, she left the umbrella indoors and took an extra turn when walking back from the small supermarket. that's how she came past the flower shop, and saw the white pots with little yellow narcissus, just starting to grow. of course, she had to buy two of them, one for herself, and one for her painter friend who would visit her later.

the flower shop waitress wrapped the flower pots up in orange paper. all those spring colours!, she said to the shop assistant. the shop assistant smiled, then thought for a second, turned, picked something from the bench beyond the counter, and handed her - a fancy red flower. for free. all surprised, she said thanks twice to the shop assistant, and left, feeling like christmas. it was only when she was back home, looking for a place to put the flower, that it started to rain again, and that she remembered the fifth of her new year's resolution: to ask for the name of the flowers before she carried them out of the flower shop.

~

some hours later: the riddle is solved. the flower's name is: amaryllis. it belongs to the family of amaryllidaceous. which, as the scienticts figured, also the narcissus belong to. which makes the two flowers in the photo actually sisters. and with that, unexpected an unplanned, solves the task to find an entry for this week's photo friday challenge.

- photo friday, challenge "sisters"

asleep

2006-12-26T08:02:00.000-08:00

the forest, asleep
while i walk, while i take
a photo of trees covered
with frozen december dew

a single hour of sun rays
could wake the birds,
could melt the frost
and churn the sky to blue

back home, a line in a printed
interview, stating that i'm
someone else altogether, yet
somehow missed to be that one.

ich bin eigentlich ganz anders
aber ich bin nie dazu gekommen

folding away the newspaper i try
to imagine the tree who gave
its life for this line to be printed,
to be rooted in black on white.
.

solstice

2006-12-21T11:56:00.000-08:00

it's winter solstice today. from tomorrow on, the days will grow longer again. how i miss the light. sunrise today was quarter past eight, with sunset arriving at half past four. which filled the day with 8 hours of light and 16 hours of darkness.

may the light return to the world and bring peace~

a definition of time

2006-12-19T19:26:00.000-08:00

the exhibition consisted of 560 photos, all placed in one room, sorted in four fields: existence, relationship, desire and time. she went there on a tuesday afternoon, while the sky was a blurry white. the one photo that touched her most was black and white, named "time - a leather raft on the yellow river". she wanted to take a photo of it, but in this room of photography, taking photos was not allowed. so she just wrote down the words.
outside, the sky had turned to colour by the time she walked out of the one room again. on impulse, she tried a revolving door that belonged to the first floor. it lead to an inside square, then on to a stairway. up on the roof terrace, there was a chair, placed as if waiting for someone to visit it in the chill of December. time is a sole chair in front of a blue sky, she said, and went to get her jacket.