Exploring the World through Photos again

While these photos don't have song lyrics attached to them, I think this batch is profound enough to share with you.

This first one is yet another night shot of the river walkway.  This is the other side of the walkway...not my usual haunt which is down by the fountain and the falls, but it's a beautiful shot.  I love my river walkway...at night, during the day, in rain, snow, and full flood.

And now we go back to my favorite side of the walkway - the falls.  This trio of fountains is IN the river, above the falls, and they light them up at night (obviously).  It's one of the views I have from my apartment windows, although this shot was taken right on site.

This shot was taken last year (that being 2009) at the House on the Rock.  They've got a lot of these huge urns scattered all about the property.  This one was taken from the parking lot.  I love the Eastern feel to the piece, the little dragon clinging to the side.  The oriental influences in the entire place are amazing.  If you've never been to House on the Rock, I highly suggest it - and also suggest a good pair of walking shoes, as the compound takes several hours to walk through.

Exploring: Music and Photography II

Alright - I've completed one more for you...the song from this one is called 'The Bounce,' which can be heard on Statobahn's page.

Although the rendering on the myspace page is EXTREMELY rough (they've since replaced this singer) the song, itself, the lyric and the general composition, is good. (I get to cheat...I've got a different version that I get to listen to, that is much more palatable than the myspace page one :D)  The lyric speaks of how we, as humans, are destroying our environment at a phenomenal pace.

Once again - here's the full-size version:  The Bounce

And here's the picture...

Exploring: Music and Photography

For the last couple of months, I've discovered a new hobby - photography.  Found that I've got a modicum of an eye for it.  Now, paired with inspiration from my boyfriend's music, I find myself going after shots I can envision from the lyrics of his songs.

Always giving credit and links where credit is due and links are available - the band is Statobahn, and here's a link to their myspace page, where you can hear Elegy, but not the other 2 songs.  For that - I'll need to get permission from Dave to add the music here....and I gotta figure out HOW to put the music here, too :(

Statobahn

Inspiration is wonderful - especially when it's springing from such a lovely association.

You can view a full-sized picture of this one here: Dawn Photo

This was the first - the song that inspired this photo is called "Dawn."  It's a beautiful piece, full of feeling and multi-layered in it's complexity.  The inspiration for this one struck particularly hard, and forced me to be up BEFORE sunrise so I could get down to the river walkway and capture the shot.  I took many pics that morning, but this is the only one that amounted to anything.

Now, the next one is a bit darker - but the song that inspired it IS a dark one, too - the title of this song is called "Elegy," and of the three pieces of music I'm quoting here, the only one you can listen to on Statobahn's page.

You can view the full-sized version here:  Elegy Photo

I'm not sure if I'm too happy with this one yet - I'm using a photo editor that I found online, and it's a bit limited in what it can do.  I'm convinced there IS a PhotoShop purchase in the works, as I find I'm very stimulated with adjusting my photos and adding things to them, but lack the editing tools of 'Shop to really let myself 'go.'  So - if this one gets re-done in the future, I'll certainly post it out.

For the last one (for now :D) I had a lot of fun with this pic.  It was, again, taken at night on the river walkway (hey, it's right outside my doorstep, so it's convenient, and there's a ton of interesting architectural details to use).  The song from this one is a piece called "What's my Name?"  This piece of music is simply stunning - there is almost a tribal feel to the music, the lyrics are powerful.  The first time I listened to this song, I couldn't believe it - in my journal, I wrote "It's potent - it's powerful - it's a spirit-quest distilled into song."

Anyway - once again, the full-sized version is here:  What's My Name?

When I went into the editor, I blurred the edges of the piece first - that lent a certain amount of surrealism to the picture - then I 'twirled' the lamp-post - it looks like a stylized question-mark now - which is PERFECT for the song lyric, and the song in general, because the entire piece is composed almost entirely of questions.

Enjoy my photographic endeavor. 

Ugliness

This won't be a pretty post.  Nothing fun, or fine, or perky or happy.  I'm riding a strange and melancholy low today.

Part of it is my fountain.  The Fox River is in flood stage, and they've shut off the fountain.  The water left in the pool is stagnant.  There is no joy to the fountain right now, the plaza is in pain, and the river is raging, angry, with tidepools and heavy, swirling waters below the dam head.  Sure, the spectacle of the river in flood mode is incredible, but I'm looking at it with different eyes, different senses, and all I can feel is the pain of the plaza and the rage of the river.  It's put me distinctly off-balance.

As I'm tied deeply to water, the temporary loss of my nexus point is felt keenly, sharply, like a knife in my stomach.  There are alternate points, but nothing is as strong or so potently focused in all 4 key elements as my fountain.

My alternates do include a secondary fountain on a different part of the river walkway, but it's not as strong, not as potent.  Its not circular, for starters, but a curved rectangular shape.  The energy in that fountain can, and does, bleed away at the straight edges.  I can't hear the running water of the falls, for a second point, which is a potent blending of water and air.  I can't feel the occasional spray as the wind picks up water droplets and flings them at me.

I have managed to restore a modicum of balance today - swimming at the pool and then connecting with simple humanity helped...but I still feel the loss of my nexus.

Empathy

Now this is a tender subject.  Empathy.  Before you start dredging up images of Diana Troi on ST:TNG (oops, my geek roots are showing again...), this is not a piece on the Hollywood or Fiction special-effects and bad acting on the subject of Empathy... this is, at least in my mind....real.

Is empathy, the ability of a person to feel the emotional state of another, real?  I believe it is.  I think we all have this ability to greater or lesser degrees.  I can't think of one single person who doesn't feel their heart twist at a sappy love story or a piece of beautifully written and performed music.  These things are, to a lesser degree, touches of empathy.  They are feeling what the performer is putting into the piece, what the writer tried to invoke when crafting the piece.  It's an appreciation of creativity.. and very much a touch of empathy - to have a feeling invoked in you by another... it's hardwired into our brain circuitry.

So everyone, to this slight degree, has empathy.  Not quite so scary when you put it in commonly used applications and everyday settings, is it?

Now, I'm going to explore a bit further, move into the stronger empathic gifts.  Just as some people are gifted with strength, with charisma, with creativity, there are people among us who have this special sense of empathy in adverse proportion to the strength found within the general population.  Now, whether they've worked to develop it, or its a natural gift is up for debate and speculation, but these people DO exist.  Most simply don't announce it, as, well, let's face it, there's ridicule and the racial memory of which hunts to keep such blatant announcements in check.

Nobody wants to be thought of as unnatural or different - that's another thing that's hardwired into the human brain.

My personal gift (or curse, as I've called it both) of empathy is stronger than most.  (Did ya hear that...I'm coming out of the empathic closet)  It's primarily tied into my writing..and is mainly projective in nature, but does go into receptive as well.... I'll explain.

Part of the reason I write (aside from the obvious one...that I like it) has always been a way to clean the cluttered pathways of my mind.  As I'm cleaning, I'm also imprinting my emotional state into the work... projecting it through the written word.  Some of my best pieces were created when I was in a state of turbulent emotional upheaval.

Because I'm so in tune with the written word, I can, and do, actively read others in what they've written, as well...reading below the 'surface' of the words, so to speak, even when the person doing the writing isn't (or can't) actively project themselves into the work.  There's a texture and an underlayment to all words that I can always pick up on.  The written word speaks very powerfully both through me and to me - yet another reason why I'm a hobby writer, and why I'm so very comfortable with online communications, as well.

Other forms of communication - spoken, sung, artistically created sculptures or paintings or drawings...those I'm not so good at, although I do have crystalline moments of clarity when the originator is actively projecting themselves onto the work.

It is difficult to hit the 'post' button at this point - the bare words simply don't have the punch, the fire, the fervor I'm used to seeing in my written works, proof positive of my hesitation to well and truly come 'out.'  That hesitation, I'm sure, will be felt in the words I'm writing here.

Aaaaaaand........*gritting teeth*  post.

Dreams and Magic

The night was hot, the air thick, still, and muggy with moisture, the kind of night most people close up their houses against the thick air, and hide in a bubble of air conditioned comfort.  The room, unfortunately, was not lucky enough to have that luxury.  The ancient, decrepit curtains hung limp and still in the window frames, daring the non-existent breeze to finish their transference from cloth to dust.  The breeze did not appear inclined to acquiesce.

Age and neglect had its claws deep in the room, almost daring the normal world to condemn it.   The ancient carpet bore witness to parties long past, flaunting countless patches of crusty, unidentifiable, blue-black, once-upon-a-time food stains.  Sprinkled liberally amongst the stains were unmistakable circular black burns, testament that those parties of long ago didn’t have enough ashtrays to go around, and that the participants of those parties didn’t have a care in the world about getting their cleaning deposit back.  Equally prevalent were bare patches where multitudes of feet had eroded the carpeting to the floorboards underneath.  The original color of this sad, time-tortured textile had been winnowed away by dirt and feet to the color of ashes.

            The walls actively rebelled against the pitted, stained, and faded wallpaper by shedding it as a snake discards a too small skin.  Whole sheets had fallen away to crouch on the carpeting, leaving gaping holes of age-yellowed wallboard interspersed with lines of wallpaper paste.

            A tiny table in the corner leaned drunkenly against the wall, threatening complete collapse if forced to hold anything on its chipped surface.  A single, sun-faded green-plastic lawn chair cowered next to the table, trying to appear valiant despite missing half its back.  A ramshackle dresser cowered on the opposite wall of the table, missing its drawers and leaning alarmingly on the three legs it had left.  A moth-eaten, faded blue and green striped mattress lay, corpse-like, in the center of the floor.       

            A single, empty, light socket swung from the ceiling on a frayed cord.  Dimples and water-stains in the surface of the ceiling bore witness to several leaks in the roof.

Kitchen?  Bathroom?  Even the most rudimentary of indoor plumbing?   Not a chance.

            The little one room cabin had been deserted for years, forgotten by its owners, and ignored by its distant neighbors. 

For the sole occupant, it was perfect.

            She lay on the mattress, shivering uncontrollably despite the heat in the room.  Neither awake nor truly asleep, her eyes were rolled back into her head so far only the whites showed.  She thrashed violently on the bare mattress, moaning and muttering in some strange language.  Now and then her arms stretched out, hands grasping some invisible object in front of her or drawing weird patterns in the air.  Her naked, uncovered body was skeletal, ribs and hips protruding from the sunken flesh.  Her skin was linen-white, the blue of her veins clear beneath the surface, her hair the pristine white of new-fallen snow.  A few drops of blood glistened, the shock red sharp against the washed-out pink of her lip.  She had bitten herself in her gyrations. 

            She thrashed, she snarled, she moaned.  She pawed the air relentlessly, and with a final, primal scream, she propelled herself from the mattress on the floor.

            Breathing heavily, she ran her hands through the white mane of her hair, blinking brilliant blue eyes furiously and shaking her head as she paced around the room.  She wiped the blood off her lips, and sighed deeply. 

It was the same dream.  It was always the same dream.

She shook her head again, wrapped her arms around her thin shoulders.  “It’s not enough,” she said in a soft, musical voice, to the disheveled room. “Where are you?  I know what you’ll do, but I can’t find you!” 

She framed something in her hands.  “Tease me all you will, damn you,” she snarled at the invisible object of her ire, “But I will find you!” 

She paced a few moments more, muttering in a strange, foreign tongue, continuing to shake and clutch at her head.  She railed at the water-stained ceiling, at the pitiful remains of furniture, at the sadly abused carpeting, cursing invisible objects for a few moments more, finally coming to a decision.  With a curt nod of her head, she didn’t walk so much as flowed across the floor, and stepped out into the hot, muggy night.

            As difficult as it is to believe, the exterior of the cabin was in worse shape then the sadly-abused interior.  Moonlight, being this magical substance that makes things seem more lovely, didn’t have a chance... the little cabin looked more decrepit in the nighttime then it did during the day.  A thick layer of dust, cobwebs and bug-corpses had replaced the glass in the windows, the roof sagged under the weight of several small trees growing on its surface, and the gutters had long ago leapt from the roof to lay in the waist-high grass, rusting in pieces.  Thick vines had long since declared the time-worn siding optimum trellis material, and in the ensuing years had completely engulfed the tiny structure in leaf, vine, and berry.  

She forced her way through the high grass, her destination a small stream at the extreme rear of the property.  Effortless, she transitioned between mauling the grasses to gliding soundlessly into the clear water.  She scooped handfuls of sand, rubbing them into her hair and her skin, scraping away the dirt and sweat of the night terrors which visited her, rinsing them away as she washed the sand from her porcelain skin. 

But that skin was not flawless.  Five marks marred the pure pearl perfection, strange whorls of patterned scar tissue at breastbone, right and left wrist, base of the throat, and the outside of the left ankle.  The shadows they threw writhed out of time with her breathing and her ministrations.  Satisfyingly clean again, she sat on the soft sand of the streambed, cross-legged right over left, and assumed a traditional meditation pose. 

The moon shoved aside a passing cloud, and kissed her white skin with its radiance.  Unlike its dismal performance with the cabin, the moonlight made her seem to glow, a naked figure carved of pure pearl, there in the crystalline stream on a hot and muggy night.  The wind decided to make an appearance and play with her long hair, and she sat, shining in the stream, a white statue, until the moon tired of the game and passed the baton of time to its partner, the sun.

            She allowed a small smile to lift the corners of her mouth as the dawn’s early light broke in the east, nodded her head, and struggled through the weeds to her little tumbledown hiding place.  She seemed drained, her head lolling to one side, her arms flopping uselessly, but the expression on her face was triumphant.  “Southwest,” she muttered to the weeds, “I have a direction.”

            The following night the cabin slept alone, abandoned once more.

A Meditation

Tonight I spent some more time down on my fountain, feeling the sun on my face, the spray from the fountain and waterfalls kissing my skin, the wind stroking my hair with sure fingers.  It's become one of my favorite places in this city - the perfect blend of all 4 elements and, I am beginning to believe, a node.

For the first time in a long time, I ran a dialog for meditation in my head.  Normally, I don't need an ongoing stream of instruction running through my head, it's a distraction.  But, tonight, I contemplated bringing someone else along for an opening introduction to how I meditate - something I've done before with varying degrees of success - and, as such, needed to craft a walkthrough.

I was impressed - running this dialog through my mind while I followed my own internal instructions, was very relaxing.  I didn't get the introspection I usually get on my normal meditation, but this touched me in another way.

I'll share:

Sit, relaxed, in a quiet place.  Compose your body in a comfortable position, either sitting with legs crossed or leaning against a comfortable piece of furniture.  If you feel undue pressure anywhere, adjust until you are certain you can maintain this position for 10ish minutes.  

Close your eyes to shut out distractions of objects in your place.

(at this point, the presenter of this meditation, who is speaking the words aloud, would put fingers to temples, and rub in a light, circular motion)

Feel my fingers on your temples.  Feel the muscles in your temples start to relax under this gentle pressure.  Imagine this pressure spreading out from your temples, a wave of relaxation spreading from this nexus point throughout your being.  

Feel the wave of relaxation reaching out, spreading along your scalp and face.  Feel the muscles loosen in your face.  Let your eyes roll backwards as the skin and muscles in your face relax completely.  Let the muscles in your face soften in response to the wave of relaxation spreading from my fingertips.

Let the wave continue down, washing against your neck.  Let the tension drift away in the wake of the wave.

It continues - spreading over your shoulders.  Relaxation washes through your shoulders as the wave continues to spread its healing throughout you.

Down further, flowing down arms, hands, fingers.  Everything relaxed, everything calm, everything peaceful. 

Spreading now, into your upper back and chest.  Feel the wave relaxing shoulder blades, feel the steady beat of your heart in your chest.  Slow, steady, pumping the blood through your body, washing it in calm and peace.

Lower now, the wave touches, relaxes abdomen and lower back....feel those muscles join the others in quiet, peace, bliss.

Legs, thighs.  Everything relaxing, quiet, content.

Lower, the wave reaches, touching shins, heels, feet, toes.  Everything deeply relaxed now, your body is completely engulfed by the wave of quiet content.

Feel the oxygen flowing into your lungs.  Feel the clean air, pure and sweet, washing through your blood.  On the exhale, feel all the stress and tension flow out of your body.  

In, cleansing air filling, purifying.

Out, tension, stress, tension leaving. 

Imagine stepping out of this body now, to look down on yourself from above, your peaceful and relaxed self, so quiet, so calm, so in tune with yourself.  You can see, from your vantage point, the exhalations of stress and tension continue to flow out of you with each breath.  You can see, from your vantage, each inhalation of pure sweet air entering your body, to energize, cleanse, and strengthen.

See, as well, how the balance is maintained in your body.  Air in through the lungs.  The fire of intellect and creativity in your mind burning brightly through the skin of your face and your closed, relaxed eyes.  Water is your blood, streaming, touching, bringing life to every cell in your body.  And Earth, represented by the strong bones which are the bedrock, the strength, the very framework of your body.  Each element acting in concert with its fellows to craft the unique individual that is you.

Breathe in, cleansing air.

Breathe out, stress and tension flow from you.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

I'm going to bring you back to awareness now....slowly, gently you fit yourself back in your body - easing gently back into yourself...fitting your consciousness back into your cleansed, stress-free self.

You can feel your toes..warm, comfortable, completely relaxed. 

The awareness spreads upwards, touching heels, calves, knees. Everything still clean and relaxed.

Upwards, you can feel your thighs.

Curving around the bend now, your awareness takes in your abdomen and lower back....everything still calm, centered, balanced within you.....relaxed, yet aware, awake.

Higher still, feeling your heart beating in your chest, your lungs drawing in the clean air, and exhaling the tension.  Exhaling the stress.  Letting it all out with each exhalation.

You can feel your shoulders.  Awareness flares down your arms, into your fingers.  You flex your fingers as they awaken.

Higher still, sprading awareness up your neck, into your face.  You can feel my fingers once again stroking your temples with gentle, sure strokes as your awareness and the fire of awakening complete themselves.

Open your eyes....good morning.  

And that is how one starts meditation.  Try it sometime with a friend.