Soft spot for 18% Grey

Some of my favorite beasties are 18% grey. Does that make me too into photography?

Inspiration

Find it, reaching upwards.

Coming now into this new place, this new life, startlingly brings to focus the vastness and infinite nature of living. This void is empty, like each way that I look, I have no options, but yet I have all options at once. I am the center point, from which I can walk in any direction, yet there are so few directions that I want to start stepping towards.

And I hate the feeling of being pushed. Go this way, do that thing. But how is there a way to exist in this world without it? There are no gentle mentors for me. I don't know how to seek them out, how to find them. My role models are lofty and far off, dreams of the unattainable. Seeding in me now are only sneers at the inequality of the world. Its like I've reached that point of knowing too much, with no direction on how to employ that knowledge.

Its human nature to need something to cling to. What if I had just kept on clinging to the creeds of my childhood? Would I be happier now? What have I really learned in all this time? I've filed away all these things, but nothing useful. I might have attained the few goals I had through sheer inertia. A snowball of a human being, absorbing things into my cold shell before crash landing at some far away basin.

Dreams of Shrines

I am walking down a hallway in the house that I have never been down before. It is creaky and dusty. I open a red wood door. the roof is slanted, there are cobwebs dusting down from the ceiling. My perception of time slows to a crawl. I see a rat trap. A rat walks over it a few times, sniffing, not touching the trigger. At the last second, his toe brushes against the right spot and his neck is trapped inside. I look up and away, trying to escape the sight briefly. My grandfather's name is on the wall. The rest of the room is dark and unused. This area is bright and well kept. His name is hung from those strings you can get that usually say "Happy Birthday" or "Congratulations". There are some objects on a low shelf against the wall. I think one of them is a box, but I can't remember what the other things are. I begin to clean the rest of the room. When I look up from my broom, I am cleaning something much bigger. I can't remember what happened after that.

Frustrations Exposed in Dreaming

I am a man in this dream, a doctor. Another doctor needs my help in order to make a man's death appear to be of natural causes. I am laying on a small hill, amoung a stand of autumn trees. Down the slope a short distance is a lake, large enough to have its own waves. There are three people swimming in this lake, a man and two women, a blonde and a thin brunette. Observing them, I pick up a brilliant red leaf, which has two holes in it. I let it rest on my face, and it contours to me, becomes the most beautiful and elegant mask. Through this mask I watch as the brunette swims further and further out, desperate and frantic almost in her motions, popping to the surface to take the briefest of breaths. The man is chasing her, he is more clumsy. He is getting tired. The blonde watches, smiling at me out of the corner of her eye. The man begins to drown, and the brunette leaves him. I am frozen in observance by the mask, it is a window behind which I am trapped. I retreat to my room. I become the brunette. The man I was is my lover. We are very in love. The blonde is trying to seduce my man. I come home and find her sleeping on our couch. She claims it is hers, that this is her home, not mine. I drag her from the room to the hallway by her hair. I smash her face into the concrete over and over again, feeling in myself the frustration of the man at the blondes psychotic obsession with him, and my own anger at her presumptions of the two of us. Her head bounces up and down on the concrete, I am mashing her face into mush, using her hair as leverage, smashing until my arms are so tired that I am forced to wake up.

More than love could be.

When we come together

It's more

Than just the physical world

That we greet each other in

We are transcendent

One being in two bodies

The right hand clasping the left

The fingers of our energies interlaced

We are a fork in the universe

A divergent place

Two rivers

Flowing into one.

A Life Well Lived

This post is to honor my great aunt Alice C. Whitcombe, who passed away recently. She lived a long life, full of friends and family whom she cared deeply about, often more than herself. She passed away in my family's home, and will be remembered always for her caring contributions to the lives of everyone she was close to.