A STUDY OF HERONS

Digitally enhanced series by S. Auberle

STILL

Photo by S. Auberle

even breath is held

awaiting approaching storm

we, still as herons

-mimi

BEACH ART

FOR THE CHILDREN

Digitally altered photo by S. Auberle

I have returned, trailing sand wherever I go.

There are things to remember from a vacation, and things to forget. First, the things to remember always:

the glittering, golden sands; the staggeringly beautiful grace of an osprey spinning into the waves; twelve pelicans flying in formation at sunset; little children digging for hermit crabs; little children shrieking with joy upon their first view of the ocean; little children doing anything on the vast, sugary-sand beach; big children (us) becoming little again; sand dollars shining in the clear surf; the purple-red color of glistening jellyfish washed up on the land; sunrises, sunsets; the symphony of ocean song...

Things to forget: the great, dark silhouettes of aircraft carriers out on the horizon; the constant roar of fighter jets coming in low over our heads--yes, I am grateful for both of these things, knowing they are there for our protection, yet the look of them is frightening to me. the last time I was at this beach was on the day the first Gulf War began. I remember the numbers of ships and planes then, and I am reminded that, unlike that first war, this one continues, relentlessly unresolved...

I hold a sand dollar in my hand, amazed, as always, at the graceful design and think of the legend: break open the center and five doves will fly out, spreading peace and goodwill over the earth.

for the children...

- mimi

OFF TO THE BEACH

Photo by S. Auberle

Off to look for starfish, starlight,

dolphins, and sandcastles.

see you in a week...

- mimi

THE ROAD NOT TAKEN

Photo/collage by S. Auberle

What if

in all my life,

I'd always said

what I was

really thinking:

no, I don't want to

instead of that

torrent of yeses

or

you hurt me

instead of shrugging off

the pain

or

I love you

100,000 times more

would my life

have been different?

- mimi

BETWEEN CRAWLING AND FLYING

Photo by J. Genereaux

"Identity. I can see now where the work is to be done. I have been coming here into solitude to find myself, and now I must also lose myself: not simply to rest in the calm, the peace, in the identity that is made up of my experienced relationship with nature in solitude. This is healthier than my "identity" as a writer (or a monk) but it is still a false identity; although it has a temporary meaning and validity. It is the cocoon that masks the transition stage between what crawls and what flies."

- Thomas Merton

THE TEN FOOT SQUARE HUT

"Tea House" photo by S. Auberle

The flow of the river is ceaseless;

and it's water is never the same.

The foam that floats in the pools

now gathering, now vanishing

never lasts long. So it is with man

and all his dwelling places on this earth.

-Kamo No Chomei

The man who wrote this poem lived in Kyoto in a time when the chaos of war, earthquakes, famine, floods and fires engulfed the city. Chomei took the vows of a Buddhist priest and went off to live in a rustic mountain shack. There he spent his days writing poetry, walking in the woods, and contemplating the tragedies and simple pleasures of life. In 1212 he wrote the Hojoki, a moving record of the disasters of his time and of his solitary life in the The Ten Foot Square Hut. The book opens with this poem, Chomei's meditation on the impermanence of life.

- WABI SABI - The Art of Everyday Life

Diane Durston

Some things never change...

STUDY IN BROWN

Photo by S. Auberle

What is life?

It is the flash of a firefly

in the night.

It is the breath of a buffalo

in the wintertime.

It is the little shadow

which runs across the grass

and loses itself in the sunset.

- Crowfoot

TIME

Photo by S. Auberle

Time, you peckish bird

Time, urgent bird

flying merlin-swift

far beyond our reach

Time, beating frantically

on my window screen

at dawn

Time

your feathers tearing

falling

furious

at my wasting

even a single hour

in sleep

- mimi

DEAR SALLIE

In Memoriam: Sallie D., 1943-2003

Dear Sallie,

First time I've been to your house since you left us three years ago. Thought you'd like to know the frogs are still here, and the pond looks the same. And the old swing on the front porch hasn't changed. But lots of things are different inside. It was just too hard to keep it the way it was when you were here.

Your prized possession--your guitar--still stands in the corner of the yellow bedroom. At first I couldn't look at it. It still had way too much of your music trapped inside, that we'd never hear again. Finally I touched it, read the words, the stickers you'd pasted on the old case. Rubbed my hand over the dark wood. If there's anyplace that still holds traces of you, any place your soul might visit now and then, Sallie, it's surely here. In this little upstairs room, with that West-by-God-Virginia mountain breeze blowing in the windows. If I listen really, really hard, I might hear music drifting in, over the deep bass of frogs every now and then.

Hope you don't mind I took a picture of the old guitar and posted it on my blog. I asked Tom and he said it'd be fine. And knowing you, I'm sure it would be.

Wherever you are, cousin, I know you're dancin' to a whole lot of different drummers. Thanks for teaching us how to love wide and strong and big enough to cover the whole world, just like you did, Sallie.

Miss you...

WONDERFUL

Photo by S. Auberle

"I don't want to make money.

I just want to be wonderful."

- Marilyn Monroe

07-07-07 LIVE EARTH CONCERT DAY

Photo by S. Auberle - "Cormorant"

Today, around the world, on this "triple 7" day, a series of Live Earth concerts are being held for a climate in crisis. Enjoy the great music, but pay attention to the message, please.

This is a poem I wrote many years ago, which was originally published in WomanPrayers. It was also used as the opening poem for a beautiful environmental exhibit which is still traveling around the midwest, called Common Ground...

PRAYER FOR VILLAGE EARTH

(for seven generations)

O Mother Earth, we pray today to link our spirits with all our brothers and sisters who share this web of life with us and to honor those who once walked upon this land.

Rest quiet, Ancient Ones, we seek only to honor you and to respect the land. We will not take from it lightly, nor do harm. We will respect those creatures with whom we share this sacred place.

Eagle, Snake, Coyote and Lizard, we honor you! Bless us, please, you Flying People, Crawling People, the Swimmers, Plants and Tree People, and all our four-legged brothers and sisters!

Father Sun, we beseech you to shine down your love and light upon us!

Sister Rain and Brother Wind, walk softly here, for we are small beneath your mighty power!

Sister Moon, shine gently as you guide us into dreamtime and when you journey across the world, send your stars to light our way home!

O Mother Earth, accept our prayers, bless us with your energy and healing. Help us to remember that we are connected to all who share your sacred web of life...past, present, and future, that in divinity and grace, we may exist as one!

- Sharon Auberle

3:00 A.M.

Digitally altered photo from the Hall of Architecture
Carnegie Museum of Art - S. Auberle

in the

crow black

heated night

a stranger

prowls

my dreams

by first light

I see

the stranger

is me

- mimi

IMAGINATION

From the "Carnaval" Exhibit
Carnegie Museum of Art
Photo by S. Auberle

"Everything you can imagine is real."

- Picasso

GET TO THE POINT

Photo by S. Auberle - "The Point" - Pittsburgh

"The Golden Triangle" or "The Point"--the confluence of the Allegheny and the Monongahela rivers where they join to form the mighty Ohio. PNC Park, the home of the Pittsburgh Pirates sits on the banks of the Allegheny. The night before the Blue Moon of June (as in once in a) I was there for a great night of baseball.

Perfect temperature...city lights coming up...a full moon rising as the western sky glows rose and pink...people strolling slowly across Roberto Clemente Bridge...hot dogs, beer, peanuts...the river filling with boats for viewing the after-game fireworks...

A line drive foul ball arcs toward us and the guy in front of me grabs it, and kindly hands it to a little boy named Joe in front of him. Little Joe's Pirates' cap falls down over his ears and he is so cute you could just slather mustard on him and eat him up. Joe grins, takes the ball, and starts to throw it back onto the field. Little Joe's dad, Big Joe, nearly has a heart attack, shouts NO! at little Joe, scaring his small daughter snuggled on his lap, who begins wailing loudly and long. Frank Sinatra croons Fly Me to the Moon over the loudspeakers, above the commotion in front of us.

At the seventh inning stretch we all rise and sing Take Me Out to the Ballgame.

In the bottom of the ninth, Jose Bautista hits a sacrifice fly to bring in the winning run and no baseball movie ever came up with a better ending than this.

And then the fireworks--walking back across the bridge to our hotel--red stars and white ones and starbursts and butterflies and great, booming riffs...this is summer in the city and as the commercial goes, it just doesn't get any better than this.

- mimi