Thursday, July 30, 2009


Photo by S. Auberle

Tuesday, July 28, 2009


Photo/Painting by S. Auberle
~~~how swiftly the seasons pass~~~

Monday, July 27, 2009


Photo by S. Auberle

FOR SALE: Used angel wings--only worn to church on Sundays and for occasional flights about the neighborhood. Very low mileage. Perfect starter wings. Warranty included...

Sunday, July 26, 2009


Photo by S. Auberle

Every now and then I go through a wordless period, and my mind seems to want to speak only in images. Now is once again that time, so for now I'm posting only photos. Hopefully, they will speak to you without words...

~ mimi

Thursday, July 23, 2009


Pansy Mandala by S. Auberle
"There is no reality
except the one
contained within us.
That is why so many people
live such an unreal life.
They take the images
outside them for reality
and never allow the world within
to assert itself."
~ Herman Hesse

Monday, July 20, 2009


Encaustic Wax Monoprint by S. Auberle

Sitting in the sun. Thinking of the moon.

July 20, 1969--forty years ago today. I'm sitting in the orange chair on the green rug, glued to the TV. My almost four year old daughter sits across from me, blue eyes wide, but bored, as we tell her how major this event is. Her eighteen month old brother is asleep in my arms.

The man stepping out of the capsule is a native of Wapakoneta--the town just up the road from my hometown in the Midwest of the USA, the west of Ohio. He is much older, or so it seems to me, but still, I think of him traveling the same roads as me, eating in the same little restaurants, going to the county fair. A simple time, a simple place, though the past few years had been anything but...the war, the assassinations of Martin Luther King, Bobby Kennedy, and now this other-worldly event. It has all seemed other-worldly, even the fact that I am now a mom, no longer a kid, but responsible for these two innocents I've brought into a world like this. What was I thinking? But here they are, and here I am (supposed to be) grown up, and here is Neil Armstrong, doing something (supposedly) out of the realm of possibility and belief.

What next?

What's next is suddenly it's forty years later and those two innocent kids are now (supposedly) grown up, with kids of their own--more innocent children in a time even more frightening. And I am (supposedly) old, though I still wake up some mornings thinking what a nightmare I had--I dreamed I was old, and it seemed so real.

The world is older, Armstrong is older, even the moon--that ageless beauty queen is older. The footsteps on her have (supposedly) blown away if, indeed, there is wind on the moon. I don't know. I don't know if the flag is still there. I don't think I want it to be.

What part of space that is now (supposedly) out of the realm of possibility will be explored before these grandchildren of mine are grandparents?

Perhaps I should care, but I don't. Tomorrow is new moon and once again that silver orb will wax to her full, majestic beauty. Somewhere a little Russian girl will look up at her and dream of becoming an astronaut. An African boy will let her guide him through the dark veldt. An old Inuit woman will give thanks beneath her light. Somewhere in the world two people (supposedly) will fall in love--because of her. Like I did. And still do. Even if I am old.


Photo by S. Auberle "Beach Stones"
"I will try, like them,
to be my own silence.
And this is difficult.
The whole world is secretly on fire.
The stones burn, even the stones.
They burn me.
How can a man be still
or listen to all things burning?
How can he dare to sit with them
when all their silence is on fire?
~ Thomas Merton
(excerpt from In Silence)

Thursday, July 16, 2009


Photo by S. Auberle

Wednesday, July 15, 2009


Photo by S. Auberle - from the Keweenaw
"The world is holy.
We are holy
All life is holy.
Daily prayers are delivered
on the lips of breaking waves,
the whispering of grasses,
the shimmering of leaves."
~ Terry Tempest Williams

Tuesday, July 14, 2009


Photo by S. Auberle
oatmeal & (buckwheat) honey
apricots like small, fallen suns
your hands, reaching

Sunday, July 12, 2009


Photo by S. Auberle

Happy Birthday Pablo Neruda and Henry David Thoreau
"...if one advances confidently
in the direction of his dreams,
and endeavors to live the life
which he has imagined,
he will meet with a success
unexpected in common hours."
~ H. D. Thoreau

Friday, July 10, 2009


Photo by S. Auberle
A woman lifts a broken sparrow,
cups it in her hands.
What shall I do now?
she asks...
Sun runs behind a cloud,
the river licks its mossy shoulders,
trees shiver in a cold wind.
She places the bird
under a fallen limb
and goes on her way
in the fading light.
~ mimi

Wednesday, July 01, 2009


Photo collage by S. Auberle
In those days it was a big adventure
to pack a peanut butter sandwich,
ride your bike from the north end of town
down to the Big Four bridge,
climb the cinder-gravel hill to the top,
because in that flat Midwestern town,
there were no mountains--
the bridge was the pinnacle,
and then you could look out
over the whole town, see its smallness
and you were queen of all you saw,
till the train whistle sounded faraway
and you had to scramble off the bridge,
because there was no place to escape,
no way but to run, as fast
as your pounding heart would take you,
off the bridge, down the embankment,
cinders and gravel tearing at your skin,
stories of children sucked under train wheels,
of a man buried in the bridge pillars
tearing at your mind--all those risks you took,
to see past your small horizons,
to find your place in the world,
to know you were alive.
~ mimi