a thousand shapes are at your side

Bubble Lady

Arthur Cleveland Coxe, the 2nd Episocopal Bishop of Western New York in the 19th Century, was an author as well as a man of the cloth and spirit. Among his works is a long poem that he titled: “Halloween, a Romaunt” – using the archaic term for a prose ‘romance’. The poem was first published in 1840, though In his ‘Afterword’, Coxe notes that he wrote it much earlier, when he was a young man of 20. He also notes that the term Halloween is a ‘Scotticism’, and he describes the celebration of Halloween as the vigil which precedes All Saints Day. The night before – the ‘eve – hence, All Hallows Eve. He’s using the word ‘hallow’ in a spiritual sense – the etymology of ‘hallow’ is derived from an Olde English adjective, meaning ‘the holy man’ – though to many, a ‘Hallow’ can also be a spirit….or a ghost.

Invisible Man

In his poem, Coxe writes -

There is a world in which we dwell; And yet a world invisible!

3 Amigos / 3 Friends

But he adds that ordinary human eyes are not capable of viewing the spirit denizens who populate the world of All Hallows Eve -

I tell ye, that, this very hour, Had but your sight a spirit’s power, Ye would be looking, eye to eye, At a terrific company!

If we mortals were only capable, Coxe implies, you would see that -

A thousand shapes are at your side

Box Child

Today, as I write these words – nearly 175 years after Coxe published his  Halloween verses – we no longer need the magic sight or ‘spirit’s power’ that our forbears believed were necessary to glimpse these thousand shapes -

What Coxe also calls - a thousand, hellish demon sprites -

Werewolf & Friend

Because in 2014, they all come out to play on All Hallows Eve – during the 24 hour period we now universally refer to as Halloween.  And in Ashland, Oregon – my former adopted hometown, and home as well not only to the Oregon Shakespeare Festival but also to numerous small Theatre companies, there is an almost Shakespearian vibe in the air on Halloween -

Disguised

I went there, last week, in the company of many others, and for a few hours, all cars and automobiles were banned from the streets -

Main Street, Ashland Oregon

And I found myself in the middle of this ritual gathering of which Coxe wrote nearly two centuries earlier, with all the spirits and magical sprites he mentioned, and other beings as well - from mythical Giants -

Masks/Heads

To the magical beasts -

Rabbit & Eagle

The ancient Deities that walk the earth again -

Apollo & Rabbit

A time when giant birds descend from the skies to walk alongside humans again -

Eagle

And when humans themselves unfurl their own hidden wings -

Halloween Ladybug Wings

Where werewolves and vampires rub shoulders with mortals, young and old -

Grrrrrrrrrr

The ordinary rules and preconceptions no longer seem to apply.  With a few deft and artistic strokes of the makeup brush, different beings are revealed -

phys·i·og·no·my

And new ones emerge -

Facepaint

And hitherto unsuspected temperaments may be revealed -

Smiling

Mark Twain once commented that “clothes make the man”.  And if we happen to see a Biker – or a Ballerina – we might make the mistake of thinking that we know who they are, solely from their garb -

Ballerina & Biker

But that would be a mistake – just as it would be a mistake to suppose that the only activity which interests a pale-faced zombie would be appeasing the hunger pangs of the undead. But when this zombie moves her bow across the strings -

Undead Violinist & Biker

We discover differently.  You can’t judge someone only by what they wear. You have to look at what they do, as well – and if you take the time to really look, you may be rewarded -

En Pointe

But if indeed clothing does not ‘make’ the person, what can be said of the highest of all forms of clothing, that which surmounts all others …. the hat?  Was the Mad Hatter whom Alice met in Wonderful ‘mad’ because of his hat? Or in spite of it?  On Halloween, hats and headgear seem to possess some of magical or transformative capabilities that J.K. Rowling has written of. There are ancient hats whose writhing Medusa snakes may turn their viewers to stone -

Medusa Hat

And flowering hats whose rose aromas assail our nostrils -

Flower Hat

And some headgear that just makes one grin -

Bunny Ears

And then there is the kind of headgear that Neil Gaiman speaks of -

“some hats can only be worn if you’re willing to be jaunty, to set them at an angle and to walk beneath them with a spring in your stride as if you’re only a step away from dancing”

Hat with Horns

Some Halloween headgear has a quiet, almost incongruous formality, buttressed by a sly sense of hat humor.  Or as Ira Gershwin wrote -

The way you wear your hat, 
The way you sip your tea, 
The mem’ry of all that – 
No, no! They can’t take that away from me!

Top Hat

While Dr. Seuss, in The Cat in the Hat, notes quite aptly , a propos of both hats – and cats – and other things as well -

Look at me!
Look at me!
Look at me NOW!
It is fun to have fun
But you have to know how.

Rabbit Ears/Dog Nose

Mark Twain wrote -

“Now and then we had a hope that if we lived and were good, God would permit us to be pirates.”  

Though he may never have suspected it, there are actually some hats which, magically, on All Hallows Eve, can transform a person into the pirate she’s always longed to be -

Pirate Girl

But sometimes, when neither the clothing nor the headgear above it are sufficient, and in accordance with the ancient pre-Halloween Samhain traditions of mumming and guising, the modern reveler in search of transformation (both outer and inner) turns to the age-old remedy – to the antidote for the humdrum and the boring, for the predictable and the knowable – a cure which can also be a disease in itself -

The Mask.

Beard

The reasons we wear masks are myriad and mysterious.  William Goldman, in “The Princess Bride”, suggests one reason -

“Why do you wear a mask and hood?”
I think everybody will in the near future,” was the man in black’s reply. “They’re terribly comfortable.”

Bucktooth Mask

Novelist Jim Butcher suggests another – that we crave ways to escape the quotidian -

“Life would be unbearably dull if we had answers to all our questions.” 

Fox & Friend

While Gabriel García Márquez suggests still another reason – the need to mask the deepest of emotions … including love -

“She had never imagined that curiosty was one of the many masks of love.”

Halloween Couple

The German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche was born four years after Arthur Cleveland Coxe published his Halloween poem. Nietzsche had his own ideas about masks, quite a lot of them.  He believed that -

“Every profound spirit needs a mask: even more, around every profound spirit a mask is continually growing.”

Feather Mask

Novelist Christopher Barzak (why is it, by the way, that so many of the best words…come from good writers?) suggests that -

“Nothing is more real than the masks we make to show each other who we are.”

Frown/Smile

And then finally there is my favorite, the simple words of René Descartes -

“Masked, I advance.” 

Halloween Bart

Of course, since it’s 2014, no Halloween festivities or revels would be complete without something that was not merely unknown but unimaginable back in 1840, when Coxe published his Halloween Romaunt – the ever-present cell-photographers who seem to define our New Millennium more than any other life form. But on All Hallows Eve, in the streets of Ashland, Oregon, they were both festive -

Cellphoneographers

And dramatic -

Say 'Cheese'

And no celebration of All Hallows Eve – would be complete without…

The Dead.  And their brethren, the Undead.

They come in many forms -

Zombie Mummies

In all ages -

Zombie child with family

And in spite of their ghastly appearance, they seem to share the same family values of the ‘breathers’ aka the Living – including shared hugs -

Zombie family hug

And romance.  Leo Tolstoy wrote that “every heart has its own skeletons” – but he neglected to mention that, on the days when the Dead walk again, skeletons – or Calaveras as they are known in Mexico, have not only hearts…but flowers as well -

Calavera Couple

And lest anyone get the wrong idea, we humans don’t really need to put on a costume, a disguise, face-paint or a mask to hide ourselves – or to find ourselves. None of that is necessary. You can just….be yourself -

Purple

Way back in 1963, Sydney Carter composed a hymn, inspired by both traditional English folksongs and carols, and American Shaker music. It was called  “Lord of the Dance”.  Among other things, it is about dancing – and ritual celebrations.  One of the verses goes like this -

Dance, dance, wherever you may be
I am the lord of the dance, said he
And I lead you all, wherever you may be
And I lead you all in the dance, said he

When I went to the Ashland Halloween parade and revels last week, there was music everywhere – and everyone was dancing in the streets -

Parade

And there were many lords – and ladies – who graced us with their regal presence -

King SPAM

But after a long day and night when the spirits and souls of the departed walk and dance among us – after the last dance and the last overly-sugared Halloween candy – life returns to normal.

And life, as Albert Einstein once said, “is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving.”

Leopard Cyclist

animals, stuffed, plastic and otherwise

Lately I seem to be obsessed with small stuffed animals.

Everywhere I go, there they are.

It started just before Christmas, wandering the aisles of my local smalltown supermarket here in Talent, Oregon. I turned around – and there they all were, staring at me.

Supermarket stuffed Friends

Supermarket stuffed Friends

I had the impression that they were good friends. Mark Twain said, “Good friends, good books, and a sleepy conscience: this is the ideal life.” If you are stuck in a cage at the Supermarket, one out of three isn’t bad.

A week later, it was nearly Christmas Eve. ‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house…not a creature was stirring, not even a…

Frog?

Well of course none of the Frogs were stirring because they were caught in netting – and waiting with Zen-like patience to be adopted into a new home (and presumably one with a bathtub to feature their floating rubber talents).

Supermarket Frogs

Supermarket Frogs

Mark Twain also wrote, “Eat a live frog first thing in the morning and nothing worse will happen to you the rest of the day.”

Hmmmm….a different take on the traditional Christmas Dinner, that’s for damn sure. I thought about that for a moment but then got distracted by a faint nearby birdcall….that sounded suspiciously like…

Quacking?

In a Supermarket?

Rubber Duckies

Rubber Duckies

Douglas Adams writes that – “If it looks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, we have at least to consider the possibility that we have a small aquatic bird of the family anatidae on our hands.”

But had he encountered this trio, I wonder what Douglas would have made of them? Whereas I, being the weird person that I am, immediately wondered: do ducks have…grandmothers? If so, when Litte Red Riding Duck goes to visit her Grandma Duckie in that lonely house in the bullrushes, would she say to her – ‘But Grandma, what big lips you have?’ To which Grandma, if I know her (and if I don’t…who does?) would be sure to answer, ‘They aren’t lips, Duckie…that’s my Bill, damnit!’

Kenneth Grahame, of ‘Wind in the Willows’ fame, once wrote a short poem about ducks and, among other things, their bills -

“All along the backwater,
Through the rushes tall,
Ducks are a-dabbling,
Up tails all!

Ducks’ tails, drakes’ tails,
Yellow feet a-quiver,
Yellow bills all out of sight
Busy in the river! ”

But my trio of Supermarket ducks neither dabbled nor quivered. They just stared fixedly at me, with those borderline frightening smiles that made me wonder: do rubber duckies come to life, Toy-Story-style, when all the humans have left the premises?

And if they do….will they keep on smiling? or will those red grinning duckbills reveal the razor-sharp fangs of….a Vampire Duck?

Needless to say, I got the Hell out of there. A week later, I was down in the Bay Area, visiting a cool museum in Oakland where my older brother had taken me, and I stuck my nose into the Museum store…only to find a row of noses pointed directly back at me…

Bear Travel Pillows

Bear Travel Pillows

I was speechless. I just stared back…incapable of words. Perhaps a few short monosyllabic grunts. No loss, my momentary inability to communicate verbally with my silent stuffed interlocutors. Gustave Flaubert said that, “human speech is like a cracked kettle on which we tap crude rhythms for bears to dance to” – and momentarily it flashed through my frozen synapses that perhaps if I started tapping out a rhythm…they would all join in?

Three months later, I found myself entering the small, local Medford airport, en route from Point A to Point B. And who should be there waiting for me but….two incredibly lifelike canines, pointing the way with their muzzles and eyes to the Airport’s special ‘Pet Relief Area’.

Pet Relief Area

Pet Relief Area

Birds do it. Bees do it. Pets do it too. But do plastic dogs do it as well? In the wee wee predawn hours, when the entire world around them sleeps, do they carefully step down from their plastic pedestal and make their way over for a little plastic relief of their own? A generation ago, Philip K. Dick famously asked whether or not Androids dream of Electric Sheep? I couldn’t – and still can’t – help wondering….whether plastic dogs dream of plastic streams of pee…onto plastic fire hydrants?

Weeks later, returning to southern Oregon, I visited the cavernous costume and prop repository for a well-known local Theater company. Other visitors walked around, taking in their surroundings with an eye-level POV, but my view was yanked down, as though by the pull of an enormous unseen magnetic force, to meet another pair of eyes, staring not so much at me…but out into what seemed like an interminable void.

Dear Head

Dear Head

This was no stuffed toy. This was the real thing: an immense seemingly larger-than-life stuffed deer’s head. I couldn’t stop staring. And thinking…what his life had been like, back when he was still….alive? Did he run, did he leap, did he twist agilely in the air? At the moment of his death, did everything come to a quick clean end? Or was it drawn out? One of my all-time favorite storytellers, the late Philip K. Dick, once wrote that, “The distinction between sanity and insanity is narrower than the razor’s edge, sharper than a hound’s tooth, more agile than a mule deer.” Staring at this now-still deer’s head, face and eye, I felt momentarily balanced on a different kind of razor’s edge – the horns of a moral dilemma, so to speak – as this animal’s life and death seemed to come rushing back at me with whirlwind force, impossible to resist.

So I just looked at him. And then took his picture. Many so-called ‘primitive’ peoples believe the act of photographing someone – is akin to robbing them of their soul. But I wasn’t doing that with my newfound deer – it felt, au contraire, that I was trying, in some small arcane way, to restore part of his lost soul, or spirit, or whatever you want to call it, to him.

Time passed. I returned to my local Supermarket, where it all began. Life, or my existence, is apparently circular…what goes around, comes around. Once more I walked down those aisles…the small stuffed large-eyed Friends were gone, and the Frogs and Duckies had departed. It was an unseasonably sunny, warm, Spring day…the perfect weather to take a long nap after lunch, Siesta time for those south of the border. And then….I saw them.

Napping away, comfortably. The palomino horse’s head nestled comfortably against the torso of his friend, the alligator.

la hora de la Siesta en el Supermercado

la hora de la Siesta en el Supermercado

Augusten Burroughs, the brilliant and often twisted humorist, writes that, “Bad news should be followed with soup. Then a nap.” I don’t know what the news was or had been. Or in fact if these two stuffed friends had had any soup. But they were definitely napping. I stared. I stifled a yawn. Somehow everything seemed to s-l-o-w down….. When my eyelids, impossibly heavy, began to close, I knew it was time to get the Hell out of Dodge…before succumbing to the same deadly NTS (Need To Sleep) that nearly did in Odysseus’s men when they passed out in the Cyclops’s cave. I muttered quick farewells to the Nappers and made my getaway.

Days later, in the organic food supermarket, in neighboring Ashland, I needed some veggies. I went to the Produce Department. And there, swinging lackadaisically from a wooden frame above the bananas – was this individual -

Produce Department Simian

Produce Department Simian

Belying his seemingly relaxed stance (is it a ‘stance’ when you’re hanging from something? No? didn’t think so…), his eyes seemed sharp and glittering. They never missed a trick. They seemed to find me and ask me – yo, human bipedal dude, what IS your problem? We, the stuffed animals of the world, are in fact the dominant species so if you’re smart, you’ll a) get used to it, b) suck it up, and c) bring me the juiciest banana of the bunch….or else.

Stephen Hawking says that we humans are, “just an advanced breed of monkeys on a minor planet of a very average star.” I think he’s got a point. And while some of you, my fellow monkeys, may be the advanced ones he speaks of, my growing fear is that, with my apparently insatiable obsession with small stuffed or plastic animals, ‘advanced’ is not the right adjective that springs to mind. More like…perturbed.

Which (the state of perturbation) brought me, this last Sunday, to one more supermarket. In search, believe it or not, for donuts. And it being March, the aisles were festooned with chocolate eggs and other sweets in secular, sugar-drenched honor of the forthcoming Easter Holiday. And then I saw them, in the middle of an aisle…all lined up together, tiny heads and tiny ears and tiny eyes…

The Easter Bunnies.

Waiting with something akin to hope on their small furry visages…

Easter Bunnies

Easter Bunnies

But maybe it wasn’t hope. Maybe I need my glasses. Maybe it was just….resignation. But I don’t think so. Coretta Scott King writes that -

“When Good Friday comes, these are the moments in life when we feel there’s no hope. But then, Easter comes.”

Easter is coming. And hope – for a better day, a better life, maybe a better existence for so many who need it so badly – isn’t entirely dead. You can see it, right there, in that small furry face….

You just have to look closely….real closely….right in those eyes.

Ding Dongs

In 1967, the Hostess company introduced Ding-Dongs to North America.

A small round chocolate cake filled with a sweet creamy white center.

Like thousands and millions of other American teenagers, I acquired a fondness for them. Perhaps not an outright addiction, but I ate my fair share.

But Ding-Dongs have existed before their sweet junkfood iteration in popular culture in many forms.

A Ding-Dong is a slang term for a moron, an idiot, someone who ain’t the brightest bulb in the chandelier.

It’s also the sound made by a doorbell…

Ding Dong Doorbell

As well as a vulgar synonym for a portion of the male anatomy which you can imagine.

It’s inspired storytellers in many different media, including Comic Books and Graphic Novels…

Chip and Ding Dong Comic

And though ‘Ding-Dong’ is traditionally associated not only with the sound of bells but often with Holiday or Christmas-y lyrics, it’s also inspired other, more tongue-in-cheek interpretations, including this classic porcine version -

hamma-lamma-ding-dong

For the more traditionally inclined, there is a Ding Dong version of an apocryphal saying often attributed to the British Royals -

keep_calm_and_ring_ding_dong

And last but not least, no true appreciator or partisan or student of Ding-Dongology will want to miss some of the classic early advertising efforts that Hostess put forth, back in 1967, which seem both twistedly funny and almost prescient in our New Millenium -

Hostess_DingDongs_1967

As I write these words, it’s a cold snowy winter here in my home in Talent, in Southern Oregon….but I’ve got Ding-Dongs on the brain. And so to all – may your Ding Dongs ring forth….and do whatever else you expect of them as we near the end of 2013.

Or sells eternity to get a toy?

William Shakespeare asks, eloquently -

What win I, if I gain the thing I seek?
A dream, a breath, a froth of fleeting joy.
Who buys a minute’s mirth to wail a week?
Or sells eternity to get a toy?

I wasn’t thinking of Shakespeare when I stopped at Laughing Planet for lunch.  Apart from ridiculously good eats at more-than-affordable prices, I like Laughing Planet because of the decor – and, specifically, the cases of tiny Action Figures….miniature Monsters….

And just plain Toys.

Like these two.

"Blue and White", 17mm Zuiko lens

“Blue and White”, 17mm Zuiko lens

Nearby, a mutant warlike Crustacean kept company with what looked to me like a camouflage spotted Kangasoar.  But they seemed peaceful enough -

"Crustacean & Kangasoar", 17mm Zuiko lens

“Crustacean & Kangasoar”, 17mm Zuiko lens

Their neighbors, a strange Poodle and a winged martial Dragon, appeared to be monsters.

"Poodle & Dragon", 17mm Zuiko lens

“Poodle & Dragon”, 17mm Zuiko lens

But Friedrich Nietzche notes that -

Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you.

Of course, when it comes to gazing back from abysses, Edgar Allan Poe was no slouch.

"Poe & Monster", 17mm Zuiko lens

“Poe & Monster”, 17mm Zuiko lens

Poe notes, wryly -

“I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity.”

But even insanity has its laughs.  Or, as Lewis Carroll asks, in “Alice in Wonderland” -

“Have I gone mad?  I’m afraid so, but let me tell you something, the best people usually are.”

It seemed to me that these three chappies probably agreed with both Carroll and Poe -

"Laughing Toys", 17mm Zuiko lens

“Laughing Toys”, 17mm Zuiko lens

But all is not smiles and laughter here in this world of tiny ferocious beings.  This crab is no ordinary crustacean; with his multiple claws and toothsome snarl, he’s more a tidepool monster -

"Pissed-off Crustacean", 17mm Zuiko lens

“Pissed-off Crustacean”, 17mm Zuiko lens

Friedrich Nietzche (remember him?) asks -

“Is it better to out-monster the monster or to be quietly devoured?”

A good question to ponder as I quietly devoured my spicy Southwest burrito.  Toothsome hungry snarls seemed to be catching, as a nearby miniature Dragon attested to.  Tolkien admonishes Bilbo to -

“Never laugh at live dragons.”

"Dragon", 17mm Zuiko lens

“Dragon”, 17mm Zuiko lens

But, I told myself, he isn’t really alive. And though I hadn’t spoken the words aloud, they still garnered me an incredulous stare from this…..uhhh….what would you call him?

"Mystery Humanoid", 17mm Zuiko lens

“Mystery Humanoid”, 17mm Zuiko lens

Nearby, a strange pair cavorted.  A sentient 3-eyed Hand hung back while a long-armed simian seemed to ready himself for….leaping up, perhaps.  Or rising up the evolutionary ladder.

"Ape & Hand", 17mm Zuiko lens

“Ape & Hand”, 17mm Zuiko lens

The brilliant English fantasy novelist Terry Pratchett notes that -

“I’d rather be a rising ape than a falling angel.”

But the nearby toy monster was definitely no angel.  And whatever else he was – or wasn’t – the one thing that seemed abundantly clear, to my burrito-filled brain, was that he was….mystified.

"Mystified Monster", 17mm Zuiko lens

“Mystified Monster”, 17mm Zuiko lens

But lunch was over.  And so it was time to say farewell.  Two of my favorite toys – a green-headed helmeted Alien and his Cactus-Hound – stared at me belligerently.

"Alien & Cactus Hound", 17mm Zuiko lens

“Alien & Cactus Hound”, 17mm Zuiko lens

When I was young, sometimes, my favorite toys wound up bent and broken….played to death, as it were.  I think the same was true of my sons, when they were very small, and some of their toys.  The poet e.e. cummings says -

“You have played,
(I think)
And broke the toys you were fondest of”

"Green Alien & Cactus-Hound 2", 17mm Zuiko lens

“Green Alien & Cactus-Hound 2″, 17mm Zuiko lens

- but this pair – and their comrades – were anything but broken.  And now that lunch was finished, it was almost time for….a nice, relaxing post-prandial siesta.

The filmmaker Werner Herzog asks -

“What would an ocean be without a monster lurking in the dark? It would be like sleep without dreams.”

As I lie back for my siesta, I wonder….who will I dream about?  The Crustacean?  The Kangasoar?  Edgar Allan?  Or my new favorite, Cactus-Hound?

If I can remember, I’ll let you know.

Supermarket Buddhas

Went shopping yesterday for the basics.  Soy milk, eggs, tuna fish.  Chips, salsa, cheese.  And then, to my surprise, as I neared the checkout area, I saw someone I didn’t expect to see.

The face of a man.  Who once said -

“You only lose what you cling to.”

"Supermarket Buddha", 17mm Zuiko lens, Pop Art filter

“Supermarket Buddha”, 17mm Zuiko lens, Pop Art filter

Of course, that made me stop.  And think.  About many things.  Including the purchases I was just about to make – did I really need them?

After all, the Chap – Buddha – or as he is also known, Gautama Buddha – or Siddhartha Gautama Buddha – also said -

“Doubt everything. Find your own light.”

And certainly, looking at both the contents of my shopping cart, and then back to his face, the idea of finding my own light….took on a new….cast.

"Supermarket Buddha", 17mm Zuiko lens, Dramatic Tone filter

“Supermarket Buddha”, 17mm Zuiko lens, Dramatic Tone filter

By this time I stopped thinking about food and started looking around.  And lo and behold, I saw yet another Buddha, this one perched atop a refrigerated cabinet advertising a drink that many associate with energy – the energy to do, to be, to live.

"Red Bull Buddha", 17mm Zuiko lens, Pop Art filter

“Red Bull Buddha”, 17mm Zuiko lens, Pop Art filter

The man also said -

“There is no path to happiness: happiness is the path.”

But…will Red Bull get me onto that path more quickly?  Or move me down it with more energy, more zip, more joie de vivre?

"Red Bull Buddha", 17mm Zuiko lens, Dramatic Tone filter

“Red Bull Buddha”, 17mm Zuiko lens, Dramatic Tone filter

I didn’t have to think about that one for too long.

Part of the reason why was, I had glimpsed yet a third manifestation of the Buddha, one which resonated with me more than the preceding two.

"Naked Juice Buddha", 17mm Zuiko lens, Pop Art filter

“Naked Juice Buddha”, 17mm Zuiko lens, Pop Art filter

Naked Juice and Buddha.

That made me smile.

And reminded me of the words of the Vietnamese Zen Buddhist monk, teacher, author and poet, Thich Nhat Hanh, who says -

“Smile, breathe and go slowly.”

And when I smiled, things seemed to shift….was it the colors?

"Naked Juice Buddha", 17mm Zuiko lens, Dramatic Tone filter

“Naked Juice Buddha”, 17mm Zuiko lens, Dramatic Tone filter

Or was it me?

Ted Grant, the South African Trotskyist and author – and, parenthetically, how deep is the divide between Buddhism and Trotskyism? – once said -

“When you photograph people in colour you photograph their clothes. When you photograph people in black and white, you photograph their souls.”

Looking one last time at my supermarket Buddha, I had to agree with him.

"Naked Juice Buddha", 17mm Zuiko lens, Grainy Film filter

“Naked Juice Buddha”, 17mm Zuiko lens, Grainy Film filter

But as the saying goes, man cannot live by bread alone, so it was time to stop staring, and to get in the checkout line.  But even so, I couldn’t – and can’t – help thinking of what John Lennon said.  A propos of belief systems – and religions – and the tendency of people to need to ‘believe in’ something or someone.  It’s a famous quote -

“I believe in God, but not as one thing, not as an old man in the sky. I believe that what people call God is something in all of us. I believe that what Jesus and Mohammed and Buddha and all the rest said was right. It’s just that the translations have gone wrong.”

Or, as Gautama B. himself said -

“You only lose what you cling to.”

I like to think of myself as someone who doesn’t need to cling.  Excessively.  But on second thought, maybe it’s time to be honest with myself – and maybe I’d better go back to the supermarket….for some Naked Juice.

a spin down the road

It’s Spring now.  Warmer weather.  Time to get on the bicycle and head for the bike path.  In Southern Oregon, this means perambulating past mountains, through trees, and alongside the creek.  And sometimes stopping, to look at the water, the trees…the colors.

Bike Path, 17mm Zuiko lens, Pop Art filter

Bike Path, 17mm Zuiko lens, Pop Art filter

Albert Einstein said -

“Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving.”

So when you stop…does that mean you have lost your balance?  And how can you tell?  Perhaps one of the subtle indicators….is when all those Spring colors bleed away.

"Bike Path", 17mm Zuiko lens, Grainy Film filter

“Bike Path”, 17mm Zuiko lens, Grainy Film filter

I think Einstein was right, though.

And so was Arthur Conan Doyle, the author and creator of the Sherlock Holmes stories.  Doyle sums it up succintly when he says -

“When the spirits are low, when the day appears dark, when work becomes monotonous, when hope hardly seems worth having, just mount a bicycle and go out for a spin down the road, without thought on anything but the ride you are taking.”

"Bike Path", 17mm Zuiko lens, Dramatic Tone filter

“Bike Path”, 17mm Zuiko lens, Dramatic Tone filter

Okay.

Enough words, enough ruminations.

Time to get back into the saddle, and keep spinning down the road.