Photos and accompanying thoughts have moved to

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Miscellaneous bits and pieces will eventually migrate.

Come over to the other side.

meeting someone else.

It was as if the expression was such a powerful force of energy. Her happiness was open on her face, and in her nimble hands; fingers working a soft sheet -now rolled, now thin spindles- of tissue. To look at her was to plug in to a common field of shared joy. I was reeled in. Her face was an even fawn canvas as her lips curved slightly in a happy half-smile. It seemed the spirit of wonder and glee had effused through her very body and flitted away, touching very slightly then escaping the solid boundaries of her mouth, lighting the air around her in a soft electric glow. There was no singular way of observing her countenance; what was animated was gently infused, and held steady in her private reverie. Smooth brows, lifted lids, confident nose, and a mouth made to always smile. There was no pout in her posture. Her tan leather bracelets and sandals claimed freedom more than fashion. Her red bag fit a simple sagged form on her lap which sat ordinarily under a skirt of yellow and orange. An old scab on her left knee, the only punctuation on legs that looked used to activity. A thin band around her elfin hair betrayed hippie inclinations. But therein the word 'betrayal' reveals the wonder: she simply was. And to chance upon her unwritten thoughts was to share in the same rapture.

This is different from the delight a young child might find himself in. She had consciousness, and a tumultous age. She was aware of the world, but stayed instead, with the light within. And yes I did wonder, just once, the reason for her joy. A romantic date? But she sat clean and upright, not slumped in the sensual aftermath of romance. A comic moment? But her expression was placidly bright, not mired in the fast tangles of witticisms. It doesn't matter. She'd sat, and was.

Haiti earthquake

[ haiti. all photos from the Times online Photo Gallery]





[ . Eduardo Munoz Reuters]

Thousands of homeless people sat on the darkened streets of Port-au-Prince in a daze or gathered in public squares, singing hymns.

The headlines did not lie. 12 January 2010 saw tragedy crush an ill-equipped yawing mousetrap of an island.

Comment from a blogger in Haiti:

I didn’t actually fall on the ground, but I stumbled around quite a bit. When the tremors ceased, a large dust cloud was rising from the building a few doors down.

A 3 story school full of teenage girls had collapsed. I stood around looking stupid for longer than I’d like to admit. I looked at the truck from Toyota, tried to call my wife (the service was out) and looked around me at people’s reactions.

Virtually everyone reacted in strange ways. Eventually, I went to the school and started working to pull trapped students from the wreckage.

The work was very hard because I was working by myself. People would come up and shout into the wreckage, “Is so-and-so inside?” at the top of their lungs repeatedly.

... I got one girl out, who was very frantic. I told her to stop shouting and pray for help.

She was about 10 feet deep under the collapsed cement roof of the building. At one point I went and borrowed a hammer from someone to break up the large piece of cement that she was trapped behind. The aftershocks scared the crap out of me, and I really didn’t like being under that cement slab. There was an obviously dead woman under the slab with us.

When the girl was out, I took my hammer and moved over to find the next trapped girl. All I could see was her face and left arm, and she frantically called out to me. I asked her to calm down because it would help me to work and asked her to pray for both of us.

... There was some sort of object behind that rubble and when I went to move it it turned out to be another girl’s bottom. The girl cried out but I could barely hear her – her whole head was underneath rubble.

At this point I began to realize that I was in over my head. All I had was a hammer, and it was quickly becoming pitch dark with twilight fading and no electricity anywhere. I tried to borrow a flashlight, but it was impossible.

I had a moment of feeling intense helplessness. After thinking and praying for a minute, I told Jacqueline that I had to leave her and find more help. I couldn’t do anything without a flashlight, and she needed to keep praying and remember that her parents were coming to look for her.

I walked 4 or 5 miles to a place where I could get a bus, then got on one eventually made it home just after 9pm. On my way home, I resolved to return to Port au Prince the next day with 2 trucks full of tools and workers to do whatever we could.

I met a guy on the bus who was holding a sandwich. He had left his house to go buy a sandwich when the earthquake hit. He returned to his home to find it flattened, then went to the school that he teaches at to find it flattened. With nothing left but a sandwich in his hand, and $7 in his sock, he set out for Cap Haitien to be with the rest of his family.

I slept a little bit last night even though I kept thinking of Jacqueline and her classmate stuck in the rubble, in the dark. This morning all of the workers enthusiastically loaded all the tools we could use into the trucks along with food and water and set off for Port au Prince.

I took them to the school and quickly made my way to the place Jacqueline and the other student were but both of them were dead.

-Chris Rollings

... On the bus he met a man named Amos who had gone out to get a sandwich and minutes later found his house was flattened as was the school where he worked. He took his sandwich and got on a bus headed for Cap Haitien because everything that had made up his life in Port was gone. Amos is sleeping in our dorms and when I took him sheets and towels and asked how he was doing he simply said, with a smile, “M’ pa pi mal, gras a Dieu. ” I’m not bad, by the grace of God.

-from his wife, Leslie Rollings

the birdwatcher's creed...

there's this online mag with the most motley crue of articles around, from obama power to greener tyres to albanian fashion to being suspicious of happiness (or something specific like those)... i like that UTNE doesn't seek to be higher (or holier) than thou in their pursuit of knowledge; UTNE simply delights in exploring ideas. any one who reads them will find something to engage them, and hardly ever be lost or put off by either language or over-rhetoric. i say that as a happy reader of over 5 years.


here's a curious piece about bird-watching:

I find this fidelity to the truth to be one of the most attractive aspects of bird-watching. We all like to brag about the birds we see and hear, but we are also united in our rueful admissions that this or that bird has escaped us this season, this year, or even all our lives so far.

We look forward to the moment when we can truthfully lay claim to a particular bird, or to a higher tally of birds seen this month or this year, or in this place or that.

And when we finally reach our goal, we will tell our friends and fellow bird-watchers, who will share our gratification, because they will have every reason to believe us.

isn't that such a nice phrase- 'fidelity to the truth'.

inspiration.

[ .from Jessica Naomi [flickr])

in flashes and bright sparks,
they excite, choke-
there seems neither next nor past,
it takes me up in its life.

then gone and spent,
i'm left changed.
there seems no reason nor impetus
to explain the event.

Stolen Auschwitz sign.

[ Poland, Auschwitz. from the BBC ]

Four dawns ago, the sign bearing the Nazi slogan "Arbeit Macht Frei" was stolen.

It was neither murder nor rape. Nothing monied misplaced. But along with many others, I felt a quiet shock. And learned, again, that in the vast territory that is the human world, no one thing is uniformly sacred.

Today, the five thieves were apprehended. The 5-metre sign was found cut into three pieces.

We forget, dismember, pillage. And in undermining the markers of our humanity, we undermine our own.

And oh yes, those thieves were 'art thieves'.

Manmade: Captured Lighting series

...which is truly electrifying.


[ oak tree. by bert hickman]

[ Lichtenberg sculpture. by bert hickman]

and so it looks like that (in plastic)! The famous Lichtenberg design is named after German physicist Georg Christoph Lichtenberg. He'd recorded the patterns in 1777- in what seems like an equally complex manner.

The artist's website is also a lil psychedelic. He explains how, in a youtube vid (no, it does not involve flying a kite in wet weather).

proof.

that nature inspires art,

is art.


[ . British Wildlife Photographer winner: "Damselfly silhouette" by Ross Hoddinott ]

[ . Urban Wildlife winner: "The ultimate flock" by Lorne Gill]

[ . Animals Portraits winner: "Gannet portrait" by Ben Hall ]
[ . Wildlife Behaviour winner: "Blackbirds Fighting" by David Slater]

from the timesonline photo gallery.

something i felt today.

[? . from whysharksmatter ]

(one of the comments)
Despite all the knowledge and technology we possess we continue to destroy things that we don’t fully understand.

us people always seemed to me more self-conscious than self-aware, more inclined to the strange Other than attuned to mapping our interconnectedness. and i'd always thought the devastation on plants and animals a tragic evidence.

there may be mtv* specials galore courtesy of al gore campaigns and wonderful mega-documentaries [see list of EXCITES to the right] out to showcase the world we could be losing, but so long as we only see in parts and in terms of Other..

sharks have been pretty much elevated and distorted in the consciousness of most singaporeans. they are exoticised sleek machines from waters far and away. they also make for delicious sharks fin soup. they are both mythical and part of tradition; a power combo hard to change.


those are two reasons why i'm anticipating “Why Sharks Matter: Using New Environmentalism to Show The Economic And Ecological Importance of Sharks, The Threats They Face, and How You Can Help", by David Shiffman (scientist guy in above pic). follow his shark-crusades here.


*by the way, mtv videos always hit the 'cool' mark..

MTV Global Warming Campaign from Justin Gedzus on Vimeo.

fatvertising.

[ usa, ny. anti-obesity ad]

The ads — which cost about $277,000 to develop over three fiscal years, including money for creative work and focus groups — will run in 1,500 subway cars for three months. (The $90,000 cost of the subway advertisement comes through a private donor, the Fund for Public Health in New York.)


someone asks: but are these images we really need clogging the arteries of our subways every day?
i: yes, i think so. i think we sometimes need a jolt that things aren't sugar, nice, and everything innocent (everything that's put) out there.

it nicely ties in with the other bit we often have in our hands. the burger, otherwise to be known as the bad bits of unhappy cows genetically engineered by the companies.

the real green engineering.

[ india, cherrapunji. rootbridges. all other images from theoriens ]

what happens when man can't build a bridge.

why, grow one of course. this northeastern bit of india is one of the wettest places on earth (monsoon winds from the bay of bengal ensure that), streaked by many swift rivers and mountain streams. it is also native to the rubber fig, its use as a bridge better explained by its scientific name ficus elastica.

for generations now, people have been splicing betel nut tree trucks and guiding roots of the rubber fig through them.



the literally named 'double decker root bridge' can hold over fifty people at a time, which already include quite a few tourists.

this just took my breath away. apparently it also takes ten- fifteen years to be fully functional; i'm glad that here at least, human patience (inevitable or not) has allowed such a feat testament to the harmony nature and man can achieve. tolkien would be proud.

the golden spruce.

[ northwest, united states. from STRIKE ]

i got alot more than i'd bargained for when i picked up the golden spruce. tree, land, wind, sea, air and man, -above all, man- i did not realise the combustable combination they were.

take a long look here: imagine how a tree could have grown through centuries to become so; imagine its place and what it fought, what it strove for, its comrades in the pursuit of life. imagine how man first came upon the giant; imagine how man saw how it could be used, and how he thought up clever ways to harvest it all; ruthless being conquering being-
[march 04, 1906, at rock pile creek, sonoma, california]


i'd turned myself towards rows of page-bound greenery. i was looking for an insight into the inanimate mass we both depend on and plunder. oil, water, air, fuel, crops.. then forests: stoic browns and proud plumes, quiet and relentless, all knowing, still, wilderness, i'd thought. how quaint my ideas were. but the story of a man in the middle of it all is indeed all wilderness, all madness.


from chapter 14, after the tree falls,

al wanderer, hadwin's former colleague from lillooeit, could have been speaking for all woodsman through history when he looked back over his own empty corner of british columbia and said, "good god. i didnt think it was possible to log this much."

"man", (George Perkins Marsh) wrote more than 140 years ago, "who even now finds scarce breathing room on this cast globe, cannot retire from the Old World to some yet undiscovered continent, and wait for the slow action of such causes to replace...the Eden he has wasted." That year (1864) saw the creation of california's yoesmite state reserve, which included the continent's first federally protected trees.

by 1919, just as a group of wealthy californians was forming the Save the Redwoods League, the first portable chain and circular saws began appearing on the cover of Scientific American.

einarson picked up his train of thought: "another reason i like falling," he said, "is i like walking around in old-growth forests. it's kind of an oxymoron i guess - to like something and then go out and kill it."

When dust dance, far.

[australia, sydney. 1-3. from Brendon Thorne/Getty Images]
[ 4. from Shisberg]

Sydney Morning Herald:

... And everywhere there was dust. It coated footpaths, shop floors, train stations and any other surface the wind could penetrate.

Cityrail trains carried it through tunnels and into underground stations.

"When I got on the train at Cronulla all our seats were covered in this red dust," Robyn Jaques said.

... Up to 75,000 tonnes of dust per hour was blown into the waters off the coast and particle pollution was the highest on record - over 15,000 micrograms per cubic metre at times, when a normal day would see less than 20 micrograms.

The choking dust was far thicker than bushfire smoke, which commonly contains about 500 micrograms per cubic metre.

... Loose red dirt from the arid outback was blown east by strong winds, in what was described by The Sydney Morning Herald as "the day the country blew into town".

... Strong winds following the hottest August on record sucked up dust from a decade-long drought in what experts said was the biggest such incident to hit Sydney since 1942.

joy in a tin can/ get yer fix

[ . www.theflowmarket.com]

anything can be sold.

it doesnt have to be real.

call my berlin bluff.

[berlin. stilinberlin.blogspot.com ]


when demands build and duty bears down, one turns to comfort- comfort eats and comfort looks. and i love stilinberlin for letting me indulge in a little 'action-imagination'- it's the place you go to to live out all your incarnations and play out your most heroic, bravest deeds.

whether an intellectual hobo or a mother who builds jet engines, everyone's a revolutionary. and everyone's implicated in it.

longtime readers to this blog will know my ongoing infatuation with berlin. but it is also a deep respect. there, the only rule is to be real, and reality is tough, not always nice, and always needs a keep on keeping on. how do i tell? no one dresses like they care what everyone else thinks (ugh-ly you say? fingers to you and your prada bag- and i outfinger you 'cos theyre in ragtag mittens); everyone dresses like they think, playfully, bitterly, about what they themselves stand for.

lately, stilinberlin has gone younger and gone upscale, becoming more polished. but well, eager young energy. why not, if its the berliners.

a cap so fine.

[ uk, cardiff. the senedd]

[ usa, illinois. bahá'í house of worship]

[ turkey. erzurum holy mosque. all photos via thedeputydog]

(sometimes i think) the very act of tilting the head up is reverence of one beyond yourself, is contemplation of a possible other.


[ israel, mount carmel. enchantedceiling]

hands.

[ singapore . restaurant(?)]

looking at the chef engaged in his work, precise metal in motion, and hands, his hands moulding and kneading, one felt it was not a job cut out for many. it reminds me:

laborare est orare

(never complicated responsibilities) the essence of it breathes honesty, (not drudgery) its directive simple. and when else do we feel free and simultaneously vital than when we are engaged in that we love; when else do does one feel in harmony with something beyond his lonesome self. we're physical beings in a physical world. shall we not wrestle this and remember how we feel alive when in motion, in tandem with that we enjoy and express, and with that we believe in?

*

Teach me, my God and my King,
In all things thee to see,
And what I do in any thing,
To do it as for thee:


Not rudely, as a beast,
To runne into an action;
But still to make thee prepossest,
And give it his perfection.


A man that looks on glasse,
On it may stay his eye;
Or if he pleaseth, through it passe,
And then the haev'n espie.


All may of thee partake:
nothing can be so mean,
Which with his tincture (for thy sake)
Will not grow bright and clean.


A servant with this clause
Makes drudgerie divine:
Who sweeps a room, as for thy laws,
Makes that and th' action fine.


This is the famous stone
That turneth all to gold:
For that which God doth touch and own
Cannot for lesse be told.

the elixir.
-george herbert

(try putting into words/ tell me what you mean)

[ . ein tintendropfen from deinhero2 ]

there was a bird in the kitchen today. i went near, and it was so shocked it flew out and hit the window glass. flapped for a few seconds, almost hovering, trying to go through. then fell.

.....- hc.

feel better when

[stonehenge. naturewhispers]
'd been looking and looking.
this time, the search was
not for an 'it' factor.
but hunger, to
know, feel, be,
how it must have been like-

and then. as always, others have said it first, and always the same.

i think and think and think,
i've thought myself out of happiness one million times,
but never once into it.
- everything is illuminated. jonathan safran foer.

..and it,
it never is what one thinks it is.


[ .telegraph ]

365,000 people.
4.58am.
the northern solstice is the summer solstice is the winter solstice, depending on.
when the sun directly sits above the constellation cancer ,






- or not.

seeing is inspiring/ god is in the details.

[ holland, keukenhof gardens. from yx]

i once heard, someone say, that god is in the details. more precisely, someone had given it as a quick, deliberate, advice to a young greenhorn, all too quick to dash impressive strokes. but good intentions, boldly executed, sometimes neglect the underlying lines that tie logic together.

god is in the details-

i had forgotten pleasures and ideals that express themselves on earthly plains; i did not see that ideas and wishes are delineated according to simple lines. a person of heart helped me realise the first, and im glad -to keep with fairytale- one of letters taught me the second.

to live and write simply must be the greatest challenge of them all. we must love, uncomplicated, unburdened and complete. we must learn to express with both ardour and clarity. and for each, im learning the importance of first receiving openly, without complications or burden. daily i find we live messily and speak too crudely; daily i wake up vaguely remembering and continue on blind.

-that god is in the details.



and in the details of now.
a book going into the in-betweens of the writer who spawned that quote:

Le bon Dieu est dans le detail

for every each that we do not even imagine,
let us be vigilant for every that we know of

?