One dream, moving between us ...

One dream, moving between us ...

Tim and I often tell our dreams to each other; sometimes it helps to understand a dream (I don't mean interpret the dream) to reflect on it with him because he knows me so well. He is also very aware of his own dreams, and has a rich dream life. But we both go through dream-droughts, when it seems we are not dreaming, or not remembering our dreams as well. I haven't had a dry spell in a long time. Anyway, the following poem fits us -- and our dream-telling, so perfectly, that I felt compelled to illustrate the way it makes me feel, the way it fits around our dreams and stories and emotional lives. It's a poem byMoniza Alvi, born in 1954 in Pakistan. She grew up in England and I think she lives there now.

Fish

I envied my wife her nightly visions.
She'd lay each one proudly on the bed

like a plump, iridescent fish,
and ask me to identify it.

Some nights I'd even manage to trap
my own by concentrating hard,

submerging the net into blue-black waters.
I'd place my catch on the rippling sheet.

So we'd have our own two fish, almost
indecent, nuzzling each other's mouths,

soul-fish, awkward in our hands,
hungry, as if our lives were a host

of crumbs to gulp in greedily.
They'd beat their tails very fast

until we could only see the one dream
moving between us, or feel stirring

one enormous fish, with our own lives
grieving, joyful, growing in its belly.


-- by Moniza Alvi

Mystery of the Forest

Why is it so important to keep some mystery about us? Some mystery surrounding life itself and the beginnings of the universe and the reasons and purpose of each solitary element of nature?

I admire Albert Einstein not only for his incredible mind, and the creative advancement he contributed to science and art, but also for the openess he had about his religious beliefs in the context of his scientific pursuits and the scientific community of his peers.

I could say that this is very close to what I personally believe about life. The only thing I would change about the following excerpt taken from one of Einstein's essays, is that for me ... the words, "religious" and "religiosity" would be "spiritual" and "spirituality" only because there is so often a connotation of narrowness applied to religion in our world today. When I think of religion, I often think about the atrocities we humans have committed against nature and each other in the name of various world religions. For me, spirituality is a more open, inclusive descriptor of the connections I feel with all of life, including the tiniest grain of sand, a beetle drunk on a flower's nectar or any person on earth no matter what their lot in life, or their creed. may be.

The most beautiful experience we can have is the mysterious. It is the fundamental emotion that stands at the cradle of true art and true science. Whoever does not know it and can no longer wonder, no longer marvel, is as good as dead, and his eyes are dimmed. It was the experience of mystery -- even if mixed with fear -- that engendered (spirituality) religion. A knowledge of the existence of something we cannot penetrate, our perceptions of the profoundest reason and the most radiant beauty, which only in their most primitive forms are accessible to our minds: it is this knowledge and this emotion that constitute true religiosity. In this sense, and only this sense, I am a deeply (spiritual)religious man... I am satisfied with the mystery of life's eternity and with a knowledge,a sense, of the marvelous structure of existence -- as well as the humble attempt to understand even a tiny portion of the Reason that manifests itself in nature."

-- Albert Einstein

We don't have a dish drain

We don't have a dish drain, originally uploaded by MontanaRaven.

I just use some layered towels and colorful fabrics to soak up the water from the clean dishes. I change the cloth frequently.

We like to support local artists as much as we can, and one way we can afford that is to use dishes, plates, bowls and cups made by local ceramics artists. Like George McCauley, Sarah Jaegar and Richard Swanson.

If you click on the photo, there are scads of "notes" about the many elements in this pic. If you're interested. It's part of a set, kindof a tour of our house, inside and outside. I put the album together from mostly photos I took today, but added a few from the summer so you can see the garden.

Photo Friday: Masculine

Portrait: Tracy, originally uploaded by MontanaRaven.

I like the grittiness and grain here ... to me it fits with the frayed jeans, unshaven face, his working-man's hands, the hoody, the angle of the shot. . .

This is Tracy. Here are a few more shots I took during their coffee break at my husband's (Tim's) shop that same day.

Poetry Thursday

"You don't have to prove anything," my mother said. "Just be ready for what God sends." -- William Stafford, poet (from his last poem, written the day he died in 1993 - entire poem is included after the Rumi quote, below)

Stay Here at the Flame's Core

originally uploaded by MontanaRaven

Liz, who has the wonderful blog, Be Present Be Here, has suggested that we share a favorite poem on Thursdays. I'm up for that, so here are excerpts from two of my favorite poets, the mystic Rumi, and the poet/author William Stafford.

Thinking gives off smoke,
to prove the existence of fire.
A mystic sits inside the burning.
There are wonderful shapes in
rising smoke that imagination loves
to watch.
But it's a mistake
to leave the fire
for that filmy sight.
Stay here at the flame's core.

-- Rumi

and the entire Stafford poem:

"Are you Mr.William Stafford?" "Yes, but...."

Well, it was yesterday.
Sunlight used to follow my hand.
And that's when the strange siren-like sound flooded
over the horizon and rushed through the streets of our town.
That's when sunlight came from behind
a rock and began to follow my hand.

"It's for the best," my mother said —"Nothing can
ever be wrong for anyone truly good."
So later the sun settled back and the sound
faded and was gone. All along the streets every
house waited, white, blue, gray: trees
were still trying to arch as far as they could.

You can't tell when strange things with meaning
will happen. I'm [still] here writing it down
just the way it was. "You don't have to
prove anything," my mother said. "Just be ready
for what God sends." I listened and put my hand
out in the sun again. It was all easy.

Well, it was yesterday. And the sun came,
Why
It came.

-- William Stafford

Time for the March Calendar

Cottonwood Grove, the Protectors photo by Maureen Shaughnessy

Hi friends, here is my monthly offering to readers of my blog, this calendar which you are welcome to download, print, use however you want to. Click on the photo for a larger version. It looks best printed out at 8"x10" size on heavy weight matte photo paper, but any paper will do. I'm always curious if anyone is actually using these calendars, so if you do, please leave me a comment. (that's optional as always, though). And for sure ... enjoy it!

Here are the rest of the photos I took that same day, out at a ranch near Helena, where we live.