February 24, 2016. Earlier this month I spent a morning with the Austin Jung Society – a mindful photography experience of a new sort. Rather than the familiar “center first, then take a single photo”, we were sent out to “take 50 steps and 50 photos”. I seldom can make myself stop with a single photo when called by an image, but indulging in FIFTY shots? Like a sugar rush!
The initially overcast sky gave way to clear sunshine, the lighting change ramping up the variety of imagery significantly. I chose to wander an alley in search of my subject and half way down the block … there she was, just waiting for me. I say “she” – our true mission in this workshop was not photography so much as letting the camera assist in communicating with a non-human presence.
The poem trio reflects the writing exercises interspersed with photo excursions. First, we wrote about encountering our “other”; then a love letter to our “other”; then the perceived response from our “other”. Collectively, the Jungian term for this process is Dialogue.
The image is a collage – a handful of the many photos. Enjoy!
February 10, 2016. My dad would be 112 today. He loved roses, so I’m smiling at the synchronicity of posting a rose poem today. Perhaps a birthday gift for Daddy; perhaps a Valentine for all. With gratitude to Mom Kendrick, for the rose bushes.
The poem stems from trimming overgrown rose bushes in New Braunfels, and bringing cuttings back for rooting and eventual planting in our Austin yard. These were planted by Gary’s mom when she moved into that house years back. It’s been about that many years since I had rose bushes, and I’m quite eager to see these flourish. Crossing my fingers! I put nine cuttings into pots with rooting hormone. Surely a few will take root and bloom into future poems.
The collage mixes blooms from November with the February bagged cuttings and potted cuttings. If you look close at the center spray of cuttings, red-orange rose hips will beam back at you.
Clearing the clutter on my desk I found a pencil scratched poem from a morning I apparently recognized as worth remembering. When better than now? I feel blessed to spot the poem about the wren I never did see.
I’ve paired this with a photo taken a different morning, also worth of re-savoring. The tree stands in the center of the Seton NW labyrinth, here in Austin.
Two reflections of morning joy – oh, to be able to carry a tune like that wren! I’d be singing along …
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