Today I feel:

8 years old.

Small Beginnings

Confessions of Multnoma Falls

So. A confession, if you will. I have a secret that I probably should tell you. 

I'm not a huge fan of Landscapes [and] I think waterfall pictures are sorta cliche.

There. I said it. I got it out. 

To me, a waterfall picture is just another picture of a waterfall. Sorta the "seen it once, seen it all" idea. 

So, its funny that I spent most of the day last Sunday afternoon with my friend Elizabeth Knopp, driving to, climbing up and photographing a waterfall, right?  Its okay, you can agree. Its funny.

But here is the thing. 

A waterfall is different in person. 

No, really. It is. Nature has a way of, once you take the time to take the time to be out there in it, making you remember things. 

So, I took a cliche picture of a waterfall. 

But It wasn't the waterfall itself that made me want to take a 'cliche picture of a waterfall.'

It was the effects of it. The impact it made on me. 

 It was the bigness of it that made me remember my smallness.

The consistency of it that made me remember my undevoted heart.

The strength that made me remember my fragility.

The cool mist that landed, sparkling on my sun warmed body that made me want to remember it. 

That is, after all why we take pictures right? To remember the things important to us? The times in life when we felt  satisfied and in awe, mysteriously in awe? 

Yes. That is why I take pictures. And I liked that waterfall and the way it made me feel in awe. The way that hiking to to the top flooded my human veins with accomplishment (or maybe it was just the fresh air) whatever it was. I liked it. And I took pictures. 

The End.

Took a path to the top of a mountain.

What we think about God determines

Choruses from The Rock

Choruses from The Rock
T.S. Eliot, 1934

The Eagle soars in the summit of Heaven,
The Hunter with his dogs pursues his circuit.

O world of spring and autumn, birth and dying!
The endless cycle of idea and action,
Endless invention, endless experiment,
Brings knowledge of motion, but not of stillness;
Knowledge of speech, but not of silence;
Knowledge of words, and ignorance of the Word.
All our knowledge brings us nearer to death,
But nearness to death no nearer to God.
Where is the Life we have lost in living?
Where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge?
Where is the knowledge we have lost in information?
The cycles of Heaven in twenty centuries
Brings us farther from God and nearer to the Dust.

The lot of man is ceaseless labor,
Or ceaseless idleness, which is still harder,
Or irregular labour, which is not pleasant.
I have trodden the winepress alone, and I know
That it is hard to be really useful, resigning
The things that men count for happiness, seeking
The good deeds that lead to obscurity, accepting
With equal face those that bring ignominy,
The applause of all or the love of none.
All men are ready to invest their money
But most expect dividends.
I say to you: Make perfect your will.
I say: take no thought of the harvest,
But only of proper sowing.

The world turns and the world changes,
But one thing does not change.
In all of my years, one thing does not change,
However you disguise it, this thing does not change:
The perpetual struggle of Good and Evil.

You neglect and belittle the desert.
The desert is not remote in southern tropics
The desert is not only around the corner,
The desert is squeezed in the tube-train next to you,
The desert is in the heart of your brother.

Let me show you the work of the humble. Listen.

In the vacant places
We will build with new bricks

Where the bricks are fallen
We will build with new stone
Where the beams are rotten
We will build with new timbers
Where the word is unspoken
We will build with new speech
There is work together
A Church for all
And a job for each
Every man to his work.

What life have you, if you have not life together?
There is not life that is not in community,
And no community not lived in praise of GOD...

...The work of creation is never without travail

Light
Light
The visible reminder of Invisible Light.

O Light Invisible, we praise Thee!
Too bright for mortal vision.

April

Today

Billy Collins

 

If ever there were a spring day so perfect,

so uplifted by a warm intermittent breeze

 

that it made you want to throw

open all the windows in the house

 

and unlatch the door to the canary's cage,

indeed, rip the little door from its jamb,

 

a day when the cool brick paths

and the garden bursting with peonies

 

seemed so etched in sunlight

that you felt like taking

 

a hammer to the glass paperweight

on the living room end table,

 

releasing the inhabitants

from their snow-covered cottage

 

so they could walk out,

holding hands and squinting

 

into this larger dome of blue and white,

well, today is just that kind of day.

 

 

Waiting

Youre invited

Weekends are for Remembering

"Remember oh man, that you are dust, and to dust you will return."

Easter weekend is for remembering.

Ah, Holy Jesus
Ah, holy Jesus, how hast Thou offended,
That man to judge Thee hath in hate pretended?
By foes derided, by Thine own rejected,
O most afflicted.

Who was the guilty? Who brought this upon Thee?
Alas my treason, Jesus, hath undone Thee.
’Twas I, Lord Jesus, I it was denied Thee.
I crucified Thee.

For me, kind Jesus, was Thy incarnation,
Thy mortal sorrow, and Thy life’s oblation;
Thy death of anguish and Thy bitter passion,
For my salvation.

Lo, the Good Shepherd for the sheep is offered;
The slave hath sinned, and the Son hath suffered;
For our atonement, while he nothing heedeth,
God intercedeth.

Therefore, kind Jesus, since I cannot pay Thee,
I do adore Thee, and will ever pray Thee.
Think on Thy pity and Thy love unswerving,
Not my deserving.

Though he was God, 

he did not think of equality with God 

as something to cling to. 

Instead, he gave up his divine privileges;

he took the humble position of a slave

and was born as a human being. 

When he appeared in human form, 

he humbled himself in obedience to God 

and died a criminal's death on a cross.

Philippians 2:6-8

What NOT to do when hunting plants

A short documentary addressing the trails and tribulations of pussy willow hunting for RoJo's wedding. Special thanks to Madey E for filming a lot and Elizabeth K for falling down a lot.

March 31st

Hello. Its been a while. So, I do believe its time for me to make an obvious statement, because I am so good at them. Ahhhhem, here we go:
                                                     A lot can happen in a month, specifically March.



A lot. Like shooting and editing and then packing.
And going to the World Changers Summit and packing some more.
Like getting sick and then doing my taxes.
And taking my sister out for an ice cream cone.

Like attending showers and parties and reading books and blogs and then packing some more. Fitting 3 months of clothes in one checked bag and a carry on.  A lot can happen in a month, like booking wedding and figuring out H264 codec and MXF files. Like celebrating life with my family and then leaving them on a plane, to move out to Oregon for a while.
Yeah see?  I told you. A lot can happen in a month. 

So, I moved out to Portland, well actually, Sandy, Oregon. To help a friend's family out while preparing for a wedding and a whole ton of other stuff. Its great. Last weekend, Elizabeth Knopp, Madey Edlin and I drove out to the beach to hunt for some pussy willows and just look at the ocean for a while.

Well, thats what I wanted to do, at least. I am still getting used to it. The ocean that is. My Pacific friend.

This was only my third time seeing in it in my whole life. The ocean is one of those majestic things in life that I dont want to just get used to. Its glorious. The waves that just keep on coming, over and over, never tiring.  And the smell of the Sky meeting the Earth way out on the horizon. The interesting  treasures and sorta dried out things that wash up when the tide is low.

I dont want to just "get used to" the jelly fish as clear as glass laying on the sand, resemling a rain drop from the sky that never broke open. I don't want to just get used to that tiny sliver glow of a lemon sun, right before it drops into the ocean, into tomorrow. I want to always be blown away by the small details, because, I'm learning that all big things (planets, ideas, people, cultures, songs, photos) are made out of little things, (rocks, statements, familes, towns, words, pixels).

So. With this in mind, I decided to scribe. A letter to Mr. Pacific, who ever he may be. I told him what I thought about the ocean and a little what I thought about the concept of upside down. Of Big and Little.
Then I stuck it in a rasberry Izzie bottle, screwed the red top on tight and released it to the ocean.

I wrote my address on it so that when Mr. Pacific get the message, he can mail me back his poetry and prose about the great open water, or how life is on the ship. Or, perhaps it will float back to land, and some unsuspecting soul will have a worn bottle brush their feet while flying a kite on a windy Oregon day. They will probaby write about the Wind. If I flew a kite, I would write about the wind and how its a little like life. But who knows? Maybe they will too.

All in all, it was a good idea, a good plan, and a darn good letter if I do say so myself. Below is the video of my thowing it out to the ocean. I never thought Mr. Pacific could be a dog.


-L