The Woman at the Well

 

                                                     Woman at the well Diptych is a painting by Joan Columbus 

At Jacob's Well

From which she gathered water;

Coming late. An empty vessel.

Not knowing the promise of this font 

was also hers to partake.  

A mark of the consecrated, dug deep into the earth

Was forsaken by brothers and sisters

For, Jerusalem was the Holy Ground.  

She was forgotten --

Deemed too changed to be worthy.

But he waited for her at this place.

He waited, specifically for this woman,

Knowing all she had done.

The Living Water,

Seated upon the symbol

Of the promise,

Picked the forgotten and scorned woman 

to declare: 

God is not a temple.  Is not a place. 

Oh, If thou knewest the Gift of God...

You would drink freely-

Then, making her the conspirator of good news,

He declares;

I am He.  I am here, 

for Her

for Me

for You

Isn't it beautiful? They way He 

Loves each one of us?

Knowing all I have done.

D.C. - October 2010

With Eddie, my mom (Lynne) and dad (Tim)

This was an amazing trip, and made possible by my very generous parents.  I loved the city, the museums and seeing it all with my family (especially Eddie).

He never complained.  Not one time.  We were on our feet all day long every single day.

What a wonderful experience.  Eddie is already talking about going back. 

Below are some of the many, many photos I took (of only a few places that we visited): 

Eddie's first plane ride

I am a big fan of the public transportation here.

My sister and her family drove from West Virginia to meet us for the day.  It was a blast.

Outside the Reagan Building.

Outside Reagan Bldg.

Inside Reagan Bldg.  I wish I was a better photographer.  I loved the architecture and wanted to constantly be taking photos...

Chumming with the D.C. folks at the American History Museum

Having fun while walking and exploring the city.  This was some sort of Navy Memorial

The ceiling inside the Native American History Museum

Arlington.  What a place, beautiful, somber, reverent, heavy.  It left a big impression on both Eddie and me.

Walking along the Mirror Pool

It is difficult to capture how big this monument is because you aren't allowed to get very close.

Native American History Building.  A gorgeous structure. 

Flying toy airplanes along the National Mall

IMAX at the National Air and Space Museum

Not a great photo of the ceiling at the National Art Museum.  I only had 30 minutes to spend here (shucks!),  but I saw some lovely things and discovered some new favorite paintings.

Grandpa (Tim), Myself and Eddie walking from the Washington Monument to the Lincoln Memorial.

I loved the Lincoln Memorial. 

10 Words (or less)...

Brown eyes belonged to the first boy I never kissed.

Young Love Fiji - by Synthia Saint James.    Find more HERE

Grateful for You

 Sharing Laughter by Barbara Lavallee - find more of her artwork HERE

I would love 
To hear you laugh again.
But this time, 
I would like to hear it while my head lays pressed
Against your chest.
So that I can feel the rumbling beginnings 
Of that deep and happy sound
(that I am so fond of)
Before it breaks free from you
And brightens the room.


I would be happy enough
To hear that jovial bellowing
From behind me,
Across the room
(in the usual way)
Yes - that would be enough. 


More than enough.

Sometimes I Don't Want to Share

In eagerness, in longing, in hunger, in haste

A clean snap! I cracked your spine -

Knowing the best is to be chaste

Yet a miser am I, wanting to keep you only mine

I did send your epiphany, reluctantly, in the mail

I broke you open, then cast my secret love away -

I hope those sentiments of nature will

Be used and shared most carefully.

~Painting: A Woman Reading 
by Jean-Baptiste Carot, 1845

Valentine Goodie, Day #5: Baby Love

MOTHER'S SONG

it's quiet in the house so quiet
outside the snowstorm wails
the dogs curl up noses under their tails
my little son sleeps on his back
his mouth open
his belly rises and falls
breathing
is it strange if I cry for joy

~ 19th century Inuit song ~

photograph obtained from this site

Valentine Goodie, Day #4: The Kiss

NO, not that KISS.....silly.









I've posted before about my sentiments toward kissing. You can find it HERE.

Here are some of my favorite representations of this delightful pastime:




I love this sculpture by Rodin. I think it's just beautiful. I can only imagine how amazing it is in person.


- "The Kiss" by Auguste Rodin, 1886






We had this in our house growing up. I have always loved it. Everything about it, the colors, the shapes, the way the couple is positioned, the bed of flowers at the bottom, I love it.
- Gustav Klimt (1907-08?)










What I love about this one: You can see the happiness in the embrace and they become one piece, there is no space between them.

"The Kiss" -Constantin Brancusi (I believe 1908, 1907? I'm not sure, it seems there are a lot of versions of this sculpture, I need to do some research. I've always particularly liked this one, though).







This lithograph I found surfing the net. I'm not exactly sure of the name of the person who made this. But I really like it.

It's titled "First Kiss" and it can be found (and purchased) here:

The artist has some other stuff I really like, too.

"I Love Everybody...Especially You."

~Lyle Lovett

Twelve days until V-day. I don't usually really celebrate it, because I don't generally favor the commercialism tripe. Does anyone even know why we celebrate St. Valentine? Was he an actual person? Did he shoot arrows at people? Who IS this guy?

And Love? To encase something like love in a box of cheap chocolates just diminishes the whole concept, don't you think? Don't get me wrong, I do like love. No - I love...Love. (?) Love is great and terrible, miraculous and tragic (those are opposites, right?). Love is a mind-boggling, heart-wrenching, life-altering concept, which in the end (no matter how trivial our attempts may be) makes it totally worth celebrating.

And so I decided this year I'm going gung-ho and celebrating like crazy (well, moderately crazy)! Bring on the construction paper and glitter and sugar cookies and chocolates, and...

blogs dedicated to all things love-related.

I love this artwork done by, Debbie Marie Arambula

My first "dedication to love and love-like things" is a poem that illustrates the wonderfully devastating affects of desire (thus, it's title). Who has not experienced this at some point in their lives? I hope it's not just me that has succombed to such base sentiments. That would just make me feel really dumb. In a passionate sort of way, so I guess I don't feel that bad about it.


ANYway...

This poem was written by Sir Philip Sydney, who in fact was a distant cousin of St. Valentine.

(I'm kidding).

DESIRE ~by Sir Philip Sydney (1554-1586)

Thou blind man's mark, thou fool's self-chosen snare,
Fond Fancy's scum and dregs of scattered thought,
Band of all evils, cradle of causeless care,
Thou web of will whose end is never wrought;
Desire! desire, I have too dearly bought
With price of mangled mind thy worthless ware;
Too long, too long asleep thou hast me brought,
Who should my mind to higher things prepare.
But yet in vain thou hast my ruin sought,
In vain thou mad'st me to vain things aspire,
In vain thou kindlest all thy smoky fire.
For virtue hath this better lesson taught,
Within myself to seek my only hire,
Desiring nought but how to kill desire.



XOXO
~M

Marking The Beauty: "Her Morning Elegance"

by Oren Lavie.

[Directed by: Oren Lavie, Yuval & Merav Nathan / Photography: Eyal Landesman / Featuring: Shir Shomron]

I saw this last night, and had to watch it again this morning. Love the song and the video.
Thanks Marci. You always manage to find and share the loveliest things!

Enjoy!

The Whole Year Blown Open To A Blank Page...

HAPPY 2009

(Monet's Winter Magpie)

Imagine you wake up
with a second chance: The blue jay
hawks his pretty wares
and the oak still stands, spreading
glorious shade. If you don't look back,


the future never happens.
How good to rise in sunlight,
in the prodigal smell of biscuits---
eggs and sausage on the grill.
The whole sky is yours


to write on, blown open
to a blank page. Come on,
shake a leg! You'll never know
who's down there, frying those eggs,
if you don't get up and see.

~~Dawn Revisited
by Rita Dove

my mother's portrait so far...

My mother sent me a photo that has a closer view of her portrait (unfinished). I still look like a goof, but at least you can see my mom's rendition;

You're So Vain...

So my mom took this painting class. If I modeled for a class, the teacher (Paul Davis) was willing to do a portrait as a demonstration and give it to my mother at a good price. So I did.

It was a fun and exhausting experience (6 hours, people.)


I'm not trying to be narcissistic here, I just thought it was an interesting experience. During the first 3 hour block, it was the class who worked on portraits in the style of (A_______??? I'll find out).

I thought it was interesting to see some of the perspectives and interpretations of what each painter saw. Here are a couple photos of the students' paintings;

***

This one I like a lot... even though it's not finished. I think it's a flattering version. And she made my expression a little more appealing then it actually was (if any of you have seen what Sam calls my "T.V. face" {when I'm zoned out watching the tube}- then you'll know what I'm talking about).

***

This next one I like because it looks like something you'd see flipping through an art book. Something old. Like Monet or Renoir, but not...I wish I knew art/artists, because then I could say of which artist this reminds me;

P.S. I really did hold quite still the whole time. You see me laughing in the picture, because I was done posing and very happy about it!

***

I wanted to post my mother's painting (which is really, really cool). The photo taken of her painting also includes the real me, and the real me looks ridiculous in the photo, so I'm not posting it. Plus you can't see it very well. I will post my mother's when she's done with it. Or as soon as I can take another picture of it.

***

This final portrait is the one the teacher (Paul Davis) did.

It took a few hours. Luckily he didn't need me to freeze my expression the whole time. I could smile and laugh. I like it, though it doesn't look exactly like me, I think it does capture an expression of mine.

It makes me look young. Instead of haggard, worn-to-the-bone pioneerish...like this one, which consequently, happens to look most like me:

*** No offense about the pioneer thing. There's nothing wrong with looking like a hard-working pioneer. It's in my blood. But it's misleading. Heaven knows I should do more to act the part :)

This photo made my day...

...And reminded me why I need not despair during sad times. There is a big difference. Thank you Ali.

I stole this photo from my very talented sister in law. Like her, many of you fellow bloggers are either photographers or artists of another format. I'm sure you will appreciate this portrait and all it captures...(it's even better if you know this firecracker of a boy).

He is looking at his mother.
He is in a hero's world.

A dream unconquerable,
Fearless, exuberant. All is made known by

His gaze
Lighted by playful youth-
His eye
A flint which sparks faith unmuted.

The boy is a lionheart
Huddled in a young frame.

He is in a hero's world.
He is looking at his mother.



***The poem is mine and was done as a therapeutic effort. This whole thing with sweet Hser Nay has thrown me for a bigger loop than I would've thought. Ali's photo reminded me that youth is a reminder of things truly endless, faith-filled and full of hope. I just wanted to make sure I made a legitimate crease on my brain-lest I forget again :)

And yes, I used the word "lest".

Music Monday

Sweetness!

Thanks to the Birdhaus Blog, I've found a way to post music onto my blog. And not just onto my blog, but within a post. And not just within the post, but I can use MY OWN music, from MY own computer!

I have long been searching for a widget that will do those very things. Being Mac-dumb and HTML illiterate has made this search very complicated and until now, insufficient.

You know what this means? It's MUSIC MONDAY, Baby! (Listening is optional)

My first song comes from this White Stripes album:
De Stijl

"Let's Build A Home" (1:58)

WHY?
1. Because it's the song my kids and I dance-jam to, when we've got a case of the three O'clock slumps.
2. Because it's the first song I thought of when testing out this new widget.

Also of "Note":

• Rumor has it, that the recording in the beginning is of Jack White (when he was a boy) and his parents.
• De Stijl is Dutch for "The Style" (an artistic movement also known as Neoplasticism).
  

Enjoy! Or not ;)

boomp3.com

a morning reverie

I woke today,

my heel bruised and aching.

I think I have finally
stomped you out for good.

I'm not angry for my lot.
I'm not going to resent the price
my Mother paid.

The sacrifice she made
I understand now.

You don't visit my dreams anymore.
Is it because, like Him, you are here
Always?

I know Whom I choose
and my heels will be bruised

For the crushing of you.

artwork: "Eve" - Levy Dhurmer - 1896

Wednesday's Whetting

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LAST WEEK:

(boys chose this for their room)

(Ada chose this for her room)

Okay, this project was not what I thought (what project is, right?) But that's okay. I'm not nearly finished, but I hope to at least be done with the boys' room tonight. Ada's room is a disaster (dumb cement wall). I won't go into detail. A few lessons learned:

1. Plaster is a taunting, evil compound. Now I know what people were complaining about. I was hesitant to hang pictures before, now I'm pretty sure I won't as long as I live here.
2. Water is life for the body, death for this basement.
3. Small rooms are hard to organize/prep for painting (where do I put the furniture???) But cleaning walls and taping goes super quick!
4. It feels REALLY good to be doing something for my house, even if I make a hundred mistakes.
5. There was no other way for me to really learn this stuff without actually starting.
6. My kids are so excited about their colors, the anticipation has been very rewarding (I just hope they like the end product).

Pictures may or may not come. These bedrooms are so small, I'm not sure I could get any good ones. We'll see.

THIS WEEK'S CHALLENGE:

dreams

(I CAN'T FIND ANY DETAILS ABOUT THIS PICTURE...IF ANYONE HAS ANY INFO, I WOULD LOVE TO KNOW MORE, THANKS!)

I read an article in Psychology Today titled "Dreams: Night School", which explained how one study showed that dreams are a way of helping us to prepare for dangerous or stressful situations... to be deprived of sleep, we lose our defensive edge, not because of fatigue but because we missed out on our mental training during REM. (Click here to see this and other articles on dreams).

While reading I realized I hadn't dreamed in a while (at least that I could remember). I was able to recall a few nights back, that I was laughing so hard, I kind of woke myself up. Sam says I do this a lot... Dreams are fun, terrifying, crazy, elating, confusing and altogether cool. I've had many dreams with a sky just like the one in the picture above, where the clouds are low, the sky some stark color. Only, in my dreams they roll and tumble, moving fast across the sky. It's kind of scary, but I love when I dream of clouds like that.

So I decided, for this week, to make sure I have a notebook and pencil at my bedside, and when I wake in the morning, I'm going to write down my dreams/first thoughts.

Why this challenge?

1. Because it has nothing to do with housework :)

2. To enhance creativity: Because almost every day I wake up with a song in my head, and sometimes it's not one I've heard before. I'd like to keep track.

• Once, I was trying to think of a good guitar rhythm to fit a song I wrote, and I woke up one day with this fun beat in my head. I hopped out of bed, found a scratch paper, and wrote it down as best I could. I promptly lost the scratch paper - that annoys me.
  
• I also occasionally wake up with phrases or words, and I think, "hey, that would be great for a song" or "that's a great thought. I need to remember that". But I don't remember.

3. For Fun:

• It would be fun to have glimpses of my dreams written down, and see if the crazy songs correlate at all, like a dream soundtrack. Did that dream I had about Johnny Depp fall on the same night I woke up singing "It's So Easy to Fall in Love" ??? Hmmmmm....
  

4. To Enhance Relationships?:

• I think sometimes my subconscious is telling me to call Grandma. Once I dreamt of a friend of mine, we were in the mall and she just broke down. She was extremely discouraged, crying and exhausted. I woke up thinking, "I'm going to bring her flowers". Did I do it? Nope. Forgot. Did she need them? Maybe, maybe not. But I wouldn't mind getting flowers from a friend - good day or bad, y'know?

Well, that's it. I've got to get back to finishing last weeks project ;)

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Currently Reading...

"Catch the Wind" -Robert McIntosh, Muskagee (Creek) Nation- Date??


DESERT NOTES. RIVER NOTES.
By Barry Lopez

I am enjoying this book, because it's not like a novel you can just plow through in a couple of days. It's full of great imagery, and poetic, but I don't think it classifies as poetry...it's just a compilation of random chapters, or notes. I would describe it as "abstract", but I'm not exactly sure how to use that word correctly. :)

My favorite chapter so far is called, "The Wind". I have always loved windy days (except when biking). Watching the trees sway - the sensation of everything being stirred by an invisible flow. I love how Barry Lopez describes it in this book. The chapter begins with a woman...

"She is lying on her side in the dust; she is sightseeing along the curve of the desert floor."

She is watching an ant, when the wind comes and,

"she can feel the air bending like water around the soles of her feet...flowing up over her ears like hands burying in her hair; coming up the side of her leg, around below her hip under her back where there is space between her and the earth, back across her chest and gone, over her arm, tingle, finger, stretch, gone. Tongues of air roping like coils, water brushing dry leaving all the pores of her flesh puckered. With her head to one side she can see it touch out on the desert floor, gone."

***

I had so much fun looking for wind artwork to post on the blog. I found many that I really liked. I also stumbled across this wonderful Emily Dickinson poem:

XXIV

Of all the sounds despatched abroad,
There's not a charge to me
Like that old measure in the boughs,
That phraseless melody

The wind does, working like a hand
Whose fingers brush the sky,
Then quiver down, with tufts of tune
Permitted gods and me.

When winds go round and round in bands,
And thrum upon the door,
And birds take places overhead,
To bear them orchestra,

I crave him grace, of summer boughs,
If such an outcast be,
He never heard that fleshless chant
Rise solemn in the tree,

As if some caravan of sound
On deserts, in the sky,
Had broken rank,
Then knit, and passed
In seamless company.

"Undine in the Wind" -Arthur Rackham- '69??


***

I probably should write about the beautiful snowy day we're having here in Salt Lake... It's really coming down! Maybe tomorrow.