Inspirations>>>Mid-Summer '09

Collecting inspirations to share here at The Blue Room, I offer the The Sun Magazine. This fine publication has always held a favorite place with our family.
It's a high quality, fine arts/writing and photography magazine that generally is a cover to cover read. It's been very interesting following it online. The cyber version has kept my appetite piqued while away from my own library and mailbox and as always, the monthly literary themes seem to anticipate events.
July '09 is a fine example.

Then, there's a delightful find -via- The Poetry Foundation where the front story, by Jenny Jarvie, is about the astonishing literary collection of Raymond Danowski. All of us who've spent time and investment honing our private libraries, wondering what might come of them beyond our caring devotion, will enjoy this remarkable story.

Today, I was also given a grand treat by friend and fine writer, Terry Collett. Terry introduced me to the classic photography of Julia Cameron. This is an example of her tremendous portraits taken in the mid 1800's. Expect a feature article comparing her soft focus work to contemporary photographers such as Sally Mann, and Patrisha McLean.



The end of July brings us closer to the high peak of summer where many of the best afternoons and evenings are spent drawing, exploring good books and writing our own creations.

Tuck away in a shadowy bower or nook. Stay attentive and enjoy!

A Change In The Weather

The land's been dry since the melting of all that snow. They say it's been the hottest May and early June in a great many years but I've been gone away watching the old one grow much older so I really can't relate. Now that I'm back, I'm frankly thrilled to find summer means business.

This afternoon I was indoors, hidden from the mosquitoes. They were so thick out there that to stand in one place for a few moments can attract hundreds, ("Let go of the hose and walk away! Ade! Let go of the hose and walk...away!")

I found myself watching the green treetops, fingering the overcast gray. They were tickling the underside of cloud cover. Tiny breezes. Not enough to waft away the buzzing clouds haunting the screens, but enough to make all visuals beyond the windows purely hypnotic.

I splayed my insides open a little further (been locked down such a long time, you know, staying still for the frail and elderly), and when I did, the breeze seemed to gather a little.

"Hell, widen up baby". The breeze snuck right on in through the parted window, across my belly, up into the opening parts of me, over my bare shoulders and down my back.

I thrust my chin upward and listened to the river clawing away at the banks. The score performed is a roiling symphony that when combined with robin song and that pervasive buzz at the screen, well, the sounds can just slide down into your veins. I let 'em have their way.

You know, I could tell without even peeking, that the breezes were picking up steam to perform a tiny miracle; a sudden dampness made every hair tingle.
The silver-dollar flat splats on the red steel roof were the tapping of as many raindrops as there were mosquitoes. The stinging nettled winged ones were backing off a little, shrinking and swirling into their myriad damp enclosures.

As the cold wet gift from heaven let spill its blessing through out the parched forest and across the river flat. A sharp, surprising, inhale reached out from below my navel.

And then the smell.

Oh the smell... a sweetness indescribable.

Written Into The Score/ added to and revised Tues. May 19, '09

This morning, a fine radio interview that I'd like to share in some capacity here...

From Radio West 5/19/09:

"You've probably thought about how your e-mail and texting and twittering are dividing your attention - and that it's having a real impact on your life.

Beyond the anecdotal evidence, behavioral science writer Winifred Gallagher says that "focus" may actually be a biological necessity (ade asks:"this is news?"). Attention, she says, is a finite resource and using it wisely is the key to a more productive and healthy life. Gallagher has a new book. It's called Rapt."

From a site called ARTSOPOLIS (reviewer not identified):

"In Rapt, acclaimed behavioral science writer, Winifred Gallagher makes the radical argument that the quality of your life largely depends on what you choose to pay attention to and how you choose to do it. Gallagher grapples with provocative questions, driving us to reconsider what we think we know about attention.

No matter what your quotient of wealth, looks, brains, or fame, increasing your satisfaction means focusing more on what really interests you and less on what doesn’t. In asserting its groundbreaking thesis, (ade again, "groundbreaking? huh!"),
Rapt yields fresh insights into the nature of reality and what it means to be fully alive.

Gallagher’s books include House Thinking, Just the Way You Are (a New York Times Notable Book), Working on God, and The Power of Place. She has written for numerous publications, such as Atlantic Monthly, Rolling Stone, and the New York Times."

The interview was dynamite. Gallagher has a wonderful, science based presentation fused with a practicality and personal story that I found quite engaging. I'd love to have an audio recording of the Radio West interview (a podcast would work for others).

Although I'm caught surprised, as an alien from another planet might be, that we are forever reinventing the wheel towards understanding "mind", it seems we humans are cycling closer and closer towards some sort of center.

Ever developing "Home", the one between our ears.

...riding it out, wave upon wave till the interior buzz and spectral connections gently lend toward mend; flush, mend, back-bend, suspend and again to find a piece of what no one else has touched; the tiny memory of star; and hope.

Then the chorus sang with a part well written for your voice alone. Offered as invitation, to accept or refuse. In that, lay-away home... the "Home" of one's own making.

... a place to sing, or dance, depending...

...or choose to refrain from either.


I'm EVER SO happy to have been from an intensely quiet and focused environment during all of my adulthood. My previously fractured heart and brain have been given room to develop gently, and at my own pace.

From On High

Oh, To Be A Sari Clad Satellite

Would I distinguish the myriad messages coming through?

Would I know who was sending, and like an old time switchboard operator, know how to plug in the appropriate connections?

Would I indulge the temptation to listen in, reaping vicariously the joys, thoughts and despair of both the signals transmitted and received?

Would I, out of devotion to my beloved, always orbit closely or would I spin off regularly to allow chaos to remix the signals?

And would I be self maintaining as I've always been or would on occasion some Earth centered entity send out a little support?

And YES, that I might still catch the drift from my favorite messengers, and, as I have on occasion, be compelled to drop the Sari that I might dance unencumbered in the cool night sky.

(she's left wanting the XM signal...)

Petal Visions Bricolage

Jazz Man Do!

A flood spray of honey dream

our coolest frantic summer play

rose two so delicately together

pink pole goddess read my mad black moon egg

I felt it incubate behind a delirious whispered scream



Winter produced vision at your will

my feet are now shaking me about

producing a forest lather... drunk as sweat

pounding a thousand elaborate wants

blood petals drip their sweet chocolate eternity