Flowers

God must work overtime to create the beauty of a flower. I took these in the gardens at Virginia Western Community College earlier today. You can click on them for a larger view.

Tom

A blessed afternoon

I drove up to the Peaks of Otter this afternoon. The last time I was there they had drained the lake and it was a mucky, unsightly mess, but they have begun to fill it again and while it's still low, it is picturesque again, maybe two thirds full. The other third is a sea of green grasses and cat tails.

The cat tails were particularly beautiful. Normally we see pictures of cat tails in the fall, when the fronds have turned all brown and the brown cattails are almost fluffy from opening and releasing their seeds. But this time of year, the fronds are like spring flowers, giant tulip fronds or daylillys, and the cattail is tight and brown, all in all far more beautiful than the fall pictures we so often see.


I have not felt well or been my self this past few weeks, and today, walking in the hot August sun, in the midst of all God's green beauty, I felt a peace come back over me, a peace I have missed for a some time. I was able to simply savor what was there in front of me. I was able to think, ponder and pray in peace.

I expected the Peaks to be busy. It is Labor Day weekend after all. But it was not so busy. A few others were walking around the lake, maybe two or three couples. And there were a few up at the lodge waiting for it to be dinner time. But all in all, it was still. So still you could see the sky and the mountains reflected in the water.


I almost didn't make the trip today. It was so hot, nearly a hundred degrees, and I was tired. I almost gave in and took a nap. But instead I pushed myself to drive up and walk, and by putting myself in nature, turned an ordinary day into a blessed day. I feel better for it.

Tom

PS - you can click on the pictures for larger versions.

Poem: August Rain

August Rain

rain
slowly,
finally,
begins
to fall,

filling
the earth
with life
giving water,
ending
drought

drop
by drop
for days

========
After ages without rain, we finally got a long soaking one here in the valley. Days of the stuff. This poem is simply an word picture I wrote to celebrate. Unlike most of my poems, there is only that single layer of meaning. Enjoy the precious rain!

Tom

Wordless Wednesday

Wordless Wednesday started as a way for bloggers to post a single picture on Wednesdays, without words, then link back to other bloggers who were doing the same thing. It made for a great way to see some amazing photographs from all around the world. Now the idea has grown so much they are wordless all week long, and that makes it an even better way to see the work of some great photographers. Interested? Go here.

Tom

PS - The photograph here was taken in the Roanoke rail yards. You can click on it for a larger version.

Poem: After

After

Tomorrow, or the day after,
the grass will be greener,
nourished by the rain
that has not yet begun,
but is almost here.

You can smell it's damp heaviness in the air,
and the uniform dark clouds
announce it's immanence.
You are sure of it,
even though it has not arrived,

certain enough that you can see beyond the brown shards
of grass in front of your home,
to something more -
what will be,
on the day after
the rain. -

To life,
and growth,
a softening of the ground and the grass,
to a field alive
with wildflower color,
as it was meant to be.

=================

All afternoon today, I could sense the much needed rain approaching, which is what brought this poem on. While I gave it 1-2 days in the poem, now that the rain has begun, I can already see the grass greening in front of my apartment, and that is such a good thing to see.

The picture is from along the D&H trail in Rupert, VT, a trail along an abandoned train track. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom

Poem: Spire

Spire
Psalm 30:5

In the morning light
you see less of the cracked paint,
and broken siding.

Your eye is not drawn
to the fingerling cracks in the windows,
or the tired wooden steps.

No, you see the light,
the colors of a new day,
and the eternity of seeking,

a reminder of why each morning is precious,
each day a gift,
each promise of God, real.

============

The picture was taken in Pawlet, VT. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom

Quote of the Week, August 24, 2008

"We are each of us angels with only one wing, and we can only fly embracing one another." - Luciano de Crescenzo.

Since 1991, I have put a "quote of the week" at the end of my e-mails. Often people ask me if I can pull up this quote or another and generally, I can't. So I decided to begin posting my quote of the week here on my blog. If you want to see a list of them, just hit the "quotes" tag to the right and they should all come up for you to view.

The picture is of stairs at the Dupont house in Longwood Gardens, and the upward spiral made me think of rising upward, like angels. You can click on it to get a larger view.

Tom

Poem: Psalm

Psalm

I will create, says the Lord.
From nothing, I will create.
From barren ground, gardens will spring.
From ravished cities, new empires will rise.
From the desert, water will flow.

I will create says the Lord,
from nothing, I will create.
For it is at my essence, creation.
I know the secret others do not see
though it dances in front of them daily.

I will create says the Lord,
from nothing, I will create.
And there is no spirit so broken,
no heart so torn, no weakness so overwhelmed,
that cannot be recreated, made anew.

I will create says the Lord,
from nothing, I will create.
And none are exempt
from my love, my power, my desire
to create.

============

The poem was actually inspired not by a Psalm, but by Isaiah 65:10, which was part of my devotions this morning - "The voice of weeping shall no more be heard.". The picture is from one of my many hikes along the trails in Southwest Virginia. I liked the way the line of the trees moved your eyes skyward. You can click on if for a larger version.

Tom

Poem: Depression

Depression

In revolutionary France, orphans
were taught the opposite of truth,
that white was black, and up was down.
From birth to sixteen,
their life was a lesson in lies,
until the moment
the truth was revealed,

and they were exposed to the world as it is,
and so much they were taught
was unveiled as lies,
that they no longer believed anything,
either the truth or the lies,
and without belief
most went mad,

victims of this experiment in cruelty
that told a truth:
that lies breed doubt,
and doubt breeds madness,
like the world we live in, or

the mind of a depressed soul
who cannot see the value
God places on all his dear children,
even the broken,
even the mad.

=========

The picture is of Poplar Forest, Jefferson's "other" home. The only relationship it has to the poem is that Jefferson loved France. You may click on it for a larger version.

Tom

Think Simple

I think I have a new site to add to my list of favorite and oft-visited blogs. I found it while doing a search on Creativity using the new and very cool search engine called Cuil. It's called "Think Simple Now." and like many of the blogs I seem to like the most, subject matter seems to go all over the map, from Personal Happiness, to Fulfillment, to Clarity and Wellbeing. The style is clear. Every topic comes with some step by step thoughts on how to get from point A to point B, and the avid and large group of readers always seem to have great ideas that enhance the listings.

Definitely good reading.

Tom

Poem: The Resurrection Garden

The Resurrection Garden

The rose garden is blighted,
a victim of neglect and disease.
The passionate red flowers

that thrived here two decades and more,
that filled the air with color and fragrance
and thrilled the heart and eye, are dead,

their leaves black, the stalks empty
of even the smallest bloom.
Only the thorns remain.

What work it is to replant the garden!
Every dead rose you dig from the ground
has deep roots, and their rot

fills the air with sickening odor
so foul, you wish to flee, but you persist.

And when you are done,
when the last rosebush is pulled from the earth,
you discover there is anticipation stronger than disgust.

What to plant there now? Something different,
for you can never recreate the carpet of passionred
that was once this garden. You begin.

There will be winter certainly,
cold and harsh and bitter,
and the garden will lie fallow the whole season,

but then will come the undeniable spring,
and the seeds and bulbs you so carefully plant this day
will bring something new,

a riot of joyful, new colors,
a painting of exotic fragrances,
a resurrection garden of life born anew.

===========

The picture is from Longwood Gardens in PA. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom

Poem: Dried Flowers

Dried Flowers

The flowers are long dead,
their once velvety violet petals
now brittle and crepe paper dry;
their proud heads now fallen
and bowed, yet like love long lost,

not merely a reminder of what was,
but a thing of beauty in themselves,
a brittle perfection worth preserving,
even in death.

===========

The picture is of some flowers my daughter bought for herself and has kept in her room for the past few weeks. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom

Poem: Shadow on the Wall

Shadow on the Wall

Only one shadow on the wall.
One glass of wine on the table.
A single chair drawn up to the fire.

while the candle on the sill burns low,
a solitary light, about to fall dark
as you look out the window,

at your car, lit by a street lamp
on an empty street,
late in the night of the soul.
=============

The picture was taken in the parking lot of Natural Bridge, and at the time, I was anything but alone. You can read more and see more pictures of Natural Bridge in the post that follows this one. You can also click on the picture above for a larger version.

Tom

Natural Bridge

Last night several people from our Small Group at church (for those of you who don't know, because I didn't until I began going to this church, Small Group is like a Sunday School class.) went to dinner at Natural Bridge. They have a semi famous (in these parts) seafood buffet. One of our members knows the people there, and got free passes for Natural Bridge itself, so I took a couple of hours and went down to the bridge.

It was a delightful night, and reminder of one of the values of church that we often neglect - fellowship in personal intimacy with other people of faith. It was not a night of church talk, but day to day, personal life. Sharing ourselves with friends, even new friends such as these are with me, has a deep value to our hearts. We were not made to be alone.

The Bridge is one of the 7 Natural Wonders of the world, and it really is something special. It had rained off and on through the day and there was a mist in the air that gave the colors, particularly the greens, a particular vibrancy. Below are some of the pictures I took, to give you an idea. You can click on the pictures for a larger view.

Tom

=========

Poem: Music in a Foriegn Language

Music in a Foreign Language

French cafe music wafts
off the radio as you drive,
the top down,
oblivious of the trucks and cars
that pass you on the interstate,

your mind lost
in the sound of music
in a language whose words
you do not understand,
yet whose soul,
you do;

and so you listen, lost
in the croon of romance
to matchstick guitars,
a thing foreign,
yet hungrily yearned for

as you drive the long miles
to a place you call home,
despite it's emptiness.
The song's words caress your hope,
bringing you joy and sadness,
all at once, a lullaby
of all that is misunderstood
and desired.

==============

The picture is of a double decker bus that lives, not in London, but in front of a pub in St. Augustine Florida, one of my favorite places to eat in the entire universe. You can click on it for a larger version. And yes, I really do love French cafe music and no, I really don't understand the words when I listen. You figure.

Tom

Poem: A Place of Peace

A Place of Peace

A single wood duck swims with her children
over rippled water, dappled with light,
past the spreading roots of ancient cypress,
the water reflecting the bright sky

and the forest that surrounds you.
Wind rustles through the trees,
and water dances over the rugged beaver dam.
A bass jumps and splashes far in the distance

as you sit an a rough hewn bench
in front of the log cabin
your father and grandfather built before you were born.

This is your place of peace,
where the world does not reach,
where your soul dances with God
no matter the weather of your life.

Here you are reminded that beauty and joy persist
for those who slow down, who stop
and listen,

who can look past the post card scenery and linger long enough
to hear Gods truest song, and learn that he is there
waiting,

waiting to enfold you
with his loving embrace,
forever.

=================

The picture is from an old mill pond far back in the woods on what used to be my Grandfather's farm in Surry County. It is my own personal "place of peace". You may click on it for a larger version.

Poem: Gardens of the Heart

Gardens of the Heart

Lush. Green. Silent.
A private place,
not of crowds or talk,
but of silence and listening,
where the heart may speak,
unafraid;

A place so rare, so desired,
that your heart cries for it; and
your nights are filled with dreams
of it's existence,
and it's power to remind you,
that you exist,

that you matter,
to more than yourself,
that your heart is a thing
worth listening to,
more tender than believed,
and more strong.

===========

The picture was taken at Winterthur, in Delaware, in an pine tree garden below the house. The day I took it, the house was busy, but this spot was as quiet and peaceful as it appears, and invited quiet contemplation. You may click on it for a larger version.

Tom

Poem: Untitled

It is not what was meant,
when you were thrown here,
thrown to this place of aloneness
and diminishment.

It was not what was expected as you moved
from lavishness to a simplier life,
empty nights, and days marked
by long silences.

It was not intended, yet
it became a nourishment of soul,
a rebirth of unintended pleasures,

a new reaching Godward,
a new acceptance inward,
of a life far richer than it's trappings,

filled with quiet color,
openness, and wonder, that even in pain,
there is the possibility of joy.

====================

The picture is of Roger's Store, a museum in Surry County, Virginia. More and more as I get older, I find simpler is somehow richer and this picture, from the area where my roots lie, somehow captured that for me. You may click on the image for a larger version.

The poem itself was inspired by an entry on The Blog at Bree, quoting Solzhenitsyn on his time in prison, and the benefits of suffering.

Tom

Quote of the Week - August 10th

"Perfectionism is self abuse of the highest order." - Anne Wilson Schaef

Since 1991, I have put a "quote of the week" at the end of my e-mails. Often people ask me if I can pull up this quote or another and generally, I can't. So I decide to begin posting my quote of the week here on my blog. If you want to see a list of them, just hit the "quotes" tag to the right and they should all come up for you to view.

The picture is of the gearing at Mabry's Mill, on the Blue Ridge Parkway. That kind of mechanical perfection was the 19th century ideal, but in a life and soul, such attempts at perfection miss the mark, I believe. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom

Poem: 2 AM

2 AM
(Isaiah 21:11)

It is in the late of the night,
when the birds outside have fallen silent,
and the wind has quieted,
and the faraway traffic is no more,

when you lie alone in your bed and know
how alone you are, and why,
and you mourn, not the reality,
but the hope.

and You call out to the watchman,
not for mercy,
but for peace to sleep,
Peace not of sound, but soul,

and he reminds you
what you already know:
God's love has no timing,

only a promise that
someday, you will fly again,
on broken angel wings,
high into the night.

================

The picture was taken on the Blue Ridge Parkway, near the Purgatory Mountain outlook. You can click on if for a larger version.

Tom

A Quote I Liked

"God is beyond our imagination. Every comparison, even with father or mother, limps. Saint Augustine said, ‘God is not what you imagine or think you understand. If you understand God, you have failed.' The God we believe in is outside space and time, and surpasses all that we can conceive. " - From Sacred Space, an Irish Catholic site I frequent, despite the fact I was raised Methodist, lived most of my adult baptist, attending a Presbyterian church.

Poem: The Secret of Archeology

The Secret of Archeology

Who knows the generations of death
that lie deep beneath the soft green grass
that flattens beneath your feet?

Who can imagine the lives,
the adventures, pains, sorrows and joys
that once surged in the bodies now buried?

Dig deeply, if you desire, and
exhume the rotted flesh of the past,
seeking the secrets of death, or

wonder instead at the flowers
that grow the brightest
and rise above the shadows
in the graveyards of love.

============

Do NOT ask me what this one means. I have no idea. It just came out and I liked the images and sound of the words. Poetry is like that sometimes. The picture is of Uxmil, a temple complex in Mexico and the only thing that it has in common with the poem is the idea of archeology. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom

Poem: Sadness

Sadness

Like dusk,
it does not rob life of life,
but colors fade,
warmth cools,
the vibrancy of day slows,
and a pall falls
over everything.

It is not the end of life,
but a waystation,
a darkness deep,
but awaiting.

Poem: River Walking

River Walking

Sitting
on a rock
in the river,
water
splashing
swiftly dancing,
currents
wild
and laughing
at the folly
of
worry and pain,
the illusion
that forever is real.

The river
knows the truth,
that all
is movement,
currents,
of the moment, and the next
dancing
to a sea beyond our vision,
warm to the sun,
cold
to the touch,
and
that to remain still
is to die.

==========

The picture was taken on the James River, just below my sister's home, where I went Riverwalking yesterday. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom

A blessed day

I went for a ride yesterday afternoon to the Peaks of Otter. The last time I was there the lake had been drained, and it was a mucky mess. But they have begun to let the streams fill it back up and while it's not near full yet, it's getting there and it is once again a picturesque scene

Wild grasses and cat tails have grown up in the swampy edges of the lake, a sea of green. I am used to seeing cat tails in the fall, when the greenery is past it's prime, and the fronds are brown and the cat tail pods have opened up to release their seeds. But here in August, the fronds are rich and green, like spring flowers and the pods are smaller and less tired looking. Beautiful, more beautiful than the classic fall images we are used to seeing.


The day was still and hot. We've had rain for a few days here and it's been cool, but today it felt like August. The water was still, so still reflections were everywhere and I was able to get this shot with sky in the sky and sky in the water. No, it's not great photography, but it was great fun to look at.

It had been a long week, unfocused and I had not felt myself for much of the week. But getting out like this, soaking in the sun, being able to walk in God's beauty, to think and pray and take pictures.... it was a good way to go into a holiday weekend. I felt blessed by the day.

Tom

PS- you can click on the pictures for larger versions.

Unitasking

I just read a wonderful article in Today's Christian Woman about "Unitasking". This is the opposite of the rage today: multitasking. It particularly hit home because for the past couple of days I have been working out of my house, primarily on a single project - web site upgrades to my company's site. I've been writing, gathering links to use, going through pictures to use, marshalling the guys at the ad agency, all that stuff, with very few interruptions, and I am reminded of how much I like being able to focus on one project for a period of time. It breeds a continuity that makes for better work, no matter what the project, I think.

I think sometimes too we lose something in our personal lives by multitasking all the time. I went to a musical program Tuesday night with my daughter. She and her friends most of whom were at the show as well, were texting all through the performance. For the most part my daughter ignored the text messages and really, really took in the show. But what about all those kids texting throughout? What did they miss? Some pretty amazing stuff, because that's what happens when your attention is divided. So now when we compute, watch TV and carry on a conversation, we are doing a lot of things, but none of them as well. We miss stuff on TV, or miss stuff in the conversation, or.... well you get the idea.

I think a big reason we don't pray well into today's world, or study enough to have a satisfying and effective spiritual life is that we are so caught in the false promise of multitasking that we cannot focus and let the spirit work on us and in us. And so we never settle down and just let the word and spirit penetrate us and soak in as it should.

Don't get me wrong. There is a place for multitasking in life. At times, it's great. On an average day I bounce from thing to thing to thing in work and it's exhilarating to do sometimes, and stuff DOES get done. But to live a life where we only multitask, and never stop to unitask, I think leaves us poorer on lots of fronts, particularly on the relational and spiritual. And aren't they the most important.

I used to be the worst at this, I have to tell you. I was always doing 2-3 things at once. But I've learned the falseness of it, and the damage it can do to actually relating to people and to God - the real stuff of life. So now I multi task far less, and actually work at doing it less often, and having more time to focus on the task, person or thought at hand.

An odd thing I am learning as I do this. Unitasking is not really less efficient. It's just that work gets done differently. There's less appearance of action and progress, but look over a period of a month or more, and the same amount of work gets done (and often better) with I multi task less. THAT has been a surprise to me, but I can see it.

Not preaching here, but it's something to think about, and the article is what got me thinking.

Tom

===========

PS - The photo is of my son, in a tearoom in Tintagle, England. It was a day where we focused on the moment, whatever it was, - no cell phones, no distractions, and was one of the most simple, and delightful of days, ever, one we still talk about often, even though it was over a year ago.