Laurie Klein, Scribe

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Natural . . . infinite . . . yes: photo meditation

by Laurie Klein 29 Chiming In

Natural, infinite, yes—what images do these words conjure for you?

Scouting the Natural World

Last weekend Dreamer and I attended photography classes in Stehekin, Washington.

A four-hour boat trip up Lake Chelan launched the last leg of our journey. Dreamer sat on the deck absorbing scenery. Anticipating camera jargon I wouldn’t know, I sat inside at a table to (finally) read my camera manual (well, part of it).

After the first class, we bundled up in our rain gear, then explored the local harvest festival, cameras ready.

Time seemed to slow down despite the dank weather as I scouted unusual natural images.

Like this sundial faithfully doing its work. In the rain.

natural time

My goal was to “receive” the images rather than “take” them, a photography method I learned from Christine Valters-Paintner. 

Time became elastic as I paid close attention to my surroundings. Perhaps I can offer you a taste. Will you join me in a visual meditation today?

Visio Divina

Visio Divina is a way of seeing, an ancient spiritual practice which invites the viewer to be fully present, attentive to imagery and its possible messages to the viewer’s spirit.

Perhaps these photos will beckon you toward rest. Contemplation. Memory. I’ve interwoven them among lines of a favorite e. e. cummings poem.

i thank You God for most this amazing day

 reflections

for the leaping greenly spirits of trees

hillside spirit

and a blue true dream of sky

natural kite

and for everything which is natural

natural wonder

which is infinite

spirit moving over the waters

which is yes

Biblio Diva Discovers the Eggs

(I who have died am alive again today: and this is the sun’s birthday

flames against a rain-streaked window

this is the birthday of life

Green sprouts form a clump of dirt cupped in two hands

and of love

While a Baby Slept

and wings

 Wings, waiting

and of the gay

great happening illimitably earth)

Rainbow in the waterfall

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any—lifted from the no
of all nothing—human merely being

doubt unimaginable You?

Natural light, Yearning's door

(now the ears of my ears awake and

Unshelved Bell Finds New Home

now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

natural blue eyes

When did you last encounter a natural, infinite yes? Were you seeking the experience, or did it come as a gift?

Laurie Klein, Scribe

“i thank You God for most this amazing” by E.E. Cummings, from 100 Selected Poems. © Grove Press, 1994. Reprinted with permission. (buy now)

Filed Under: Soul Mimosas Tagged With: natural, photo essay, Visio Divina October 11, 2016

Butterflies Worth Befriending

by Laurie Klein 6 Chiming In

So much depends on the angle of light, and the way you squint.
—Margaret Atwood


Butterflies, for instance . . .

big for their britches butterflies

How would you caption this photo?

Little bug, big attitude? Walk softly, and cast a long shadow? Dracu-fly wannabe with serious Cape Envy?

I almost missed this miniature drama at my feet. Dreamer noticed the lone butterfly. I chose where I would stand in relation to the light (a mindset I hope to keep cultivating).

Photo-ops surround us, waiting to be absorbed. Received, rather than taken.

Even for rookies, like me. [Read more…]

Filed Under: Immersions Tagged With: butterflies, Gift, nerves, Risk September 27, 2016

Remembering: Being Present to the Past

by Laurie Klein 8 Chiming In

Remembering Mama

Life began with waking up and loving my mother’s face.
—George Eliot

Dear readers, our daughter and soon-to-be-formally adopted grandbaby, Keira, are feeling their way forward, day by day. And sometimes, when the baby’s drug withdrawal symptoms worsen, hour by hour. Thank you for your ongoing prayers. (Catch up on our miracle here.)


Remembering means
being fully present—to the past

Anyone else with a complex parental relationship?

I’ve been questioning my dry-eyed, ongoing numbness over my mother’s death, a few years ago.

Weeping neither proves nor validates one’s depth of love or loss: I learned this at “Grief Share,” a 12-week class for the bereaved.

A relief, yes.

Still, I needed more. [Read more…]

Filed Under: BiblioDiva Tagged With: anger, dementia, mother, rememering, run away September 17, 2016

Windfall: Urgent, Instant, Demanding Joy

by Laurie Klein 24 Chiming In

Windfall —”an unexpected gain” — who wouldn’t want one?

Oh, have I got a story for you, a tale worth a roomful of candles and cake . . . windfall of candles

S.O.S.

One week ago the local adoption agency phoned our eldest daughter, mother to our 16-month-old grandson. The agency’s request was urgent, the need, dire.

A struggling newborn in the Deaconess Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) needed someone to help her learn to eat. Hopefully, to thrive. Overworked nurses wanted someone calm and caring to hold one tiny girl, coax her into life. Would our daughter come?

She and her husband weighed the risks. There were many.

Still, she went. Stepped right into miraculous, heart-wrenching chaos for five days. We met our newest little one in NICU that first evening. Ashen and frail, with an awkward feeding port in her skull and cords snaking off to various monitors, she looked like a small electric doll. [Read more…]

Filed Under: Immersions Tagged With: adoption, love, Risk, unexpected, windfall, wonder, yes August 30, 2016

Space: Creativity’s New Frontier?

by Laurie Klein 26 Chiming In

Space

Day 1: I wake to the heady pine scent of Christmas—the morning I’ve dreaded (backstory here).

Our trees are falling. Heartwood splinters like gunfire.

Out in the air-conditioned Forestry Bobcat with its whiz-bang red Masticator, the contractor we hired knocks over bug-ridden pines. Each living, still-photosynthesizing tree explodes. Detritus sprays 300 feet.

space is made

Goodbye, fairy-tale forest. Farewell, shadowy habitat for owls, deer, small furry critters. Our once-magical backyard seems doomed.

Our contractor follows another man wielding his chainsaw against the larger victims of pine bark beetles.

forest space made by chainsaw

Their plan seems haphazard, the destruction acute.

"Timber-r-r-r-rr-!"

I can hardly bear the new emptiness.

Absence hurts. [Read more…]

Filed Under: Immersions Tagged With: absence, curate, edit, space August 9, 2016

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