No capes. Just courage.
cotton ball sky, Canon 300D
“People travel to wonder at the height of the mountains, at the huge waves of the sea, at the long course of rivers, at the vast compass of the ocean, at the circular motion of the stars; and they pass by themselves without wondering.”
– St. Augustine
bird flying at sunset, Canon 300D
Photo Friday’s theme this week is “Sunset.”
Michael Bernard Loggins, Canon 300D
What I did yesterday to change my life for the better was visit Michael Bernard Loggins at Creativity Explored. We figured out that we’ve been friends for 6 years or more now and no matter how long it’s been since I’ve visited him, he always leaps out of his seat with a huge grin, shouts “Andrea!!!” and gives me the biggest squeeze.
He asked me how I was and I said, “I’ve had my ups and downs…” And he smiled and said, “It’s like that song by a lady called Esther Williams, “Everybody in the world’s got their ups and downs” and then he laughed out loud and high-fived me.
And somehow I felt better…
Fagan’s Cross, Hana, Maui, Canon 300D
Rob Brezsny’s current newsletter poses the following question: “What’s the single thing you could do right now that would change your life for the better?”
rusty something, Canon 300D
A big thank you to everyone who helped me with my comment spam tsunami. I still have some things to sort out, but there is hope! So thanks for being so generous with your knowledge.
In the meantime (while I continue deleting until my fingers cramp) you can enjoy some half baked ideas, adventure tales from the road , and some musical delights.
Also, if you have a photoblog and would like to be part of a book, visit my friend Chris Colin. He is putting together a book called Citizen Journalist about we photobloggie types. You will like him. Go tell him why you do what you do. He has a book deal and everything. And he is so nice.
spackling paste, Canon Eos
I’ve had a most unfortunate morning today of receive 1,078 comments on my blog from evil spammers {with no heart or soul} and only porn sites to show for themselves. I have been going in and hand-deleting them, but I have hundreds more to go… Needless to say, I’m yanking my hair out with this one.
I use mt-blacklist and checked out the support forum on Movable Type. Apparently others are having the same problem! But I haven’t heard any solutions yet.
Is anyone else having this problem? Does anyone know how to fix it? If this continues I won’t be able to have a comments section at all.
And I would miss you.
I really would.
Kim, Canon Eos
Photo Friday’s theme this week is “Mother.”
Chris on the bluffs, Hana, Maui, Canon 300D
Sometimes I am fascinated by what a picture says and what it doesn’t say. The above photo is of my dear friend Chris Harrington. He is taking us on a tour of the bluffs across the street from his house in Hana and we are all speculating about the looming rain clouds. Will they pass us by? Should we turn around? Does it matter?
This picture doesn’t tell you what happened after the rainclouds, that within seconds we were caught in a dumping, soaking, torrential downpour. It doesn’t show us giddy, laughing, blinded by all the water, running back to the house. I haven’t jogged in about 15 years and I am winded but happy, holding my camera under my t-shirt that is getting more and more transparent. I feel like the cheesy dancing/crying/kissing-in-the-rain moments of Hollywood movies. For the first time in my life, I can see why the concept is so appealing and that it is actually plausible. (I had always thought of these scenes as complete fiction.)
This picture may not tell you that Chris is one of my dearest friends on Earth and that he is one of those people that creates life wherever he goes (he is a walking celebration) and is so wise that you may never know he is dispensing wisdom. This picture doesn’t tell you that at Burning Man a couple of years ago, Chris suddenly picked up my friend Sasha and walked with her in his arms saying, “Everyone needs a break once in a while…”
From this picture, you might not know that he is a Buddha in disguise.
*
If I showed you a picture of the waterfall we hiked to the next day, it would tell you a story of beauty, of magnificence, of magestic tropical awesomeness. You wouldn’t know what the photo didn’t tell. You wouldn’t know that we had lunch on a hill across from it, and that, only a few moments after the shot, we heard a cracking so loud that all of our breath immediately stopped. It was the unmistakable sound of the earth splitting open.
We looked up to see a cliff above us and an avalanche of rocks pouring down.
Panicked, I duck-and-covered (I am a California girl, what can I say? It’s all I know how to do) and prayed that we wouldn’t die… I felt Matt lay his body over me, protecting me. Then I heard him say, “We have to get down the hill fast!” and so we ran down the muddy slope, sliding much of the way (I have horrendous multi-colored bruises on my legs). When we were all down and safe, I immediately burst into tears.
Chris, who had fallen down the hill behind us, did a complete somersault and we almost lost him off the cliff (thank God I did not see this). We were all shaking as we hiked home, but in regular Chris Harrington fashion, he laughed the whole way back…
plumeria bloom, Hana, Maui, Canon 300D
It’s so difficult to put into words what we experienced in Hana… Should I talk about the scent of pink plumeria blooms in the yard? Or the tree that rained fresh avocados on us each day? I could talk about the moist air filled with flowery, sweet guava as we hiked through a muddy trail to Seven Pools, or maybe the bamboo forest where the bamboo grew so thick and tall, it was like nighttime in there; only tiny beams of light dappling the earth.
I could talk to you about the clouds for days, about their mottled blues and greys and how everywhere you looked there was a new show of turbulent shapes that would twist and stretch across the green pastures. I could talk about so many cattle grazing over Hana Ranch, that sometimes all you could see were cows and ocean and sky for miles… and how we hiked by them one day and held our breath and walked ever so gently, waiting for the males with huge horns to charge us.
But maybe I should just talk to you about blues and greens; the blue of the ocean with hints of black in it, as if the dark sand of the beaches was peeking through. The bright clear turquoise water of Hamoa beach and the dusty sand you felt in your toes as the waves washed over. I could talk to you about the bright lime of the bamboo trees or the dark forest of pines that edged the bluffs over the ocean. I could talk to you about the black of lava rock walls and cliffs.
I could talk to you about Venus Pool and Blue Pool and Seven Pools and our hike to see unimaginable waterfalls. I could talk to you about the brown of the Hawaiian’s skin.
So much water, so much rain, so much green, so many flowers, so much rock, so many clouds, and SO many avocados. So much beauty it was hard to hold. Sometimes when I looked at the sky, I had to look away for a few minutes and look back just to be able to really see it again. I didn’t want to ever get used to its briliance and magic. I wanted to see over and over again.
When I think about our trip, I am reminded of abundance and fertility, of lushness and green and of life’s inevitability. I am reminded that in spite of ourselves (our resistance) that we will grow and change shape and become ripe and fall… and that we are a part of the grand Everything doing just that.
Leokane told me that there is a joke in Hana that you can put a chopstick in the ground and it will grow. From what I saw, (life bursting out of every crack and every inch) I wouldn’t be surprised.
We are meant to grow, to be green, to be rich. We are meant to be big and robust and colorful and full. We are meant to be alive and we are meant to give life, in whatever form that takes.
tiny island off Koki Beach, Hana, Maui, Canon 300D
Photo Friday’s theme this week is “Ocean.”
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