In Photography, I’m inspired by works of others – so interesting and often enlightening.
Just when I figure out what makes a great image, I’m knocked over – to see through another’s eyes. Stopped in my tracks.
Where do they get these wonderful images. I’m loving it more and more.
In blogging, I’m alerted when another blogger likes somethings or follows the blog I do. Out of curiosity, I began looking at their blogs. It too has become a humbling experience – what others feel and express… I don’t think I’m naive, but this, for me is true beauty. Often like a song that reaches my soul, near tears. And there are so many – sayers of things, feelings, expressing without reserve. Poems that cut through the ordinary, personal stories – deep and telling, from around the world truly a community. Often, my soul is quieted, my thought given wings and I wonder where all these angles of vision come from.
And just yesterday I received this Comment on a recent post – Montmartre, Paris…
Good day to you. This mime is my husband… Beautiful picture, I research this, because it is very important for him… Alexandre worked at Montmartre many years. He was very known. This pic moves me… Marie
Who would ever have thought that an image taken in obscurity 20 years ago, would find it’s way back to the someone half a world away in quite this way. We are not alone on the venture we call life. There are few if any mistakes. And what we take for granted often turns out to be something quite different.
So blog if you can. Allow your musings to have life. As Harvey Lloyd says, “If Your Life Bores You, Risk It.” His Breaking The Light, and discussions on the artist are worth a look. At first they looked like just some colorful scribbles I might have in my own files. But this is serious stuff, purposeful.
The Nightingale of the East
Amidst the flowering plants of a garden in Egypt sat a nightingale of great beauty. Its soaring song filled the Oasis with lilting melody. Its song was a carol of love; a message of peace from out of the heart of the Infinite, stilling the waves of a world of sense.
Knowest thou, O Bird, of the peace that fares forth with thy song? Knowest thou of the strife that is stilled by the melody from thy throat? Nay, the nightingale knows naught of the power of its
song and less of the unrest that is quieted by its sound.
So, should ye be as the song of God pours forth from you —the willing carrier of the divine message— yet unaware of the power of your being and still less aware of the troubled hearts ye quiet with your melody of love. — Joel S. Goldsmith, reprinted with permission