went out at lunch today and shot some photos, for fun. it was a beautiful day, if a little bitter, the sun was shining and it just felt really good to be outside.
That's us, and this is the main response I've seen to the unfortunate gorilla incident. "It's the mothers' fault. She should have been watching her child better. The zoo should have had more protective measures in place to keep this from happening." All true. Perhaps. And my own initial reaction was "How did that child get down there?" But our initial reactions should have been more along the lines of: "That must have been really tough for that mother to go through. I bet she was really scared." "It's really sad that the gorilla had to die." "It's good that the child is safe and okay." Instead, we respond with judgment. Why did the mother allow this to happen? We rush to place the blame and the first place that it goes is the one person who would need compassion and support the most in a situation like this. How would any of us feel or react if it were our child? Oh yeah, of course it wouldn...
I'm an artist at heart. While photography and writing seems to top the list, I'm constantly looking at things wondering what I can do with them. I hate throwing things away (even if I'm recycling them) and am always looking for a way to reuse things. I recently became a tiny bit obsessed with old jars, bleeding art tissue and glitter. And acrylics. I've always loved making beaded jewelry and would love to experiment with fine metals too. And now it seems I have a strong desire to learn how to knit. I've always toyed with the idea of making my own clothing, and even though I'm fairly skilled at sewing the holes in my socks I'm not too sure how well I would do with a sewing machine, or knitting needles for that matter. But something about the colors, the feel of the yarn, the repetitiveness of the act of knitting and the satisfaction of wearing something I've made myself; it's all very appealing to me. I think all of this pretty much screams at...
I recently saw a photo of a seemingly empty storefront with the following statement lettered on the sign above it: What do you do? What could you do? What's stopping you? These are questions I started asking myself daily. Most often they come out when I'm faced with a challenge. And it could be any manner of challenge from garden planning, or a knitting project I want to take on to the book I've been writing for longer than I'm willing to admit now. Answering those questions is a much deeper challenge than actually moving forward with the act of taking on the projects however, for the act of *doing* requires much less energy than the countless hours spent analyzing the questions. But let's look at the questions, at least for a moment. What do I do? I sit here staring at this pattern, thinking about how many new-to-me stitches there are in it and I wonder whether I will struggle with learning or figuring them out. I wonder whether I will ha...
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