...9.16.12...

i knew a man in college who grew up in the inner city of chicago & what he was doing in iowa i never did figure out. but whenever he would see a jet trailing across the sky, he would stop everything he was doing & he would watch. once, after a jet was gone & there was nothing left but the white line disappearing like a scar into the blue, he turned to me & said, an airplane is a miracle & i didn't give it much thought, but now & then, when i am ready to give up hope for human beings in general, & for one or two of them who are bugging me specifically, i will look to the sky & there will be one of those miracles & i will remember it's all about concentrating on the right thing.

~storypeople

running slightly behind.

this morning.

we were out of town.

on our way home.

we picked up some.

mums.

i happily was placing them

about the backyard.

it is a lovely fall day.

and it took my attention away.

from coffee hour.

as you can tell.

i have an infatuation with storypeople.

as i browsed through.

their stories.

this one caught my eye.

stuff happened this past week.

the kind of stuff that.

"makes you ready to give up hope.

for human beings in general."

but when you look up.

and you dust off that "stuff".

and if you let yourself.

you can see.

the miracles that just are.

a new day.

a fresh start.

true friendships.

unconditionally.

the clean air of possibilities.

yup.

leave that other "stuff".

wallowing in it's own misery.

where it belongs.

welcome to coffee hour.

welcome to this glorious Sunday day.

just BE.

robin.

...this one's for you...

secure in the knowledge that it's hard to ruin mashed potatoes

~storypeople

often, i write all day long with white ink on white paper, late into the night, until it is all i can do to feel the letters curving to earth from the tip of the pen & then, i fall asleep. dreaming of running, or maybe driving in a car the color of water & i wake the next day remembering nothing & i gather the stack of paper & a pen of black on the desk in front of me & the words begin to dance over the page like long legged insects across a still lake & the words in white whisper behind & underneath the new day. if there is any secret to this life i live, this is it: the sound of what cannot be seen sings within everything that can. & there is nothing more to it than that.

~storypeople

this is an.

extension of a.

storypeople story.

i am loving it.

so i am.

going with the extended version today.

even tho i just posted the short version.

sometimes.

what we write in white.

on white paper.

about the direction we think.

our life is going.

sometimes it gets.

a reality check.

of a big black ink splatter.

what we choose.

to do.

after that ugly ink splatter.

hits the page.

is the only thing that matters.

crumple up that page?

throw it in the trash?

or pin it to the bulletin board.

as a reminder.

that ugly only stays if you let it.

but when you set it free.

the white page comes back.

along with all the beautiful colors.

that you know you have inside.

NAMASTE.

light + objects=shadows

just BE.

robin.

...9.9.12...

the whole world,

as we experience it visually,

comes to us through

the mystic realm of color.

our entire being is nourished by it.

this mystic quality of color

should likewise find

expression in a work of art.

~hans hoffmann

as pretty as.

the colors of summer are.

you can't deny.

the colors of the pending fall.

i am equally delighted today.

as a group of robins.

have blessed this morning.

with their song.

they are passers-by.

so i will savor their song.

today.

as long as i can.

i will not take for granted.

for one moment.

the gift of.

sight and sound.

welcome to coffee hour.

welcome to this Sunday morning.

just BE.

robin.

...good except for a scuff at the elbow...

She tried on every body left but they'd been pretty well picked over & all that were left were a little worse for wear. She finally settled on one that was pretty good except for a scuff at the elbow where you almost couldn't see it anyway & as she walked out into the world she remembered thinking next time I'm going to get here earlier.

~storypeople

it is.

interesting.

when i have to get up for work.

during the week.

it is such a chore.

but when.

it's early on the weekend.

i am perfectly content.

to get up.

the dew.

is heavy on the ground.

and my choice of.

footwear.

not appropriate.

as i sit here now with wet socks.

but if i didn't get up.

and venture out.

with my camera.

and inappropriate shoes.

i would have missed.

the early morning sun.

hitting this spider web.

i would have missed the shadow.

that is why.

on my days off.

i am okay with getting up early.

to try the day on.

light + objects=shadows

just BE.

robin.

...shades of gray...

most consequential choices involve shades of gray,

and some fog is often useful in getting things done.
Timothy Geithner

breathing in.

starting to get.

the scent of fall.

in the air.

my loves of fall.

fog and spider webs.

it is coming.

ready or not.

today.

breathe in.

the clean air.

of possibilities.

just BE.

robin.

...for 9.2.12...

your sacred space is where you can

 find yourself again and again.

Joseph Campbell

 when one.

is in the boonies.

there is no electricity.

therefore.

i did not get to spend.

coffee hour with you yesterday.

i am here today.

bringing you some of the beauty.

that we experienced.

this weekend.

i realized.

that it has been.

30 years.

that i have been.

blessed to come here.

i got to have my coffee.

here.

on the bridge.

over the creek.

and listen to it flow.

and watch the leaf.

travel down the river.

 we never fail.

to mention his name.

or to say.

"dad would have loved this"

 there are smiles in remembering.

we will be back.

we love you Cliff.

we will see you soon.

thanks for sharing coffee.

just BE.

robin.