Banjo, The Meadow & Me

Banjo was a pony with a striking tricolor pattern of chestnut, bay, and white that boarded on our small Oregon farm when I was a kid. According to my older brother, he was descended from Indian ponies. I’m not sure how accurate that is, but at the age of 10, if Jimmy said so, it was good enough for me. He was unruly, pig-headed, fat, and determined to get rid of anyone who had the temerity to get on his back. I loved him. Banjo succeeded in sending every male in the family flying, including Uncle Eldon, cousin Merle, Dad, and…

Is this what a cultural shift feels like?

Most days, it feels lousy — loud, rancorous, painful. Thanks to Time Magazine’s choice for Person Of The Year, it feels like victory. The boil known as ‘rape culture’ is being lanced. It’s a painful process that is gaining momentum by the hour. Protective gear is required. My protection for when it gets to be too much: the shared experience of millions of women, all over the world, who are stepping forward and raising our collective voices against this inequity and injustice. As awful as it is, the light of day is better. Many days I am simply disgusted with…

When It Comes To Clouds…

They’ve always been a favorite photographic subject. When it comes to interests, religion and art history and how they intertwine, are high on a fluctuating list. Though far from a religious scholar, I have done my share of studying religious history and religion, in general. Having grown up in the relatively non-dogmatic world of Methodism, my early religious lessons centered around music and Sunday School messages of love and kindness, a European-looking Jesus, Christmas trees, and new Easter outfits.   After disillusionment with religion and a brief stint as an atheist at the age of 18… I jumped into the…

It’s been a rough week.

I had to let my Bobby go yesterday. His pattern over the past few months was to have good health, followed by being weak and listless, followed by rallying. He’d been getting progressively weaker over the past few months, which I was told was likely kidney failure. I put him on easy-to-digest food which made him feel better for a time. Because of this see-saw of relatively good health followed by what finally became chronic poor health, coupled with denial, I fear that I held on too long. This past week was difficult. After struggling with the decision, I’m grateful today…

Myeshia Johnson

Myeshia Johnson is on the minds of many, today. I post these icons of Saint Mary Magdalene — who was also unjustly scorned — and the Black Madonna in honor of her suffering. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.  –Jesus, from the Sermon On The Mount As rain falls equally on the just and the unjust, do not burden your heart with judgments but rain your kindness equally on all.  –The Buddha   Washington Post: In Trump’s response to Myeshia Johnson, many black women see a pattern NPR: ‘It Made Me Cry Even Worse’  

Art is just another word for hope

Last night while watching the stars, I had a moment of insight that’s sticking with me, today. It might not seem profound to most people, but it rang like a bell in my brain: It’s all an elaborate game that we’re watching play out in front of us. From the crazy-making politics of our current administration to the manipulation of truth, we are under assault in an endless game of political dodge-ball — over which we have only influence, at best. And since dodge-ball has been known to leave bruises, a tough hide is required. Calling for a time-out does not…