View allAll Photos Tagged ChasingLight
“Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn.
Why? Because this storm isn't something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn't get in, and walk through it, step by step. There's no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That's the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine.
And you really will have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You'll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others.
And once the storm is over you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won't even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won't be the same person who walked in. That's what this storm's all about.”
― Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore
"Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under trees on a summer's day, listening to the murmur of the water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is by no means a waste of time." —John Lubbock, The Use Of Life
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A photo about nothing.
Sunset aside, there is really no subject to this composition. No statement to be made. No overarching vision. Just me seeing a great sunset coming and chasing it in my car until I saw the light hit that sweet spot. I pulled over, composed the shot...using the opening in the trees and the shape of the clouds (they were kinda symmetrical) to frame the setting sun. I was more into the colors than the composition. I couldn't find a scene that spoke to me to shoot so I ended up with this simple shot. Enjoy!
"Be present. Make love. Make tea. Avoid small talk. Embrace conversation. Buy a plant, water it. Make your bed. Make someone else’s bed. Have a smart mouth, and quick wit. Run. Make art. Create. Swim in the ocean. Swim in the rain. Take chances. Ask questions. Make mistakes. Learn. Know your worth. Love fiercely. Forgive quickly. Let go of what doesn’t make you happy. Grow."
— Paulo Coelho
by joannadonofrio ift.tt/1U3B2uS - Cannes Short Film Corner - #SupportIndieFilm Also visit: ift.tt/1UcUqXP
“Standing on the snow-covered plain, as if in a pasture amid the hills, I cut my way first through a foot of snow, and then a foot of ice, and open a window under my feet, where, kneeling to drink, I look down into the quiet parlour of the fishes, pervaded by a softened light as through a window of ground glass, with its bright sanded floor the same as in summer; there a perennial waveless serenity reigns as in the amber twilight sky, corresponding to the cool and even temperament of the inhabitants.
Heaven is under our feet as well as over our heads.”
— Walden (1854) by Henry David Thoreau
(Chapter 16: The Pond in Winter)
Walking on foot brings you down to the very stark, naked core of existence. We travel too much in airplanes and cars. It’s an existential quality that we are losing. It’s almost like a credo of religion that we should walk.
There is, of course, something inherently romantic—if not heroic—about the extreme solitary explorer enveloped by nature. The very image of Herzog on foot recalls the iconic 19th-century paintings of Caspar David Friedrich, especially his Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog, with its lone figure staring out at the wide vista above the clouds.
'Truth itself wanders through the forests,' Herzog writes near the end. Yet here he embroiders his memories for effect: The vast swath of geography between Munich and Paris is littered with industrial towns and cities.
Once he comes out on the other end, traversing the deforested Champs-Élysées (“We were close to what they call the breath of danger”), Herzog emerges victorious.
― Of Walking in Ice: (Munich-Paris, 23 November–14 December 1974)
by Werner Herzog
“Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn.
Why? Because this storm isn't something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn't get in, and walk through it, step by step. There's no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That's the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine.
And you really will have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You'll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others.
And once the storm is over you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won't even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won't be the same person who walked in. That's what this storm's all about.”
― Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore
sakura (桜) cherry blossom air さくら 🌸🍃
Time after time
Alone in the city of whirling blossoms
Those petals fly in the whirling wind
The miracle of meeting you
In a city where the wind whispered through
The hanamidou tells of the end of spring
One petal from this misty flower.
Time After Time (花舞う街で) // In the Street of Dancing Flowers — Mai Kuraki
[theme song for Detective Conan: Crossroad in the Ancient Capital]
Project 365
Friday • February 26, 2010
As I mentioned in my last post, life prevented me from posting my photos of the day, and on this day from even taking a photo.
So instead of a photo I took on Friday, I am using an image (taken by Jackie) but 'processed' on Friday! This was from the summer in August. A glorious sunset taken at Glacier Point in Yosemite. This is only one of about 50 photos taken of this sunset. *heavy sigh* so wishing I had been able to go, and that I was there right now!
“ 'Anything I learnt would have to be justified by private benefit rather than by the interest of others. My discoveries would have to enliven me; they would have in some way to prove ‘life-enhancing’.
The term was Nietzsche's. In the autumn of 1873, Friedrich Nietzsche composed an essay in which he distinguished between collecting facts like an explorer or academic and using already well known facts to the end of inner, psychological enrichment”
— The Art of Travel by Alain de Botton
"The truth is, your lifestyle is not defined by the things you live with, but by the way you live and the happiness it brings to yourself and others." 🌟 🌈 ⋅
The abandoned stairway inside the concrete giant—a place where beams of light play with shadows, weaving intriguing stories.
I have been chasing the light all week and I am bushed! I took a lot of photos during our storms the other day, which included tornado warnings all day. Luckily we didn't have much more than a lot rain.
I ordered a set of EI Wires in 6 colors. They come with a battery pack and have 3 modes (steady, blinking, and strobe). The wires are bendy but do not have a memory and are hard to rangle!
This image has two wires and I set the purple one to blink in this shot. I used another one of my Mom's glass paperweights. This one is clear. I adjusted the clarity and blacks and removed some spots.
You can see some other chasing light images on my flickr page: www.flickr.com/photos/needlepointernc/
“Standing on the snow-covered plain, as if in a pasture amid the hills, I cut my way first through a foot of snow, and then a foot of ice, and open a window under my feet, where, kneeling to drink, I look down into the quiet parlour of the fishes, pervaded by a softened light as through a window of ground glass, with its bright sanded floor the same as in summer; there a perennial waveless serenity reigns as in the amber twilight sky, corresponding to the cool and even temperament of the inhabitants.
Heaven is under our feet as well as over our heads.”
— Walden (1854) by Henry David Thoreau
(Chapter 16: The Pond in Winter)