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The sudden cut of loss and realization is painfully sharp.
Acceptance and understanding is elusive; the suffering deeper still.
Late Sunday afternoon I went to Seymour Mountain. On each anniversary of my accident, I try to visit and go for a walk. After just missing sunset at the parking lot I took my headlamp and camera gear for a hike to Dog Mountain. Not much snow but plenty of quiet time to revisit my fall, 7 years ago now.
January 17, 2007
Simon and I went for a snowshoe hike around the east side of Seymour and went up Runner Peak. During the traverse back, about 1/2 hour from the ski runs, I fell. A long way. 600 feet below I ended up at Theta Lake. My backpack & coat ripped from my body, never to be found again. One boot and snowshoe gone. Broken shoulder, missing teeth and a neck fracture. Blood. Disorientated and cold. Though truth be told, I was very lucky to be in such good condition.
Nearly impossible to hike down but Simon makes it halfway regardless. Relieved to hear me alive, he manages to call for help. Somehow within 40 minutes and moments before dark sets in, a helicopter comes in and drops off 2 men. I clearly remember their headlamps coming towards me. I'm pretty sure I was mumbling and yelling, wondering why the helicopter had gone away. One of them told me to shut up. I had just met Tim Jones.
It took about an hour to reach the viewpoint at the end of the trail. Most of the fog below had disappeared so I sat down and decided to wait for a bit. Maybe the colder night air would bring the low cloud cover back. Besides, just sitting there gave me a chance to look up at the stars and check things out in my head.
January 18, 2007
Tim & Gord had wrapped me up within a heated blanket. They kept me alive. I think Tim's outer layer was a garbage bag with arm holes cut in it. How they had kept warm overnight I have no idea. I didn't know it at the time but Tim has been involved in over 1,500 rescues during his time with NSR since 1987. I couldn't have been in better hands.
SAR personnel had mobilized and were sent in to assist. The first group of 5 made it in before the worsening weather and terrible snow conditions forced everyone else to turn back for their own safety. Thank you Jeff, Bruce, Doug, John & Rollie. We were badly in need of help. The snow continued to fall. At one point a loud rumble headed down towards us, stopping within throwing distance. Unable to see what had happened I asked what was that. Tim replied, "Mother Nature". That avalanche forced the group to move base camp. They dug a snow cave and put me inside. I spent the next 14 hours within the hole. There was no getting home today. They all suffered worse than me I'm sure.
After realizing that only a few lingering clouds would make their way back over the city, I took this photo and packed up. No one else was out here. I headed back just before 7pm. When I passed First Lake I was surprised to hear what sounded like people above. Seemed unusual to me. Later along the trail I bumped into 3 paramedics who were on their way to help with a cardiac arrest near Dinky Peak. I gave them a hand carrying some of their heavy gear. I thought about asking if Tim was up here, as I hadn't seen him in a while, but it seemed inappropriate as they were on an emergency call so it never came up. [Tim Jones is an advanced life-support paramedic and paramedic-in-charge for the B.C. Ambulance Service in North Vancouver] On the way, they were told via radio, that another group were bringing the subject down the mountain. So we returned to the parking lot, where I left them and all the other many rescue personnel.
January 19, 2007
There was talk of a insane 10+ hour rope rescue to lift me out of this bowl if the deep clouds continued to prevent an air rescue. But finally a small opening appeared in the afternoon, and a helicopter popped in. They basically tossed me in while it hovered just above the frozen lake. Inside the helicopter and on the way to the hospital, I was laying down on the legs of Curtis Jones, Tim's son.
I simply would not have survived had his father not risked his life to rescue me. Words cannot not express the gratitude my family continues to feel towards him. I don't recall ever hearing Tim or any of the others complaining, even though none of them could have been comfortable. These volunteers are heroes in my books.
After giving a Mexican hitchhiker a ride down the mountain I received a shocking text telling me who had died on Seymour that night. The facts all tumbled into place. Tears began to fall. And the local outdoor community was devastated. Tim Jones had passed away from a heart attack.
Tim had an amazing spirit and strength. Determined and passionate. He was a larger-than-life leader of North Shore Rescue. I know he will be missed deeply by his team, friends & co-workers.
My deepest condolences to his family. I can't imagine the grief you must be feeling right now.
So. I came to a realization today that my build wasn't going to work in SL as it is now. The physics were just too taxing on the sim. So, it's gone into my inventory until Havok 4 and perhaps mono are released on the main grid, that's where it will live. Until then, I'm working on something fun, and imaginative... and it all starts with this one, lonely, pink tree.
Posted by Second Life Resident Strawberry Holiday. Visit prodigiosus II.
“It turns out we were some people
which has been chosen by God to be happy in a different way
# beggars”
― ys sroyer
I was walking down the Mirpur - Gabtoli Road, Dhaka with some of my friends as i was going to capture photos of a client. While crossing the road of Asad Gate, this old man drawn my attention, sitting beside the road, looking at endless running of the life's.
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Kintsugi; Spirited Beyond "Made with Care"
Sonder: The Realization That Everyone Has A Story
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I was at a stop light when I saw this guy next to me with this beret, just when I was taking the picture he turned around, so now it looks like it was a planned shot!
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The realization the Delicate Arch is in shadow at sunrise. Ha ha! Still, it was cool watching the light slowly creep and open up the Winter Camp Wash (canyon) below a little later.
FOR THE REALIZATION OF THIS PHOTOGRAPH, WE HAVE USED A SIMPLE REAL LASER (FOR ASTRONOMY)...
A raygun is a science-fiction directed-energy weapon that releases energy, usually with destructive effect. They have various alternate names: ray gun, death ray, beam gun, blaster, laser gun, laser pistol, phaser, zap gun, etc. In most stories, when activated, a raygun emits a ray, typically visible, usually lethal if it hits a human target, often destructive if it hits mechanical objects, with properties and other effects unspecified or varying.
I used to avoid sunny days like the plague when photographing cemeteries and abandonments. Was simply convinced that the forlorn quality I seek in my work could not be accomplished in bright sunlight. There's still some truth to that thinking. But like most creative endeavors, there are endless approaches to reach the end result. It's all a matter of changing your outlook. I shoot mostly on the basis of how things make me feel rather than how they look. I think it finally dawned on me that I still respond emotionally to different scenes even in bright sunlight. So it was just a matter of adapting my cloudy day mentality. As a result I often find myself pointing the camera directly into the sun rather than trying to avoid it. Guess that's a case of facing your fears head on. This scene is a case in point. I had walked my way from one end of this cemetery to the other, mostly just absorbing the light and shadow and shooting very little. I settled in on this spot. Loved how the the light filtered through the leaves, filling the entire scene with texture. I settled in and began to compose and shoot. Really tried to concentrate my thoughts into this one shot. Took maybe 25 frames, each at a slightly different angle and bracketed heavily. I've learned from experience not to rush something like this and to bracket heavily. It's nearly impossible to judge the quality of your exposure while working sunblind outdoors looking at the tiny review screen. So I try to cover all bases during the shoot to ensure that I come home with at least one good shot. This is the resulting image; a scene where every single pixel seems to contribute to the whole with not one wasted.
View large for best realization of technique and details. Image is designed to be commercially reproduced in wall-size dimensions. The FX do not translate all that well in any small format.
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First day back from my vacation.
First full day of my middle girl back at college.
And, Sophie's realization her sister and best friend is away again. As she said, she was in the "blue zone."
Realization through a flash positioned at 90 degree and triggered simultaneously shooting at or strawberry into milk.
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Canon EOS 5D Mark III
Canon EF Objectif 50 mm f/1.4 USM
Tripod Manfrotto MT055XPRO3
Flash Canon Speedlite 430 EX II
Post processing Aperture 3.
People will forget what you said,
people will forget what you did,
but people will never forget
how you made them feel.
- Maya Angelou
after years, I've come to the realization that no picture can paint a thousand words. not with everything there is. with the emotion, the atmosphere, the feeling ... and I guess that will never change.
so today was the day. I don't know why this feeling already crept into my head and what to think about that. after just a week, I felt empty. not in the sense of having no inspiration, not in the sense of close to giving up; I was convinced this was not the end yet, but with this day, with this time, I did not know what to do. I felt as if all the ideas I've had had this morning where suddenly wiped out right after I came home from school. and I just didn't know what to do about it. I just decided to do what I have to do and as I was done with baking something for school tomorrow, I suddenly realized; you can't carry on like this. you've got to rip yourself together and just focus on your inside and what is there.
and I think it somehow helped. I don't know why, but I am so happy about how this turned out. How it is nothing like any of my other work and there is barely any depth of field ... I shall try out more different things like this. It's way to appealing.
(day nine)
Dark Isle Saga
Chapter 1: Grim Hollow
Part 6
Taryn and Sarlina had spilled the vial of liquid on Haldur's scroll, revealing hidden knowledge that could help magically restore the land of Avalonia. However, they had been attacked and would have been killed if it wasn't for the intervention of Ella.
Ella had revealed that dark forces were plotting to take control of Avalonia and that they were coming for the scroll, killing anyone who stood in their way. The seeds of conflict were sewn as Ella believed the scroll should be destroyed and that men should take up arms together and fight back, resulting in a united Historica. Sarlina on the other hand believed that men were weak and the only way to bring peace to the land was by ancient magical powers, she did not want a united Historica, thinking that the other lands were untrustworthy. She wanted an all powerful Avalonia that ruled all. Poor Taryn was caught in the middle.
Ella had urged that they must make haste to her brother Owain, who was camped at Darkmire Mill. The enemy knew they had the scroll and would now be coming for them so Ella knew she must get them to the safety of her brother and his men.
The journey to Darkmire Mill was a short one, for Ella kept a quick pace that the others struggled to keep up with but they somehow managed to. Knowing that the enemy could not be far behind they raced on, spurred by the thought of more dark warriors snapping at their heels.
Sarlina had been sullen and quiet, she did not agree with Ella's plans to destroy the scroll and she was planning to secretly slip away. Taryn tried making conversation but Sarlina was not in the talkative mood so he walked on, doing the best he could to keep up with Ella. Taryn's head was a mess, so much had happened in the last few days that his life had been completly turned upside down. He thought of home and his father, would he even ever see either of them in this life again? It suddenly dawned on him that maybe he was in over his head. One minute he had been a young lad living an everyday life, enjoying hunting and a good drink. The next he was running for his life, pursued by forces that wanted him dead. No one had ever wanted to kill him before, that realization kicked in and he wished he was a child again. He thought about walking away from it all but could he even do that? Would it make a difference now anyway? It would only be prolonging the inevitable, eventually the dark forces would soon sweep through his village and people would die or be enslaved. No, the world was changing, the light was fading and Avalonia was teetering on the edge of darkness.
For many years now, the people of Avalonia had been pushed back and back by the enemy, all that had remained had fled to the Dark Isle. They now stood with their backs to the wall as the enemy circled around, gearing up for their final assault. It was time to choose his destiny, to turn and run home and wait for the end or to make a stand and fight. Better to die fighting, than to die cowering in your home. Taryn knew what he had to do, he knew there was really only one choice and he believed in Ella, she had given him hope. He was 18 summers old and it was time he became a man.
After a grueling walk the trio finally reached the edge of forrest and there ahead lay Darkmire Mill, salvation at last.
Darkmire Mill: Located north west of Grim Hollow village below the rocky terrain of Steeple Brink. The mill was an old building and had once flourished, serving the village for many years. However, the once plentiful rushing spring that fed the mill had now all but dried up, leaving only a small trickling flow that slowly made its way down through the land. The great water wheel now stood motionless, the spillway was blocked with debris and the wide riverbed was now a thick muddy trail. It was here in this abandoned spot that Owain waited with his men, a lot fewer than expected!
The trio walked wearily up towards the mill and into the courtyard where Owain waited.
"Ah little sis, 'bout time you got here." Owain boomed. "I thought I was going to have to come looking for you, infact I was hoping to!"
Ella smiled and embraced him. "Why?" she asked laughing.
"Boredom" smiled Owain. "I've been stuck here for three days with no one to fight and no mead to drink." He laughed then turned his gaze towards Taryn and Sarlina, a look of amusement crossed his face as he looked them over.
"So you found them then?" he snorted then laughed. "They don't look like much." he laughed.
Sarlina moved forward and frowned.
"Really?" she mocked. "Is this it? Two spearmen and a drunk?" she shook her head. "Pathetic!" she hissed.
Ella rolled her eyes while Taryn kept his head bowed. Owain just laughed. "She's a fiesty one isn't she!" he laughed again. "I'd quite happily take on the whole enemy army myself, easy work, a mornings work, which would leave the rest of the day free for drinking!" He smiled and laid a reassuring hand on Sarlina's shoulder. "I have sent the rest on ahead this morning to make sure the path is clear. Within a day we will have joined up them and Artorious."
"He's arrived then? Where is he camped?" asked Ella eagerly.
"Artorious arrived two days ago." replyed Owain. "He sent word that he is camped near Steeple Brink forest."
Ella frowned. "North of the church?" she asked.
"Somewhere out there." Owain replyed. "We are to head there and meet him as soon as you arrive. Seeing as you are now here I guess we should get moving soon."
Sarlina turned and stepped across the stream then looked back towards the others.
"At least give us a moments rest before we move again!" she shouted.
Ella nooded and Taryn walked over to Sarlina, stepping carefully over the wet slippery mud of the riverbed.
Owain watched them, then turned to speak to Ella.
"We can't stay too long sis, enemy spearmen can't be more then half a day's journey away. We need to join up with Artorious." he urged.
"I know" replyed Ella. "But they have been through a lot, so a short rest will do them good."
A look of concern crossed her face. "I'm worried about the girl, she believes we should use the scroll to unleash the ancient powers on the enemy. I fear she won't easily back down."
Owain rubbed his chin then frowned. "That scroll will cause nothing but trouble, it must be destroyed. I'm sure we can make her see sense." he smiled.
"I hope so." Ella said woefully. "I sense a strong fire burning within that girl."
"And the boy?" asked Owain.
Ella smiled. "I think he'll surprise us all."
They turned and looked over to where Taryn and Sarlina were talking beneath an old tree.
"The lad won't last long without some propper armor." joked Owain. "In fact I think its time we both suit up, I fear there are many long bloody battles ahead." he grinned, looking forward to the prospect of a fight.
Owain was Ella's older brother and even though he called Taryn a 'boy', he was infact only a couple of years older then him. Owain was a hardened warrior, all brute strength who had fought many battles He was well built with strong arms and had an overwhelming lust for the fun parts of life, particularly mead and ale. His prefered weapon of choice was a broadsword but with any type of weapon Owain was a man to fear. One of Artorious' most trusted warriors and destined for great things.
Salina was standing under a tree where Taryn had followed to talk with her. She still seemed angered and this made Taryn feel uneasy.
"Are you still planning on leaving?" Taryn asked.
"Of course!" Sarlina replyed. "I'm not going to wait around and watch while Avalonia slips into darkness." she nodded towards Owain and Ella. "They can cling on and follow their hopes of fighting back but I tell you now, it will fail."
"I believe in them." replyed Taryn.
"The only thing we need to believe in is the scroll." hissed Sarlina. "I will unleash the ancient powers upon the enemy and watch them scatter."
She looked at Taryn then smiled and reached for his hands, holding them tight. "It is the only way to save us Taryn, you have to trust me." she said softly. "Avalonia will be restored and rule all, you'll see." she smiled.
Taryn slowly nodded in agreement.
Why were things in life always so difficult?
"Don't fear Taryn." she soothed. "Once we all make a move from here we will wait for the chance to slip away during the night and together we will summon the ancient powers."
Again Taryn nodded.
Sarlina smiled and then they both walked back over to the mill.
They came back to find that Owain and Ella had now dressed in their full war gear, both looking splendid in their polished armor which glittered in the sun. Owain had brought out a spare set of armor which lay at his feet and he grinned when Taryn noticed it.
"That's for you Taryn." Owain nodded towards the armor. "It will help protect you for what lies ahead."
Taryn starred at the armor with an excited look on his face, he had never worn a suit of armor before.
Taryn pulled on the armor and was shocked at how heavy and cumbersome it felt.
Owain laughed.
"Don't worry, it grows on you. You'll soon get used to it and in battle you will be too busy to notice the weight."
Taryn lifted the sword and gave a few cuts in the air with it, then moved around to get a feel for the armor. It was heavy but it also made him feel powerful and important. He felt like a warrior and he thanked Owain for the gift.
"It suits you well Taryn." Ella smiled. Sarlina rolled her eyes and looked the other way.
"Maybe a spot of practice is in order, eh Taryn?" boomed Owain. "Would you like to do the honors sis?" Owain laughed.
"With pleasure!" Ella grinned and drew her swords.
"Lets see what you're made of Taryn." said Owain. "You can learn a lot from Ella but be careful, she's fast." he laughed.
Taryn pulled his helm's visor down over his face and hefted his sword and shield.
Ella rushed at Taryn, cutting left and right with her swords. She was extremely quick and agile, jumping and lunging at him, never giving him a moments pause. Taryn desperately defended himself, parrying with his sword and shield, trying to deflect her strikes and give himself an opening to strike back. Her attacks pushed him back across the stream and he found himself struggling for footing amongst the rocks and slippery mud. He managed to slide one of her swords past his left flank with his shield, then he backswung with all his might sending his sword towards her chest in a swirling arc. Ella gracefully stepped back as light as a dancer and spread both her arms wide as Taryns' sword swirled just inches past her chest. She smiled and bowed.
"Thats more like it it." she laughed. Then lept forward once again attacking him in the same fast manner.
Again Taryn was driven back on the defensive. Ella was just too quick and try as he might, he just couldn't manage to get past her guard. She drove him back towards the old tree where he found himself parrying blow after blow that Ella rained down on him. He soon found himself begining to tire and so in a last ditch effort he pushed forward with his shield and then lunged at Ella. She had expected that move and stepped to the side leaving Taryn off balance and flying forward.
Taryn fell forward onto the ground spraying up dirt. He turned to see Ella smiling at him with her swords aimed down towards his chest and neck.
"Your mine now Taryn!" she laughed, then pulled back and sheathed her weapons.
Taryn felt embarrassed and looked over to where Sarlina stood watching with a smirk on her face. He pulled himself up and lifted his visor, sweat poured down his face as he caught his breath. Ella walked over to face him.
"It's ok Taryn" she said softly. "I was trained to fight from the moment I was able to grasp a sword." she gave him a hug and kissed his cheek. "You did well."
Taryn blushed and stammered his thanks.
The two of them walked back up to where Owain was standing. Sarlina seemed not to care and stood staring out towards the distance but Owain seemed impressed.
"You did well." he nodded. "Not many people can withstand an onslaught like that but you managed to defend a lot better than I thought. We will need to work on your attacking skills but at least you can defend well. We'll make a warrior out of you yet!" he laughed, then gave Taryn a pat on the back and beamed a friendly smile.
"A warrior?" Sarlina scoffed. "There won't be any time for that i'm afraid." she nodded towards the distance. "Take a look over there!"
Owain and the others looked down towards the direction of Hangman's Watch from where they had walked from just earlier. Two dark wisps of smoke streaked the skylkine.
The enemy was coming and was closer than they had expected
The two remaining spearmen who had been standing guard rushed over to Owain.
"Enemy camp fires sir, they can't be more then 2 miles away!" said the spearmen.
Owain cursed and spat on the ground in disgust.
"Bastards, they are closer than we thought. We have to move now!" he shouted.
Ella turned towards Owain.
"I could go and distract them, lead them away to give the rest of you some time." she spoke urgently.
"No!" cried Taryn. "You'd be killed and they would still catch up to us."
"He's right." replyed Owain. "Its too dangerous, we must to stick together and try to make our way to Artorious in time."
Ella nodded. "Then lets go then, if we can just get to Artorious we can make a stand."
Sarlina shook her head and cursed softly. "And what if we don't get there in time?" she snarled.
"We will!" snapped Ella back. "If they catch up to us then we stand and fight!"
"Aye!" shouted Owain. "Lets get going and if we're lucky we might get to kill some of those bastards along the way!"
So the group quickly left the mill and began their desperate journey to reach Artorious' camp. There would be no time for rest, the enemy was moving fast and would soon be upon them. All hope now lay on reaching their destination before the enemy spears came crashing down to take their souls to the afterlife.
To be continued...
Come, feel the ethereal oceanic experience that every hiker should experience. The realization of the titanic forces involved, the battles between earth, wind, and fire....... some teenager, barely clothed, Wayfare glasses and a smile like Tom Cruz, wearing tennis shoes, just walked by me with helmet and ropes, heading for the pass. I remember that look! Flash back to running on the beach, board under arm, surf's up, and the tourists are in your way. That's the look of pity for the uninitiated.
Come, feel the belittling effect of age and its ignorance .....
I celebrate Halloween more than any other holiday. Probably because it syncs up so well with my artistic vision. One that attempts to extract beauty and poignance from dark and eerie backdrops. It's a balancing act, and at its best captures the odd juxtaposition of light and dark, either literally or metaphorically (or preferably both). Autumn marks the transition of lightness fading to black, as summer dies a slow death. And Halloween serves as the perfect bookend. And so the trappings of Halloween seem to celebrate that death, itself a weird juxtaposition for in life, death is not something to be feared rather than celebrated. It's just fun to let go sometimes. Most of like a good scare, so long as no real danger is involved. I simply love seeing the extent to which people decorate their yards with symbols of the macabre. All manner of ghosts, skeletons, fake cemeteries, jack-o-lanterns, and on and on. Creepier the better is my motto. I find myself going up and down the Halloween aisles, much like a kid, inspecting all of the merchandise and imaging what horror they will come upon with next. However when it came tome to decorate my yard, none of that store-bought stuff seemed appropriate. So I set about making my own spirits. One of them took the form of this ethereal looking ghost woman. Truly a case of the whole being greater than the sum of the parts. A simple combination of chicken wire and cheesecloth and a cheap Cosplay wig. Yet it seems so animated as it floats over my front yard, free to react to the wind. It spins about, the arms waving at times, and the hair and loose bits of wispy cloth billowing out. It's the perfect realization of the kind of thing I imagine as I wander about in dark places, conjuring spirits in my mind.
(From .......A photo story in progress.......maybe the last episode?)
At that moment we looked at each other and came to the same cosmic realization.......This "story" was going nowhere fast ........or maybe, as we rearranged the "chairs on the decks of the Titanic", this story was going in the most dangerous direction possible! We asked ourselves: What would we do if we saw our nation going fascist?
(A photo story in progress www.flickr.com/groups/85044792@N00/)
What would you do if you saw your nation going fascist?
By Gary G. Kohls, MD
Online Journal Contributing Writer
Mar 28, 2006, 01:23
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Okay, so you call yourself a patriot. But what exactly do you think that word means?
Is it the patriotism that says, “My country, right or wrong?” Is it the patriotism that says, Might makes right? Is it the patriotism of Samuel Johnson who defined it as “the last refuge of the scoundrel?”
Is it the patriotism of the 16th century Protestant “reformers” who believed that every leader of any “Christian” nation was ordained by God, no matter how much that leader promoted the satanic mass slaughter of fellow children of God, and, therefore, Christians were to be unconditionally obedient to that leader? (See Psalm 137.)
Or are you the type of patriot that loves your country so much that you won’t let tyrants or the super-rich or the mega-corporations take it over out of their greed for more power and wealth? Are you the type of patriot that is willing to have a lover’s quarrel with your beloved country that may be temporarily under the control of those that are close to being indicted as international war criminals?
In order to find out which type of patriot you might be, you should read the following “hypothetical” situation; and then you can judge for yourself.
Suppose you are a white, God-fearing, church-going citizen in a country that prided itself on its inventiveness, its literacy, its art, its culture, its glory in past wars and its superpower status, and suppose you saw your democratic institutions and the human rights of your neighbors being degraded by the lawmakers of your nation.
Say that you saw a bunch of powerful legislators and corporations, who lied consistently to enrich themselves and who were obsessed with the desire to wage aggressive war. Say that they started to grab control of our country’s legislature, judiciary and military. Say these cunning politicians, with the support of ruthless financiers, gained control of the highest office in the land -- without winning the majority vote in any fair election -- and started taking away, in rapid succession, the rights of many of its minority citizens, declaring left-wing peacemakers traitors, purging anti-fascists and other resistance groups from their positions of power, eviscerating its democratic institutions, silencing the “liberal” sectors of the press, working to weaken and eventually violently destroy all political opposition, censoring or usurping the open-minded media and marginalizing and silencing the artists, the poets, the writers and the creative thinkers.
You would be in 1930s Germany and the tyrants would have been Adolf Hitler’s cunning henchmen. And what would you have done in that situation?
If you were an average white, affluent, employed citizen, with all the privilege and power granted to you by that majority status, you would have said virtually nothing in opposition, even as the rights of the Nazis targeted minority groups were legally being taken away, disappearing into the gulag of prison and mental institutions.
As an average Bible-believing Christian, you would probably have obeyed your German war-supporting bishops or pastors, almost all of whom had pledged a solemn oath of loyalty to the Fuhrer, duty-bound to follow him instead of their “Lord and Savior,” the nonviolent Jesus of Nazareth. Because of an out-of-context single passage in the Epistle to the Romans you, as an obedient German Christian would have been inclined to obey St. Paul and therefore the existing rulers in Berlin in the time of crisis rather than courageously and faithfully following Jesus, who forbade homicidal violence, said that all are equal in the eyes of God and that the followers should love -- instead of kill -- their enemies.
If you were an average white lawyer, physician or psychiatrist, you would have joined the Nazi Party, for doing otherwise would have jeopardized your practice. And you would have kept your mouth shut when witnessing the anguish of your Jewish, Slavic, Gypsy, socialist, liberal, or gay clients as they were forced to march toward -- and disappear into -- the concentrations camps and gas chambers.
But the question remains -- would you have been a good patriot? Or would you have been on the wrong side of justice by being obedient to the Fuhrer (“Leader”) and to the cloth flag (swastika) that symbolized his rule?
Knowing that any German citizen seen helping the “enemies of the state” was guilty of treason, on whose side would any of us have stood? Would we have taken the side of the innocents -- those oppressed or outcast -- or would we have stood with the fascists?
Knowing that revering the flag was regarded as a crucial act of patriotism would we have saluted along with the victimizers or would we have resisted?
On whose side would we have been, the freedom-fighting groups (labeled “terrorists” by the State) who were courageously and patriotically trying to save their beloved nation from fascism, or would we have been on the “safe” side with the militarists and corporatists and right-wing politicians who looked like they were going to be the winners? Our answer will reveal our politics -- and our theology.
Now fast forward to America 2006 . . . but that shouldn’t be necessary, for the point has been made.
Dr. Kohls is a Duluth, Minn., physician and a peace and justice activist who has an aversion to human slaughter, for any reason, in times of war or in times of “peace.” He is also a member of the faith-based peace organization, Every Church A Peace Church.
Copyright © 1998-2006 Online Journal
“Mesmerized.
Whisked away by her eloquent gaze;
Her breath caressed my cheek like poetry.
The realization came;
My heart was mine no more;
Stolen as most precious things eventually are.
Left clutching to this feeling;
Much like a child with a lonely past would.
Unthinking.
Frightened not by the whirlwind at our backs,
With your hand in mine we are weightless.
A perpetual feeling has sparked inside,
Running wildly just as the hands on my time piece.
Fiery winds carry away embers of the past;
As trumpets beat within blossoming hearts.
If there is no tomorrow and only temporary affairs will thrive
Then we must run forever to keep this dream alive.
Fleeting.”
--Ryan Closson
This shot was an adventure in itself. I had an idea of what I wanted to capture but I decided I just had to do it near a volcano, and, what do you know I found one. We packed up my camera gear, grabbed a couple sleeping bags and drove on into the night towards Flagstaff, AZ. 5 hours later 11pm came and we were roughly an hour north of Flagstaff essentially in the middle of nowhere trying to find this old dirt road that supposedly will take us to this volcanic crater through google maps. The GPS was fading in and out, there was a storm coming in from the east and it was kind of creepy out with no light to guide us. We traveled down this rough dirt road for a while and submit to our tired bodies and parked the truck throwing our sleeping bags in the bed and tossing a large tarp over us in case rain was to come. After a couple hours of being asleep I woke up to the light of light sprinkling rain drops on the tarp that was draped over our faces, lol but when I looked up I found the most amazing stormy sky I had ever seen! The clouds were dark and gritty, yet opaque in nature and a large moon was shinning bright from behind them, in the foreground I realized that we had made it to our intended destination, I faced three giant silhouettes of these old cinder cone volcanoes! I laid back and watched the moon peak in and out of the hypnotizing clouds above. This was a great moment. A couple more hours later we woke to beat the sun to work, and we did. <3
Prescott, Arizona Photographer
Ryanclossonphoto.com
The Skyrim Nord Funko Pop meets Samurai Boba Fett action figure and they start talking about their adventures.
As they share their epic deed the Nord says:
“I used to be a figure like you, then I took an arrow in the knee.”
Boba knows it is impossible the Funko Pop was ever a figure like him but he enjoyed many hours playing Skyrim and so he gives the Nord his little moment of glory.
The Funko Pop’s line is a reference to The Elder Scrolls Skyrim Fantasy role play video game :)
If you played the game you already know what I mean, if you didn’t play it I’ll quickly explain the reference :)
In the game there a catchphrase frequently spoken by cities and villages guards when the player character walks near them that says:
“I used to be an adventurer like you, then I took an arrow in the knee.”
The catchphrase became so famous it went beyond the video game community. It’s probable you have heard of it even if you never played the game. I remember it was once even quoted in an episode of NCIS Tv series, for example :)
The Funko Pop is not actually a Nord from Skyrim video game but from the multiplayer The Elder Scrolls online game. However I spent so many hours playing Skyrim I wanted to make this photo a little tribute to the game :)
Samurai Boba Fett is the amazing Ronin Boba Fett action figure made by Bandai for their Tamashii Nations Movie Realization line.
I have to say I was quite surprised when I got that Funko Pop Nord. I expected it to be like all the other Funko figures I got, namely with the “pop” bubble head, but instead it has a head without any “popping” sound but that can rotate.
I hope you like this photo :)
Watch out for arrows, protect your knees and May the Force be with You :)
"The dragonfly symbolizes change and change in the perspective of self realization; and the kind of change that has its source in mental and emotional maturity and the understanding of the deeper meaning of life."
I've decided that I want to continue this "on death and dying" series. I am really fascinated by life and death, but I don't want to portray death in the typical way. I want to show the more peaceful, calm, and ethereal side to death, with an almost dream-like quality to it. This image will be the third in the series.
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We stumbled upon this dragonfly sitting on a blade of grass as we went down to the water to shoot. At first we thought he was dead, because he was very still.. but after staring at him for a bit we saw that he was moving his legs, but for some reason he didn't fly away. We picked him up and he crawled right on to Moll's hand. He fluttered his wings a few times here and there, but for the most part he just climbed around on us. So of course, I asked if she would mind putting the dragonfly (who we later named Fabio) on her face... she happily obliged (I love this girl!). After putting him on her cheek, of course I took the next step and asked if she'd mind putting him on her mouth.. And I really can't say that many people would be so willing to honor a request like that. Fabio was a fantastic model as well, he sat there very poised and totally nailed the mood we were going for. After we played with him for a while, we decided to put him in a safe place and part ways. It was kind of sad, because he seemed like he didn't want us to leave, but we had to. Fabio, I hope you are doing well <3.
Model: Moll Green
Photography: Savannah Daras
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www.savannahdaras.com | Facebook | Tumblr | deviantArt | Twitter
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Sarah Ann Loreth, Diana Lemieux, and myself are holding a creative portraiture workshop in New Hampshire on June 23rd! Spots are limited! Email me at savannah@savannahdaras.com for more details.
Sometimes, the realization of our dreams unfolds in ways we never anticipated. This is keenly illustrated by an abandoned relic of the Cold War: a former monitoring and broadcasting station for Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty (RFE/RL), now lost to time.
Formed by the National Committee for a Free Europe (NCFE) and the American Committee for the Liberation of the Peoples of Russia, RFE and Radio Liberty initially had different target audiences but the same goal: to broadcast uncensored news to communist countries. By 1976, both stations were operating out of Munich and eventually merged into one entity.
The photograph you see captures one of the critical technical facilities of RFE/RL, the Monitoring and Broadcasting Station located at Oberschleißheim Airport. From 1953 until its abandonment in 1995, this station was the ears and voice of free Europe. Its mission was both simple and Herculean: to break through the Iron Curtain using state-of-the-art technology.
But as history turned its pages, the winds changed. The Warsaw Pact dissolved in 1989, the Soviet Union collapsed in 1991, and the station's mission seemed fulfilled. Yet the aftermath brought its own challenges. RFE/RL found itself an expensive relic in a changed world. The transition wasn't smooth for everyone. Many employees who specialized in Russian broadcasts found themselves jobless and directionless.
The station was eventually deserted in 1992, and since then, it has been deteriorating, left with no purpose or future.
My own life was profoundly shaped by the fall of the Soviet Union. Growing up in Kiev, I wished for the communist regime to end, not for political reasons, but for a more materialistic future. When the Union did collapse, my family and I found ourselves destitute in the new capitalistic society that emerged. Despite gaining access to a world of material goods, we were left with empty pockets.
This station, like my personal history, stands as a testament to the unpredictability of fulfilled dreams. While its walls may be crumbling, the stories they contain—of geopolitical shifts, of personal tragedies and triumphs—remain as relevant as ever.
First afternoon off work because I felt like it...upon arrival...the realization that idle time is a burden set in...the mind wanders...there was only one solution...take a walk with the MKIII and the 100-400mm. After about 15 minutes in the still 85 Deg F heat I was done...my first thoughts on what to call this shoot was "Butterflies & B.S." A Variety of Things Seen.
The Butterflies are next.
Please do not use without my explicit permission
© All Rights Reserved
Walter C Snyder
A couple Saturday's ago, I was out and about trying to find a spot to capture the sunset. I was runnning out of time to find the right place and I came across this location. The sun was getting quite low so before I even headed out to the end of this pier, I started snapping. I wanted to get a shot before the sun dipped all the way below the treeline.
Afterwards, I sat on that bench, put photography on hold for a moment, and remembered that sometimes I need to see the world through my eyes and not always through the lense. I thought about that for the longest time. I pondered over the realization that I spend so much time behind the camera that I forget that not all things in life need to be captured on a digital memory stick.
So I just sat there. Breathed in the fresh air. And as the night sky started to bring itself to center stage, I picked up my camera and headed back to the car. Half way back, I turned around and took one more look ~ a moment meant for just me, myself and I, all captured on my very own internal memory "stick" for personal viewing anytime I close my eyes.
Have a great weekend everyone :-)
limited editon print
info about this print on my blog:
jenniferdavisart.blogspot.com/2010/04/prints.html
"Dark Art"
A group show of limited edition fine art prints by Carles Gomila, Jennifer Davis, Jesse Leroy-Smith, Kevin Earl Tayor, Natalie Shau, Russ Mills, Sylvia Ji, Zoe Lacchei at vidrART in Ciutadella de Menorca, Spain.
Nov 27-Dec 31, 2009.
more info about the show here:
jenniferdavisart.blogspot.com/2009/11/dark-art-group-show...
Casa Zapata Museum
Casa Zapata is a beautiful complex residence, whose realization was ordered by the Zapata noble family as from the end of the XVI century. Family’s members arrived in Sardinia in 1323 together with the infant Alfonso to conquer it and in 1541 they bought the Barony of Las Plassas, Barumini and Villanovafranca, becoming landlords and then barons of these lands until the abolition of the feudalism. Among the various buildings being part of this residence stand out: a beautiful building with an elegant garden, built between the late sixteenth and early seventeenth century to become the feudal lord house and Baronial Home, and two other bodies pertaining to agricultural buildings, accomplished since the early 1900s, used as storehouses, stables and farmer’s house overlooking a large open court that allowed the free movement of people, goods and animals. In front of “Casa Zapata” is located the Parish Church entitled to the Blessed Immaculate Virgin Mary, whose construction was probably commissioned by the same noble Aragon family.
Today the Spanish residence is the seat of the so-called “Casa Zapata” Museum organized into three sections.
Polo museale casa zapata
“Casa Zapata” è una meravigliosa e complessa residenza fatta erigere dall’antica e nobile famiglia aragonese degli Zapata a partire dalla fine del XVI secolo. I membri di questa famiglia giunsero in Sardegna nel 1323 al seguito dell’Infante Alfonso che si preparava alla conquista dell’isola, si stabilirono, quindi, a Cagliari (una delle Città Reali) e nel 1541 acquistarono la Baronia di Las Plassas, Barumini e Villanovafranca, divenendone signori e poi baroni, e arrivando ad amministrarla fino alla soppressione del regime feudale. Tra i diversi edifici che costituiscono la residenza si distinguono: uno splendido palazzo, con elegante giardino annesso, realizzato tra la fine del XVI e gli inizi del XVII secolo per divenire Sede Baronale e dimora del feudatario, e altri due corpi murari di pertinenza agricola, realizzati a partire dai primi anni del 1900, utilizzati come magazzini, stalle e casa del fattore aperti su una grande corte che consentiva il libero movimento di uomini, merci e animali. Innanzi a “Casa Zapata” è ubicata la Parrocchia della Beata Vergine Immacolata, la cui costruzione fu probabilmente commissionata dalla stessa nobile famiglia aragonese.
Oggi la residenza spagnola è sede del cosiddetto Polo Museale “Casa Zapata” organizzato in tre sezioni.
fondazionebarumini.it
Graciosa is the darling of palmenses. The beach has a beauty that is a pleasure to see. They are 520 meters from shore that hold bars and restaurants, sports courts, marina with dock, pier and overlooking the Friendship Bridge, 8 km long.
With a modern structure, Graciosa also serves as a point of realization of cultural, sporting and leisure events. For luck, the palmenses always pass the turn on the spot, enjoying the show of fireworks and artistic presentations. An extraordinary program and watch the sun do- because the lake.
23.04.15
Today I had a bit of a realization. Lately I've been feeling a little paniced before I go to work. At first I thought it was because of my new job. But that didn't make sense because I love this job and the people I work with. Today I finally understood that these panic feelings are because of this project. Right now I'm working closing shift so by the time I get off it's already dark. I personally prefer shooting in the evening. And without a vehicle to use during the day I've been limited to locations within walking distance. I personally want to be creating my best, but I don't feel like I have. I'm glad I had most of the day to reflect on this. Now that I understand a bit more of myself right now I think I can find a way to change those feelings up. Even so there is always a reason for me to go shoot, to keep moving forward, I don't let something so silly and trivial get in my way of creating. And hey all of you lovely faces are the biggest push around the corner to keep me going. I really don't say this enough, but thank you. Thank you sooooo much! You might not know how much every single one of you effect my life, and I can't even beging to explain it. And a simple thank you isn't great enough. But it's all I can say right now.
Thank you!
(Also if any one you want to her my nit picky problems with this one keep reading, if not have a great night. Today I spent almost two hours walking in the forest and couldn't even find the right location for this concept. Which is all fine and dandy, I actually love walking in the forest. BUT I WORE THE WORST PANTS FOR IT! I should have worn my blue jean. I just should have :p I wanted a bit of a colder look ya see, and these pants, which out thinking, made it impossible. So instead I made it a lot warmer and happy and it all worked out.)
Night :)
This week has brought me to the realization that being able to take and upload a new picture to this project everyday is a bit of an unrealistic ability for me right now! But I will try to upload as much as possible! Anyways, on to the addition!
The eyes have one language everywhere
-George Herbert
This lovely girl's name is Kiah. Hiii Kiah! I asked her what her favourite feature was and she told me it was her eyes. And even though this is the third time i've done eyes for this project, I really don't mind! Eyes are so pretty and Kiah has amazing eyes anyways!
And on a side note, we can all welcome Canada's infamous winter. It has arrived! It started as rain, but when the temperature dropped it became ice/snow, so now all the streets are like ice-rinks! It took me an entire hour to get home from work when it normally only takes me 30 minutes!
But the trees are all frosted and coated in ice and it really looks so pretty!
B)eSketch 2011. Poster design study created for my friend Debbie from Chicago. She always says "Think Outside the Box". Thanks my friend for the inspirational words. B))
"Art is creative for the sake of realization, not for amusement. For transfiguration, not for the sake of play.”
~Max Beckmann
Art house Leidse Rijn Utrecht Netherlands - 2004-2010
Stanley Brouwn - artist - idea
Bertus Mulder - architect - realization
The Triton Fountain is located in Rome in Piazza Barberini. The realization of the "public ornamentation of the city" was entrusted to Gian Lorenzo Bernini, the favorite artist of the pontifical court of Urban VIII; the Tritone fountain, on the whole, conveys an explicit message of dynastic exaltation of the Barberini family, to whom the Pope belonged: the Bernini designed in 1642-43 for Piazza Barberini one of its most successful fountains, the Triton fountain. The latter contributed to restore the decoration to the area, previously used for the cultivation of the vineyard, being located at the edge of the Strada Felice route; in this way, the area began to be animated by a very lively cultural life, so much so that since then Piazza Barberini (with its "fountain of the Triton sounding", as it began to become known due to the hissing emitted by the gush) became the favorite meeting place for many artists visiting Rome.
The columns and the railings that surround the fountain, creating a narrow area of respect, date back to the nineteenth century, when the square began to be subject to intense vehicular traffic. Between the nineteenth and early twentieth century, in fact, the urban structure of the area was distorted, leading to the construction of several multi-storey building complexes that abruptly broke the balance established between the seventeenth-century buildings, the Tritone and Palazzo Barberini.
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La fontana del Tritone si trova a Roma in piazza Barberini. La realizzazione del «pubblico ornamento della città» venne affidata a Gian Lorenzo Bernini, l'artista preferito dalla corte pontificia di Urbano VIII; la fontana del Tritone, nel complesso, trasmette un esplicito messaggio di esaltazione dinastica della famiglia Barberini, alla quale apparteneva il papa: il Bernini così disegnò nel 1642-43 per piazza Barberini una delle sue fontane di maggior successo, la fontana del Tritone. Quest'ultima contribuì a restituire decoro alla zona, precedentemente adibita alla coltivazione della vigna, essendo collocata ai margini della direttrice della Strada Felice; in questo modo, l'area iniziò a essere animata da una vita culturale assai vivace, tanto che sin da allora piazza Barberini (con la sua «fontana del Tritone sonante», come iniziò a divenire nota per via del sibilo emesso dallo zampillo) divenne il ritrovo preferito di molti artisti in visita a Roma.
Le colonnine e le inferriate che circondano la fontana, creando una stretta zona di rispetto, risalgono al XIX secolo, quando la piazza iniziava ad essere soggetta ad un intenso traffico veicolare. Tra l'Ottocento e i primi decenni del Novecento, infatti, venne stravolto l'assetto urbanistico della zona, portando alla costruzione di diversi complessi edilizi a più piani che spezzarono bruscamente l'equilibrio instauratosi tra gli edifici seicenteschi, il Tritone e palazzo Barberini.