View allAll Photos Tagged selfreflection
Photo captured at a cattle ranch near the Lost Coast via Mattole Road. Humboldt County. Late May 2013.
I'm closing out the year with this, a quick photo from the new art installation on the river (Subtile
- designed by Federico Díaz). It's an odd one with all of these small reflective discs - but it grew on me as I sat there with the wind gently moving the circles. It had a ripple like effect - which was fitting for it being along the river.
Photo of the rugged Santa Lucia Mountain Range and Highway 1, the Cabrillo Highway near the center of this photo, captured via Minolta MD Celtic 28mm f/2.8 Lens in Big Sur. Monterey County. Late October 2013.
Photo looking towards Sharp Point captured at the beach on the ocean side of Freshwater Lagoon. Humboldt Lagoons State Park. Humboldt County. Mid July 2013.
Photo captured via Nikon 50mm f/1.8 D AF Nikkor lens at Patricks Point State Park. Humboldt County. On the last day of September 2013.
Photo captured a few miles east of the city of Arcata on California Highway 299. Humboldt County. Late November 2012.
Photo captured along the King Range via Minolta MD Celtic 28mm f/2.8 Lens at Mattole River Beach on the Lost Coast. Humboldt County. Late November 2013.
Can you see me? This is the gift shop of the Jean Bonnet Tavern in Bedford Pennsylvania. What a lovely little shop it was.
To read the original blog post: kneverkneverland.com/2013/01/12/the-ghost-with-no-haunt/
On the stage, I step from behind the curtain and pray until its over.
After, I feel the tickle of a whisper coming from those behind my back.
Feels like being trapped under the ice of a frozen pond.
They are standing on the icy surface, looking down and laughing.
My muscles clenched in cold and searing pain of suffocation.
This myth is what keeps my mind in its place.
In truth, No one wastes a whisper on me.
I am a ghost who has lost its haunt.
A thought that might have formed.
If only I could shed the layers of swaddling cloths.
And withstand the beating into uncertain unconsciousness.
Then, I might emerge from the icy waters as,
Someone.
But, I have tasted the safety of the genie.
And I have acquired a mountain of tools to hide behind.
The more of them I have, the closer I think I am to being me.
They will fly me out on their wings into the world and drop me gently on a pile of pillows.
But truth points out that I have traveled no further on this map of lies.
I am the cowardly explorer with no compass.
The thought that never formed.
The ghost with no haunt.
Photo captured near the Modoc National Forest on Highway 139 in Modoc County. "State of Jefferson." Late February 2013.
Photo captured along the beach at Dry Lagoon. Humboldt Lagoons State Park. Humboldt County. Early May 2013.
Really??? Seriously??? This is what my life is like with my VERY active 6-year-old human.
A Day with Steph A-22
Photo captured near the town of Point Arena and near the Point Arena Lighthouse Station. Mendocino County. Late March 2013.
Lost and Gone
Poem:
Funnelled into this tunnel
We tiptoe on an obscure path, sinking further into acceptable societal norms.
Our leaders are the shining stars of opportunity, hope and desperation.
We are wearing modernist chains as productivity symbols.
We continually inch forward.
Bound by their unspoken agendas.
The tunnel shields us from the glimmer of what could be.
We carry the burden of shattered aspirations.
We forgot them as the junk of continuous acquisition minced us into meta pulp.
What drives our reluctance to deviate from this tunnel?
The way towards a post-capitalist society are intertwined with our innermost galaxies.
Can we continue waiting for the moment we can see clearly through the fluorescent lights?
Years and years?
Generations and generations?
Lost and gone.
Story:
Our footsteps echo in compliance on a dark path. Every person watching is a unique shadow, a beautiful and intricate figure composed of unfulfilled dreams and values. We carry chains mistaken for rhythm, our procession of self-imposed burden. The tunnel, an artificial cocoon, becomes a womb of obscurity. We are like Sisyphus, carrying the weight of unfulfilled potential, dissipating against the hard surface of routine. We have the power to step out of line, to break free from our invisible shackles. Yet we stay silent in this parade of shadows and echoes. Is it fear or comfort that holds us in this spectral dance? To break free means facing the unknown, the blinding light of possibility. But we created this tunnel, and the map of the stars is etched on its walls, waiting for us to look up.
Description:
Embark on a metaphorical journey through the 'Tunnel of Self-Reflection.' This video art piece captures the essence of walking a path paved with echoes of our choices and the silhouettes of dreams yet to be fulfilled. As you watch, consider the chains of habit and the weight of potential within us all. Are we comfortable in the darkness, or are we ready to step into the light of the unknown? Join us as we explore these profound questions in a hauntingly beautiful setting. #PathToSelfDiscovery #UnfulfilledDreams #MetaphoricalJourney
Blogger:
www.jjfbbennett.com/2024/04/lost-and-gone.html
Keywords:
Metaphorical Journey, Self-Reflection, Unfulfilled Dreams, Life's Path, Philosophical Art, Echoes of Choice, Chains of Habit, Potential and Fear, Comfort in Darkness, Breaking Free, Self-Discovery, Artistic Interpretation
Wir sind schon auf Abschiedstour in Palermo.
Das Wetter ist heute grandios - es ist Frühling! 🌞
Wir sind noch einmal an unserem Lieblingsplatz, dem Zisa Park.
Ich blicke zurück auf vier Jahre Sizilien - für mich geht ein Lebensabschnitt zu Ende. Was das bedeutet, werde ich wahrscheinlich aber erst in Deutschland merken.
Und wie geht's euch damit? Was nehmt ihr mit aus Palermo?
"Palermo hat mich auf jeden Fall mein Heimweh nach Californien vergessen lassen." sagt Barbara. "Und ihr natürlich, meine Familie. Ich habe viel alten Groll im Meer versenken können. Ich habe Daliah verziehen. Wir waren hier viel auf alten Pfaden unterwegs, die ich einst mit ihr ging. Ich denke da an so Momente wie die rote Schule in Cefalù oder die Catacombe dei Cappuccini. Aber danke auch an Abdi und Shashaa, die mir halfen, meine Hollywood Sünden zu reflektieren."
"Ja, Familie." sagt Shashaa. "Ihr seid mir ans Herz gewachsen und meine zweite Familie geworden! Was ich mitnehme? All Along the Watchtower natürlich! Dass jemand den Watchtower in seinem Vorgarten stehen hat! Hhhhh. Aber das ist es, was die hier in Palermo können: Leben und leben lassen. Einfach an der Maqueda sitzen und einen Espresso trinken und die Leute beobachten. Oder Blumen so groß wie Suppenschüsseln. Oder die Bäume mit den Krokodilfüßen. Palermo, I ❤ you! Ich komme bestimmt wieder!"
"Ach, ich soll auch was sagen?" fragt Yinka. "Die letzten Wochen waren turbulent. Ihr wisst ja, was meiner Schwester Bisi passiert ist. Sie ist an einem sicheren Ort, und Bola sagt, sie werden alles tun, sie ins Ausland zu bringen. Ich bin ein wenig beruhigt. Jetzt im Ramadan sind wir ja sehr mit Tafsir beschäftigt. Wir wollen Antworten zum Leben von Jesus und Johannes und wie das Christentum entstand. Das ist so umfangreich, und für jede gefundene Antwort stellen sich zehn neue Fragen. Also, mein Kopf ist voll. Palermo, ja, dann war da noch der Zirkus mit den Carabinieri, nur dämliche Bürokratie halt. Ich hatte halt Angst, dass da noch was aus Rom nachkommt. Aber nein, das scheint wirklich Schnee von gestern zu sein. Rom und Valeria sind inzwischen ewig weit weg. Wenn du zu mir heute Italien sagst, dann denke ich zuerst an Palermo."
Photo captured near the Modoc National Forest on Highway 139 in Modoc County. "State of Jefferson." Late February 2013.
Photo captured along Dyerville Road at Founders Grove near Avenue of the Giants. Humboldt County. Late May 2013.
Photo captured at a cattle ranch near the Lost Coast via Mattole Road. Humboldt County. Late May 2013.
Photo captured on U.S. Highway 395--the portion of U.S. 395 cosigned with California Highway 299--in the city of Alturas. Modoc County. "State of Jefferson." Late March 2013.
Photo composite of three images.
The Path's End
Something captures us.
Our attention, we call it.
It takes us places,
In our imagination.
Then leads us to the end.
Then there is nothing else,
But to turn around,
And go back.
Wishing we could take it
Make it real,
Make it part of us.
Make it part of the world
We actually live in.
Wondering,
Who this person is,
That we call ourselves.
This life we lead,
That we call ours.
Where honesty
Is a peculiarity,
And called weakness,
To many.
But I can not hold
That burden any longer.
I can not be what you want.
No more than you can.
I am what I am.
That is all I,
Will ever be.
To ask any different,
That is the real fantasy.
The chorus of earthbound
Angels groan.
Because the truth,
That we are,
Has been sequestered
To our imagination.
To see the original post:
Photo captured while driving towards U.S. Highway 101, near post-mile marker 85.40 on Highway 1, the Shoreline Highway, near Leggett. Mendocino County. Late March 2013.