All posts tagged: Buechner

What I Imagine

IF YOU LOSE YOURSELF in your work, you find who you are. If you express the best you have in you in your work, it is more than just the best you have in you that you are expressing. Frederick Buechner, Whistling in the Dark I thought it was rather coincidental (not) that my quote of the day email from Mr. Buechner was titled Work. I couldn’t wait to read it. His are usually a little longer, but this one was perfect for what’s been on my mind these days. Every day I imagine more and more images that I want to create, and I’m finding that if I just keep doing that, I lose old worries as I grasp new techniques. It’s a win-win. Anyway, the featured image is actually a combination of three images, four if you count the hand. The bird shots are from last week, at the L.A. River- so the water has been re-colored, to say the least. The hand was just my way of saying- No, this is not what was …

Art: A Great Read

I’m sharing someone else’s words today. “An old silent pond. Into the pond a frog jumps. Splash! Silence again.” It is perhaps the best known of all Japanese haiku. No subject could be more humdrum. No language could be more pedestrian. Basho, the poet, makes no comment on what he is describing. He implies no meaning, message, or metaphor. He simply invites our attention to no more and no less than just this: the old pond in its watery stillness, the kerplunk of the frog, the gradual return of the stillness. In effect he is putting a frame around the moment, and what the frame does is enable us to see not just something about the moment, but the moment itself in all its ineffable ordinariness and particularity. The chances are that if we had been passing by when the frog jumped, we wouldn’t have noticed a thing or, noticing it, wouldn’t have given it a second thought. But the frame sets it off from everything else that distracts us. That is the nature and …

Words About Birds

  Wheeling through the summer sky, perching in the treetops, feeding their young, birds go about their business as generally unconcerned with the human race as the human race is generally unconcerned with them. But every so often they do something that catches our attention. Canada geese heading south in the shape of a V. A white-throated sparrow grieving over poor Sam Peabody, Peabody, Peabody. A cardinal darting through the shrubbery like a flame. For a moment or two even the dullest of us dimly realizes the world would be a poorer place without them. One wonders if from time to time birds feel the same way about us. A man with an umbrella walking in the rain. A woman in a bathing suit picking peas. The patter song of a two-year-old in the sandbox. Do birds every once in a while see us as we see them, as basically irrelevant but occasionally worth the cocking of a beady eye, the flicker of a wing, the first few notes of a song? —Frederick Buechner, Beyond …