Drips! I often wonder at

I often wonder at my ability as a child to concentrate on the drops of water falling into my bath from the taps. I can so clearly remember watching the ripples as they moved out in expanding circles, the sound of the drips as they fell, watching the drips form on the ends of the taps. Yet now I can only concentrate long enough to have the brief recollection before my thoughts race on to something else.

Obviously I am not alone:

There once lived this naive yet sweetly innocent young boy. At the telling of this story he is sitting casually in the bathtub, the water up to his belly button, just about. In front of him at eye-level is the faucet, chrome and shiny. So that he can see his face reflected in it, though due to the distortion of the reflection his eyes are tightly squeezed together and his chin explodes downwards like an uneven trapezoid with sharp corners. Okay. The faucet is dripping, very slowly. Each drop is a slow motion ballet as the adhesion properties of water keep it stuck to the rim of metal. The drop of water grows and grows and then dips down with the gentle tug of gravity. Dips down, the drip. Gravity pulling against the adhesion properties of water molecules. Two types of attraction defined by nature. Working together, working against one another.

from Random Thoughts

Anger I am angry too

I am angry too much of the time. I was trying to write something myself then decided to do a search on Google. This was what I found:

I don’t understand it when people find it so easy to judge me
Even if they don’t know the story, they look and see,
Misjudge me, I burn inside I feel like a massive storm,
Brewing inside of me turning into a form
What is that form crying
About the truth
Not lying
Just makes me want to die
Even though it better to cry
You don’t know what to do with all this anger
Maybe get the knife, self-harm,
But inside you know you should stay calm
But it isn’t that easy for me
If only someone would understand me
See how hard it is for me
Trying to fight this daily pain
It seems as though I am insane
But I know I’m not
I’m just truthful

Anger by Claire aged 14 – A Poem from the Anger Collection

Lost in the cave? when

Lost in the cave?
when so much of the world comes to us through the media, we slowly, imperceptibly come to believe that we are still living in the world of people, places, things, and events when in sad fact we are living in the world of newspapers, pictures, electronic blips of light and sound. like the denizens of the cave in plato’s republic, we too have taken the shadows cast on the wall for the actual objects. we talk to and about shadows while the actual world glides unobtrusively by. imagery generated from experiences that refer to the world but are not themselves the stuff referred to can hardly be compelling.

– peter london, no more secondhand art via dangerousmeta!

Eagle Poem To pray you

Eagle Poem
To pray you open your whole self
To sky, to earth, to sun, to moon
To one whole voice that is you
And know there is more
That you can’t see, can’t hear
Can’t know except in moments
Steadly growing, and in languages
That aren’t always sound but other
Circles of motion.
Like eagle that Sunday morning
Over Salt River. Circled in blue sky
In wind, swept our hearts clean
With sacred wings.
We see you, see ourselves and know
That we must take the utmost care
And kindness in all things.
Breathe in, knowing we are made of
All this, and breathe, knowing
We are truly blessed because we
Were born, and die soon within a
True circle of motion,
Like eagle rounding out the morning
Inside us.
We pray that it will be done
In beauty.
In beauty.

by Joy Harjo via riley dog