Archive for November, 2005

Tango!

Wednesday, November 9th, 2005
Tango

“The Tango Desktop Project exists to create a consistent user experience for free and Open Source software with graphical user interfaces.”

This creative group of artists and designers have great a project that has a great “Style Guideline“, a growing catolog of “Base Icons” and something called a “Icon Nameing Sec“.

30 years of sitting Zazen

Sunday, November 6th, 2005
Palouse Round Barn
Palouse Round Barn
Click here to see more images of this barn.

“Take something that does not belong to you and you become a thief - at once. Decide that you will take photographs and you are a photographer. Sit Zazen and you become a Buddha - at once. But that’s just the beginning of your journey. 30 years of stealing will make you more of a thief, 30 years of taking photographs will make you more of a photographer, and 30 years of sitting Zazen will make you more of a Buddha.”

Ottmar Liebert (paraphrased and plagerized)

Three Foxes by the Edge of the Field at Twilight

Friday, November 4th, 2005

Foggy Woods

The poem below is not mine. Jane Hirshfield is the author. She has great insight into communicating her experience of nature. In this poem Jane points to the interconnectedness of things. Are the foxes, friends, trees and the “I” in the poem, different. In the end, no. Not only has the “I” realized the foxes and trees but the foxes and trees realized the “I”. In the end the “I” realizes that the foxes have realized the “I” and the “I” is awakened to this realization. Enjoy.

Three Foxes by the Edge of the Field at Twilight

One ran,
her nose to the ground,
a rusty shadow
neither hunting nor playing.

One stood; sat; lay down; stood again.

One never moved,
except to turn her head a little as we walked.

Finally we drew too close,
and they vanished.
The woods took them back as if they had never been.

I wish I had thought to put my face to the grass.

But we kept walking,
speaking as strangers do when becoming friends.

There is more and more I tell no one,
strangers nor loves.
This slips into the heart
without hurry, as if it had never been.

And yet, among the trees, something has changed.

Something looks back from the trees,
and knows me for who I am.

from the book The Lives of the Heart
Jane Hirshfield ©1997
Highly recommended.