Breath

As I breathe in the air a billion years old
and capture the pith of life lived . . .
and living
feel a bond to all that was . . .
and is,
I am joined to the flow
and take my fleeting drink

Here, now, mine, ours, one --
souls in time held in airy solution

As I breathe out . . .
I am emptygone to the future time

a continuous journey

Symmetry

Inside Dome of the Imam Mosque of Shah Abbas I (1588-1629) (Masjid-e Jam 'e Abbasi) in Isfahon, Persia. He commissioned its construction in 1612 and it was completed in 1638 nine years after he died. But he did live to see completion of the enamel-tile mosaic dome which probably took most of the construction time. I couldn't find out the size of the tiles (there is no real scale to the photos) but am still looking.
This was the first capital of Iran, before Tehran, and it's mosques are considered the most beautiful and elaborate in the world. Some were damaged during the senseless war with Iraq in the 80's but fortunately most still exist intact. I have read that 94% of those in Teheran are poets, or at least consider themselves such; I don't know about what the 1.3 million in Isfahon consider themselves but I suspect a similar feature. What a wonderful aspect to be known for.

Iran is opening up to tourism apparently, and from Persepolis to Isfahon would be a trip to experience. see here




A Tibetan Buddhist sand painting. Unlike the structure above, this construction took about 6 days and 16 monks to complete and is destroyed shortly afterward to indicate the impermanence and temporary nature of life. I am impressed by the symmetry and mandala-like nature of each effort; and the yin-yang nature of the permanence of the Mosque and the impermance of the sand-painting.
I am also impressed with the idea that I can sit here in my cushy chair and observe each extreme of the possibilities!

Sand

This is a Navajo sand painting used in ceremony and healing. ( I didn't know that the Navajo did sand paintings until recently.) Rather than paraphrase, I will just show a description I found of the meanings:

The Whirling Logs Narrative

From the Nightway Chant

In the Whirling Logs narrative, or Tsil-ol-ne story, the hero of the story sets out on a long journey [down the San Juan River]. At first, the gods try to persuade him against going, but seeing his determination, help him hollow out a log in which he will travel down the river.

Along the way, he has many misadventures which ultimately result in his gaining important ceremonial knowledge. In one such instance, he and his craft are captured by the Water People, who carry him down beneath the waters to the home of Water Monster. Black God threatens to set fire to Water Monster's home and the hero is released, but not before being taught by Frog how to cure the illnesses caused by the Water People.

When he finally reaches the big river [the Colorado River] that is his destination, the gods take his log out of a whirlpool where the rivers meet, and help him to shore.

In the sandpainting, you will see the gods, clockwise from the top, they are Talking God (B'ganaskiddy), the teacher; and at the bottom, Calling God (Hastye-o-gahn), associated with farming and fertility. On each side, left and right, are two humpbacked guardians, dressed alike. The humps are usually regarded as back-packs. They are the seed gatherers and bearers. The two guardians usually carry tobacco pouches.

The Gods carry prayer sticks, Talking God, elder of the Gods, carries a medicine pouch in the shape of a weasel.

Where the rivers met, the hero came upon a whirling cross with two Yeis seated on each of the four ends. From them, he learned the knowledge of farming and is given seeds. He then returns to his home to share these gifts with his people. The yei pair are male and female. The male in black, with a round head mask. The female has a square head mask.

In the sandpaintings, these plants are shown, from the right of Talking God as corn, and clockwise as beans, squash, and tobacco. The plants, and/or other elements of the design are shown in the four sacred colors, white, blue, yellow and black, according to their cardinal positions.

On the right side, bottom, and left side of the sandpainting is portrayed the Rainbow Yei, a guardian god. There is sometimes a circle drawn, and painted blue, at the intersection of the cross, said to represent the whirlpool which was the destination of the episode's hero.

Figures in Navajo sandpaintings generally proceed either towards the sunrise or clockwise, depending upon the viewers orientation. For the Navajo, the cardinal directions start in the east (as opposed to our north), and the east is usually shown at the top of a sandpainting, and open (to let in the dawn's light). This is the same orientation of a hogan, whose door is always in the east.

This description is by Mary & Jay Tallant of Canyon Country Originals in Tucson, Arizona.

Their Home

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Me again ----- The San Juan river flows in southern Utah into the Colorado river (now Lake Powell) from the east. South is Navajo territory in northeast Arizona where the mesas can be seen for hundreds of miles. When last going through this area, we found many Navajos' hitching rides as they always get picked up. Hitching a ride is a lost art elsewhere since everyone may be suspect! Unfortunate . . . we met some of the best people , picking up the hitchers.

Once, sitting in a hot spring south of Santa Fe, we heard a Hopi from the Jemiz Pueblo above on the rocks chanting in preparation for their spring-solstice ceremony. Story was that if the women in the Pueblo miles to the south could hear him, he was ready for the festivities. After a winter of rest it took awhile for him to build up the volume but improvement was evident after a few hours.

Fred's Place

This found at Fred Farabee's abandoned homestead -- photo of a Lockheed P-38 Lightning used mainly in the South Pacific and Africa during the "good" war--yeah, sure-- (seems that they were not used much in Europe because the pilot could not warm himself with the engine heat as he could with other designs where the engine was directly in front of him to provide a heat source. In the tropics it was so hot in the cockpit,and there was no way to open a window lest airflow be disturbed, that the pilots sometimes wore only shorts, parachutes, and sneakers to fly the missions). Lindberg flew one in the South Pacific as an operational test pilot.
more here

The magazines seemed to go from about early 40's to mid 50's in dates, and then would have numbered over 600 in an old shed and barn.
This time of year is best for perusing abandoned places to avoid the snakes and bugs of summer. It is also easier to spot those well or biffy holes in the ground, always somewhere.




A bean sheller that Fred built and is still operational as near as I could tell, just crank the handle throw in the dried bean pods and it would deliver the beans to a bin below with the shells gone.
This was a poor farm and is still called such by the neighbors who now own it. Freds dad cut railroad ties from white oak trees (Robert ==1865 to 1950) at the turn of the century and Fred would take them 15 miles to Portland, a town on the Missouri river, in horses and wagon, for sale to the railroad. (When I asked neighbors how come Robert was buried some 3 miles away in an unmarked grave I was told "they didn't get along very well"!)


This be the house where Fred and his folks lived their lives. The added-on part is the kitchen ,usually well separated by a wall for cooking in the summer with the hot wood stove. It has a good roof and should last well beyond the 30+ years that it has been alone.
I hope to go back when flowers appear to see what they planted. Usually iris, crocus, and raspberry still come up around the old yards.










There seems to be always something that tells of the spirit and feelings of those gone from these old places. Whether it be an old piano found abandoned or a home-made gravestone for his mother; fabricated by hand, as here. I am told that Fred made a drill bit out of a round file and rigged it to an old tractor-gearing box-- added a handle to raise and lower it and was able to drill holes in this Missouri limestone rock to mark his mother's grave. There was no electric here until my neighbor George Garrett hooked Fred's place up to REA (Rural Electric) in the late 60's so this would have been a hand-operated rig to drill these holes. Fred died in 1977 and was of my grandmother's generation.
I wish I had known him.