The Transfiguration

everything is sacred

Posts Tagged ‘shawnie

Wisps of the Day #1463

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After a possibly enlightening survey of a thrift store, Shawnie and I found light pens and were determined to paint with them. There was no escaping the sun, though; the best we could do was hide in the brush where the light came through indirectly, allowing us to color our faces with swift strokes of the LEDs.

Shawnie has a penchant for ghostly images, for indirect glances and little hints that suggest an idea without giving away the form. It cultivates a sense of mystery, keeping an easy distance from the truth so you can exult in wonder for a moment.Subtlety gives such a spark to life – the faint scent of baked bread drifting in the wind can almost be better than the bread itself – and Shawnie has a good sense for it.

Do I ruin subtlety by speaking of it explicitly, perhaps?

useless creatures

Written by Umbrella Man

September 24, 2012 at 1:18 am

Posted in friends, light, people

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Graffiti of the Day #1430

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So today is, piece by piece:

Crepes sweet and savory, with apples, cheese, tomato and avocado;
Infinite mirrors in the kitsch graveyard;
The many uses of duck tape;
Sour fruit with seeds like molten gemstones;
Unknown musicians on the bottom shelf;
Carving stencils amid playing children and a man severely and vocally angry at Raphael;
A spraypaint malfunction that forced us to make our mark in sun and shadow;
(macro-and microliciousness being the beauty and flavor of things great and small, from galactic constellations to neural fibers, or from lifelong goals to eating peaches in the sun)
The rediscovery of the garden where dead scrap comes back to life;
Poetry that diffuses like violet smoke;
Not-quite-legendary pizza with a view of the world;
A candy-luminescent sky;
A difficult goodbye.

If only more days held so many colors.

please don’t get answers from eyes

Written by Umbrella Man

August 22, 2012 at 12:09 am

Posted in , crafted things, light

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Vertigo of the Day #1376

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I really don’t find heights the least bit frightening, especially when firmly anchored by a friend, but my camera apparently was terrified when it looked down from the summit of the first wall I climbed today. This acrophobic image must suffice, though, as I couldn’t take photos while belaying and Anna took care of the camera after this ascent.

It’s been such a long time since I went climbing, and it felt fantastic to finally return to it. Every wall feels like a puzzle, taking careful steps in the right order and with the right balance, learning to apply force at just the right angle to generate the friction needed to push myself just a little higher.

My third climb was up a wall tilted against me, so nothing but my grip kept me from slipping away. Within a few minutes the puppet strings in my wrists were worn away, and I repeatedly lost my hold and swung away from the wall, flailing for a few moments in the empty air. I abandoned my pride and switched to an easier path to the top, and when I reached the ground again my hands were comatose in a way I hadn’t felt in years. It’s a satisfying feeling – a vibrant reminder that I live in a tangible body.

These wrists may burn tomorrow, but it was worth it. Hopefully I can find someone to climb with back in Berkeley.

come down now, they’ll say

Written by Umbrella Man

June 29, 2012 at 2:20 am

Script of the Day #1372

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Time flows strangely in the old fern cave, where stalactite teardrops will wet your hair and the rich damp mud licks at your feet. Glancing outside from one vantage point reveals a dim, fern-choked, primeval world, the first waking of the planet; a few steps to the side will bring out the sun, a future into which one can emerge bright and hopeful.

Moments here will fatten and melt easily, and each second is so intimately tied to the next that we can paint scripts into time itself. These glowing words can funnel the future to fulfill wishes and reshape the past to correct regrets, but this medium is difficult to master. As if writing in a dream, words will refuse to take shape, emerging formless and dizzy into the air. Shawnie’s script here is perhaps a very important thought, but I can’t quite decipher it; whether Time could understand remains to be seen.

You can see the splitting of timelines here, at her feet; we may never know what happened in the other universe.

the moon is down

Written by Umbrella Man

June 25, 2012 at 1:06 am

Posted in friends, light, people

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Roost of the Day #1350

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I’m feeling a little inarticulate this evening; I don’t think I could properly say how I’m feeling. There’s a lightness to it – almost an electrostatic that holds me by the chest and helps me float to and fro.

For my birthday we went to Pigeon Point, where the sand comes in dozens of colors and is just coarse enough to massage your toes as your weight sinks through it. We waded through cold waters and smooth stones to make our way here, where the rocks beckon us to climb their intricate wrinkles.

I worked my way across the cliffs barefoot, feeling each crack with careful steps. It’s so good to feel the earth like that.

More important than the rocks and waves, though, are the wonderful people with whom I went exploring. They are absolutely brilliant, and I can’t say how happy I am to glow with them.

My housemates all put a huge amount of effort into planning and decorating for today, and I love them for it.

Thanks for being in my life, everyone.

the only moment we were alone

Written by Umbrella Man

June 3, 2012 at 1:55 am

Rendezvous of the Day #1344

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The process of discovering a person is something strange and fantastic and slightly terrifying.

Here it begins with noticing from a distance, and wondering; then the exchange of thoughts and memories, and being enamored with language and images; and then, finally, a rendezvous in the real world.

Because our first real interactions were in written word – a medium ideal for conveying thought directly, without the filters and doubts in speech – it was a strange thing to meet in person, and find it difficult to communicate in quite the same way.

I don’t speak the way I write, and I don’t know if I ever will; this makes it feel almost like I’m a different person depending on if my words flow from my fingers or my throat.

Anyway, this is Shawnie. There is flame in her poems, she knows the secrets of flowers, and she’s not afraid to eat wild nutmeg. It was a good morning.

I would like to reach out my hands

Written by Umbrella Man

May 28, 2012 at 1:48 am

Posted in friends, people, water

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Diaspora of the Day #1338

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Recently I’ve been struck by the ubiquity of silk about our campus, hanging from every tree and every rooftop, and I wondered if there was perhaps a population explosion among our local arachnids. After today’s spectacle, however, it seems that the spiders are not solely responsible for the threads holding our world together.

As we left class, the low sun refracted through dozens of silk strands hanging from the trees, all drifting in the wind and shining in every iridescent color. The camera fails to capture the spectacle (or should I blame the photographer?), but it was a marvelous thing to come upon at the day’s end. As we stood there, more silk descended, and I could catch it in my hand to watch the sunlight bend along its length.

It was several moments before we discovered the silkworms at the end of every strand, rappelling down from the tree branches in a mass exodus. This realization left me tiptoeing around the site, desperate not to tread upon any of the tiny creatures, but I don’t know if it was any use; concrete has little to offer a silkworm setting off on its first adventure.

Regardless, I am grateful for their craft, and for the delicate play of sunlight I was shown this afternoon. The spiders will need to work hard to best this, I think.

cello suite no. 2 in d minor

Written by Umbrella Man

May 22, 2012 at 2:19 am

Posted in insects, light, people

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