Archive | January, 2014

Back on Paros…

–It is quiet here.  The rain falls through the night and the clouds cover the sky during the day.  There are moments of sunshine–brilliant, silver and brief.   I hope to get out and shoot some film in a couple of days when the clouds roll away.

–I have been out biking, for which I am grateful.  The sense of freedom on a mountain bike that one does not have in either a car or walking.  Fast, but not too fast, panniers full of cameras.

–The people, food and music of Greece keep me here.  The light is nice too.

–I will be going through my files and uploading all my past “header images” from this blog to my Flickr site.  It might be interesting to see how they all look together.

–I have decided that I would like to be known as someone who worked hard rather than someone with any great talent.   Dedication and hard work has always brought me farther than subjective opinion.  I can measure the first.  The second is fickle and none of my business.

–In February I begin a new 7-year cycle of life.   I can already feel the shift.  It feels tectonic.

JDCM

 

 

Dream people…

I dreamed that I was at my mother’s house and discovered something wondrous, something I could never have imagined.

There were other people living on the property other than us.

The first group lived in the wetlands at the bottom of the hill.  They lived in homes made of sticks and mud.  These homes were not some kind of story-book hut, all warm and cozy.  They were wet, cold and the wind ripped through them at night.  They looked like beaver dams.  But the people were happy.  There were about 7 or 9 of them–an older woman, maybe the grandmother, some middle-aged men and women and some children, as old as 12 and as young as 5 or 6.  This was the family group.  To look at they were dirty but I realized that this was actually their skin pigment, like camouflage.  Their clothes were the color of dark wet mud, their hair full of rotting leaves and twigs.  To them it was perfectly normal and I was the outsider, too clean and worried about getting my socks wet as I stumbled through the muck.  How I discovered they were there, I do not remember.

Then there were the people that lived in the densest part of the forest along the ridge above my mother’s house.  They lived there like foxes, or rabbits, in homes made of sticks, leaves and packed down earth.  Dens.  Once again, nothing cozy about these places.  But the people were happy.  They had the same kind of skin pigmentation coloring   as the others.  Their clothes were the color of reddish damp earth and rotting leaves, their hair full of pine needles and bark.  This group was about the same size and make-up as the other group in the wetlands.  They were a little more outgoing, however, and as I now know, they were the ones with whom I made first contact.   It had been a cold, winter night. The wind was blowing and the temperature was subzero.  I happened to be looking out a window, out into the field behind the house and I saw 5 or 6 people trudging through the dark.  I followed them.  They saw me.  No one ran.  They told me to go.  I said I would but if there was anything they needed that they should only ask.   Through the Earth People I met the Water People.  My relationship with both has been one of respect and distance.

There was also a single person–the grandfather of the Earth People group.  He lived in a large pool , half submerged, next to my mother’s barn.  He had a small platform which held his campfire above the water and the chair he sat in was just high enough to keep his upper torso dry.  Over the fire he brewed coffee and fried bacon.  He was the shyest of them all.  The Two Peoples cared for him and kept him safe.  He was a therianthrope, a Shapeshifter.  When he shifted they confined him to a type of barracks surrounded by electrified concertina wire.  When he was in human form he sat quietly in his chair, in the pool, tending to his small fire.

I know enough of dream analysis to recognize that all of these people, these groups, are elements of myself.  I am the Water People. I am the Earth People. I am the Shapeshifter.

JDCM

Pinch me…

–They say our reality is Krishna’s dream while he sleeps on a lotus flower.

–It seems like a dream.  I woke up a few minutes ago, startled and disorientated.  Jet lag.  I am in Athens.  I walked out onto the small balcony of my hotel room overlooking the street.  It is quiet at 04:00.  The city sleeps, breathing slowly.  Two days ago I was in America, visiting family and friends.  I am in a different world.

–In America I ate hot dogs, apple pie, toasted peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, beef jerky.  There have been excellent sit-down meals too.  Very American food.  I have been able to stave off the calories at the gym.

–There was lots of snow there, and rain, and frigid cold.  It was lovely. There was an abundance of water.  On the little island I call home water can be scarce.  We use less.  Long showers are a luxury.  I luxuriated.

–On the Massachusetts Turnpike I drove through the kind of rain, wind and fog that made it seem as if I was driving underwater, surrounded by a screaming mass of tractor trailers and SUVs all moving at 80 mph.  I had little choice but to keep up.  Every light on my little car was switched on so people would see me.

–Photography during the winter allows for simplicity.  Sticks, snow, shadow, light.

–So I am back in Greece.  Last night I ate yigandes, patzaria, and briam for dinner.  Greek food.

–I am back in Greece.  I have a few days here in Athens then I hop the ferry back to Paros.  What is waiting for me there?

–I was thinking of taking pictures of metro stations.  I need a new header image before I post this entry.  I’ll use one of those.

–Life is like a dream.  Row, row, row your boat…

JDCM

 

Dreams and thoughts from the Old Year…

The New Year is here and I have some thoughts about life and some dreams I have had.

–I dreamed the other night that my heart chakra was clutched in an enormous, dark fist.  The fist was my own.  It has been a necessary part of my life, protecting my heart from being damaged.  This reminds me of a country-western song about a personal ad…”one heart, slightly cracked and only comes in blue.”

–I dreamed the other night that I was a member of an historical re-enactment troupe and we were acting out events of the Holocaust. The project required months of rehearsals and location scouting.   I played the part of a Jewish man, escaping down a rushing river to safety.  As I drifted past towns and hamlets in the chilly water, scenes of terror and brutality lined the shore.   I was swept along with the current.   I washed up on a rocky shore.  I staggered into the foyer of a large hotel in the south of France and was re-united with my fellows.   I wept.  We embraced.  There is more to it than that.  It is hard to put into words.  You had to be there.  It was actually quite uplifting.

–I dreamed the other night that instead of eating the gavros fried by the fisherman on the beach in the noonday sun, a taxi driver and I sought out the best gavros in town, cooked by someone’s grandmother. We ate them in the cool shade of a small taverna.

–May 2014 bring us all the dreams we wish and revelations that fill our hearts.

My Flickr site is here   Feel free to peruse.  I will try to add images as I feel the need to do so.

JDCM