January 30, 2010

The highly polished chrome faucet had thin smatterings of soap film splattered in a random arrangement of shapes, and I reached for a paper towel to restore the spigot to its original lustre.  But suddenly, all the little circles and spatters appeared much like a rendition in miniature of photographs of space as viewed through the Hubble telescope. I stepped away, marveling at the ordered beauty of random chaos; fractal-like, meaningless and yet precise.


A Quiet Path

January 22, 2010

Sometimes the path is quiet. No one watching, no one waiting.

A soft and steady rain is falling, and I am transfixed by the cadences of the drops as they fall on different parts of the roof and against the windows.  Like a symphony, they can be heard all at once or in sections shimmering in low tones on the ceiling of nightfall.

In Season + Out of Season

January 19, 2010

Several years ago as I drove past a small public park on a snowy day, my eye caught a warmly bundled figure sitting at a picnic table under the trees, having lunch–a curious sight in a provincial little town.

Surprise turned to delight when I recognized an old friend, a fellow artist-musician and certifiable eccentric.  I pulled over, got out of the car and joined the chinese take-out party.  An abundant lunch was shared amidst much laughter, talking and wielding of chopsticks over steaming white cartons while the snowflakes slowly came down all around us.

I hope forthcoming journal entries will reflect that event: random, unusual, humorous, sustaining, delightful–even if odd to some.