Tag: featured

Working With Stone (And hearts of stone too)

black and white photography, Thoughts and Musing

I’ve always been interested in certain trade skills. Cutting stone is one of them. To properly cut a stone one must have to be able to read the small lines that tell you where small faults are inside the stone. Stone cutting is thought to be a very masculine endeavor. The uninitiated often has visions of the stone cutter as a muscle bound brute striking mighty blows until the stone gives way. While it takes some elbow grease to wrestle a large piece of rock into place one doesn’t have to have extreme strength. Ancient technology like A-frames or block and tackle make it much easier.

But I really want to talk to you about the actual cutting process. It’s not about strength. It’s about control. A mighty blow with Thor’s hammer would be manly for sure but it’s also going to ruin the work. The key to getting that nice straight cut is patience. It often starts with abrading a line in the place you want to cut. Sometimes you need to drill and use a wedge. Then you place your chisel on the spot and tap it with the hammer. The vibration of chisel travels into the stone weakens the spot until a crack forms.

This is also how to change a difficult situation. Or deal with a difficult personality. If your goal is to destroy a relationship then hammer away like Thor and vanquish the enemy. But keep in mind that an enemy is what you will produce. But, if that goal is to shape a relationship from raw stone then the small light taps over a long time is how it’s best done.

It’s also how to set someone free. (Including ourselves sometimes)

“I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free.” – Michelangelo

In today’s microwave world of instant gratification we’ve lost the value of accomplishment. Some of Michelangelo’s works took decades. The investment of time and imparting of life energy is what gives value to an angel shaped hunk of rock. I guess the point I’m trying to make is that don’t be surprised if instant success leaves us with a hollow victory. Accomplishment is born from the struggle. The harder the struggle is then the more satisfying the accomplishment will be. Even Michelangelo struggled. I don’t have a source but I remember one of art teachers talking about Michelangelo’s unfinished works and that how some of were abandoned because a fault formed in the wrong spot. The lesson I learned was that to become a master is to have failures and move forward anyway. If we want success then we walk away from the ruined piece with our tools and our experience and we get to work on a new piece by making those small taps in just the right place. And, we do it again and again until the angel is free.

Thinking about Springtime

black and white photography, Uncategorized

West Virginia is still a few weeks from Spring. I’ve been anxiously awaiting the bursts of color and the sound of tweeting birds. At the end of February, I start looking at the buds on the trees for signs of life. The Dogwood is one of the first to wake up. I began to get excited just thinking about it. The long cold nights have been giving way to earlier sunrises and later sunsets every day. Soon it will be time to plant gardens and gather the dead wood from the lawn for the fire pit. In the past few days I’ve started hearing the frogs sing and the hatchling fish have been spotted in the stream that runs through my property. Life is returning to the mountains once more.

Because of Love

Uncategorized

I’ve walked the rocky roads,

Because of Love.

I’ve climbed the steepest mountains,

Because of Love.

I’ve worked from dawn to dusk and beyond,

Because of Love.

I’ve carried the heavy burdens,

Because of Love.

I’ve endured the wind and rain,

Because of Love.

All the work that was done, all battles won, all the fires fought and all the gifts that were bought

Were Because of Love.

I came home to your open arms and found fulfillment,

Because of Love.

The image above was taken above the Southridge shopping center in Kanawha County West Virginia.

Thirst

Color Photography, poetry

Pour out your love upon me.

I have been so thirsty for so long.

Wash over me like a cool mountain stream.

Refresh me in your affection.

Bath me in your companionship.

Flood me with your smile,

and drown me with your desire.

I need you to surround me.

I need us.

Camping On Summersville Lake (An amalgamation of memories)

Color Photography, Summersville Lake, travel

The late summer sun turns the lake into a fire. In the distance I can hear the crickets chirping. A lonely bullfrog sings out in his booming bass voice as the night birds add a chorus of songs and the nightly concert begins. There’s the occasional splash of a fish leaping from the water to catch an insect that flew too close to the surface of the lake. The smell of the fire drifts in as kids roast their marshmallows on freshly cut poplar or birch twigs. I’ll ease back in my chair and take a sip of coffee. The flavor mixes well with the oak in the fire pit. As the sunset fades into the velvety sky the fire in the lake is replaced by silver. Throughout the campground the voices of the people begins to soften. Some campers are already asleep with expectations of being out on the water before the dawn. Scuba divers have told stories about catfish large enough to swallow a human being and each fisherman is convinced that they have the secret to hauling it in. Other campers are setting close to the red glow from the embers of the fire. They’re telling ghost stories about the civil war soldiers who once camped in that very same spot. As I finish my coffee I look out across the campground. Tents glow from the lanterns inside. They look like little hot air balloons preparing for take off. Silhouetted against outside of tents the shadows move on the inside as they turn in for the night. A few of them seem to merge as the lanterns go out one by one. I’m not sleepy. I pour the last of the coffee into my tumbler and stir the embers of my fire. The sparks rise into the air. As I watch the sparks rise and disappear I notice little greenish lights flickering in trees. The fireflies are putting on a light show if their own as the males signal for a mate to answer with the matching code. My tired eyes drift from the trees to the stars above. The coffee is gone and the fire is almost out. It’s time to take in one last breath of the night air as the dew falls. I crawl into my tent and sleep deeply. That’s camping on Summerville Lake.