On the theme of we-are-not-alone I found these delightful tracks in the sand on a largely abandoned beach in Costa Rica last week. Looks like a gathering came together then parted company after some discussion. I especially like the little zipper tracks going across the middle.
sand tracks, ©2012, Paula Kovarik
The view outside our treetop house in costa rica gives us a panorama of grays and greens. If you look closely you can see the cell phone towers in the distance. An odd conjunction of wild flora and wireless reach.
©2012, Paula Kovarik
I saw this shadow on my walk yesterday and couldn't resist a quick shot. There is a nice tension between the arrow-like left side and the intertwined right. most fascinating to me though is the gap between. It is neither horizontal nor vertical and has subtle diagonals and squiggles. Notice how the straight line that connects the links on the right turns into a wiggle on the left. The image speaks to the tension and stress I have been feeling in the past few days and also has a hint of release in it.
I will wiggle on.
Ok, so I have been humming Mozart's Mass in C Minor for over 4 days now. I'm over it. Soon going to take out an old BeeGees CD to clear the hum. Not that I don't LOVE Mozart, and especially his Mass in C Minor, I play it often when reving up the studio. But come on. I need to figure out how not to hum it. Humming it is just not a best practice. Not the answer to a meditative space. Just not. In fact, I just may do some research about this particular Mass since obviously my brain is trying to lock in the sound. What was old Wolfgang thinking as he wrote this Mass? What is it about C Minor that tempts my brain's hard drive to step and repeat?
Onward to Night Fever.
©2012, Paula Kovarik
