...

"There is no greater pain than to remember a happy time when one is in misery."

–Dante Alighieri

Loved Her Madly...

[loved her to death]



She told herself that she wasn't his prisoner while offering him her hands so that he could cuff her. He made all the rules and to keep her confused he would change them frequently. She told herself that she wasn't his doormat but she lay down in front of the door and he wiped his shoes on her; Her self-image sticking to the bottom of the soles.

She offered him her heart, placed it on a fragile china plate. He took the plate and he let it drop from his hands. When the plate hit the floor her heart crashed and pieces of her scattered across the floor. He pointed his finger at the broom and dustpan - ordered her to clean up her mess. She obeyed because when she didn't, he kicked her, punched her face, tore her clothes off and then he threw her naked battered body out into the snow. She gave him her thoughts and feelings, handed these precious gifts to him and he took her gifts walked over to the kitchen sink, tossed them into the garbage disposal. Then he flipped the switch and the core of her being grinded down the drain.

He wasn't finished with her. He used his own deceptions, secrets and lies, projected them onto her, accused her of the very acts he committed against her - his distorted and twisted lies became her truth.

But she loved him... it was about love, wasn't it? About giving her heart and body to a man she believed was kind and worthy. It was about giving her trust and her most inner self to a man who saw women as enemies, sluts, things to be controlled. He loves them to death.

Epilogue: He's got himself a new victim and he talks to her about the 'bitch' he was married to, the hell she put him through. And looking at her he tells her that she'll be next if she steps out of line.

Every breath you take
and every move you make.
Every bond you break
every step you take
I'll be watching you...

Lyrics by Sting



Carol Brown ©


-For my mother and all victims of abuse.



If you're a victim of domestic violence, link to this helpful website.The Hotline

Ten years later

Live Journal post from September 19, 2001


My friend Pamela called and we talked for over an hour. I was telling her what one of my LJ friends, (Scott) said to me regarding my seeing birds flying away from the towers. He said I'm realizing that now: that we've been preparing for this all the time anyway. Deep inside of us, there is more than enough strength to overcome the terror. Being able to focus on the birds flying out of the WTC means you already had practice overcoming it. It means that deep inside of you, you had figured out what needs to be done, and when the time came, however much in shock your system was, there was something else operating as well. It's that "something else" we all need to find within ourselves. remember that you're not the only one, and remember that you have within you the power to move on.

I'd been walking around feeling that I had lost my capacity for empathy. That, until Pamela & I began talking about the attack I shed very few tears regarding how badly I felt about the horrible atrocities we continue to commit against each other. And then I wept, I sobbed. After more than one week of semi numbness I have felt the pain to my being. What we do to each other ... what we have done.

The question: Where were you when it happened? I was reading Scott's live journal entry and when reading his words about a plane hitting the tower I thought he was writing one of his amazing stories, I didn't think that the high-jacking was real. Then it hit me, Scott wouldn't post anything like that. I decided to turn on the television and immediately I saw a jet slicing through the second tower. I recall the feeling of having left my body but what was vivid for me last Tuesday (9/11/01) was my seeing the birds flying away from the towers. All the other images were muted and foggy. My disconnecting wasn't new, I've done this a few times in my life when what I experienced was too horrible for me to remain...I had to leave in order to survive... I had to fly away with the birds.

There are a few so-called experts who call this sort of disconnect as schizoid but I've always returned when I felt it was safe enough to feel that which I wasn't able to feel. It's that the reality of what we do to each other, to ourselves, really- It's something I'm not able to bear in one 'helping'. So yes my mind has had practice, knows how to take anguish -- one spoonful at a time. I never want to come to a place where I'd ever accept how vicious and cruel human beings are and if I ever stop feeling disappointed with the way people treat each other I'll know then that I've become a part of the monster.

-Carol

Jacqueline

You and I sipped life through a crazy straw...

We never knew what waited for us around the corner and I'm grateful for that because had we known, we never would have had so much fun.

My friend I wasn't always there for you but I loved you with all my heart.

♥ Rest In Peace ♥

Splendour In The Grass

What though the radiance which was once so bright
Be now for ever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind...

-William Wordsworth


Credit photograph to Fish and Wildlife

Artist Debbie Edgers Sturges

Recently discovered an extraordinary, gifted artist.

Debbie's work is realistic in style. Yet her work looks more Fauvist with the use of bright splashy colors.

Below is one of Debbie's paintings of a black bear named June.




And below is the photograph Debbie referred to when painting June.






To see more of Debbie's beautiful art link directly to her Website

The Library of Dust

Recently heard about David Maisel's project on Studio 360

Library of Dust is a project that David Maisel completed in 2008 with the publication of the photographs as a book. The series had begun three years earlier on the grounds of the Oregon State Hospital where he had learned there was a storeroom lined with shelves that held thousands of copper canisters. These contained, he knew, the unclaimed ashes of people who had died at this “insane asylum,” as it had once been called. Corroded along the lead side seam by chemical interaction between the metal and the ashes, many of the cans had a livid fur of blue-green on their exterior. Placing these on a black felt background and photographing them at close range, Maisel created a kind of civilian counterpart to the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier—each canister a mini-Monument to the Abandoned and the Forgotten.



Working in window light, Maisel had to make exposures in slow time befitting these memorial objects that the hospital had accumulated between 1883 and the 1970s. The first day, as he was making his photographs, a work detail of prisoners arrived from a penitentiary to clean up the building. Sneaking a peek into the room, one prisoner whistled as he said to no one in particular “the library of dust.”

Link to the Slide Show

Sarah Bear is Dead

Why kill a yearling, why????

Radio-collar of Ely Research Bear turned in.

September 7, 2010: "Braveheart’s yearling daughter Sarah is dead. Her radio-collar was covered with bright ribbons (photo taken Aug 26) We thought she was safe."



"We picked up her blood-spotted radio-collar from the Minnesota Department of Natural Resources this morning. It had been turned in anonymously."

"We are at a loss what to do to combat this kind of loss. The Minnesota Department of Natural Resources posted a picture of a radio-collared bear with ribbons like on Sarah’s collar and asked hunters not to shoot these bears. The Minnesota Bear Guides Association asked their hunters to spare radio-collared bears. We contacted all the hunters we know in this area to introduce them to bears and answer their questions."

"We have gotten the word out every way we know, including signs throughout the study area. And thanks to Lily fans, a huge amount of media coverage told how the radio-collared bears are helping science, education, and the regional economy. Sarah was a gentle, trusting, and trustworthy bear with the calm personality that allows a person to accompany her and be ignored. Such a bear is a window into bear life for both us and the world."

"Ethical hunters are reacting with disgust, saying “that is not hunting!” We both felt the hopeless sense of somehow being violated. We hoped our shaking wasn’t noticeable as we spoke to cameras for the BBC documentary. We know you understand our feelings."

"We re-checked the other radio-collared bears. They seem to be safe. But we are still worried about the trail cam on a bear trail on the edge of the property here."

"Thank you for your support through the hard times as well as the joyous ones."

—Lynn Rogers and Sue Mansfield, Biologists, Wildlife Research Institute and North American Bear Center.

News Video

The sun is shining,

the sky is deep blue, there's a magnificent breeze, and I’m longing, really longing...

-Anne Frank



Leave your leaf in Anne Frank's Chestnut tree

Perseid meteor shower

August 13, 2010



Credit Photograph to AFP

Lucky the Black Bear

I think that Lucky's going to build a log cabin.



Photograph credit to the North American Bear Center

Synchronous Fireflies

Here come real stars to fill the upper skies,
And here on earth come emulating flies,
That though they never equal stars in size...

-Robert Frost

Looking back...

I'll wait, what choice have I?

It's one of those days, slow motion like...I feel a bit high and somewhat low, the sun is shining bright reminding me...the night oh how I love the night, it makes me feel a little safer. The night has its own breath, breathing a sensual breeze which makes everything appear softer. I am not a soft person, I'm a bit rough 'round the edges. Yet I'm vulnerable, open like a wound, a flower, a casket, and then I'm shut. Shut sealed taped glued mute. I suppose I'm not easy to live with.



I love climbing trees and I love swinging. I kick my feet & legs hard, swing as high as I can and then I let go fly through the air, and almost always I land on my feet. This scares the hell out of my friends. I remember when we were all walking near a wooded area & I saw a tall tree (the tallest) which I just had to climb. I climbed the tree as high as was physically possible and when I looked down I could barely see their faces.

Trees are sensual, curved and textured. I like how trees hold their own weight and they always give more than they take.



I'll wait, what choice have I? I have more trees to climb...swings to swing.

....I still have the night

-Carol

Credit for black and white illustration goes to Naked Authors

Black Bear and Raven

Ted & Raven having a conversation.

Location: NABC



Photograph digitally altered by Pam Arbegast Yanick



After conversation, Ted kisses the Raven.





Digital altering of photo goes to to Pam Arbegast Yanick

Hope

Credit photograph to the North American Bear Center

And credit to Pam Arbegast Yanick for digitally altering photograph.

Neglected Blog

Because I spent most of the winter in the Den with Lily the black bear and her cub Hope.



Credit photograph to North American Bear Center

On September 16, 2011 just before the sunset - yearling Hope was shot & killed by a hunter.

Mean Time

It's like one of those missed journeys where you arrived too late, again you've been left behind and you find yourself holding your luggage ... your hands and arms numb from the weight of memories.

-Carol

Credit photograph to Historic Photos

Winter 2010 ends March 19th.

And the Poppies shall bloom again.



To quote Denny Crane...hope springs a kernel.

Earth Wise

This is my letter to the world, that never wrote to me, the simple news that nature told, with tender majesty. Her message is committed to hands I cannot see; For love of her, sweet countrymen, judge tenderly of me...

-Emily Dickinson


Credit photograph to Earth Wise

W.C.

Thank you for touching my heart with music.


~Rest In Peace~

Union Shakedown

New Logo for the band Union Shakedown

That's how the light gets in

There is a crack in everything...that's how the light gets in.

-From "Anthem" by Leonard Cohen

Lost in the Fog

The fog clears away but even without the fog,
I cannot see you anymore ... you slipped away.

From "Struggle In The Fog" -Author unknown.

Line drawing

Raven Lantern

My friend Sally created this magnificent lantern for the lantern parade in Baltimore.

Remembering...

Bird On The Wire

Added this sweet gem to my Leonard Cohen vinyl record collection.



Bird On The Wire- b/w Seems so long ago, Nancy from Cohen's album Songs From A Room. It's a rare white label promo in the original Columbia paper sleeve. The sleeve has no tears or creases, no writing or stains. The playing surface of the record is in mint condition. The labels are clean with a hand written date, 4-9-69, on both sides.

Bird On The Wire

Like a bird on the wire,
like a drunk in a midnight choir
I have tried in my way to be free.
Like a worm on a hook,
like a knight from some old fashioned book
I have saved all my ribbons for thee.
If I, if I have been unkind,
I hope that you can just let it go by.
If I, if I have been untrue
I hope you know it was never to you.
Like a baby, stillborn,
like a beast with his horn
I have torn everyone who reached out for me.
But I swear by this song
and by all that I have done wrong
I will make it all up to thee.
I saw a beggar leaning on his wooden crutch,
he said to me, "You must not ask for so much."
And a pretty woman leaning in her darkened door,
she cried to me, "Hey, why not ask for more?"

Oh like a bird on the wire,
like a drunk in a midnight choir
I have tried in my way to be free.

Lyrics By Leonard Cohen ©

Of Wings and Heartbreak

Her wings yet moist she rests on a leaf taking in
the warmth of the sun as she silently waits for
her wings to dry.
For these delicate wisps of fine lines and veins
flutter and flutter not knowing why.
She has waited for this moment which she knew
nothing of until she emerged from a beautifully
dark world where there was no sunlight.
She heard no sound, knew nothing of its existence
until she heard her wings steaming from the heat
of the sun.
But she knows not of this sound only that it is,
it is her but she doesn't know that she has wings,
or that flying is her life and her death.
She has completed this phase and her wings have
led her to the most aching of flowers.
She can feel the flowers as if they have lit upon
her and the breeze brushes her with touch.
She had never been touched in this way, for in her
dark world there was no touch and darkness is but
a silent longing for nothing.
She ballets to a meadow of flowers and with instinct
sips in a voice of nectar but she has no voice.
She but flutters among the goldenrod near the hum
of light where the water ripples, and the sun is
sinking into the heart of silence.
She knew nothing of sleep, she had slept long not
knowing of light, sound, touch, wings, of hunger,
of freedom, of death.
And fluttering into a lazy summer evening her wings
spread wide.....we hear the cry of the butterfly.

This is the sound of heartbreak.

Carol Brown ©



Credit for this extraordinary photograph goes to Karen Tweedy-Holmes ©

Bird Woman

(Double click the image for a larger view)

I'm the proud owner of this piece of art by Sally Mericle. The etching is from a magnesium plate. My friend Sally drew the line drawing with solvent into the *ground* on the prepared plate. Then wiped away the solvent with a cloth and only the lines were left. She then etched it in acid, and inked it with sepia colored ink and printed it on buff colored Arches paper.

Link to Sally's website

Voyeuristic Dragonfly

Clinging on the screen...watching me as I'm posting its image.