What Matters

Uploaded from a 2011 TED talk "The Rediscovery of Wonder"

Uploaded from a 2011 TED talk “The Rediscovery of Wonder”

In the things that matter there is a hunger
It arrives, first, as desperation and fear
But like stages of grief it changes
Initially, it comes and is denied
Then raged at for its lack of presence
Finally, pleaded with to come soon
Then silence

Eventually the things that matter
Arise out of us to be fed
Not by another, but by our own heart
This is met with mild disbelief
Then curiosity
Finally, delicious amusement
Then silence

Concrete jungle

Steel, Brick, Flower, Petal: Photography by Noelle

Steel, Brick, Flower, Petal: Photography by Noelle

I squeeze through cracks
Social constraints like mortar
Tight against the brick
Growth of roots comes with ardor

Bits expressed
The tenacity of a weed
Dandelion colors
That turn into seed

Steel and stone
Blood and bone
I am earth and sky
Meant to fly


Come closer
I offer more than a glimpse
I am fuller than light across the sill

Let me take your breath away with my vastness

I do not fear you looking in
Seeing my bent tree and cracked stone
On balance I am the grand view not the lone pebble.

Angle of Light

My fascination with light is nothing unique, every great photographer, artist and painter has been captivated by this ephemeral gold. It effects what we see, in each moment, As if we are seeing the thing we observe anew. The objects are always the same, of course, but the angle of light offers a continually changing and fresh perspective. Light never detracts from the beauty of a thing, but rather offers us a different perspective on what beauty actually lies there at any given moment. In this way, light is much like water, always altering and changing itself and the environment.

Spirit is a lot like this, too. Offering me an endless series of opportunities to see different facets of beauty in the things I look upon each day. Even in what I see within myself. Spirit is never the same in how I perceive it, though as a non-substance substance, it remains eternally the same.


Photo by Laurie Buchwald from http://lifeonthebikeandotherfabthings.com

Photo by Laurie Buchwald from http://lifeonthebikeandotherfabthings.com

On the soul highway it doesn’t matter if you’re souped up on a Harley or riding a tricycle. Speed is not determined by the vehicle, but rather the clarity in vision of the driver.

Thank you Laurie Buchald for the great Harley shot. If you’d like to see some other great photography from her travels on her bike please visit her blog at http://lifeonthebikeandotherfabthings.com


Really look deep. Take in the red and let it sink into your root chakra – fire. Allow the rich azure to settle upon you a royal crown. Draw the green into your heart on each breath and know your majesty. Feel the color filling you up, the coolest draught. Drink yourself drunk on the beauty. Now settle down. Sink your feet like tree roots into the earth. Go down, deep and dark into the fertile soil until you hit the molten core. You are exactly where you are meant to be. Breathing in the earth and breathing out love. There is a a pulse as deep in the earth as in you, waiting for you to lay your hand upon it.

Dead Things

It’s good to really look at dead things. To open oneself to a meditation on the destruction and ultimately the transformation of life. What we fear most, when examined closely, is just one more extraordinary moment of beauty in us. Death builds beauty, it doesn’t really destroy it.

No Mantra Required

I’ll confess to often getting bored. I suspect this is the well-spring of all my creative talent. Boredom. It is a cloying, needy friend who is satisfied by nothing. Pumpkin seeds are never salty enough. Shopping has never touched it. If the movie isn’t exciting by the fifth minute, boredom is wandering off in search of other stimuli. For someone so devoted to meditating for peace I can be, at times, a restless and demanding peace-seeker.

Photography, curiously enough, is one of a few creative processes that absolutely sates me. I can live in it for hours. Other’s work or my own, doesn’t matter. I love the way a photograph shifts my energy and refocuses me down whole new paths. Black and white in particular can be nostalgic or haunting, mystical or glaring. I am never so delighted then when I stumble upon a photograph that makes me stop my restlessness. Fleeting images inviting me inward and checking boredom at the door. In its own way it is a meditation, photography. The doing and the thinking, the looking and the tweaking. It calms my mind from wandering off in search of other pleasures. Without effort my heart slows and my breathing stills. No mantra required.

Ephemeral Light

Ephemeral is the late afternoon sun. In autumn and spring colors are fleeting. Light passes over all life, a gentle hand grazing the tops of wheatgrass. Such a romance. Infatuated until dusk when a sliver of light caresses the earth and leaves me standing in the field.