Photos, Artwork, & Musings on Life, Spirit, Entheogens, Time, & Travel

Posts tagged “time

Magicians Of The Gods – Published!

MagiciansOfTheGods

Excited to have received my copy here in the US today of the just-off-the-presses book “Magicians Of The Gods” by my friend, Graham Hancock. I pre-ordered the hardback out of the UK to get it faster and with the British cover (shown above). This is the long-anticipated follow-up to Graham’s world-wide bestseller “Fingerprints Of The Gods,” with all new research and information about humanity’s lost past.

In it, he examines the compelling evidence for a devastating comet strike that triggered the great floods of myth, nearly wiping us out as a species and causing the almost instantaneous deep freeze called the Younger Dryas. He also investigates impressive new archeological discoveries like Turkey’s Gobekli Tepe that place (via carbon dating) sophisticated, advanced human societies all the way back at the aftermath of that comet strike, 12,800 years ago, and shows how the survivors of the catastrophe, the Magicians of the Gods, helped restart civilizations all over the world.

He also warns of the likely return of massive fragments from the exact same comet that impacted Earth so long ago. It could happen again, and soon.

Many works in the realm of ancient civilizations (Atlantis, aliens, etc.) are wild speculations based on flimsy evidence. This is not one of them. Hancock’s work is journalistic (his professional background) and very well-researched, mostly through personal trips all over the world to investigate for himself.

The US edition is scheduled to be released on November 10, 2015.

grahamhancock.com

 

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Mariners We Are

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My posting frequency on this blog has slowed recently due to my becoming deeply involved in writing my first novel. The book, an epic science-fiction/fantasy series, is approaching completion and I will update this blog as I can, but I thought that for now I’d post some recent thoughts in the forms of a poem and a digital image or two.

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Often, I find myself simultaneously holding different visions of my humanity. On one hand, I sense the melancholy (which is not the same as sadness or hopelessness) of our situation here in this physical reality. It is the conundrum of Ralph Waldo Emerson’s metaphor of the Stairs that I’ve spoken of several times in these pages. Upon those stairs, we awake and know not whence we came, nor where we are bound. It is an authentic and enduring melancholy for every person–a melancholy borne of that mystery.

On the other hand, I feel a strong imperative to constantly and consciously create real happiness and fulfillment for myself within the time I exist upon those mysterious stairs. I do so by being a creator and I live that role right now. This is the only way to be in this life that brings me (or, I will maintain, anyone else) true joy. It is what Casteneda called a “Path with Heart,” and it brings unexpected delights and challenges to us, while each of us also remains involuntarily bound to that mysterious river of time that leads us to an unknown destination.

Those two visions emerged into two different creations recently, and I thought I’d share them here while I may be away from more regular blog posts for a while.

The Melancholy observation is represented by a poem that is my take on Emerson’s Stairs. It came fully formed out of sleep and the spirit realm of dream last night. The accompanying image (above) is my digital art alteration or enhancement of a detail from one of my favorite painters, Thomas Cole. (It’s from his four panel “Voyage of Life” series from 1842.) His paintings include some directly religious elements, but I believe the idea of guidance from “outside” of ourselves is possible in many shapes and forms that cannot be empirically measured. We are, in any case, on the boat and in motion to an unseen destination.

The Creative/happiness/joy/challenge observation is an original saying and a digital artwork rendered on a moonrise photograph I took along the Caribbean coast in Costa Rica a few months ago.

May we all continue to look, wonder, and choose to make our time upon the waters of life worthwhile by creating joy.

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Mariners

We are,

Passing through

Unknown lands

In fragile boats

Clad with skin.

 

We make no stops–

Frail vessels that

Set no anchor.

The wind blows

Without cease.

Our measured course

Fades in mists

Ahead.

 

[David P. Crews, 2015]

 

[Click any image for full size.]

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On the Burning of the Libraries and Deep Time

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All of my life I have deeply loved books and libraries. As just a small boy, I remember how I felt when I first learned about the famous destruction of the Library of Alexandria in ancient times. What an inconceivable loss it was for humanity – setting us back perhaps a thousand years in terms of knowledge and progress. To my child’s mind, it was a horror: the unspeakable loss of all that knowledge and of the wonderful physical books themselves. It may have been the first time I felt an intense exasperation over senseless injustice caused by the actions of ignorant people – something that still manifests in the modern world.

I know now that whether human caused or the result of natural disasters, all collections of knowledge are vulnerable to eventual destruction, especially the individually curated and conserved libraries that we carry around with us through our lives: our personal knowledge and experiences, our stories, our memories, and our philosophies. Each of us contains an amazingly vast repository of these things, and the human brain is still the most complex object known to exist in the universe. As we know too well, however, we are individually subject to dangers and death, and even if we live a full life, natural death will eventually close our library forever. In a strangely real sense, every person is a Library of Alexandria, doomed to destruction.

I felt this quite personally when I was trying to record my Mother’s knowledge about a large collection of family photographs that range back into the 1800’s. Without her memories, many of these will become disassociated from their personal stories and history and flatten into what so many old photographs are: just an old, vintage photo. It saddens me to see such family images for sale in antique stores. Someone’s family heritage and history was lost. Their library “burned down” and there is no way now to recover the information. We can only look into the eyes of that long-passed person and wonder. There are thousands of such images in my family library and I wanted to preserve as much information as possible, so I began recording my Mother, who was happy to help until her health failed and we had to stop. Now, the opportunity has passed and, as much as my sisters and I may remember of it all, there is yet a large, deeper mass of information that has been lost permanently.

That is just one family and one person’s passing. How many billions of such libraries have perished? It boggles the mind to consider it and to imagine what has been lost along the way.

Writing, itself, is a human invention designed to transmit information over time and space, but it cannot contain all that might be recorded. With our modern electronic technologies, many are trying to address this issue by preserving not only books, but other forms of history and knowledge, including digital data, sound recordings, and photographs. Perhaps it will survive, but there are many who warn that our digital data is more vulnerable than the papyrus scrolls were, stacked in their racks in Alexandria. Perhaps some remote and massively secured vaults will protect some of it for a far future, but will anyone be able to make the ancient machinery work, or themselves make new machines that can access and display the data? Will future historians look upon our time as a sudden blank in history because all of our stories and information went into a technical form that cannot be retrieved? I wonder.

When we look back on ancient lands like Egypt, we should realize that 3,000 years ago is not so far back in time, really. Now, the papyri and the painted tombs are fragile and rare, deteriorating with every year that passes. What seems to stand the test of time best is the simplest and, some might think, most primitive technology: engravings into stone. In Egypt and other lands that so carved, even these records are shattered, chipped, scattered, and represent incomplete versions of their original states. It is disconcerting to realize that modern man has left comparatively little of our thoughts carved into simple stone.

So, in the end, even if that end is a far off future where our civilizations are as murky as Egypt’s or as vague and mythical as Atlantis, does it really matter? Should we be concerned, or try to make a deeper, more lasting mark that may, somehow, survive for our unknown future children? Yes, some are trying to archive and store mankind’s knowledge and they may succeed to some degree, but it is likely that most of it will be lost over vast ranges of deep time. We may, indeed, be living in a future time’s Atlantis – our reality a mythological place to those future kin. Ours a human world that may have existed in some form but can’t be proven. A dream out of Time.

In the final analysis, we cannot truly save our worlds. All is in constant motion and does not return again to the same place. Those that come later will have their own world and will not have time to relive ours, even if some of our knowledge may be useful to them, either as practical knowledge or, perhaps, as a warning of what to avoid.

These are melancholy thoughts, and for the majority of us, probably best considered once and then left behind as we pursue our own individual life paths. Perhaps, though, and at a personal scale again, we should at least think about preparing for our own Library to burn down someday and spend some of our time documenting the contents that we think our families, at least, might want to know later on.

We shall not be able to hold on to all we love, and that is just a part of how life is, but some in the future may truly desire to have even a small portion of what we know. I still wish I could have documented more of my family photographs with Mom before she was gone, and I still remember that little boy I once was and how deeply and personally hurt I felt at learning of the loss of the Library of Alexandria – something that happened some 2,000 years before I was born.

We may honor the past and future or desire them greatly, but we cannot live there. It is useful to remember that we honor and desire them in the present moment.

All that truly exists is NOW.

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Big Bend National Park–Summer Photography

I have just returned from a short visit to the wonderful Big Bend National Park in southwestern Texas, USA. I’ve been traveling here off and on since the spring of 1962, taking photos and video, hiking and camping, and doing inner work and vision quests. With some extensive new photography equipment in hand including a Nikon D5300 and a computerized slider, I’m setting out to shoot new cinematography and photography of the park in multiple seasons. This is to remake an artistic film I created some years ago using standard definition video. Now, I can remake it in full HD with professional rigging for camera moves.

I’ll post more of the video elements later, but for now, here are some of the still photographs I made this week, accompanied by some script excerpts from the original film.

I hope you enjoy them!

I urge you to click through to the larger images for much higher quality!

MorningBigBend-borderTime

In Big Bend
The scale of time is different from
our time – the observers, ourselves – who come.

It is a different scale of time and of movement than
our time – our movement.

We are too fast to see it.
We cannot slow down.

Slow                 Down

EveningWindowView-borderWonder

There is an enchanted doorway –
a wonder and a sign.

A Temple of water
and air,

And walls of determination.

We briefly enter – and return again.

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There is nothing between this sand and that yonder star
but empty space and a thin breath of blistered air.

A Weight Bears Down.
Relentless.
We cannot escape.

Our branches grow tough – and dark.
Our water, our blood, our thoughts
Dwindle . . . down.

The white light sears our flesh into dust,
and there is no wind to blow it away.

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Stillness

The desert does not sleep.
It is an endless movement – the motion of survival.

We look and listen . . . and there is

Stillness

Silence

You can see it move if you are slow enough.
You can feel it, anyway,
if you are still enough.

Do not listen for it or watch for it.

Be Still

and Listen

and Watch

OldWindmillChisos-borderChange

This desert is young. This desert is old.
It depends on your speed, you see.

Some have come to change this land.
Some have changed it – some.

All who have come
Have Been Changed.

Some have gone now.
A fragrance lingers in secret places.
Their song echoes lightly on adobe and wood and stone.

The mesa shrugs, and it is gone.

SotolAndChisos-borderLife

She is clothed in riches. Bejewelled in green and yellow and brown.
An extravagance on this plate of rock – standing up, tasting the water.

Big Bend is not barren.

LIFE is everywhere in this Desert –
this Living Land.

Raising faces – arms to the air,
feeling deeply down for the lifeblood –
a watery current within.
Knowing how to keep that – and to hold it.

A Treasure.

WindowSunset-borderSpirit

The desert is a mirror.
The desert is a portal.

It reflects our souls back at us,
and then offers a Way
into another Realm.

We are opened up
and slowed down.

The soft voices of the Plants can be heard.
The wordless brotherhood of the Animals is known.
The marvel of the Eternal Moment can be felt
In our very ground.

Big Bend is a Heart Land.
A place of shifting Shapes.
It is a healer of the Spirit.

PetroStrip1

 

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Standing Up Country – Utah

 

A photography post for this hot summer’s day.
Here are some of my images from my last journey into an amazing landscape in southeastern Utah. Please click on any photo for a larger, better view.

I will be heading back into this area this fall to do some more photography and cinematography and I will look forward to sharing some of that with you then.

 

CheslerPark1-borderThis is Chesler Park, part of the Needles District of Canyonlands National Park. It’s a very special place I’ve repeatedly visited since 1975.

Here is a manifestly magical landscape where, as the ancients said, “There are more rocks standing up than lying down.”

Entering this land, we feel like we have stumbled into a giant, ancient, Atlantisian cityscape – thousands of massive buildings, scatter far over the rolling hills and loom profoundly next to our tiny forms. They are frozen in time as the wind and sun slowly melt the magnificent masonry into curious shapes. Long, inspiring parks of green and orange still echo the aesthetic design of a masterful and artistic urban planner. It is a scene that seems populated or that seems it should be – filled with milling crowds. When the black raven caws and the wind sighs around the rocks, however, we realize that it is too quiet for such crowds. There are few humans here. The rock pillars themselves form the sense of mass congregation.

Perhaps it is all mere sand and wind. Perhaps.

As we stand, dwarfed, by a reddened wall topped with curious minarets and colorful balanced spires, we may sense that this primordial cityscape was designed this very way by spirit beings or unknowable men and women of mystic vision, serving some need of the soul and heart that still resonates in us today. We feel the rocks ringing and singing their long songs, gazing ever into eternity.

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Spirit hand prints of the Ancestral Puebloans who passed this way some 500 to 900 years ago. With time so long and slow in this magical land, it seems that the red paint should still be wet to the touch.

You can hear Time pass by in a soft and curious breeze between the painted walls.

 

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Quiriguá – Mayan Monuments and Time

 

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[Click any photo for a larger view.]

Meet K’ak’ Tiliw Chan Yopaat, or in our best interpretation of his name: Kawak Sky.

Time for a travel post and photos.

Whenever I’m not focused primarily on landscapes and scenery, travel for me often involves ancient cultures and archeological sites. I’ve been scanning some of my older photo collections, and these images from the Mayan site called Quiriguá came up today. Quiriguá (our modern name for it) is a modest Mayan site in terms of architecture, but its collection of carved stelae and zoomorph stones are amazing.

Quiriguá lies in southern Guatemala, not far from its large rival city, Copán, just across the modern border to Honduras. It was declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1981. Quiriguá was the first Mayan site I had the privilege to visit, and it was a good introduction to the Mayan world.

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Kawak Sky was the “k’ul ahaw,” or “Holy Lord” of Quiriguá. This small city was active during the Maya Classic Period from about 200 to 900 AD, and is noted now for its important carved stone monuments. These represent the most dense collection of Mayan hieroglyphic stone stelae known to exist in one site, and the tallest freestanding stone monuments in the Americas. Stela E stands 35 feet high. The local red sandstone is solid and clear of fractures, which allowed the Mayan artisans to carve deeply and in large format.

Quiriguá was a subservient city to the much larger and more powerful Copán until Kawak Sky managed to ambush the elder king of Copán and haul him back to Quiriguá for a ritual execution. This occurred in 738 AD, establishing the independence of Quiriguá from that time forward and making Kawak Sky the most celebrated of its rulers.

It was fascinating to walk for my first time among ancient Mayan carvings and see a real ball court. At that time, I was recently married and we enjoyed climbing the carved stone steps of the central acropolis and listening to the forest birds as we soaked in the strange air of this place. It’s history, often very violent, was so different from our own culture. Yet here it lies, surprisingly close in physical distance to my own home in Texas. I’ve been to a number of other Mayan sites since this, but I never tire of the sense of wonder and history one experiences when actually walking these old cities and monuments.

In the early 1930s, author Aldous Huxley visited Quiriguá. He was also impressed by the stelae, writing:

 “And there they still stood, obscurely commemorating man’s triumph over time and matter and the triumph of time and matter over man.”
Huxley, Aldous (1950) [©1934]. Beyond the Mexique Bay: A Traveller’s Journal (Reprint ed.). London: Chatto & Windus.

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 ToweringStela-border Zoomorph2-border

 

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SteppedWall-border   Courtyard-border

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Secret of the Stars

“No pessimist ever discovered the secret of the stars, or sailed to an uncharted land, or opened a new doorway for the human spirit.”
– Helen Keller

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[click for larger image]

Perhaps, as we gaze into the bright blackness of space, we may come to consider a compelling idea: that the portals and pathways to other worlds are not necessarily paths of simple distance or simply-ticking time. Perhaps, the portals we seek are of a different fabric and shape. It may be that they are not far away, not far away at all, though we think them unreachable except in our fantasies and myths. These endless other realities could be only a strange but simple turn away, just one small turn into a passage that we did not see, even though it was there next to our chair all along.

Let’s go look.

 

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Emptiness and Substance

“But to me nothing – the negative, the empty – is exceedingly powerful.”

– Alan Watts

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“Beyond the edge of the world there’s a space where emptiness and substance neatly overlap, where past and future form a continuous, endless loop. And, hovering about, there are signs no one has ever read, chords no one has ever heard.”

– Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

 

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Stone Spirit Woman

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This is a digital art and photograph collage, but the stone face is an actual formation I came across in a less-traveled region of a lightly traveled hoodoo wonderland called the Bisti Wilderness Area in northwestern New Mexico, USA (commonly called the Bisti Badlands).  Is it pareidolia – an accidental shape that looks like a face, or is it an expression of animism? Yes, of course, and perhaps, I think, the other as well. Having taken myself down under the skin of consensus reality and once meeting a female Spirit of the Earth, I treat such things as this with respect and honor.

~  ~  ~  ~

Spirit Stone Woman                                   (by David P. Crews)

 

Once, I was wandering through time,

Threading a tortuous line through

undulations and towers of rock and clay.

 

Sitting, resting from my efforts,

I looked up and saw her face,

Sudden awareness chilling my arms.

A crickle of power and presence:

I had come unawares into a place

of natural holiness.

 

I speak. I ask permission. I look.

I gaze into the sky as She gazes.

 

Who has spoken with her in ancient days?

How long has she watched the stars?

For whom does she wait?

A shape sits silent, breathing another air

poised on the edge of eternity.

 

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The Stars Within

A new poem and artwork today.

It speaks of unfathomed dimension and scale in the human mind and soul.

StarsWithin-border

[click image for larger]

The Stars Within

 

Are we so small?

And yet are we many,

Oh so many, glowing here and there?

Bodies of intricate illusion,

Tiny swirls of light and bone?

Each contains a galaxy.

 

Breath and beat, independent

Engines that move us,

Just like all the others.

Fear and happiness

Shaping the face

Our mind looks out of.

 

Step within to see the trick.

Vastness. Volume –

Filled with stars.

Each the color of a memory.

Ideas cluster and flare: suns

Lighting the dark lanes.

 

Hard and cold planets, some

Massive and others minor;

Worlds of water and storms;

Orbs of unspeakable beauty,

Filled with people and stories;

Turn themselves ’round

And whirl within.

 

Some we craft with careful

Intention, spinning each one

Lovingly. Returning there,

Spending time, comforted –

Renewed by loved lands and faces.

 

Others, uncalled for,

Rush up to surprise us –

Alien visions within our domain,

We wonder who made these

Worlds we did not plan.

Our galaxy is so vast.

 

The stars within swirl right around

And sing the strands of Life.

They swirl right ’round:

An unexpected gleaming nebula

Clothed in humble membrane.

 

An unchartable symphony,

An unexpected dimension within.

A million million stars and worlds

Dance and turn about

An invisible Center,

An obscured Mystery.

 

We are many and oh so small,

And when each one is no more,

A wide galaxy, a very Universe

Transforming, winks away

Into unknown night.

–  –  –  –  –

[© David P. Crews, 2013]

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A Walk Through Time

AWalkThroughTime-border

A photograph I made many years ago along the path to Clingmans Dome in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Much time has passed since then, yet time seems not to be a factor in such places when the fog is resting in the pines and a vision of the past smiles and wanders silently by.

 

“A truer image of the world, I think, is obtained by picturing things as entering into the stream of time from an eternal world outside, than from a view which regards time as the devouring tyrant of all that is.”
~Bertrand Russell –Mysticism and Logic: And Other Essays (1919)

“Time is but the stream I go fishing in. I drink at it, but while I drink I see the sandy bottom and detect how shallow it is. It’s thin current slides away, but eternity remains.”
~Henry David Thoreau

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A New Vista

 

 

 

GuatemalaView-border

 


In a New Land

 

Long I have struggled in the valley, only

To look up at the end and realize with a

Sudden start,

That I have arrived at the top of a

Mountain, instead.

 

The view ahead is one of beauty

And favor. The path before me is

Enticing, promising.

More hills in view, but

The slope is gentle

And green.

 

ColoradoValleyView-border

I’m anticipating a very big change in my life, which I will describe at the right time, but this poem came to me today to speak of the way change can sometimes come unexpectedly upon us, just when it seems that all things are stuck in an old pattern and won’t ever change. Maybe that valley we’ve been struggling through is not a valley after all. Maybe we will suddenly gasp as we gaze into a new vista. Then, we must not fear. We must take action and step confidently into our new world, creating it as we go.

 

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The Overview Effect

“Humanity must rise above the earth, to the top of the atmosphere and beyond. For only then will we understand the world in which we live.”
– Socrates (469 – 399 BCE)
OverviewEffect-NASA

•Click image to go to the film (19 min) •

A short film from an interesting group [The Overview Institute] whose mission is to find a better way to leverage the incredible power of seeing the Earth from outside of it. From the time I was a little boy, watching the space shots and avidly consuming every photo or film of Earth and space, I’ve always felt the frustration these folks are talking about. I truly grasped for myself that “Spaceship Earth” idea, and the concept that we’re all in this together on a small, fragile rock in the middle of infinite and truly harsh space. It is frustrating because as incredibly important this perspective is, it is so inactionable by most of us that we say “Wow,” and then go back to our daily affairs, politics, and wars. Because so few of us humans (about 500) have seen the Earth Overview personally, the idea of it has been relegated to a curiosity or a head-nodding stereotype. Instead, we should be using this priceless insight for the potent tool it is to bring humans together to solve our problems before the fragile craft is so damaged that we cannot. Truly perceived, the overview of our home and the perspective it brings us causes a major cognitive shift. If enough of us experience it and are so shifted, it could cause a true paradigm shift for our species.

I’ve said in this blog and elsewhere that we are not Earthlings. We are not a random thing that happened upon the surface of the Earth. We are not invaders nor are we some unique creation placed here by the hands (?) of some god or gods. We are Earth itself! We are the life that this planet has brought forth and we are intimately connected in every way to this ecosphere. We have minds that are more developed than any that have come before. By taking a bubble of it with us, we can escape the ecosphere for a while and gaze back upon it. We can perceive ourselves as being the planet we gaze at.
We may gain wisdom and learn to regulate ourselves, or we may not and become a colony of spores that overwhelm our own resources until the ecosystem shuts us down dramatically. In either case, we are natural – a part of the overall description of the Earth, including a description through time.

We are Earth.

 

More from the Overview Institute site at:  http://www.overviewinstitute.org/

 

 

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Emerson’s Stairs

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“All is mystery, mystery, mystery; we know not whence we came, nor why,
we know not whither we go, nor why we go.”

– Mark Twain “Three Thousand Years Among the Microbes” – 1905

“Where do we find ourselves? In a series of which we do not know the extremes, and believe that it has none. We wake and find ourselves on a stair; there are stairs below us, which we seem to have ascended; there are stairs above us, many a one, which go upward and out of sight.”
– Ralph Waldo Emerson “Essays – Experience” – 1844

 

   What, then, is our current position, and what strange tool shall we use to measure our location and log our progress?

CurrentLocation-border

We are in motion, passing through the thing and form called human – shape shifting ourselves from forms we uncomfortably acknowledge to some other fabulous shape: shapes upon shapes. Forms we cannot draw the outline of in our minds, for we are within the process and the ruler we would use to assess it must measure great spans of Time. The journey is by no means assured of an ending, much less one that we might project for ourselves.
As Loren Eiseley put it, we are “crouched midway on that desperate stair whose steps pass from dark to dark. . .”
–  Loren Eiseley, “Man Against the Universe” – The Star Thrower, 1978

 

“Tantalus means the impossibility of drinking the waters of thought which are always gleaming and waving within sight of the soul. The transmigration of souls is no fable. I would it were; but men and women are only half human.”
–  Ralph Waldo Emerson “Essays – History” – 1841

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(Click any image to enlarge)

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Contemplating an Ocean Sunrise

Lost — Yesterday, somewhere between sunrise and sunset, two golden hours, each set with sixty diamond minutes. No reward is offered, for they are gone forever. – Horace Mann

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I recently returned from a two day getaway to do some writing at the coast – in this case, USA’s “third coast” in Texas at the Gulf of Mexico. Having grown up in semi-arid west Texas and loving the great desert southwest landscapes of our country, I have not spent all that much time at the seaside or on the water. Thus, it fascinates me and also daunts me.

My eyes are captivated by the water in its ceaseless motion and I delight in the sound of the surf washing over the sands. Like the stone canyons elsewhere, the beach and surf environments, when not overrun by development, seem truly timeless. A single day spent walking the shoreline and listening to the ancient fractal sound of the waves is a time span that might have been a week or a month – or simply extracted from our normal clock-time altogether. As I walk slowly back through the sandy dunes and the susurrus of the water fades into a sudden, stark silence, mundane time begins once again.

It is a good meditation and a healing.

~   ~   ~

I took this photo at Surfside Beach, near Galveston, Texas, shortly after sunrise.

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Perspective

A lifetime of knowledge earned
Along the paths of wisdom,
Will one day surely seem to you
Quite meager and in vain.

Not because you have failed to learn,
But that the universe has opened up
Infinitely before you.

– David Crews

The photo is of myself at Bonneville Salt Flats in the NW corner of Utah. It had rained recently, leaving a wonderful reflective mirror for the mountains to float above.

Ah, yes, those Bonneville Salt Flats. Thought I’d set a new speed record – for how slow I could go.
🙂

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Bryce Canyon Magic

“The earth has music for those who listen.”
– George Santayana

No place on the planet is quite like wonderful Bryce Canyon. Erosion is caught in a still-frame by our short lives, and presented as a complex tableaux. Orange and white ripples and folds appear frozen, but are truly in the midst of melting down through their fractal forms into countless grains of sand, flowing down and down through the magnificent canyons below.

Are we not incredibly lucky to be here right at this moment, when we can see this particular frame of the movie of the Earth?

I have just returned from a lengthy photo trip through southern Utah and other parts of the Colorado Plateau. I hope you enjoy my pictures and I’ll be posting more soon.
(Click photos for larger size & better quality.)

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Xunantunich – Mayan Ceremonial Center (Belize)


With the end of the Mayan calendar cycle coming up soon, I thought I’d share a few images from the Mayan lands. This temple complex is in the edge of Belize, only one mile east of the border to Guatemala. The little town of San Ignacio is nearby and makes a good base for exploration.
[Click any of the smaller photos for full-size.]

Xunantunich (“Stone Woman”) is a more modern name, referring to a ghost woman who sometimes appears at the pyramid. The complex is from pre- to post-classic periods, lasting until up to about 900 CE. El Castillo, the main pyramid rises about 130 feet and has several carved friezes, some of which are eroded and others covered with plaster molds that echo the carvings beneath. Importantly, this acts to protect them while giving us a sense of how they look in situ.

Xunantunich  (pronounced “zoo-nan-too-nich”) is particularly easy to get to, plus, I believe it is one of the most picturesque of the Mayan complexes in Belize. There is a little ferry that takes your vehicle (taxis are plentiful) across the Mopan river. You’ll probably see some very big iguanas sunning themselves on the road.

All the Mayan sites in Belize and surrounding areas are extremely interesting to visit. Caracol is within reach of San Ignacio, but requires a long drive over sometimes rough roads. I’ll post some photos of that site later. Also, one can book a day trip across the border into Guatemala to see the incomparable city-site of Tikal. This is an adventurous trip, as well, but very worth the effort and time to see this world-class site. Tikal photos soon, too.

 

This is the account of how
all was in suspense,
all calm,
in silence;
all motionless,
quiet,
and empty was the expanse of the sky.

-Popol Vuh (The Book of the People)

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Accumulation

 

Time settles down as withered flakes
In the land of wizened stone.

Minutes and hours pile up.
Dry drifts,
One on top of another.
The essence of their measure
Baked hard into unyielding clays,
Filling each rocky crack.
Bajadas covered with arid months,
Arroyos layered with dusty days,
Until the desert is made of nothing
But time accumulated – waiting.

Released at last by some cosmic rain,
Floating free and blending.
A mass ascension into Eternity.

 

~ David P. Crews

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Photo taken in the Bisti Badlands Wilderness Area, NW New Mexico, USA.

 

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Time, and Death as an Advisor

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“You have little time left, and none of it for crap. A fine state. I would say that the best of us always comes out when we are against the wall, when we feel the sword dangling overhead. Personally, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
– Carlos Casteneda, Tales of Power

 You may have noticed a recurring theme in this blog: that of Space and Time expressed in photos and essays about time and about the spirit spaces of our minds, as well as the grand physical spaces of America’s western landscapes.

I recently had my time sense recalibrated in a very direct way when my mother died this April. She had many illnesses and we knew her journey on this plane was limited. I was prepared for the event of her death, but, being very close to her, I wondered, aside from grief, how it would alter me after the fact. Grief is one thing – a powerful and human reaction that cannot and should never be denied. Beyond grief, however, I have been intrigued with the time perspective that her death has given me. This new and rather visceral perspective I have found to be valuable, rather unexpected, and somewhat alarming. All these reactions are useful ones, I believe.

When someone close dies, even expectedly, beyond the loss itself is the factual realization that that person’s timeline has stopped. That sounds simplistic and obvious, but I’m not referring to an intellectual realization of this raw fact. Rather, I mean a gut-level, “now I get it” effect. It is a combination of the cognitive knowledge with the emotion of that loss and then the application of that to one’s own self.

As I consider my Mother’s life, I know she lived 31 years of time before I was born. Now, barring accident or illness, I will have approximately that long to live after her life’s time is over – some 30 years if I’m lucky. I have a true feel for what 30 years is now. I’ve lived it almost twice. I can remember things from 30 years in my past as if they happened yesterday. I can project 30 years into my future with ease. I can see myself reaching that point she has reached as if it were tomorrow. That vision, so clear now, makes me flinch a bit.

This perspective, hammered home by Mother’s actual passing, levers me to be aware of and to appreciate my days more. It compels me realize with a deep inner understanding that I did not previously have, that my time, too, is very limited. I now view this future segment of my time as a new kind of resource, different in some sublime and deep way from the previous timelines in my life.

We are inundated by stories and reports of death every day in our various entertainments and news. It is another kind of thing to view it in stark reality and yet apply it boldly to one’s own life. This is the perspective change that brings the Third Act of life and can either make one angry and fearful, or inspire one to create and to play in the world to make a difference for one’s self and for others – what Carlos Casteneda called “following a path with heart.”

One of the very useful ideas in Casteneda’s books is when he has Don Juan talk about “death as an advisor.”

 “Death is our eternal companion . . . It is always to our left, at an arm’s length. . . . It has always been watching you. It always will until the day it taps you. . . . One of us here has to ask death’s advice and drop the cursed pettiness that belongs to men that live their lives as if death will never tap them.”
– Carlos Casteneda, Journey to Ixtlan, p. 54 – 56.

For myself now, I am glancing over my shoulder from time to time and asking my own death whether what I am doing is worth doing in my time. Is it a path with heart for me? The time for just “going along” is over. It is time for new ventures and the pathway to fulfill old dreams beckons me.

My long professional career has been fun, but not very successful monetarily, so it’s time to create something new and put into action a “plan B” for those very distinct 30 years I may yet have. That is what I am engaged in now with the full intention to follow my dream. I’ll not describe my plan until it is better underway, but perhaps this new perspective I received from the event of my mother’s death is just the catalyst I needed to begin such a major change, creating my dreams as I walk time’s path, each day weighed for value and for heart. If so, it is the final, potent gift of a very loving parent to me, the son who loved her from the moment my time started.


Light and Space without Time

“Between here and there and me and the mountains it’s the canyon wilderness, the hoodoo land of spire and pillar and pinnacle where no man lives, and where the river flows, unseen, through the blue-black trenches in the rock.
       “Light.  Space.  Light and space without time, I think…”

Edward Abbey – Desert Solitaire, 1968

The Colorado River with the Vermilion Cliffs in the distance.

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Earliest Known Mayan Calendar Found

Earliest Known Mayan Calendar Found in Guatemalan House – Bloomberg.

As I suspected, this discovery helps to show that the Mayan “End of the World” is not literal, but rather a change of time or a transition to a new era. This is similar to the same end-of-the-world phrases in the New Testament that actually spoke of a fundamental change of the social, political, and religious “world” of that time.

What might our new “world” look like? Will the transition seem slow or fast? The modern Mayans I’ve spoken with know no more than we do.

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Vermilion Cliffs

Vermilion Cliffs – Northern Arizona ____ Photo by David P. Crews

The great escarpment of the Vermilion Cliffs lies just north of the Grand Canyon.

Time has a different pace in realms like this. To the ancient shamanic Taoists, vermilion was the color of eternity.

I’ve been making landscape photos mostly non-commercially for some 50 years now. This is some of my initial work in HDR (High Dynamic Range) photography.

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The Gates of Forever

Original digital art by David P. Crews

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Endless was my journey over broken

Lands and through forests green;

Between great white mountains,

Across cobalt deeps – desolate seas:

Arduous.

 

Ahead, my goal. My path a road – now a trail.

Steps pursuing lands of promise. I was not

Where I should be. I must campaign to the end.

At last I carved a path from unknown soil

To reach that storied land. I could not stop. I was

Impelled.

 

I stood at last upon a jutting rock,

A stony islet black as a forgotten dream.

Vast waters lay ahead. Somber waves roiled against

My feet, then became singularly quiet.

Receding spume erased my former trail. The

Setting sun reflected in darkling waters, now still as

Glass.

 

I gazed up at two golden towers. Needles –

Silent gnomons attesting a single message:

There is no East or West. There is no

South or North. There is no Down.

We speak for the Zenith. Look

Up.

 

I looked into the fading air above,

My wandering paths all lost from view,

Nor any new paths seen. Only the sharp tips of

Gold and the sweet air beyond.

There is but this one place – this one

Moment.

 

Here, all the pieces of Time collect and

Converge around a mass that compels

All to become one moment, ever moving,

Ever lasting, ever evolving, ever

Still.

 

The Mystery opened my soul,

And I knew I was where I should be,

At the Center. where all things are – beneath

The Gates of Forever.

 

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The word “zenith” is derived from the Arabic: “samt ar-ras”, meaning “the road above one’s head.”

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