Andy Goldsworthy: Rivers and Tides

Nursing my headcold on a slow day, I'm celebrating the selling of my fancy high-def television by watching Rivers and Tides. Bye bye tv. Say hello to Gwen, who will soon own you and take very good care of you.

Andy Goldsworthy is an artist that works solely with the materials of nature, stone, rock and wood, ice, snow, and wind. There is genius in him, who with that slow enduring passion for and patience with the workings of nature, can see so much in what is there, to see the poetry of iron in river, needles in leaves, the soft rain shadows. I take for granted that which I see, and do not stir underneath the surface, but for him, the minutiae, the smallest stir of wind means so much more. He has made it mean so much more for him, and he amplifies that meaning for us.

His creations do not last. They are enhanced by that time and destroyed by it. Ice melts, water dissolves, rocks wear. And so it reminds me of sand paintings, Tibetan mandalas, that are swept up soon after their creation.

Goldsworthy can explain things so beautifully, but there is more beyond, that is not explainable with words. His art is mysterious, even to him. He creates, but nature makes it what it truly is. Nature is creating the art, and he is simply harnessing particular potentials. He is watching its creation, just as we are. And it is dedication and love and insight into nature that allows his works to be.

Caetano Veloso, again again:

my car is feeling a bit of a music drought. it needs refueling. I'm relying on Caetano to get me through, while I'm running on fumes.

Have I clearly stated that he is the only man over 60 I would consider having children with? That soft, intimate voice of his. I've considered visiting brazil but mainly for caetano, who holds the spirit of brazil in his hands. If i love Cae, i must love brazil, I figure. and the language and the people and the sun and wind. all the portuguese I know, I've learned from his songs....

Krishna Das, Live On Earth

So, how can I tell I’ve changed? I pick up books I once avoided, and I’m listening to Krishna Das. I’ve been listening to him in yoga class for years, and was never drawn in. And now I’m considering working at the Sivananda Yoga Retreat in the Bahamas when he breezes through next year.

When I’m doing yoga, listening to him makes my heart softer. It isn’t inner work to listen to him when I’m practicing, but if I’m going to listen/look outside of my, let it be to someone with a soulful, grounding voice.

Oh, and did I mention it’s fun to sing along? This album is almost all call-and-response. They are like the nursery rhymes of my childhood, these simple kirtan melodies. I sang my heart out to “four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie” when I was three. Now I’m thirty and it’s “Hare Rama Hare Rama Rama Rama Hare Hare.” Who would have thought? There’s a beautiful energy to old, old songs and words. I feel engaged to some deep history within myself when I sing them.

And singing is so healing for me. It brings me perspective… sadness is transmuted, to something more than a dull feeling. I can find light in my sadness when I sing. I sing for myself, and though I don’t want to be obnoxious about it, I love to sing anywhere I find myself.

Descriptions of the Sea, a Series

The sea sparkles like a mountain of gems, the secret horde of thieves.