While The Biscuits Were Browning

Gillian Welch: 50 Miles of Elbow Room


The eastern sky was red as coals in a forge, lighting up the flats along the river. Dew had wet the million needles of the chaparral, and when the rim of the sun edged over the horizon the chaparral seemed to be spotted with diamonds. A bush in the backyard was filled with little rainbows as the sun touched the dew.
It was tribute enough to sunup that it could make even chaparral bushes look beautiful, Augustus thought, and he watched the process happily, knowing it would only last a few minutes. The sun spread reddish-gold light through the shining bushes, among which a few goats wandered, bleating.
Even when the sun rose above the low bluffs to the south, a layer of light lingered for a bit at the level of the chaparral, as if independent of its source. The the sun lifted clear, like an immense coin. The dew quickly died, and the light that filled the bushes like red dirt dispersed, leaving clear, slightly bluish air.
It was good reading light by then, so Augustus applied himself for a few minutes to the Prophets. He was not overly religious, but he did consider himself a fair prophet and liked to study the styles of his predecessors. They were mostly too long-winded, in his view, and he made no effort to read them
verse for verse--he just had a look here and there, while the biscuits were browning.

--Larry McMurtry
from Lonesome Dove


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Brahma Temple from Utah Flats
Gillian Welch: 50 Miles of Elbow Room
Colorado River below Palisades Canyon
upriver view outside Hance Canyon
claret cup cacti

The Choir Invisible

Bach : Magnificat (1)
Bach: Magnificat (2)

Bach: Magnificat (3)



The moment
one gives
close attention
to anything,
even a blade
of grass,
it becomes
a mysterious,
awesome,
indescribably
magnificent
world
in itself.
--Henry Miller

What A Lovely Story

REM: Fall On Me


The alchemist picked up a book that someone in the caravan
had brought. Leafing through
the pages, he found a story
about Narcissus.
The alchemist knew the legend
of Narcissus, a youth who
knelt daily beside a lake
to contemplate his own beauty.
He was so fascinated by himself
that, one morning, he fell into the lake and drowned. At the spot where he fell, a flower was born, which was called the narcissus.
But this was not how the author of the book ended the story.
He said that when Narcissus died, the goddesses of the forest appeared and found the lake, which had been fresh water,
transformed into a lake of salty tears.
"Why do you weep?" the goddesses asked.
"I weep for Narcissus," the lake replied.
"Ah, it is no surprise that you weep for Narcissus," they said, "for though we always pursued him in the forest, you alone could contemplate his beauty close at hand."
"But... was Narcissus beautiful?" the lake asked.
"Who better than you to know that?" the goddesses asked in wonder. "After all, it was by your banks that he knelt each day to contemplate himself!"
The lake was silent for some time. Finally, it said:
"I weep for Narcissus, but I never noticed that Narcissus was beautiful.
I weep because, each time he knelt beside my banks, I could see,
in the depths of his eyes, my own beauty reflected."
"What a lovely story," the alchemist thought.
--Paulo Coelho

Rainbow Canyon

Wayra: Rainbow Canyon


A Native American elder
once described
his own inner struggles
in this manner:
Inside of me
there are two dogs.
One of the dogs
is mean and evil.
The other dog is good.
The mean dog fights
the good dog
all the time.
When asked
which dog wins,
he reflected
for a moment
and replied:
The one I feed the most.
--George Bernard Shaw
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a twofer from outside Hance Canyon

In Summer The Song Sings Itself

Frank Sinatra: Summer Wind

Pogues: Sunny Side of the Street




In

summer

the

song

sings

itself.

--William Carlos Williams




a trio of North Rim beauties from the Ruuscal Collection

I Can't Forget

the Pixies: I Can't Forget



i'll be
there today
with a
big bouquet
of cactus
i've got
this rig
that runs
on memories
and i
promise
cross my heart
they'll never
catch us
but if
they do
just tell them
it was me

--leonard cohen

Look And Pass Them By

Here sighs and cries
and shrieks of lamentation
echoed throughout
the starless air of Hell.
At first these sounds
resounding made me weep:
tongues confused,
a language strained in anguish
with cadences of anger,
shrill outcries and raucous groans
that joined with sounds of hands,
raising a whirling storm
that turns itself forever through
that air of endless black,
like grains of sand
swirling when a whirlwind blows.
And I, in the midst of
all this circling horror,
began, "Teacher,
what are these sounds I hear?
What souls are these
so overwhelmed by grief?"

And he to me:
"This wretched state of being
is the fate of those sad souls
who lived a life
but lived it with no blame
and with no praise.
They are mixed with that
repulsive choir of angels
neither faithful nor unfaithful
to their God, who undecided
stood but for themselves.
Heaven, to keep its beauty,
cast them out, but even
Hell itself would not receive them,
for fear the damned
might glory over them."

And I: "Master, what torments
do they suffer that force them
to lament so bitterly?"
He answered:
"I will tell you in few words:
these wretches have
no hope of truly dying,
and this blind life they lead
is so abject it makes them
envy every other fate.
The world will not record
their having been there.
Heaven's mercy and
its justice turn from them.
Let's not discuss them.
Look and pass them by..."
--Dante Alighieri

Hermit Rapid
sidecanyon reflection
below Royal Arch
Seventy-five Mile Canyon
Vishnu Temple

Call It Anything

Miles Davis: Call It Anything* (1)

Miles Davis: Call It Anything* (2)

Miles Davis: Call It Anything* (3)
Miles Davis: Call It Anything* (4)


Sometimes fate is like
a small sandstorm
that keeps changing directions.
You change direction but
the sandstorm chases you.
You turn again,
but the storm adjusts.
Over and over
you play this out,
like some ominous dance
with death just before dawn.
Why? Because this storm
isn't something that blew in
from far away,
something that has nothing
to do with you.
This storm is you.
Something inside of you.
So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn't get in, and walk through it, step by step. There's no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That's the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine.
And once the storm is over you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won't even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won't be the same person who walked in.
That's what this storm's all about.
--Haruki Murakami

Cheops Pyramid
above Hermit Rapid
Sagittarius Ridge
above Travertine Canyon
Cheops Pyramid and Zoroaster Temple

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

*When asked the name of the music in his 38 minute set
at the Isle of Wight Festival on August 29, 1970,
Miles Davis said, "Call It Anything."



Miles Davis (trumpet)
Gary Bartz (sax)
Chick Corea (piano)
Keith Jarrett (organ)
Dave Holland (bass)
Jack DeJohnette (drums)
Airto Moreira (percussion)

That's All

Paul Butterfield Blues Band: East-West
Diana Krall: East of the Sun, West of the Moon




Happy.
Just in my swim shorts,
barefooted, wild-haired,
in the red fire dark,
singing, swigging wine,
spitting, jumping, running,
that's the way to live.
All alone and free in the
soft sands of the beach
by the sigh of
the sea out there,
with the Ma-Wink
fallopian virgin warm stars
reflecting on the outer
channel fluid belly waters.
And if your cans are
redhot and you can't
hold them in your hands,
just use good old railroad gloves, that's all.
--Jack Kerouac
from The Dharma Bums
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Palisades uf the Desert
two views of Salt Canyon

The Soul Of The World

Wes Montgomery: A Day in the Life
Django Reinhardt: Nuages
The desert
takes our dreams
away from us,
and they don't
always return.
We know that,
and we are
used to it.
Those who
don't return
become a part
of the clouds,
a part of the animals
that hide in the ravines
and of the water
that comes
from the earth.
They become part
of everything...
They become the Soul of the World.
--Paulo Coelho
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Explorers Monument from Royal Arch route
sidecanyon reflection
Cottonwood Creek
---------------------------------------------------------------------
hubble's greatest hits
wichita lineman

Forty-Two

Dvorak: New World Symphony (4th movement)

Handel: Music for the Royal Fireworks (Overture)
Bruce Springsteen: 4th of July, Asbury Park (Sandy)


They shrugged at each other.
Fook composed himself.
"O Deep Thought computer,"
he said, "the task we have designed you to perform is this: We want you to tell us...."
he paused, "The Answer."
"The Answer?"
said Deep Thought.
"The Answer to what?"
"Life!" urged Fook.
"The Universe!" said Lunkwill.
"Everything!"
they said in chorus.
Deep Thought paused for a moment's reflection.
"Tricky," he said finally.
"But can you do it?"
Again, a significant pause.
"Yes," said Deep Thought,
"I can do it."
"There is an answer?" said Fook
with breathless excitement.
"Yes," said Deep Thought.
"Life, the Universe, and Everything.
There is an answer.
But, I'll have to think about it."
Ford glanced impatiently at his watch.
"How long?" he said.
"Seven and a half million years."
Lunkwill and Fook blinked at each other.
"Seven and a half million years!" they cried in chorus.
"Yes." said Deep Thought.



[Seven and a half million years later....
Fook and Lunkwill are long gone,
but their ancestors continue what they started]


"We are the ones who will hear,"
said Phouchg, "the answer
to the great question of Life....!"
"The Universe...!"
said Loonquawl.
"And Everything...!"
"Shhh," said Loonquawl
with a slight gesture.
"I think Deep Thought
is preparing to speak!"
There was a moment's
expectant pause while panels
slowly came to life
on the front of the console.
Lights flashed on and off
experimentally
and settled down into
a businesslike pattern.
A soft low hum came from
the communication channel.

"Good Morning,"
said Deep Thought at last.
"Er..good morning,
O Deep Thought"
said Loonquawl nervously,
"do you have...er,
that is..."
"An Answer for you?"
interrupted Deep Thought majestically.
"Yes, I have."
The two men shivered with expectancy. Their waiting had not been in vain.
"There really is one?" breathed Phouchg.
"There really is one," confirmed Deep Thought.
"To Everything?
To the great Question of Life, the Universe and everything?"
"Yes."
Both of the men had been
trained for this moment,
their lives had been
a preparation for it,
they had been selected
at birth as those who
would witness the answer,
but even so they
found themselves
gasping and squirming
like excited children.
"And you're ready
to give it to us?"
urged Loonsuawl.
"I am."
"Now?"
"Now," said Deep Thought.
They both licked their dry lips.
"Though I don't think,"
added Deep Thought.
"that you're going to like it."
"Doesn't matter!" said Phouchg.
"We must know it! Now!"
"Now?" inquired Deep Thought.
"Yes! Now..."
"All right," said the computer,
and settled into silence again.
The two men fidgeted.
The tension was unbearable.
"You're really not going to like it,"
observed Deep Thought.
"Tell us!"
"All right," said Deep Thought.
"The Answer to
the Great Question..."
"Yes..!"
"Of Life, the Universe and Everything..."
said Deep Thought.
"Yes...!"
"Is..." said Deep Thought,
and paused.
"Yes...!"
"Is..."
"Yes...!!!...?"
"Forty-two," said Deep Thought,
with infinite majesty and calm.

--Douglas Adams
from The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

Naturalized At Last

Jerry Garcia/Tony Rice/David Grisman: Summertime

Jerry Garcia: Love Scene (from Zabriskie Point )


When I have left the boat
a short time the seats become intolerably hot. What luxury to bathe now! It is gloriously hot,
--the first of this weather.
I cannot get wet enough.
I must let the water soak into me. When you come out, it is rapidly dried on you or absorbed into your body, and you want to
go in again. I begin to inhabit the planet, and see how I may be naturalized at last.
--Henry David Thoreau
(journal entry for July 3, 1854)
-----------------------------------
Pyramid Lake, Nevada