GETTING BACK TO BASICS: Mysterious Moon

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

Mysterious Moon

A glimpse of February's full moon

...the Snow/Hunger moon

as I saw it this morning

dipping down

over the horizon.

I love how the tree branches

in front of the moon

are highlighted.

6 comments:

Jenn MFebruary 8, 2012 at 9:46 PM
That is one amazing picture, and a cool moon to boot!
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Joanna JenkinsFebruary 9, 2012 at 1:29 AM
That is a fantastic shot, Marisa. Just beautiful.

I was admiring the moon's beauty and color tonight too. It was striking.

xo jj
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GraceFebruary 9, 2012 at 4:10 PM
I saw the moon on it's ascent--big, round and orange! Great picture.
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AnonymousFebruary 24, 2012 at 7:39 PM
Beautiful!
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Relyn LawsonMarch 3, 2012 at 11:50 PM
Woa!!! Did you take this amazing picture. WOW!
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UnknownJune 8, 2012 at 9:56 AM
Marisa, I love your blog. Most of your "about me" could be about me!
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My thoughts are my own, tucked away in the recesses of my mind. Sometimes I write them down for later viewing, only to ask myself, "What the hell was I thinking?"
-Marisa

I dwell in possibility...
-Emily Dickinson

If my button falls off
I sew it back on.

If I loose my button
I look for a matching one
to replace it.

If I can’t find a matching one,
I take off all the remaining ones
and sew new buttons on.
Anonymous

On wishes...

As you think, so you are. As you dream, so you become. As you create your wishes, so they create you.
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Our deepest wishes are whispers of our authentic selves.
We must learn to respect them.
We must learn to listen.
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If wishes were fishes, we'd all cast nets into the sea.
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Wish in one hand, shit in the other,
see which one gets full first.
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On life...
We all can dance, when we find the music that we love.

The worst sin toward our fellow creatures is not to hate them, but to be indifferent to them: that's the essence of inhumanity.
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"A little while and I will be gone from among you, whither I cannot tell. From nowhere we came, and into nowhere we go. What is life? It is as a flash of a firefly in the night. It is as the breath of a buffalo in the winter time. It is as the little shadow that runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset." - Crowfoot, chief of the Blackfoot Indians (1890)