The Beautiful Secret Language Of The Earth (Pt. 22)

Another Mirror

Discovered in an alley.  Another "errant" mirror?

No, not this time.  This one wasn't random at all.  It had been placed there deliberately by someone who knew just what they wanted.

In fact, it's clearly part of an overall decorative scheme.  Turned out, it's a cafe.

Beauty III

Leaves on a bus stop shelter roof.

Staccato

Construction site -- percussive sounds -- making clouds jump and splash in response.

Good Deed Of The Day

I was about to cross the street when I spotted a card of some sort on the ground (it was actually lying at the base of this bollard but I forgot to take a photo of it in situ).

Thinking if might be a gift coupon or some such trifle, I picked it up and looked at it more closely, turned it over, and realized it was actually someone's check (debit) card.

So I walked it over to the local police station and turned it over.  Interestingly, the first thing I had to do was fill out a form that asked whether or not I was willing to reliquish all claims to the card.  Maybe some people try to assert finders' fee claims?  Anyway, I was of course perfectly fine with declaring my withdrawal of all rights to it.

Scrooge-Like

Me, doing an impression of a Victorian undertaker who is recalling being very irked just a few moments earlier by the dreadfuly loud and piercing noises emanating from the throats of the three female middle-schoolers walking right behind 𝗆̶𝖾̶him.

Errant Grape Tomato

A very nice one, ripe almost to the point of bursting.

Subway Roof In Late Afternoon

Would Have Been Funnier With Six Toes

^

Errant Plastic Glove x2

The day before yesterday, I set out on yet another of my peripatetic photo-jaunts.  And while ambling down a quiet back lane I came across a crumpled plastic glove.  And of course I photographed it;  lost or abandoned gloves have come to form a kind of sub-sub-theme under the sub-theme of "errant" objects on this blog. 

The day's haul of imagery was not particularly interesting, and after a couple of hours I decided to come home.  Then, on the way back I came across another crumpled plastic glove.

I wonder if they were mates^.

Clever

I just happened to happen across this sign outside a pub in a new neighborhood I was exploring.  As a visual artist myself, I have to say I quite admire the way it made use of that martini glass graphic to achieve a wonderfully witty effect.

That Last Light

Taken yesterday, during the late afternoon/early evening walk with the Moon.  The Sun was nearing the horizon, and I was impressed by that last little fleck of sunlight hanging on to the tip of the cross in a losing battle.

OK, I just came up with a really tacky, pretentious, pseudo-solemn title for this image, and it is...  ahem, "Last Prayer".  Thank you, thank you, I'll be performing here all week.

I miss my friend Evelyn.  I think that little bit of kitschy humor would have made her gigle.

My Eye Of Hope

so, so wanted it to be true, even though I of course knew it was impossible -- that twig did NOT really penetrate or grow through the tree trunk;  it's just a visual illusion.  But still, compared to the hypothetical scenario of a billion monkeys randomly typing away on a billion typewriters for billions of years accidentally typing out the entirety of Shakespeare's Hamlet, I'd say a twig going through a tree trunk is a cinch.

Shoot The Moon II

 

Wonder What Happened II

I walk by this area all the time, but I just noticed this today for the first time.  Three neighboring paving tiles, each with the same corresponding corner broken off in a pretty much identical manner.  How does that happen?  Did it happen in a single accident?  That would already be unusual enough, but it would really be fantastically against the odds if it had happened in three unrelated incidents.

Related post:  Wonder What Happened

Tantalizingly Suggestive

Organs, bird, cartoon head, mutant doll, duck-billed dinosaur, body parts, shape-shifting monster caught mid-transformation.  All very close, without quite getting there maybe...  But isn't that the point?

A Peculiar Experience

This happened long ago, when I was in high school.  I was alone at home.  I had just lain down on my bed to take an afternoon nap, so this must have happened on a weekend (or during summer vacation -- why, oh why did I not write down everything then!).

Suddenly I found myself standing in the hallway.  I did not remember how I got to be there, but the oddness of the situation did not bother me so much at the time as the fact that my vision was somehow impaired (in retrospect, it was as if my brain were operating on autopilot, with the critical faculty turned down) -- I could see, but the whole environment seemed steeped in a shadowy sort of gloom.

It felt very oppressive, almost physically so, so I went (back) down to my bedroom, reached for the light switch by the door, tried to flick it on -- and could not.  I had not felt my finger making contact with it.  Thinking I had simply missed the mark, I looked at the switch, tried again, and it looked as if my finger went right through it.  Under normal conditions this would have been shocking, but at the time I was simply perplexed (again, the incomplete critical faculty).

Then, suddenly, it came to me -- I realized why I couldn't see properly -- my eyes were closed!  So I had fallen asleep after all, and of course my eyes would be closed.  How I could see at all when I was sleeping with my eyes closed, that question did not arise at the time.  Instead, I tried to open my eyes but found it difficult at first -- it was as if my eyelids were glued shut, and they simply would not respond to my effort.  I tried again and again with a kind of desperation, and finally my eyes suddenly snapped wide open and I found myself awake and lying in bed.

What did I experience?  Was it some unusual semi-lucid dream?  "Traveling consciousness"?  A partially-conscious astral projection?

Oliver Fox, a pioneering writer in occult literature of the early 20th century pertaining to lucid dreaming and astral projection, set out four stages in the journey of dream-to-full consciousness in his writings.  It lists, at its base level, to put it very simply, just accepting everything in your dream unquestioningly, just as you would with any other ordinary dream, then only after waking, realizing there was something strange or odd about the dream;  then the next level is where you do notice something odd, but excuse it with your dream-logic as something that could normally exist within the dream.  Then, in the next level of awareness, the critical faculty comes into play, and you compare things in the dream with the waking world versions, and realize it really is odd, but still justify it somehow, using loose logic (like "It could happen!").  The last stage is a fully lucid dream -- you see something in a dream that's just absurd, realize it could not possibly happen in real life, and therefore you must be dreaming.

I mostly agree with this, and I would place my "strange dream" somewhere between the second or third categories.  But I confess I have always felt rather dissatisfied with Fox's categorization of lucidity in dreams.  He seems to unduly emphasize a spectrum from lucid dreaming to what he describes as astral projection without making a hard-and-fast distinction between the two (by way of contrast, Sylvan Muldoon makes the difference clear in his autobiographical classic tome of occult literature, Projection of the Astral Body -- he does not mention lucid dreaming at all in his book).

Related post:  A Silent Explosion

Head Of A Baying Dog

That is, a stump that looks like one.

Still More "Seen In A Seoul Alley"

Just one question... 

Is it to keep people out, or to keep something confined within?

Moon Longing

 

I Must Have Been Really Pissed off

to have done this to my hand.  Most likely I punched a wall in anger/frustration.

Luckily though, nothing seems to have been broken.  Supposedly it happened in 2022, but as is so often the case with these things, I have no memory at all of this injury or what led up to it.

Related post:  Speaking Of Knives

Evening Sunbow