I AM A ROCK

By Debbie Bulloch




Last Sunday I was riding my bike along the beach when I came across “rock art.” No, I am not talking about some rock musician strumming her guitar belting out tunes to the incoming waves. I am referring to the secret artists in our community who take ordinary rocks and stack them up to make “rock art.”

Here are some pictures of some rock art that I saw last Sunday. What these photographs fail to capture, however, is the complex interaction between the different rocks on the “pile.” No camera lens, no matter how sharp it may be, can possibly capture the interplay between rocks - the sharp angles, the soft curves, the different hues, and the changing textures.











OK, this photograph has nothing to do with rocks. But the sight of this dog, joyfully following its surfing buddy into the water made me feel happy inside so I decided to include it here.

In this day of color, digital photography our senses are often assaulted with splashes of bright color photographs. I decided to “play around” with Photoshop to see what would happen if I removed the color from a couple of the photographs. The photos below are my weak attempt at emulating Ansel Adam’s brilliant black and white photographs of some of the West’s most beautiful scenery.



This last photograph reminds me of one of my favorite Simon and Garfunkel songs. I will post the lyrics to the song here, so you can savor the poetry of Paul Simon’s words.

I AM A ROCK

A winter's day
In a deep and dark December;
I am alone,
Gazing from my window to the streets below
On a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

I've built walls,
A fortress deep and mighty,
That none may penetrate.
I have no need of friendship; friendship causes pain.
It's laughter and it's loving I disdain.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

Don't talk of love,
Well I've heard the word before;
It's sleeping in my memory.
I won't disturb the slumber of feelings that have died.
If I never loved I never would have cried.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

I have my books
And my poetry to protect me;
I am shielded in my armor,
Hiding in my room, safe within my womb.
I touch no one and no one touches me.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

And a rock feels no pain;
And an island never cries.
- lyrics by Paul Simon

One final note; my computer is acting kaput, so I am going to take it in for repairs. That means that I may not be around for a few days. Until then, have a wonderful weekend and a wonderful week.

DREAMERS AND THEIR DREAMS

By Debbie Bulloch


The other night I was reading a book of poetry when I came across a poem by the famous American writer and poet, Langston Hughes. It is a little poem, 11 lines and just 46 words long. Almost Haiku-like in its simplicity, Hughes’s poem titled “Harlem,” packs a powerful emotional punch.
What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

Langston was a leading figure of the Harlem Renaissance. His poetry often spoke about the barriers facing American blacks as they sought a bigger share of the American Dream. In 1951–the year of the poem's publication–frustration characterized the mood of American blacks. The Civil War in the previous century had liberated them from slavery, and federal laws had granted them the right to vote and the right to own property. Continuing prejudice against blacks, however, relegated them to second-class citizenship. Consequently, blacks had to attend poorly equipped segregated schools and settle for jobs as porters, ditch-diggers, servants, shoeshine boys, and other menial occupations. By the mid-Twentieth Century, their frustration with inferior status became a powder keg, and the fuse was burning. Hughes well understood what the future held, as he indicates in the last line of the poem.

To read Hughes’s poem solely in the context of the struggles for racial equality, however, is to limit its universal message. I first read “Harlem” when I was in High School. But in the spring of my life Hughes’s simple, rhetorical questions did not resonate with me as powerfully as they do now. So the other night, as I re-read poem, the full implication of the poem’s six questions made me stop to think about my own dreams and what had become of them. Hughes’s poem made me realize that now, that I am in the midsummer of my life, there is still time to pursue those dreams – and keep them from exploding.

Have you ever wondered whatever happened to your youthful dreams and aspirations? What happened to the little girl who dreamed of someday becoming a ballerina? Or the little boy who wanted to grow up to be a fireman? What about the girl who dreamed of some day finding a cure to the cancer that destroyed her mom or dad? Or the little boy who wanted to end all wars so no more big brothers would have to die fighting wars in far flung places with unpronounceable names?

What happened to those dreams? Have you achieved your dreams? Are you still working on them? Or have you labeled them as far and hopeless and simply tossed them aside?

We all have dreams and aspirations; if a person stops dreaming he stops living. It is in our dreams that the essence of our very humanity takes flight making possible much of what is good and noble and beautiful in this world. The Bible tells us that the meek shall inherit the Earth; that may be true. But it is the dreamers who will turn it into a place worth living.

To paraphrase a quote I once read (I forget who the original writer was, I think it came from that Irish writer and philosopher George Bernard Shaw).

Some men see things as they are and ask, "why?"
Other men dream of things that have never been and ask, "why not?"

I challenge you to look at your dreams, the unfulfilled ones, the discarded ones, the forgotten ones and ask yourself, “why not?”

AFTER THE STORMS

By Debbie Bulloch



Over the past few days, California has been hit by a series of cold, Arctic storms. The storms deluged the state with copious amounts of rain. As a result of the storms, our weather has been cold, wet and dark – not exactly the kind of image that we in California (and especially in Southern California) like to portray to the rest of the world.

But as the saying goes, every storm has a silver lining. Along with the dark clouds, the recent storms brought much needed water to our reservoirs (we were running awfully low on water). The storms also brought snow, wonderful, magnificent, beautiful snow to the mountain range that rings the area where I live. This morning I woke up to the sight of snow capped mountains, their white mantle glistening in the morning sun.

Let me then share with you some of the sights that greeted me this morning as I headed off for work.

Enjoy!


Before the storm rolled in, the skies turned very dark and menacing.


This is a view looking towards the ocean, where the storms were coming from.


This morning, the view out to the nearby mountains was lovely!


The snow cover was wide-spread.




The softly rolling green hills provide a nice contrast to the white peaks.

POEMS FOR VALENTINE'S DAY

By Debbie Bulloch



If you have been following these pages, you know that I love to write. Writing affords me an opportunity to give flight to my imagination, letting my feelings soar on wings of words. I write when I am happy, I write when I am sad, I write when I need to fill the emptiness that we all feel from time to time.

A while ago I wrote a poem called “Dream Lover.” I wrote at a time when I was feeling very blue. On a lark, I submitted the poem to a writing group to which I belong. To my surprise my poem was chosen to be read at a gathering of writers. I was present at the reading (actually I was hiding in the crowd) and was overcome with joy to hear my words spoken out in public; I was elated when I heard the crowd’s applause.

That was almost a year ago and I had pretty much forgotten about the poem. Then this morning I received the following IM:

Jaz Flossberg: Debbie, The Breakers Coffee Shop Arts Series presented "Love Poems" last night. Many of the poems were from people in SL. Your poem "Dream Lover" was read among the 14 poems selected. I want to thank you for having written the poem. It was very well received and helped make our presentation a success. Thank you.

There was my poem, once again, being read in public. I never imagined that words that I wrote in private would ever be read out loud in public; I never dreamed that people would actually enjoy my writing.

Here then is “Dream Lover.”

Dream Lover

Between the darkness and the light,
There lies a land
Of warm shadows and soft whispers.
Where tears and hurt are unwelcomed guests
And lovers are free to dream.

I hold my lover in my arms
And I look into his eyes.
Eyes like a cool spring lake.
In his blue eyes I see reflections of a life I once knew,
When I was my lover’s cherished one.

I hold him tighter in my arms,
And in his embrace I live again.
Softly, he whispers that he loves me and I fall to my knees
Drinking deeply from his sweet honey
Till there is none left for me to drink.

My lover sighs
And his sighs are like a lullaby I heard long ago.
Like a child, I close my eyes,
Daring to dream again,
Hoping to be taken back to a world I once knew.

In the distance, a songbird calls out to his mate
Slowly, I open my eyes
And my lover is gone.
Nothing left for me to hold,
But the cold and empty air.

Through the prism of a single, solitary tear
I see a freshly cut red rose on the pillow next to me.
And then I know
That when this mortal day is done,
My dreams will once again take me back to the one I love.

02.14.20008

Copyright © 2008 DB. All rights fully reserved.


“Dream lover” was written during a very dark period of my life when I was feeling blue and sad...and very lonesome.

Fortunately, I eventually came out from under the clouds that had kept me in the dark. When I finally came out from the dark, there was a bright, warm glowing ember pointing the way out. The following poem was inspired by that glowing ember.

Untitled

In the cold hour before dawn
When the songbird calls out to its mate
In the frantic rush of lovers
Reaching out for one another
In the moments of stillness
When words are silently spoken.

I feel you standing next to me
The glow of your eyes
Beating back the darkness around me
Filling my empty hours with love
And once again I come alive

I look at your figure, silent before me
Your arms reach out to surround me
And the tears and the sadness and the fears
Melt away into the foggy past

I keep my eyes wide open
Out of fear
Fear that if I close them you will go and leave me
Alone with my tears

I stand in a clearing in the thick forest
And through the tall, dark trees that surround me
A warm, autumn wind blows
And in my heart I hear a voice
That gently reassures me

I keep my eyes open
I’ve heard that impostor’s voice before
It is a struggle that I cannot win
And when the moment finally comes,
When I must fearfully let my eyes close - I let out a sigh
Because when the mocking morn returns
It will bring back its companion, the bitter loneliness

Later, when I finally dare to open my eyes again
As the darkness begrudgingly surrenders to the advancing light
I see you lying next to me, a perfect ghostly presence
I turn away because I have seen that ghost before

Suddenly, I feel your warm breath on my cold shoulders
Can ghosts breathe?
Slowly I turn and touch you, not daring to believe
And then I see your eyes open,
Two glowing embers looking right through me

Then I know that the voice I heard in my heart
The voice I’ve feared for so long
Was not the impostor’s cruel whispers
For you are here with me
And my lonely days and nights are gone forever.

10.20.2008

Copyright © 2008 DB. All rights fully reserved.


Thank you for letting me share with you this little part of me.

Happy Valentine's Day to all the lovers of the world. And if you are still seeking that special someone to love, do not despair, she or he is just around the corner - I promise!

SUPER BOWL 2009 - AIN'T NO MOUNTAIN HIGH ENOUGH!

By Debbie Bulloch



As expected, the Pittsburgh Steelers beat the Arizona Cardinals. Final score: Steelers 27 - Cardinals 23.

And, as also expected, companies went out of their way to present some truly memorable television commercials.












Here is my favorite. (Yes, I know, I am a romantic!)

Clydesdales in Love (2009):

SUPER BOWL SUNDAY!

By Debbie Bulloch


Today is Super Bowl Sunday. If you live in the US, then I don't have to explain to you what this day means. If you don't live in the US, Super Bowl Sunday then no rational explanation will make sense - Super Bowl Sunday will not mean much to you.

If you have watch a Super Bowl game, you know that the BEST thing about watching the Super Bowl are all the television commercials. Companies compete with each other to have the best possible commercials.

Some of the commercials are funny, some are clever, others are just plain dumb.

Here is my favorite, all-time commercial.

I still cry every time I see it. I hope you enjoy it.