Julie Farias ~ Photographer Writer
BLOG.JULIEFARIAS.COM
Sometimes saying goodbye is all we can do...
In memory of friends lost...
Still listening...
Sometimes, the very best you can do is acknowledge what you know and don't know, what your fears are and where you see the truth. I believe in the golden rule, in treating others as I wish to be treated, in speaking the truth and looking out for my fellow human beings.
So long ago I made note of the fact that the universe has it's own mechanism for divining what is just and to let go of attachment to the results when speaking the truth as I understand it, because yes, sometimes truth is about perspective and sometimes it is at a greater remove that all the data will be viewed in an even more nuanced view.
Hi Tech Start Up Savant
Hmmm ... Love playing in the start up world ~ thinking outside the box, envisioning solutions to problems still not quite definable ~ the cross organizational collaboration ~ the inner data geek comes out and suddenly i find myself immersed in the flow of information and metrics that keeps me interested and engaged ~ smile
Reviewing life at 6800 feet...
Over my first cup of coffee, I'm looking at images from yesterday. It was a day spent literally with my nose glued to the rails of the rodeo fence, hoping for the calves to break in my direction and come charging into the rails, spraying dirt and dust. This was then my chance to capture that one single moment where they decided what if anything to do next whilst lariat twirling cowboys continued their pursuit to rope these here calves.
Well, first charge and I was literally sprayed in wetted down arena dirt but managed to avert the gaze of the lens without any impact - priorities you know. I stood up and brushed off the dirt, optimist that I am. Five hours later, what I have to say is this:
With the backdrop fo the Eastern Sierra Nevada's, I have some of the most interesting images that I've shot in awhile. Creatures caught mid stride, cowboys and cowgirls astride their horses, as they have been for generations. Perhaps one of the most touching moments was when a Charolais calf decided that I could in fact be his salvation - he stood there with me, breathing heavily from running so swiftly and hoping against hope that his turn would not come. All the while, in the background you could see the drama continue. And then, at last, his turn came and he became the focus. He played his part and departed with ease, to resume this chase that continues on through so many lifetimes.
Food for thought for an omnivore - close proximity to your resources is a good thing.
Your two cents may not be worth much, but your nickel surely is.
Ysabella and I had a slight divergence of opinion this morning. She contends that I should not save CA redemption bottles for the man who picks them out of the recycling in our neighborhood. I say, in these times especially, we must help our fellow man.
She says his pedigree is uncertain and I remind her that she learned from Dharma the dog in Oakland that we are all sentient beings sharing one universal fate. We do not wish to descend into the abyss of cultural elitism.
Ah, she concurs and demurs. I thank her for being an inspiration for such discourse - she is always so willing to evolve I say.
She says she is weary of being such an inspiration - dog biscuit please.
She says his pedigree is uncertain and I remind her that she learned from Dharma the dog in Oakland that we are all sentient beings sharing one universal fate. We do not wish to descend into the abyss of cultural elitism.
Ah, she concurs and demurs. I thank her for being an inspiration for such discourse - she is always so willing to evolve I say.
She says she is weary of being such an inspiration - dog biscuit please.
Sometimes sitting on the front porch of ordinary is just fine.
Just in case you hadn't noticed - we're living through some troubling
times. Though I'm not sure if there is any correlation, I am certainly
sensitive to the fact that there seem to be more suicides by people
hurling themselves in front of fast moving vehicles - cars, trucks,
trains and even BART - Bay Area Rapid Transit.
Last week a friend had the most unfortunate experience of being on the
Embarcadero platform in downtown San Francisco when a young man jumped
directly into the path of an early afternoon Bart Train.
I'll spare you the most graphic details, but suffice it to say there
wasn't much left of the poor soul. Imagine hearing the sounds of the
body thumping under the carriage of the train until it came to rest a
few cars back - appendages removed by the wheels unimpeded by human
flesh - sparks flying from the electrified tracks. Imagine the rest of
the scene and imagine that within seconds the BART police are there
requiring everyone to remain on the platform within eyeshot and earshot
of all that is still replaying in their minds.
Mind you, they have just witnessed another human being jump to his
certain demise - the blood and gore are all about but thankfully the
screams are eviscerated by the rapid descent into shock - yes, this
person was still alive.
So, while the rescue teams were there, the BART police required these
people who had moments before been waiting for the next train to some
where else watch the extrication of what was essentially described to
me as a head and torso - not much else. Well, perhaps I have misstated
the facts - they did not require them to watch, but they would not
allow them to leave the platform. And so, the obvious occurred perhaps
in the glimmer of hope that this fellow human being would in fact
survive all despite the irrefutable truth of circumstance.
And then, once the lifting of the train and removing the human being
were complete, these former passengers on the way to somewhere were now
taken into a room and forced to watch one by one a replay of the video
tape showing the man jumping to his death. And then, for whatever
reason, they were required to identify themselves in this video (as if
that wouldn't be apparent or obtainable through some other means) and
then, after all of this they were required to sign a statement saying
that they required no further medical/psychological attention and if
they would, they would agree to take care of it on their own.
So the way that I see it is that they were forced to watch needlessly
the visceral effects of another's unfortunate choice and then required
to agree that everything was just fine OR it was made clear, they would
have to remain in custody even longer - this after hours of enduring
this "helpful" assistance.
I regret whatever circumstance made this person feel this course of
action necessary, but how can we condone the actions of BART transit?
How many sleepless nights will there be because they didn't help
everyone mitigate the effects of this disaster? I refuse to make a
very obvious though facile connection here - I merely want to say that
possession of a badge or "legal authority" does not give you the right
to disregard the well being of your fellow man.
If you agree, please contact BART and request that they revise their
"jumper" protocols. We don't need more victims from an already
senseless act.
times. Though I'm not sure if there is any correlation, I am certainly
sensitive to the fact that there seem to be more suicides by people
hurling themselves in front of fast moving vehicles - cars, trucks,
trains and even BART - Bay Area Rapid Transit.
Last week a friend had the most unfortunate experience of being on the
Embarcadero platform in downtown San Francisco when a young man jumped
directly into the path of an early afternoon Bart Train.
I'll spare you the most graphic details, but suffice it to say there
wasn't much left of the poor soul. Imagine hearing the sounds of the
body thumping under the carriage of the train until it came to rest a
few cars back - appendages removed by the wheels unimpeded by human
flesh - sparks flying from the electrified tracks. Imagine the rest of
the scene and imagine that within seconds the BART police are there
requiring everyone to remain on the platform within eyeshot and earshot
of all that is still replaying in their minds.
Mind you, they have just witnessed another human being jump to his
certain demise - the blood and gore are all about but thankfully the
screams are eviscerated by the rapid descent into shock - yes, this
person was still alive.
So, while the rescue teams were there, the BART police required these
people who had moments before been waiting for the next train to some
where else watch the extrication of what was essentially described to
me as a head and torso - not much else. Well, perhaps I have misstated
the facts - they did not require them to watch, but they would not
allow them to leave the platform. And so, the obvious occurred perhaps
in the glimmer of hope that this fellow human being would in fact
survive all despite the irrefutable truth of circumstance.
And then, once the lifting of the train and removing the human being
were complete, these former passengers on the way to somewhere were now
taken into a room and forced to watch one by one a replay of the video
tape showing the man jumping to his death. And then, for whatever
reason, they were required to identify themselves in this video (as if
that wouldn't be apparent or obtainable through some other means) and
then, after all of this they were required to sign a statement saying
that they required no further medical/psychological attention and if
they would, they would agree to take care of it on their own.
So the way that I see it is that they were forced to watch needlessly
the visceral effects of another's unfortunate choice and then required
to agree that everything was just fine OR it was made clear, they would
have to remain in custody even longer - this after hours of enduring
this "helpful" assistance.
I regret whatever circumstance made this person feel this course of
action necessary, but how can we condone the actions of BART transit?
How many sleepless nights will there be because they didn't help
everyone mitigate the effects of this disaster? I refuse to make a
very obvious though facile connection here - I merely want to say that
possession of a badge or "legal authority" does not give you the right
to disregard the well being of your fellow man.
If you agree, please contact BART and request that they revise their
"jumper" protocols. We don't need more victims from an already
senseless act.
Ysabella's happy place.
So, my rescue dog who believes in avoiding most humans at all costs when out in public, especially the inebriated kind strolling through the streets of wine country, has found her happy place. Somehow, for some reason, when we are in the redwoods, she reverts back to the carefree creature that she once could have been and ventures up to complete strangers for a pat on the head.
We wandered out to one of our favorite stands of redwoods. Recent rains had made parts of the trail impassable and so we back tracked in to a favorite spot, deep in the way back of the forest. We had to cross a couple of footbridges, some of them spanning rain swollen creeks.
I was in the midst of crossing one of these bridges - the fastest running creek yet and SPLASH! I looked back to see two teddy bear ears, two smiling eyes and a little nose above the water and not much else. Ysabella swam through the crossing with me laughing and trying to figure out why she chose to not use this particular footbridge.
I watched with interest as we approached the next footbridge that spanned a mere puddle by comparison. Silly girl, she used the bridge on that one. She greeted fellow walkers on our hike as is her custom in this particular place. It's hard to question the wisdom and awe that is engendered in such a magical place.
We wandered out to one of our favorite stands of redwoods. Recent rains had made parts of the trail impassable and so we back tracked in to a favorite spot, deep in the way back of the forest. We had to cross a couple of footbridges, some of them spanning rain swollen creeks.
I was in the midst of crossing one of these bridges - the fastest running creek yet and SPLASH! I looked back to see two teddy bear ears, two smiling eyes and a little nose above the water and not much else. Ysabella swam through the crossing with me laughing and trying to figure out why she chose to not use this particular footbridge.
I watched with interest as we approached the next footbridge that spanned a mere puddle by comparison. Silly girl, she used the bridge on that one. She greeted fellow walkers on our hike as is her custom in this particular place. It's hard to question the wisdom and awe that is engendered in such a magical place.
Another day spent wandering...
Birth
Enlightenment
...
Another day spent wandering these hills and valleys that are now a part of all that I call home. In meditation. In meditation of what is and what will be.
And so I wandered off, after having two very strong cups of coffee to parts unknown. Picked up my camera and trusty map and away I went - wandering back towards the ocean that soothes an eternity of unanswered questions.
I do love it here. Visually, it is entrancing - from any which way, any direction that I choose to head, the vistas are full of views that delight and excite. And so today, unwinding a trip from a previous day, but in another direction. And through a town of significant native american lineage - seeing and being seen by these locals. Remembering the sense of once again being a stranger in a strange land.
And heading for my true north - the ocean - the sound of the eternity of the waves. Winding, plunging into the deepest of darkness - most suddenly and without warning. And then, just as suddenly being cast back into the tops of the mountains, is the bright sun shiny light - blinking and praying that the pavement would still be under my wheels heading in the same direction that I remembered from just a moment ago.
Because, suddenly, most suddenly, I cannot see a gosh darned thing.
blink
blink
Sunrise
Clouds rest on a verdant haze of greenish blue - seated in the foothills of tomorrow.
Sun rises through lenticular clouds.
Simone de Beauvior's Wartime Diary
You know, I picked this up the other day and as I read it, I can't help but compare it to some of the gestalt of today.
Maybe it is the denial of what surely will come next, the overwhelming sense of impending doom or maybe it is just the hope that if one acts normal, all will be normal.
It is probably more than anything the collective uncertainty of the times. Life not as we planned it.
We must remember not only to help ourselves, but those around us.
Double Dog Dare - Ysabella Style
Is this not the cutest face you've ever seen?
For the first time ever, Ysabella truly let me photograph her.
Of course, there were strings attached. I in turn had to let her photograph me.
The results were not as charming.
We're working on it.
For the first time ever, Ysabella truly let me photograph her.
Of course, there were strings attached. I in turn had to let her photograph me.
The results were not as charming.
We're working on it.
Writers Write - The Hawk Glides On Past
You know -
I love it here.
The wind is my constant companion in these last glimmers of day.
The skies turn from utter bright to shades of blues and violet that will shimmer right past unless you hear their call.
And so here I sit in my very own backyard with dear Ysabella next to her neatly piled stack of bones. I have a glass of wine at hand from my most recent field trip into the local vineyards.
I've just picked up my second CSA delivery - what a fabulous way to procure your produce.
http://www.localharvest.org/csa/
You make a contract with the farmer to purchase a share of their harvest, usually for a growing season. It helps the farmer even out their income stream and it educates you as to the bounties and the transient tragedies visited upon those who make their living upon the land.
Unless you grow them yourself, you will never have vegetables so fresh or delectable. And as I am an inveterate lifetime gardener, I can tell you that the farmer always exceeds the boundaries of what I would have undertaken to plant for myself.
And so here it is that I sit - thankful for all that has been given in my basket of gifts.
I used to wonder, is love a transitory verb.
And somehow, here I have learned the answer.
No, it is not.
The love of those that we love and who love us back, that is immutable and constant. It may be that some relationships are transitory, yes and absolutely, but love is not a transitory verb.
So here I sit and listen to the winds that blow at this time of day. I hear the last calls of the birds before they lay claim to their boughs. I am so grateful for all of the gifts that I have been given and for the ability to recognize them.
I am listening
Writers Write - Sunday with Seurat
Decidedly no longer an urban cliff dweller.
No longer a habitué of loft living - sans Jerry Brown - sans la violence.
la la la
Walking to yoga and into a day most certainly worthy of George Seurat.
Skies a cerulean blue.
Winds scattering leaves and speaking of fall impending.
Wondering.
Listening to the sighs of time in the boughs of ancient trees - studying their rings - listening to what was.
Back in the space and time that is deliberate - harvest time - crops and thoughts and dreams.
Decidedly enraptured with all that is.
Walking to yoga and then coffee and then around town.
The same actions transposed to different environs become transcendental. Where in one you must remain in ever constant vigilance as to your surroundings, in the other utter abandonment to the surrounding beauty is not only possible, but recommended.
Now on to play with paint.
The Prayer Rug Wars
As is the case in almost all religious wars, there is no clear victory to be had.
To be certain, the claims have been laid and the fringe eaten off of the aforementioned rug.
Who knows what developments will come next.
Suffice it to say that sides have been chosen and the battle is soon to be undertaken.
Stay tuned.
Listening to the twilight pink and purple skies...
Sitting on my front porch watching the world pass by.
Saying hello to neighbors traversing on one last journey.
Wondering, how could I have ever left all that this is.
Beauty unfolds in the simplest of moments.
Calm beneath all.
Listening...
Into the quiet...
Blissfully out of town, meandering small byways and shaded paths...
Earth continues to blossom and thrive...
Quiet is bliss...
Always and Adventure...
You just never know what will be happening in my neck of the woods.
While heading off to the dry cleaners yesterday afternoon, a man in a cast and on crutches was loudly making street deals for his "oxy." He seemed quite excited to have some product to sell, never mind he couldn't do more than hobble around.
On my way down the street this morning, I was greeted by any number of my fellow citizens. One, who was walking and rolling something, told me that it was like starting his day with a cup of Folger's Coffee - imagine that. I didn't know marijuana was already legal in Oakland, but I did just move here recently.
And then of course, there are the poor lost souls who can barely form words, telling you all sorts of things.
But in a nanosecond, hope arises when you see a mother with her brood of clean and well mannered children walking off on some errand.
So, you just never know. On my way this afternoon we passed another demonstration on 20th street. Not really sure what that one was for, but surely someone has done something wrong. Sounds like a good country & western tune or who knows, maybe a rap tune. I'll wait to hear.
Security is Just an Illusion...
Maybe now more than ever, it is time to remember something that Helen Keller once said - Security is just an illusion - it doesn't really exist in nature.
This roller coaster that we are all on at the moment is full of stomach turning moments. What will happen next, will the bottom drop out from whence we thought it had already gone - where do we all end up in this tilt a whirl of economic adventure?
As I've mentioned before, I live in an area that is especially hard hit. I've had many conversations with the people who sit in the midst of the meltdown and what it clear to me is that those will survive it best are the ones who do not give up hope.
Perhaps this is one of the golden opportunities that sometimes smack us upside the head.
It is a good time to asses what in life if truly important, time to take a look and see if it is in fact wise to live on debt. Is it wise to consume goods and services which we cannot pay for? Maybe it is finally time for people to stop borrowing against tomorrow.
Is it possible that Americans could learn again the difference between need and want? Perhaps it is time for us to become conscious of the true cost of our choices.
I hear comments about people saving more than usual - that this is in fact holding up our recovery. Yes, I would agree with that to some degree. But please, let us not shift back into negative savings. It is time for us to shift our paradigm and our economy and realize that it is not wise to spend our every dollar. It is not wise in a financial or a spiritual sense. The very act indicates our lack of hope in tomorrow and our under appreciation of the greatest gifts that life has to offer.
Life has very few guarantees. If we're fortunate, we become enlightened on this journey. We learn to love our fellow man and have compassion for the struggles that surround us. And in so doing, we learn to do the same for ourselves. Isn't that the very best that we can have in this life?
From my balcony that sits amidst the sea of humanity.
The Urban Cliffdweller
To My Texas Friends...
Gosh I miss you all!
It's hard to believe I've been in the bay area for a bit over a year now.
Friends are the hardest thing to leave behind when you leave home. Luckily for me, I do have one or two friends in the immediate area who I've known for years and years. And of course, in the land of LA, I've got many friends.
But to you all, my Texas friends, as I sit here in the evening weather with temperatures that have dipped into the 50's, I am thinking of you and those wonderful swims at Barton Springs Pool. And maybe stopping for juice at the stand just down the street. A moonlit swim or kayaking on Town Lake and floating under the train trestle with the warm breeze and the sound of the cars clack-clack, clack-clack as it moves through the city in darkness of night.
Hugs and hopes to see you all soon.
The Urban Cliff Dweller
Dharma Talks - The Sea of Endless Possibility
Truth be told, Dharma lives upstairs in the penthouse - one of them anyway.
These last few months, weeks and days have been very interesting indeed.
Hope. In case you haven't heard me say it before, it is one of the abilities that separates us from the machines. Human beings have the ability to hope in the face of insurmountable odds.
Fear. Yes, we do share that most instinctual survival instinct with our animal friends. The fight, flight or freeze behaviour.
And so here I sit in the end of the day on my front porch. It's nothing like the porch I had in any of my other homes - no acres of land, no pond, no plantings of aromatic plants, no rose garden or zen retreat of my own. This porch is in an urban loft in a converted landmark building. Thankfully, they carved out the center and put in some plants and a blessed fountain which helps us to forget the noise of the traffic which careens on past us.
I must have known that someday I would live in such environs, because I have always said that I could do it for a time. A day will come when I will remove myself back to a garden of my own, but for now here is where I dwell.
But as is my wont, I have digressed.
These last 12 years, more or less have been about congruence. About aligning thought with actions, about directing things about realizing what a charmed life I have led. I have striven for integrity and chosen it as my path, often at great personal cost.
And here I am. In this time of so much imploding that there are still choices and options gifts from the universe if you prefer to call them that.
LIfe is full of blessings if we remember to look instead not for what we don't have but that which we can give. That to me is when we are truly at our best - when we are giving and striving to improve not only our lives, but the lives of those around us.
This existence of ours sometimes seems to be held together by mere gossamer threads. Let us not forget to reach out and touch each other in ways that can make a difference.
In truth.
The Urban Cliff Dweller
