Nonduality Salon Highlights, #1365

Oneness has no opposite and yet it is the nature of all opposites.

Love and Gratitude,
James

"One of the reasons—besides sheer artistry—that Katinka Matson's work resonates so strongly with us is that is that the insect-like vision that results from scanning direct-to-CCD runs so much deeper in us than vision as processed through a lens. By removing the lens, Katinka's work bypasses an entire stack of added layers and takes us back to when we saw more by looking at less." — George Dyson

"The main difference with photographic equipment in fact is also in the lighting of the subjects and in the darkness that shades their background, a darkness given by the infinite nothingness (void) that separates the respective parts to the glass more distant (further) from the cover used in order not to disperse the light. On the other hand, the sensitivity of color and details pick up spectacular, small framed details from the window that the fluttering eye of the computer (fluttering computer eye) imposes as a bidimensional limit to a very organic magnificence."

"When I saw Matson's images I was blown away. Erase from your mind any notion of pixels or any grainy artifact of previous digitalization gear. Instead imagine a painter who could, like Vermeer, capture the quality of light that a camera can, but with the color of paints. That is what a scanner gives you. Now imagine a gifted artist like Matson exploring what the world looks like when it can only see two inches in front of its eye, but with infinite detail! In her flowers one can see every microscopic dew drop, leaf vein, and particle of pollen—in satisfying rich pigmented color....."

— From the Introduction By Kevin Kelly

Oneness has no opposite and yet it is the nature of all opposites.

Love and Gratitude,
James

A few months ago I spent a pleasant hour or so telling a curious visitor, Michelle Mikkklesen, a few stories about how some of my books came to be written. She liked some of the anecdotes so much, she came back with a tape recorder and asked me to tell the stories again. Second time round, she played whatever the female equivalent of a straight man is, just prompting me with occasional questions, rather than doing a proper interview. Some days later she was nice enough to supply me with a transcript. This is my edited version. Thank you Michelle!

David: A series of events led up to it. When I was staying near Ramanasramam in 1977, I became aware that the ashram had many good spiritual books that were hard to get access to. They were locked in a room near the ashram's cowshed, and the key was held by a rather grumpy man in the ashram office who wouldn't let anyone in the room. I volunteered to sort them out and turn the collection into a library that people could use. There were thousands of books there on all kinds of spiritual topics. When I was finally given the job, I realised that most of these books had been sent to the ashram free of charge because the publishers wanted the books to be reviewed in the ashram's magazine, The Mountain Path. I then discovered that the reviewing process was in a disorganised and moribund state. Books were being sent out to reviewers who never reviewed them, or if they did, would take so long, when the reviews finally came back, the book would be almost out of print. Realising that the flow of books would stop if I didn't get the reviewing process properly organised, I began to do reviews myself, just to ensure that the publishers would be satisfied that their books were receiving proper attention. When the editor realised that I could write well, or at least better than most of his regular contributors, I was given other writing and editing jobs. Within a couple of years I ended up editing the whole magazine, primarily, I suspect, because no one else wanted the job. In retrospect I would say that I became a writer simply so that I could have a good supply of books to read.

This is from 'World as Lover, World as Self'
by Joanna Macy

On this particular afternoon a fly fell into my tea. This was, of course, a minor occurrence. After a year in India I con- sidered myself to be unperturbed by insects-by ants in the sugar bin, spiders in the cupboard, and even scorpions in my shoes in the morning. Still, as I lifted my cup, I must have registered, by my facial expression or a small grunt, the presence of the fly. Choegyal Rinpoche, the eighteen- year-old tulku who was already becoming my friend for life, leaned forward in sympathy and consternation. "What is the matter?"

"Oh, nothing," I said. "It's nothing-just a fly in my tea." I laughed lightly to convey my acceptance and composure. I did not want him to suppose that mere insects were a problem for me; after all, I was a seasoned India-wallah, relatively free of Western phobias and attachments to modern sanitation.

Choegyal crooned softly, in apparent commiseration with my plight, "Oh, oh, a fly in the tea."

"It's no problem," I reiterated, smiling at him reassuringly. But he continued to focus great concern on my cup. Rising from his chair, he leaned over and inserted his finger into my tea. With great care he lifted out the offending fly -- and then exited from the room. The conversation at the table resumed. I was eager to secure Khanitul Rinpoche's agreement on plans to secure the high-altitude wool he desired for the carpet production.

When Choegyal Rinpoche reentered the cottage he was beaming. "He is going to be all right," he told me quietly. He explained how he had placed the fly on the leaf of a branch of a bush by the door, where his wings could dry. And the fly was still alive, because he began fanning his wings, and we could confidently expect him to take flight soon...

That is what I remember of that afternoon-not the agreements we reached or plans we devised, but Choegyal's report that the fly would live. And I recall, too, the laughter in my heart. I could not, truth to tell, share Choegyal's dimensions of compassion, but the pleasure in his face revealed how much I was missing by not extending my self-concern to all beings, even to flies. Yet the very notion that it was possible gave me boundless delight.

How much of your thinking, reasoning self was influenced by cartoons? Were afternoon cartoon shows where your parents parked you to keep you out from underfoot? Did you feel that you learned a lot from watching Rocky and Bullwinkle? Did Underdog show that the little guy always had a fighting chance? Did you learn how to handle personal relationships by reading Archie? You can refresh your memory here. http://www.toonopedia.com/index.htm This site lists comics and cartoons from Abbey & Slats to Zot!
This toonopedia is a straighforward and well written look at hundreds of cartoons through their artistic, commercial and popular history. Don Markstein's Toonopedia is a delightful peek into the artists and publishers who developed the well known classic cartoons and comics that have kept millions enthralled, amused, entertained, and captivated for decades.
Thanks to Michael Read on TheWayStation & NDS

Hi Everybody:

There is a little section of the small town I live in here called the Mountain. Old stores and hotels and such. In sketching down there I ran into two little sisters playing with a new puppy.

I caught the quiet older sister in an elegant pose and here is the oil painting. 36" x 40".

Love
Bobby G. (on HarshaSatsangh)

"Melody on the Mountain"