Meri's Musings

Twelve Days of Mary Close Up of Tapestry in Vatican Museum Her baby's soft hands reach out in supplication Mary full of grace.

A heart full of joy is purchased for so little, for just the cost of a moment's notice a heartbeat in your day. . .  It might be found in   a basket of white tulips sitting on table the stillness of water and perfect reflections little pink soaps in the shape of hearts watering cans sitting on a worn shelf painted white or when a couple of numerals sitting side by side  remind you  what life was like  before you trashed your knee  on the ski slopes what life was like when you never thought  you'd acquire  the patina of age. Won't you spend a little time looking for JOY and sharing it with us? To play along: 1. do a post that tells and shows us what gives you joy. 2. capture the URL of the specific post  and paste it into the  Mr. Linky box  along with your name. 3. visit other players -- as many as possible --  and let their joy infect you.   Leave them a comment about their post. Let's start an e...

Sometimes I get wistful. Thinking about simple things like the downy softness of baby hair nestled in the crook of my elbow as the rocking chair gently creaked. The moment when the sun peeks through on a cloudy morning. The feeling of accomplishment when the sugar carmelizes perfectly brown and crackly on top of the creme brulée. The intimacy of quiet moments requiring no words between lovers because love forms a soft cloud of understanding, acceptance, just so-ness. Simple things. Full of such richness. The little gift of everyday miracles, so sweet to remember. But the wistfulness melts away when I realize the next miracle is just around the corner, about to come in to view, if only I'm paying attention.

There's something holy about this work, something healing about this search for the light. Like the pilgrim's journey, it's heaven all the way. - Jan Phillips "Light and Shadow." Copyright 2009. Meri Arnett-Kremian There are those who think that each photographer fascinated with the perfect dancing light is actually capturing her own reflected light. I think we cannot help but capture a piece of ourselves when we make time stand still for a fraction of a second through photography. If we take a piece of someone's soul when we capture an image, we give in return a piece of our soul, a trace of ourselves to keep the subject's soul company, unseen but present in the visual record. "Making Bouquets" coprright 2009 Meri Arnett-Kremian The piece we leave behind may be enigmatic, hard to decipher. It may whisper, not shout, wanting to keep the focus on the outer realm. But in our pilgrim's journey, we show our souls every step of th...