The Age of Aquarius

Back when the musical “Hair” came out, some astrologers grumbled that it wasn’t really the Age of Aquarius yet.  But what did we care?  We were tired of the world as it was, ready for Peace Love and Understanding.

Well…maybe not.

chaotic stillness
watching from the whorled center
for new beginnings

During 2020 there were rumblings once again online about the REAL Age of Aquarius finally showing up.  I was skeptical to say the least.

all those lost patterns–
I collect them in my mind,
in new rotations

It seems we had the Age of Aquarius skewed, not only in time.  Yes, it’s a total tearing down and rebuilding.  But it’s going to require hard work.  Taking a lot of drugs and wearing tie-dye and listening to songs about love won’t do it.

all impermanence—
no matter which way you turn
the path continues

Can we change our entire approach to living together, not only with each other, but with the earth, its creatures, its landscape, its elements?  We need to if we want to survive.

giving myself hope
inside my dark wanderings–
a world of wonder

When Phil asked me to choose this week’s Kick-About prompt, I thought immediately of The Age of Aquarius, because I’ve been turning over in my mind the hope that it might be real, that humanity can change. I always loved the music posters of the “Hair” era, and used them as inspiration for my neon colored paintings.

I’m looking forward to seeing all the other responses next week.

new world

The Oracle, as usual, resists my attempts to ramble on. I read a Zen saying somewhere to the effect that we’re so busy looking at the teapot that we forget to drink the tea. I think she has a similar idea in mind.

I’ve been working on this collage for awhile. It’s inspired by Redon.

don’t live in symbols–
grow mystery with earthlife
riding waves of sky

Also linking to earthweal Open Link Weekend.

410,336

piles of names,
ghosts–absent empty
erased gone

erased, gone–
we can’t remember
comprehend

comprehend
them—we are finite
thinkers, minds

thinkers, minds
too crammed with daily
survival

survival–
and yet why is it
no one asks

no one asks
us to stop listen
a moment

a moment–
so many voices
now silent

now silent—
is it too much of
a burden

a burden
to carry them here
alongside

alongside
the living—hold them,
take them in

take them in–
mourn–no longer just
piles of names

For Frank Tassone’s haikai challenge #174 justice.

Art from my Metropolis post last May amidst the height of the NYC pandemic, when much of the rest of the country thought it was our fault, and would stay here. It was a relief to see our President ask us to remember all of those who have been lost–not just in NYC, but from every corner of the United States and also the world.

winter solstice 2020

the moon reflects–
caught between inside and out
returning the light

For Frank Tassone’s haikai challenge collection, I have chosen #170, Solstice II, December 19th. These are photos I took of the moon, which appeared briefly that night between the buildings. The clouds soon moved in, dashing any hopes of seeing the two planets in conjunction.

What most interested me about the photos was that the half moon appeared most clearly as a reflection caught in the glass of my window. Perhaps that’s all we can really hope to see this year–a mirrored image capturing what fleetingly enters our field of vision if we are lucky enough to be looking that way.

dancing tree of life

faster and faster
the wheel spins, gathering all
into one huge dance

This was my submissions for the Kick-About prompt,a short ride in a fast machine“.  Since I was offline at the time, I didn’t get to publish my post for it then.

These pandemic days seem timeless yet I also feel that they are spinning out of control.

May we gather together to give the dance a form that includes a good future for all.

 

the beach at night

eclipsed mandala s

can moonlight tumble?
reflections transformed by waves–
diamonds in the foam

moonlight tumbles–
reflections transformed–
diamond foam

moon
light
foam

eclipsed close up s

For Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday where the theme, chosen by Franci Hoffman, is the night sky.  I did not get to the beach this year, but I’m remembering the magic of past summer nights by the ocean.

And once again using art from the archives.