The Life in Death - A Room with a View

Originally, I was considering writing this as a four part series:  a trilogy of images and a post of perspectives and human conceptualization of demise.  It has recently come to my attention, however, that death - being universal - comes up quite often while I'm traveling.  This in turn means that I tend to write a lot about it.  So this four part series has been reduced to a trilogy of images.  Giving death its due, but no more.

 

So on our final journey through this resting place, I will focus on the land and scenery.  Being a high commodity in most urban/suburban localities, it seems noteworthy that so much prime real estate is devoted to those who cannot see and will be buried under the ground.  Or is it that we cannot admit the scenery isn't for their benefit at all.

 

Take a walk with me.  Will you?

 

 

Granted, these pictures were taken during the summer months, but even in winter the trees stand guard on meandering pathways.

 

 

 Flowerbeds meticulously tended, and in many cases species labeled for the edification of all. 

 

 

 These particular trees, meticulously chosen flourish with space, light, and strength like sentries along the path. 

 



 

The layout can leave you forgetting where you are, but just through the trees lies the true purpose of this space.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Not all outcrops of life are so meticulously planned though.  Here and there life erupts spontaneously.  A version of survival of the fittest:  the most beautiful or least in the way are allowed to stay and mingle with designed life. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Designed life isn't always so bad.



 

 

 

 

 

 

 and the end result is a room with a spectacular view.

 

The Life in Death - The Human Touch

First of all, I apologize if it seems like I am yelling in this post.  In order for the words to stand out from the photography, the print needs to be gargantuan as the difference between "normal" and "large" in this blog hosting device (see I'm so technical) is more than a little noticeable.  Moving on, I hope you enjoy my observations on human demarcation of death.

Whether it is to honor those who have died, to find closure for the loss we have suffered, or for different motivations entirely - cemeteries are near to bursting with statuary.  Some religious, some not.  No matter the motive, they all have one common trait.  They lend a personality to the space in which they exist.  It can be culturally defined as sections of the cemetery are clearly one ethnicity or another.  Others are motivated by the specific individual for which the items are placed.  All in all, there is a humanity in wanting to leave a remembrance or a mark, and it was omnipresent in these particular grounds.

Asserting A Sense Of Control:

 

Death is neither neat nor orderly, but at times we try to insist that it conform.

 

 

Proving our individualism to stand out from the rows of sameness

 

 

The entryway looks as though it could be a home.  Just someone's front yard.  Knock if you care to visit for a while. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Culture Defines Itself:

 

 The area is full of Armenian grocery stores and restaurants.  It is fitting that the cemeteries should reflect some of the same linguistic duplicity.  It did not stop there.

 

 

 

 

 

 Religious symbols were both hidden and ostentatious.  Crosses of many flavors were the most prevalent.

 

 

 In case you were wondering, there aren't any flowers growing on the tops of the grave stones.  Those are all carved into the stone.  So impressive.

 

 

 

 

 

 

An Artisan's Influence:

 

 It is an understatement to say that the craftsmanship is impressive and meticulous.

 The level of detail carved into some of these stones was amazing, especially considering time and weather had already begun to erode many of them.

 

 Some pieces were more personal than others.

Such a powerful representation of grief. 

 

At first this installation seemed out of place.  It is modern, abstract, and simply put it isn't made of stone as one might expect from this cemetery. Upon closer observation, however, etched around the base of the statue are many names with dates of birth and death.  It is a microcosm of the rest of the cemetery and it really is quite beautiful.  There is a peacefulness and solemnity to it that I find quite appealing. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Time Collects Its Due:

  

I couldn't be sure but the coloring in the stone almost appears as though it's part of the weathering.  It's possible that it was inherently there, but it wears well with the erosion of the design.

 Ruth and Edgar have grown apart over the years.

 

 

Yet some couples stay together even as they fade through time.

 

 

This one just baffles me.  I like it, but I don't understand it.  May a seal watch over you to the end of time.

 

 

Thanks for reading.

 

 

 

 

 



We Interrupt This Program for a Public Service Announcement

I pride myself on being someone who knows where her food comes from.  True, I may not know what my veal's name used to be, but I at least understand that it is baby cow.  I know my tapenade is mashed up olives, and recognize tahini as a product of a street named Sesame.  So it was with great shock and a little bit of shame today that I realized, when I looked at my dinner, I had NO idea what it looked like before it came to the grocery store and was prepared for my plate.  In order to prevent this from happening to you, I present to you, scallops.

Because this:

Is also this:

Image Courtesy of:  http://www.thescallopshack.com/scalloping.php

and now you know!

 

 

The Life in Death - Creature Comforts

Speaking of wandering ... one day I went to a cemetery. 

My intent was to talk about how we view death.  Our perspective isn't inherent in human existence in the way that laughter and human affection from a parent to a child can be.  It is taught.  It is learned.  I went to the cemetery both for a little inspiration and for some imagery - however tangential - to liven what can be a very somber topic.  What occurred instead was I got distracted. 

If you prefer we can call it further inspiration, but the reality is, instead of writing one post on the topic I set out to write, I have the material for at least 4 posts ... maybe one of them will resemble the originally intended posting.  This, however, isn't that post.

This post is about life.  I spent the middle of the day, maybe four hours total roaming around a cemetery.  It's a beautiful piece of land, overlooking a fantastic skyline, and as luck would have it home to many a woodland creature.  It struck me.  A place which is intended to be reflective and a home for those who have passed out of this life, a center for death and for marking of the ends of human interaction .... actually is quite alive if you're willing to notice.  So here it is, the life I found in a place of death:

The start to a day of discoveries

Life upon Life

Musical discoveries were added to the mix

Not a solitary incident

Looking for a seed snack

Regal posts




with the greatest of detail



A feast with fuzzy friends

The Grand Finale

 

Preview to a Trilogy ... Makes this a Quadrilogy?

There has been a marked absence in my writing lately.  On the one hand, this simply means that I need to stop fooling myself.  I will continue to write and update this site as often as seems reasonable, however, any sort of schedule I may once have set for myself is so far out window that I no longer even hold the illusion of maintaining it.  To further insult this wayward schedule, this is not even really a post.  Sure, technically it is posted, however the reality is - this is advertising and forewarning. 

There is a three part - potentially a four part - series about to show up on this blog.  The good news is that at least the first half will be heavy on visuals and perspective, although relatively light on words.  The bad news for some, is that the topic of this series is death.  How we mark it, the relationship we, as cultures and societies, deal with imminent passing, and the memories of those we love, our superstitions and how those influence our actions and our speech.  That said, if you haven't already tuned out.  There are those who belong to cultures which do not wish to engage in this conversation or who may not be comfortable viewing places of burial.  Death, at times, surprises us with its arrival and may make it less comfortable to keep company with such shadows.  I will try to remember to announce the publishing of non-death related posts with as much zeal as I warn of the presence of death within this series.  To my family and friends - I will take no offense if you choose not to partake.  To everyone else - I will also not be offended, but will be utterly unaware of your avoidance.  Enjoy your anonymity. 

For everyone else:  Stay tuned.  My next planned posting here share the life I found in death ... or something similarly titled.

Be well.

A Park is a Park is a Park … Or is it?

Picture A:  For the purposes of this post, I am withholding captions until the end.  A key is posted at the bottom of the post.

 

Growing up, my idea of what a garden looked like was fairly narrow.  There were really only two possibilities.  One genre was expressed in the form of my father’s and grandfather’s vegetable gardens, which were rows of edible potential – the list of acceptable vegetables was quite narrow now that I think of it.  Think of an illustration from Beatrix Potter’s  Peter Rabbit.  Cucumbers, cabbages, zucchini, beans were all common.  The thought of rhubarb, carrots, or melon while acceptably within the confines of a typical garden, were also extravagant.  Quite exotic and exciting. 
 

 

Picture B

The other genre was well displayed in my mother’s flower beds.  These were spaces on the edge of a lawn which were edge-to-edge color during certain seasons, and a strange array of greens and leaves during others.  The population of these flower gardens was far more diverse than the vegetable gardens.  Each year my mother would go to gardening centers, farms and other odd places to bring home something brightly colored with an appropriate seasonal match to what was already living in her garden space.  Inevitably she would have a mix of perfectly matching flowers and whatever was on sale that week.  In some cases whatever she had discovered in conversation or neighborly visits to other flower gardeners.  Thus the small gardens would be so choked full of plants and flowers that the weeds barely stood a chance.  At least, this is how it all seemed through the eyes of a 10 year old growing up in a place with an extremely limited growing season.  The mere thought that there are places in the world where you could plant corn more than once during a single season would have blown my mind!

 

Picture C

 

 

As I grew, and traveled more I learned that these definitions of “garden” were clearly not the only options.  In high school I visited Versailles and was excited to see vast French gardens, only to be horribly disappointed because … it's all dirt!  The idea that gardens, public or otherwise, would leave huge sections of their land exposed as a choice and a contrast to highlight the careful shaping of planted bushes and tress was both shocking and ugly to my undeveloped eye.  I still prefer a more filled garden to a sparse decoration of shapes and design, but there is beauty to be had in either setting. 

 

 

Picture D

 

 

On occasion though it still strikes me just how similar some gardens can be.  On a bright sunny day recently I sat in Boston’s Public Garden only to be struck by how similar that place was to Hyde Park in London.  The more I thought about it, the more it also reminded me of the small park in my home town, which despite the extraordinary differences in public funding, had similar ambience and a striking feeling of home. 

 

 

Picture E

Throughout this post I’ve sprinkled a picture or two of gardens, parks, and a few other locations that elicit a similar feel.  Although some of these places are so remarkably different that it would be like comparing apples and orangutans, they are also so similar that a jet-lagged traveler may, for a moment, forget where she is. 

Picture F

 

 

Picture G

Picture H

 

 

 

 

A:  Public Garden, Boston, USA; B:  Hyde Park, London, England; C:  Safari Walk, Nairobi, Kenya; D:  Central Square, Taboshar, Tajikistan; E:  The Road to Kara-Sakal, Tajikistan; F:  Hyde Park, London, England; G:  Khujand, Tajikistan; H:  Lincoln Park, Chicago, USA