Nature Doesn't Work At It

I was out taking some nature pictures today, being the first day of Fall. I wanted to get some shots of trees, scenery, whatever was in the area. An old bridge, a running stream, a river, my dog, etc.

There's all this stuff that makes for great pictures. Like if you want the changing of the colors, it's there. The running stream, always a great one to pose. Moss on trees, strange looking flowers, a bumblebee sucking on some yellow flowers, interesting weeds, faded and crackly, the river flowing through sand, on and on.

Even when it's not beautiful, it's beautiful. Like the muddy banks of a creek and sticks laying all helter skelter, like where they've just accumulated.

One thing to say ... for the most part it's just happening. Nothing's out there working at it trying to get the pose exactly right.

Then I try to take a picture of myself and I'm all self-conscious.

The Voice of My Dog

I am the voice of my dog, all except the barking, growling, and yipping in my sleep. Which I don't think I do. But I speak for her in other ways -- not power of attorney ways, but in reality I would have that power -- in ways expressive of her apparent (obvious) feelings, and also expressive of the larger truth that living beings no doubt have. (It's like birds flying in flocks without thought; something's speaking in them.)

The dog, being domesticated, doesn't say much on her own. So I do the speaking, speaking to her, then speaking for her.

"Everyone's laughing at you behind your back."

Then her response. "I'm not concerned about that. The problem is with them, or, if it's not true, with you for saying such a thing. I won't lose any sleep or my happiness, because I know that in a bullying situation, the bully is the one who is sad, conflicted, and troubled. I can maintain my calm, my respose, and let him worry about himself."

"So the bully seeks to hurt the bullee, but the bullee wins over the bully."