Mountain climbing

Alex Buisse captures the adventure of climbing and free-flying in ways you will never forget. Take a look at his portfolio.

If there is a mountain there is a mountaintop. Unless we know there is a mountain, and we know the plains, we will never know there are peaks and valleys. Without this knowledge the oceans are invisible and beyond the depth of our perception.

We can never know there is a destination unless we truly know there is a beginning, and a journey, and there is a home. This perception applies everywhere – meals are not real to us unless our perception is satisfied of being full, in some way, satisfied.

My Dad used to say, early in any meal (except breakfast) – what’s for dessert? My mother would wince, predicting, and sometimes throw back to him, What did you have in mind? With a hint of not just sarcasm but just a hint of pepper and spice, easily detectable and yet easy to pass over if you knew her and knew him, as he easily passed over it with some charm or other and she served the dessert she’d already planned, in her own time.

MLK

Roots, bones, and seeds

Roots, bones and seeds -
What wild seeds are sown
In the minds of men, giants of the earth
Who don’t know their provenance, their origins
 Except that they are created.

Much more time and we learned that we began as eggs,
as heat-seeking microscopic missiles calling to one other and joining forces.
The shadows stretch with them,
Reaching long into forests and sometimes deep into
Canyons, ravines, sometimes the depths of oceans,
Until their gnarled fingers and feet begin to slow down,
To notice the smooth swirls of tree bark worn by centuries
Of wind, all manner of weather and time; until the roar of Unknown
ocean deep also opens into the golden illumination
Of long spears of light reaching through time from the sun
And showing particles dancing like raindrops in air, like sparklers
At night, like dust in the wind when it carries dust more gently
But visibly, moving air tangibly to make new layers, new forms
Until it is built upon or wiped away, clean.

Wake up today and hear the power of their roar,
The seeds come to bloom and letting out sound
Along with flower. Each culture grows and shows its
Provenance, its struggle, its power and bloom in old and new ways,
A voice perhaps like a tower of sound, a boom of ocean change,
A pound of thunder sounding across time and eternity of challenge
And cultural pearls forming. The precision of sound
and word has always been a kind of music.
Pearls begin by being trapped into being by growing.
Grit grows into beauty, if the environment supports it
and we know the difference.

There's a Trick with embedding I'm learning to do.....

Scrimshaw by M E Martin | Make Your Own Book