right up through the earth

To recover a buried treasure without having it disappear miraculously in the process, one must be entitled to it, and also be willing—really willing deep in his heart—to share it with the poor and helpless. Buried money, especially silver, gives off a bright glow which comes right up through the earth and can be seen as a dim light on nights when the weather is misty or there is a gentle rain.

-- author unknown

One more story from the haunted house I grew up in.

No one ever knew if my great uncle Elick had money or not. Some think he was murdered by someone searching for his money. Some think they never found it. Some think he buried his money underneath the old house. My brother and I found a patch in the wooden floor back in one corner of the old section of the house. We thought about that section of the floor a lot.... why was it there and what was underneath it. We couldn’t tear it out. We couldn’t ask abut it.

We grew our own vegetables when I was a child. We always had bushels and bushels of potatoes at harvest time. We stored them in a potato bin “underneath the house”. With every bushel of potatoes that I carried and dumped into the bin, I would glance in the direction of the patched section of floor and wonder what could be buried way back there. Late in the afternoon one fall day I decided it was time to check it out so I got my flashlight and crawled past the potato bin. I hadn’t crawled very far when I felt the presence of someone or something else under there with me. I stared into the corner with the patched wood and I could see just a sliver of light filtering down along a crack in the floor. The light revealed the movement of something lying in the back of the crawlspace.... something big. I couldn’t tell what it was but I could see that it was hairy. It could have been a big dog or it could been something else, and given the history of this house I figured it was something else so I backed out of there and never tried that adventure again. I’ve always thought about it over the years... wondered if anyone else ever tried and failed... wondered if there really was (is) a treasure buried beneath the house.

This is the last of my haunted house stories [at least for a while]. I hope you have enjoyed them, and I would like to end this post by saying, one more time, that all the stories you've read in recent posts have been true, just as they happened when I was a child. Have a happy Halloween!!!!!

3108

a flame is not merely something which burns or warms

Man differs from the lower animals because he preserves his past experiences. What happened in the past is lived again in memory. About what goes on today hangs a cloud of thoughts concerning similar things undergone in bygone days. With the animals, an experience perishes as it happens, and each new doing or suffering stands alone. But man lives in a world where each occurrence is charged with echoes and reminiscences of what has gone before, where each event is a reminder of other things. Hence he lives not, like the beasts of the field, in a world of merely physical things but in a world of signs and symbols. A stone is not merely hard, a thing into which one bumps; but it is a monument of a deceased ancestor. A flame is not merely something which warms or burns, but is a symbol of the enduring life of the household, of the abiding source of cheer, nourishment and shelter to which man returns from his casual wanderings. -- John Dewey

Here’s a true story from the haunted house I grew up in.

I have three brothers. We shared a bedroom when I was young. I’m the youngest so the time eventually came when the bedroom was all mine. My oldest brothers moved away and Sam, who is only 6 years older than me was drafted and went off to the Army. It was really spooky having the bedroom all to myself. I didn’t like sleeping with the light out, but I did it anyway. One night when I was 12 I remember being in that twilight between being awake and being asleep when I had this feeling that I was being watched. I rolled over and looked toward the doorway of my bedroom and there in the doorway stood the silhouette of a man outlined in flame. I could feel the heat of the fire, see red in his eyes. I quickly pulled the light on and spent the rest of the night sitting against the headboard of my bed. I woke up the next morning still sitting in the same crunched up position. That was the only time I ever saw the flaming dude.

3048

the red room

I entered, closed the door behind me at once, turned the key I found in the lock within, and stood with the candle held aloft, surveying the scene of my vigil, the great red room of Lorraine Castle, in which the young duke had died. Or, rather, in which he had begun his dying, for he had opened the door and fallen headlong down the steps I had just ascended.

-- The Red Room, H.G. Wells

Here's a true story from the haunted house in which I grew up in North Carolina... Back in the 60s, Friday night was fight night so my family and I would walk over to my uncle's house [about a tenth of a mile away] to listen to championship boxing on the radio. I believe Sugar Ray Robinson was boxing that night. The fight ended earlier than usual and we headed on back home. There was my mom and dad, my three brothers, one of my sisters and me. There were 12 steps leading up to the front door of our old house and I recall Don being the first in line as we walked up the steps. Dad was last. Just as Don reached for the doorknob, the knob turned and our front door opened very slowly until it was completely open. Don turned to look at dad. Dad told him to go on in, it ain't nothin so he did. The air inside the house felt frosty cold as we quietly shuffled in and Don pulled the chain to turn on the light. There was nothing there, just as dad said there wouldn't be, but it sure made us feel uneasy.

Dozens of peculiar events like this happened as I grew up in that old house, but I wouldn't trade them for anything.

2751

with a shudder the lights came on

He stared at the door, his eyes filled with panic. A few minutes passed in silence. A bright light filled the hallway. With a shudder the lights came on.
-- Malfoy in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

...and now here's a true story. I grew up in a haunted house. It was originally built by my Great Uncle Elick. It was a small house in the mountains of western North Carolina. Built around the turn of the twentieth century, the house had no electricity or running water. Elick cooked on a wood-burning stove, got his heat from fireplaces in the kitchen and living room, and carried water from a nearby natural spring. During the cold days of winter, Elick would carry blocks of wood into the house and chop them into smaller pieces right there in the kitchen. My dad was a small schoolboy in those days [he was born in 1914] and as he walked to school each day [about 5 miles each way] he would stop by Elick's house [about halfway to school] to warm by the fire before walking on.

One particularly cold week, dad found himself starting late for school every morning and in a hurry each afternoon on his way home, so he missed stopping by Elick's house for several days. Normally Elick would step outside and wave to dad if he couldn't stop, but this week Elick didn't appear. On Friday dad wondered why he had not seen Elick all week so he stopped on the way to school. He knocked on the front door... no answer. Knocked on the back door... no answer. He looked in the windows and when he came to the kitchen window, he saw Elick slumped over the chopping block. Elick had been murdered with his own axe. His body was stiff and blue and the axe remained in the neck.

The occurrences that happened in this house [the one my dad eventually bought for $25 when he and my mom were married... the house that dad built onto and expanded over the years... the one I grew up in as a boy] my dad was convinced happened because he didn't stop by to visit with Elick when his uncle really needed him. The occurrences were Elick revisiting the house that was his home..............

I'll tell you more in other posts.

0249

children of the corn

And He who walks behind the rows did say; I will send outlanders amongst you... a man and a woman, and these outlanders will be unbelievers and profaners of the holy and the man will sorely test you. for he has great power, even greater than that of the blue man!

-- Children of the Corn, 1984

I don’t know how many times I’ve suffered through Children of the Corn. It’s such a bad movie, but I find myself sitting down to watch it every time it comes on.  I guess I am hoping it will end differently or somehow be better if I watch it again, but it’s always the same. There were several sequels to the original movie, but I haven’t seen any of them.

I had great fun getting the shots for this post. There’s a corn maze on the way home from work, so I stopped by and walked through. It took about an hour to navigate through. There were kiosks with multiple choice questions about corn every 100 yards or so [10 kiosks in all]. Answering the questions send you either right or left. One direction is correct, the other wrong [in which case you wander around through the maze until you eventually end up right back at the kiosk you just left]. I made a few wrong decisions, but that only added to the fun. This would be even more fun at night, by flashlight.

0231

echelon

Look at the red red changes in the sky
Look at the separation in the border line
But don't look at everything here inside
And be afraid, afraid to speak your mind

It took a moment before I lost myself in here
It took a moment and I could not be found?
Again and again and again and again I see your face in everything
It took a moment the moment it could not be found?

What's with the fascination with the Echelon
What's with the constant questions that you have this time
What's with this circumstancial consequence
Find oversight before this night will ever rise again
It's all you've got inside your head, better get up and leave instead

-- 30 Seconds To Mars

I heard 30 Seconds To Mars' self-titled first album in 2003 and instantly put it at the top of my favorite album list. 30 Seconds only has three studio albums out, and even though the middle one, A Beautiful Lie, won many awards, it is my least favorite of the three. Their latest album, This Is War is outstanding. I have not had an opportunity to see these guys in concert yet, but when they play anywhere without 500 miles of here, I'm going!

native american influence

The shore was about one fourth of a mile distant, through a dense, dark forest, and as he led us back to it, winding rapidly about to the right and left, I had the curiosity to look down carefully, and found that he was following his steps backward. I could only occasionally perceive his trail in the moss, and yet he did not appear to look down nor hesitate for an instant, but led us out exactly to his canoe. This surprised me; for without a compass, or the sight or noise of the river to guide us, we could not have kept our course many minutes, and could have retraced our steps but a short distance, with a great deal of pains and very slowly, using a laborious circumspection. But it was evident that he could go back through the forest wherever he had been during the day.

-- Henry David Thoreau

My grandmother was a Native American... East Band Cherokee from the mountains of North Carolina. I have very little memory of her. She died when I was 5 or 6, but I remember her straight, black hair that reached her waistline. She would sit for hours, trance-like, looking out over the land. She spoke very few words, moved very deliberately and I remember her as being very solemn. I believe one of the reasons I enjoy hiking and exploring in nature is because of my Native American heritage. I hike quietly. Over the years I have been able to observe animals in their natural habitat on many occasions without disturbing them. I practice low-impact or no-impact hiking and camping: take only pictures, leave only footprints; leave your campsite in better condition than it was when you arrived.

beyond the door

There are wolves in the next room waiting
With heads bent low, thrust out, breathing
At nothing in the dark; between them and me
A white door patched with light from the hall
Where it seems never (so still is the house)
A man has walked from the front door to the stair.

-- Allen Tate

Life can be difficult. There are wolves behind some doors and there are sheep behind others. It's up to you to read the signs and open the right doors. You can do nothing in life; you can open every door, and take what comes your way.... or you can trust your conscience, contemplate your choices and make the best decisions you can make [open the right doors]. Sometimes a wolven door will be opened, but we don't have to step inside and close it behind us, we can realize we've opened the wrong door and close it quickly. Don't dwell on the past. Look to the future. Drop your fears, step into the hallway and walk.

ean the barber

You're only as good as your last haircut. -- Susan Lee

When I first moved to the Memphis area over 30 years ago, I would occasionally drive through this small, friendly town. There were only about a thousand people living there and it seemed so far from the city. After my wife and I married and started our family we were looking for a nice, friendly community in which to raise our daughters, so we moved to that little town. It had grown to 9,000 people by then. That was 20 years ago. Today our little town has over 50,000 people and still growing. One really cool thing about our town is the square. It has been kept small, quaint, and nostalgic. We enjoy walking around the square, listening to music at the pavilion, shopping and dining. Once a month I get my hair cut at the little 3-chair barbershop on the square, which reminds me of Floyd's Barbershop on the Andy Griffith Show. The guy in the picture above is Ean, one of the barbers there.

life is fragile

A life is such a fragile thing,
A woven chain of thread;
With links of joyous golden strands,
Or dark and somber dread.

A piece of lead can end a life,
Though small in size and weight;
And none can tell when life is gone,
What is its doom or fate.

As bubbles floating in the air,
Some break and fall below;
Some rise to higher worlds unknown,
Where others cannot go.

No matter what we say,
That life is bubble or a chain;
We know that man cannot bring back,
The life that once is slain.

-- Marcia Minot

I ran into Cactus the other day. He’s my second-best friend. My wife is my best friend, but Cactus is my hiking buddy. For years he and I have hiked together. We’ve walked thousands of miles, carrying 35-pound packs... in foggy weather, rainy weather, snow and sleet and blazing sun. Cactus had a heart attack a couple of years ago. He told me the other day that he is planning to hike the entire Appalachian Trail next year solo [over 2200 miles]. He told his cardiologist his plans, and the doctor said he only wanted two things from Cactus... a picture at the beginning and a picture at the end. Cactus is doing great, but talking to him caused me to think just how fragile life is. Whether we live to be a hundred or never see another day is not for us to decide.

So what do we do with the days we have left? Do we lounge them away on the couch, or do we live them with a sense of adventure and worth? I want my life to mean something.... not for me.... but for the family I love, the friends I have, the people I encounter along the way. About four years ago I was asked to think about and write my “purpose in life”. We all have a purpose, whether you know yours or not. My purpose in life is to “help make other people’s lives better”. If you don’t know your purpose, I challenge you to find out!... and make it a good one!

antigonish

Yesterday, upon the stair,

I met a man who wasn’t there
He wasn’t there again today
I wish, I wish he’d go away...

When I came home last night at three
The man was waiting there for me
But when I looked around the hall
I couldn’t see him there at all!
Go away, go away, don’t you come back any more!
Go away, go away, and please don’t slam the door... (slam!)

Last night I saw upon the stair
A little man who wasn’t there
He wasn’t there again today
Oh, how I wish he’d go away

-- Hughes Mearns, 1899

William Hughes Mearns (1875-1965), better known as Hughes Mearns, was an American educator and poet. A graduate of Harvard University and the University of Pennsylvania, Mearns was a Professor at the Philadelphia School of Pedagogy from 1905 to 1920. Mearns is remembered now as the author of the poem Antigonish (or The Little Man Who Wasn't There), but his ideas, about encouraging the natural creativity of children, particularly those age 3 through 8, were novel at the time. It has been written about him that, He typed notes of their conversations; he learned how to make them forget there was an adult around; never asked them questions and never showed surprise no matter what they did or said.

Mearns wrote two influential books: Creative Youth 1925, and Creative Power 1929. Essayist Gabriel Gudding credits those books with lighting a fuse under the teaching of creative writing, influencing a generation of scholars.

I chose this poem and this poet today for two reasons: [01] I grew up in a haunted house -- yes it was truly a haunted house, so I have vivid memories of seeing and hearing ghosts as a child; and [02] my youngest daughter has aspirations of becoming an art therapist for children and part of that career path will definitely include being able to see inside the drawings of children and being able to read their meaning -- what's really going on inside a child's mind.

0099

we all need wild places

People need wild places. Whether or not we think we do, we do. We need to be able to taste grace and know again that we desire it. We need to experience a landscape that is timeless, whose agenda moves at the pace of speciation and glaciers. To be surrounded by a singing, mating, howling commotion of other species, all of which love their lives as much as we do ours, and none of which could possibly care less about us in our place. It reminds us that our plans are small and somewhat absurd. It reminds us why, in those cases in which our plans might influence many future generations, we ought to choose carefully. Looking out on a clean plank of planet earth, we can get shaken right down to the bone by the bronze-eyed possibility of lives that are not our own. -- Barbara Klingsolver

From the time I was old enough to find my way back home after a long walk in the forest [around 9 or 10 years old], I have enjoyed hiking alone. I love experiencing planet earth. There are so many things to see and places to go, beyond the concrete and pavement of the cities we live in. When I hike alone, I can spend as much time as I want looking at deer playing in a field or listening to leaves rustling in the breeze. 

8075

past the narrow paths

Today is my birthday and so the challenge begins. I made the decision weeks ago that today I would start a 365 on Flickr. One of the most difficult parts of photography for me is capturing people. I took a photography course with Scott Kelby in 2006. He ended that course with a 365 challenge -- one self-portrait per day for a year. It was difficult, but I did it. I am now comfortable shooting and sharing self-portraits. My vision for this 365 is to begin with self-portraits, but incorporate portraits of other people as I get into the project... family, friends, strangers, co-workers. I want to become more comfortable shooting other people. Each of my 365 posts will include my thoughts, words from a poem, lyrics of a song, or a quote that draws my attention. Today, I begin with a quote from Divine Comedy by Dante.

"My son, you've seen the temporary fire and the eternal fire; you have reached the place past which my powers cannot see. I've brought you here through intellect and art; from now on, let your pleasure be your guide; you're past the steep and past the narrow paths. Look at the sun that shines upon your brow; look at the grasses, flowers, and the shrubs born here, spontaneously, of the earth. Among them, you can rest or walk until the coming of the glad and lovely eyes-those eyes that, weeping, sent me to your side. Await no further word or sign from me: your will is free, erect, and whole-to act against that will would be to err: therefore I crown and miter you over yourself." [Virgil's last words to Dante as he gives Dante the power to guide himself. Canto XXVII, Purgatorio].

8059

bridge

the last treebender

Just as the Avatar serves as the bridge between the physical world and the Spirit World, allowing him or her to solve problems that normal benders cannot, the treebender serves as a bridge between the human world and the world of natural resources.

if you are familiar with the popular cartoon series Avatar: The Last Airbender, then you know that people known as Benders have the ability to manipulate the element of their nation using the physical motions of martial arts. The show’s creators based each Bending style on a style of real-world martial art, which provides distinct visual differences in the techniques used by Waterbenders (tai chi chuan), Earthbenders (Hung Ga kung fu), Firebenders (Northern Shaolin kung fu) and Airbenders (baguazhang). Each nation is also associated with a season: autumn for the Air Nomads, winter for the Water Tribe, spring for the Earth Kingdom and summer for the Fire Nation.

I got hooked on Avatar at the very beginning of season one. It ran for three seasons and is still on satellite every day. I still watch it. So do my wife and daughters. The series is much better than the live-action movie, in my opinion. So, anyway, I thought it might be fun to create a new set of avatars, based on the natural resources. Of course two of them are already taken [air and water]. My benders represent trees, solar energy, minerals and natural fuels. Two of these are sustainable [trees and solar energy]. Two are not [minerals and fuels]. So two benders promote the use of their element, while the other two promote the conservation of their element.

7995

courtyard abstract

The colors and textures of this outdoor lamp caught my eye as I walked through the courtyard between the towers where I work. I just had to spot and take a few pictures. I really like the green reflecting onto it from the vegetation and stream nearby.