Such Stuff as Dreams Are Made on

Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp’d tow’rs, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on; and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.

Shakespeare, The Tempest

Hartwick Pines, Michigan

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Summertime Dream on a January Day

In the icy grip of the polar vortex,  a Michigander’s thoughts turn to Spring…

And who shall say–whatever disenchantment follows–that we ever forget magic; or that we can ever betray, on this leaden earth, the apple-tree, the singing, and the gold?

Thomas Wolfe, Look Homeward, Angel

Matthaei Gardens, Michigan

Vision Renewed

“One’s destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things.”
-Henry Miller

 

Invincible Summer

In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer.

And that makes me happy. For it says that no matter how hard the world pushes against me, within me, there’s something stronger – something better, pushing right back.

Albert Camus

Kensington Park, Michigan

Newburgh Lake, Michigan

Knowing Yourself and Patience

The more you know yourself,
the more patience you have for what you see in others.

Erik Erikson

Michigan, early autumn

Gift from Athena

Athena sent them a favorable wind, a strong-blowing West wind that sang over the wine dark sea.
The Odyssey

 

Summer musings on a gray November day:  one of Michigan’s inland “seas,” Lake Michigan, the dunes that line her leeward shore, and the visitors who play there at the invitation of  warm temperatures and blue skies.

Warren Dunes and Lake Michigan

A World in a….Drop of Water

This day, in 1757, William Blake was born

To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour.
—William Blake

Or, he might have said, in a drop of water, suspended in time on its path  between underground springs and the great river which is its destiny.

Iargo Springs, Michigan