24 July 2010
11 July 2010
lutetia and saturn as seen by rosetta
Link to the Rosetta web site:
http://webservices.esa.int/blog/post/5/1247
06 July 2010
26 June 2010
21 June 2010
17 June 2010
10 June 2010
09 June 2010
quote: dalai lama
Whether one believes in a religion or not, and whether one believes in rebirth or not, there isn't anyone who doesn't appreciate kindness and compassion.
04 June 2010
18 May 2010
16 May 2010
15 May 2010
07 May 2010
02 May 2010
30 April 2010
29 April 2010
28 April 2010
23 April 2010
dark matter
I reach and reach
For the suddenly gone.
The closely disappeared.
The secret arrival,
And hidden quiet,
You will never know.
From one universe to another,
We bridge the galaxies.
A sun explodes.
A star is born.
Of what import to us?
We are all dark matter anyway.
For the suddenly gone.
The closely disappeared.
The secret arrival,
And hidden quiet,
You will never know.
From one universe to another,
We bridge the galaxies.
A sun explodes.
A star is born.
Of what import to us?
We are all dark matter anyway.
05 April 2010
busy
I stay busy.
Sometimes that is the answer, and sometimes it is the question.
My busyness passes the time, with actions which seem necessary and important, but which are neither necessary nor important.
Time Passes. Busy Happens. I barely have time to reflect upon the closing of a day, when another begins.
When I was young, Time was in a box, a detailed box with gold leaf, holding promise and the unknowable, sitting closed upon my dressing table, patiently waiting.
Now, it is a beautiful bird soaring above me at speeds I can’t approach or understand.
When I was young, Time was an idea. As I age, Time has become real, tangible, and touchable.
It never leaves me. It waits for me while I sleep, watches me through my day, tucks me into bed each night.
As I ride the bird, I can see behind me, and sometimes I catch glimpses of the up-ahead.
I know how this will ultimately turn out. There is no turning back.
Until that time, there is only Awake. Busy, Open, Awake.
Sometimes that is the answer, and sometimes it is the question.
My busyness passes the time, with actions which seem necessary and important, but which are neither necessary nor important.
Time Passes. Busy Happens. I barely have time to reflect upon the closing of a day, when another begins.
When I was young, Time was in a box, a detailed box with gold leaf, holding promise and the unknowable, sitting closed upon my dressing table, patiently waiting.
Now, it is a beautiful bird soaring above me at speeds I can’t approach or understand.
When I was young, Time was an idea. As I age, Time has become real, tangible, and touchable.
It never leaves me. It waits for me while I sleep, watches me through my day, tucks me into bed each night.
As I ride the bird, I can see behind me, and sometimes I catch glimpses of the up-ahead.
I know how this will ultimately turn out. There is no turning back.
Until that time, there is only Awake. Busy, Open, Awake.
03 April 2010
27 March 2010
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)