Side Yard Real Estate

Commonly, side yard real estate is ignored.  Perhaps a nod to creating a 'nice' pass-through, at most.
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They got the memo, below.  An entire garden room in their 'side yard'.
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More, they completed every layer of the memo.  Gravel to the house, no foundation planting, and a wall, evergreen shrubs, for privacy.  Pure architecture.  


Pic, above, here.
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Off topic, a sign of the current era of nursery plants, above.  Since the debacle of 2008, commercial nursery contraction, retail nursery contraction, wholesale grower contraction, decent plants are rare.  Plantings at the edge of the graveled garden room, above, are the new normal.  Prior to 2008, my team would have returned those plants as culls.  Worse, guessing from the photo, in addition to fertilized spindly growth, they're probably loosely rooted, perhaps a season or 2 from being bumped up into larger containers.  In the era prior to 2008 it was considered unethical to sell plants newly bumped up/not rooted in.  Now, normal.  It gets worse.  The new normal costs much more.  Labor a huge cost burden to growers, then, again, labor a huge cost burden to crews planting.  Patented plants add another layer of cost.
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A new generation of labor crew leaders has arrived since 2008, how are they to know the new plants at the edge of the gravel garden room, above, are culls?
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For decades, new plantings had to be turned for their best 'front' at planting.  Humorous concept, now, when plants have no 'front' at all. See the gravel, above, thru the foliage of plantings along the concrete?  In the past, plants were so full of vigorous lush foliage, zero gravel would be visible thru them.
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A recent job, we indeed received gorgeous thick lush plants, heavy in their pots & well rooted.  Good timing.  The wholesaler is probably weeks from bumping up plants that haven't sold, into larger pots.  
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Of course Home Depot, Lowe's, and Wal-Mart each forced consolidation of the retail nursery sector prior to 2008.  Most of their current plant purchases are on contract, with the plant wholesaler agreeing to unload/stock shelves with their employees, and take back plants that die or look poorly.  Another layer of cost to you, the retail plant buyer.
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Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore.  Could not have imagined these industry changes when I began working it ca. 1985.  Of course back in those days, it gave me my Garden Design career.  The family nursery I worked for did not offer Garden Design, nor keep any employees who did Garden Design.  Why?  Their attitude was an employee doing Garden Design, on their own time, would steal plants.  Why didn't they think an employee doing Garden Design would be buying plants from them?  A customer, not thief.  Their thinking proved detrimental, they bankrupted & had to sell.  Our nursery team mentioned more than once, 'wish they would give us a pay/purchase option in company stock'.  Ironically, the company owning that nursery now, is employee owned.  Go team !  
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Garden & Be Well,    XOT

Florist: Sleeved Flowers

My 1st horticulture job was at a nursery selling interior/exterior plants.  Think Jimmy Carter & 21% interest rates.  More than knowing a bad economy, graduating college, it directed my life's path.  By the time I left nursery work, 5 years later, I had another degree, horticulture.  Punching a time clock and driving a forklift, among other such, were not on my list of life expectations.  How often have you fallen into a dumpster during your work day?  Days were tiring, these were years of mostly being in bed by 8:30pm, and having a sore stomach most days because of laughing so much with co-workers.
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Bonding while unloading 18-wheeler trucks loaded with plants from Florida, a stray snake or two, a foot thru the floor, temps in the upper 90's with humidity the same is not to be scoffed at.  Our company did not have to send us to team building camp.
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Saw this, below, and it stopped me.  Thru the years I unloaded many trucks with flowering interior plants, and they were wrapped exactly the same.  This wrapping protected the plants, but more importantly, made it easy to move them from truck to cart to building to staged for sale.
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Unless you've done it you have no idea the beauty of thousands of myriad blossoms at your feet, and on counters.  They were mine, all mine to stage.  Hours with them, just me & the flowers, blood fizzing with a bolt from Zeus, now understood as the relationship from Providence, no different than the honey bee to its garden.  Poof, all the flowering plants would sell, me-shop-girl, I placed another order, its truck arrived, and so it went.  Between trucks, watering the flowering plants, pinching spent foliage & blossoms, sales girl.
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Looking back across decades, at that work, I especially miss the 1-2 days of bringing those plants off the truck, and having them to myself to stage.  Life moments.  Tearing the paper wraps off the plants made mountains of crumpled paper, mine to put on the same carts I brought the flowers inside with, and roll to the dumpster.  To Providence, thank you for those moments.


Pic, above, here.
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The painting is by, Frederick Childe Hassam, ca. 1889. At the Florist.  Cannot believe I had a job little changed from this painting.  Nor, I now live in a house ca. 1900.
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More amazing, during the years working at the nursery my mother-in-law gave me a book, An Island Garden, by Celia Thaxter.  Read many times, and recommended, including now.  Guess who did the artwork for Thaxter's book?  Exactly, Childe (Frederick) Hassam.    More, more.  Discovered the painting on Barbara Wells Sarudy's site, It's About Time.  Sarudy is the top living garden historian in America.  Her book, Gardens and Gardening in the Chesapeake, 1700-1805, a must for any serious gardener.   Sitting on a bookshelf in my office.  Of course.
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Odd & delicious, simply writing about working with those sleeved flowering plants, makes the blood fizz.  Grateful to have that job in the memory bank.  Glad of the 21% interest rates, seems wicked the entire country had to suffer, for me to have a career course change lovingly directed by Providence.
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Garden & Be Well,    XOT

Garden Stewardship: Lunch Ministry

At the front end, a fat percentage of my clients are targeted for my own 'diabolical' ministry purposes.   Diabolical?  Early, they're not ready for the message.   Lasso set, patience, yank.  Never do I consider 'guilt' as a means, too embarrassing to consider, rather low IQ method.  Full frontal, heart on sleeve, throw it out there, Lunch Ministry.   Further, Lunch Ministry merely a tool of Garden Stewardship.
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For whatever reason, IMHO, Providence sprinkles those with a gardener's heart sparingly across every century.  Part of my mission is to get those hearts into larger/larger circles of impact.


Pic, above, here.

Whether 1, 4 or 10, lunch ministry is easy, once your garden is leveraged for it & a bit of mentoring, aka, in my world, "Soon you'll be having lunches and showers in your garden."  Not a member of local Garden Club?  Join, put your name on the list for upcoming monthly meeting to host.  Friend's child getting married?  You must have a shower.


 
Pic, above, here.

The metaphorical breaking of bread, when 2 or more are gathered, indeed, packs a wallop in a garden.  Oddly, the further away from being a gardener one of my guests is, the more likely they are to cry during some point at lunch.  Tales I've been told thru those tears, oh my.  What is it about hospitality in a garden pealing away at the myriad layers the-world wraps us in?


Pic, above, here.

This has been my year receiving phone calls with wild tales of showers.  A special shower for the bride, for everyone who will not be invited to the wedding.  Whew, thought I was 'diabolical'.  Other showers, switch boards lit up.  One person rescinded her offer to give a shower, the intended princess asked a bit too much.  Who knew Miss Manners still alive/kicking, at a minimum, to those being gouged?   Reddit should run this query !  What is your worst bridal/baby shower story?
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My oddest Lunch Ministry, a baby shower, it snowed hard the nite before and all morning.  No one could come, roads blocked.  Table/food were ready.  To enjoy the snow, I knocked on neighbor's doors inviting them to lunch.  We had a great time.  All wondering why none of us had ever had a neighbor's snow day luncheon.

 
Pic, above, here.
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Martha Washington never knew how many she would be serving each evening.  Not uncommon for her to use long boards on saw-horses with a cloth.  I've had my harvest table since late spring, no Lunch Ministry yet using it.  Pic, above, informs me I do not have a table cloth long enough, a bolt of fabric must be sourced.  Linen napkins are easy, they've been acquired junking for pennies on the dollar, vintage, with monograms, for decades.
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The joy of Lunch Ministry is following thru with my Garden Stewardship.  Zero expectation of return hospitality, none.  Casting bread upon the water.
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Garden & Be Well,   XO T
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Oh that low IQ thing.  Dread when it pops up, just when you think you've passed the age for getting into pickles.
 

1960's Houses: Before & After

When I was 3'ish, living at Cape Canaveral, dad was transferred to Houston, the newest site for a NASA installation.  We rented a home in Pasadena.  NASA construction was not complete.  Many engineers worked across Houston in a hodge-podge of rented buildings.  Not enough homes had been built yet to house NASA workers.  Finally, dad zeroed in on a home.  Living on a government salary, wife/2 kids/poodle, in his late 20's, dad had zero family financial help or inherited funds.  He wanted the brand new home, directly across the street from NASA, but could not afford it.  What to do?  He phoned the builder, asked to meet him at the house.  The builder, an older gentleman, had retired from his building career, moving to the little neighborhood on salt water.  His retirement income, building a few homes.  They walked/talked, dad sharing his story.  Finally, dad lobbed his hail Mary low ball offer.  Accepted.


Pic, above, here.

Loved my time living in Pasadena, TX.  Ellington Air Force Base was not far, and ADORED the pool, above, and rows & rows of old white wood buildings, below, with streets in perfect grids.  We had access to the pool, BX & commissary, with dad in the Air Force Reserves after being a test pilot.
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Occasionally, when mom would take sister/me to swim, the pool was not open.  Yes, I was as miffed as could be.  The pool would close for the astronauts to practice, above, their boring stuff.  Odd men, not working in offices.
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Once we moved into our new home, no more pool worries with those odious astronauts closing it down, the neighborhood had its own pool/marina.  Perspective/priorities are everything.



Pic, above, here.

Interesting planes flew from Ellington Air Force Base.  Adored seeing the Flying Guppy, below, over our house.


 
Pic, above, here.

Visiting mom, she's still in the house I grew up in, it's obvious her neighborhood is ripe for a new era.  More than updating with light fixtures, paint color on the trim, a new front door, the homes are worth architectural renovation.  A pair of before/after, below, renovations.  Incredible vision.  Mom certainly won't be renovating, girl-don't-like-change.  We all have our quirks.


 
Pic, above, here.


 
Pic, above, here.
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Go team, above.  Earned every penny of raised property value.
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To be fair, several homes in mom's neighborhood  have already done the total architectural renovation, mostly the homes on salt water.  They are in a class separate from the rest of the neighborhood, for obvious reasons.  In the 60's the price variance from salt water to interior of the neighborhood was minor.  The world doesn't operate that way anymore.
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Aside from astronauts in our neighborhood, and most of the team designing their rockets, a high profile murder case moved onto a prime salt water lot.  Gossip was thick about him, Melvin Lane Powers.  His home had a helipad and the ocean going yacht from the estate of Coco Chanel parked in back.  
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Obituaries throughout adulthood have given a clearer picture of many childhood neighbors.
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From the New York Times, October 18, 2010.

Melvin Lane Powers Is Dead at 68; Cleared of Murder With Lover-Aunt

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"Mr. Powers also drew attention in the early 1980s by adding 23 feet to his 142-foot yacht, said to be one of the largest in the Western Hemisphere. He cut it in half and put in a new midsection with a Jacuzzi, underwater viewing ports and a mirrored ceiling.

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Atop the building was his 20,000-square-foot penthouse with a 360-degree view of Houston, a rooftop swimming pool and a helipad."

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Fabulous obituary.  When Powers first bought the yacht, cars/trucks of the workmen renovating it lined the streets of our neighborhood.  For months.  Had no idea they chopped the yacht in two.  His helicopter became such a nuisance it instigated its own discussion at our local city council meeting.  Restrictions were applied.  

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I worked at a local high-end clothing/jewelry store during those days.  Made top sales several months in the jewelry department.  (Most of the jewelry came from Europe.  Still happy to have had exposure to it.)  One afternoon a tall thin tanned barbi doll, of obvious profession, came in to shop for clothes.  More perfect than her namesake doll, excepting a single feature.  Her face was football leather.  Said to my co-worker, "I don't get it.", she said, "Imagine her in a bikini on that yacht."  I got it.  (No judgement on her profession.  Loved what it did for the shoe department at Sakowitz, my favorite shoe department.  A shoe saleswoman mentioned that it was the hookers allowing them to carry such exotic expensive sexy shoes.  Not that I ever afforded any of those.)

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Never saw Melvin Lane Powers, until the obit pictures.  

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"Mr. Powers with Candace Mossler, his mother’s sister, after they were acquitted in the 1964 killing of her husband, Jacques Mossler. CreditUnited Press International"
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Oh the irony of childhood, bored by it all.  Little knowing it made me immune to much.  Most amazing thing I took for granted during those go-go years?  Pristine beauty of growing-up on Galveston Bay.  Few inhabitants during that era.  Skies, water, beaches, birds, marsh, tides, pastures stuffed with Longhorn cattle, scents.  Views for miles without man-made interference.   That is a hunger, that landscape.  
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Garden & Be Well,   XO T

Table Tableau: In the Garden

When friend-client-mentor Mary Kistner invited me to lunch, most often it was the 2 of us.  Her table, whether inside or on her porch, always had a fresh tableau created along the span reaching our places.  Lovingly, a fresh arrangement from her garden, she had 50 acres, a perfectly chosen textile, a book, opened to exactly the right photo/s, color as important as form, other magic.
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Mary was the 1st female leading Rich's department store interior decorating department,  she created all the store windows & department vignettes during WWII.  Times were dire, there were no men for the job.
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Blessedly, I knew at the time how special every moment of our time together was.


Pic, above, here.
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I would send this pic to Mary today, if she were still alive.  Instead, it is sent to you.
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"It's what we do with what we have.", Mary Kistner.
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Garden & Be Well,   XOT

Garden Design Layer: Wonk

Perfect settings are a delight, think Carolyne Roehm, but the every day do for myself must have a touch of wonk.  No, that's too narrow, I put wonk into every Garden Design.  Specializing in creating new historic Garden Designs, wonk is a layer of narrative.  A given.
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What is wonk?  Most often wonk is completely je ne c'est pas.  Wonk arrives to you, a gift.  Once wonk arrives, like love, you'll know.  Become a fertile pasture, wonk arrives as the honey bees do in South Georgia.
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A new wonk, below.
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Love me some new wonk.  Plonk that tree on the table.


Pic, above, here.
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Made my first bonafide roux last nite.  The house is still swimming in its perfect dark dark brown fragrance early this morning.  My hair too.  Heaven.  I can smell the kitchen, above, it's last night's wild caught South Carolina shrimp etouffee made without a recipe.  A meal from my previous life, and apparently I paid attention.  Beloved paid attention, eating speaks louder than words.  Few leftovers, and I cooked enough for all the dishes set on the table, above.  
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This trinity of wonk, above, potted tree/cut wildflowers/nursery herbs, set onto the harvest table, already embedded into my Garden Design DNA.
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Garden & Be Well,   XO T  

House Numbers & 911

At a client's home, many years ago, they mentioned their neighbor had died at home.  The cause, 911 ambulance was too late, if it had arrived earlier the neighbor would have lived.  The ambulance was late because house numbers on the street were wildly hard to see/read at too many of the other homes.
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The ambulance was not at fault.
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Since that appointment, my DNA scans on site appointments for ease of reading house numbers.  If it's difficult I mention it to the client, and ask them to pass on the info to their HOA.
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Today, I'm doing it with you.
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If you've ever had to dial 911 you know how awful it is, the fear, the need, wanting that ambulance in your drive.
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House Numbers, my personal PSA.


Pic, above, here.
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Size, font, color, placement, all matter when choosing your numbers.
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This is not a paid post, just another arrow in the quill of Garden Design.
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Garden & Be Well,   XO T

Furniture in the Garden

Delightful garden.  I want to walk the graveled courtyard investigating the plantings/cultivars, go beyond to the potager, of course go inside the cottage, perhaps wine/canapes with kindred spirits & owner of the garden at the table/seating, below.
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Furniture too hodge-podge-lodge for you?  Easy, paint it all the same color, poof, a bit more formal.


Pic, above, here.
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Table with chopped off legs makes me smile.  Mom/dad used a round Sheraton'ish mahogany dining room table, with chopped off legs for a coffee table until I was just about thru college.  Flew home one weekend, and it was gone.  Given to the maid's nephew's, uncle's mom's youngest sister's 2nd best friend.  Catch my drift?  Given to the universe, NOT ME.  Speechless, then my best 2 year old self found her voice.  It was my parents turn to be speechless!  They had no clue I loved the table, nor thought it should be mine, all mine, some day.  Nor did they care, deed was done, get over it, buck-up Buttercup, and by the way your disgusting attitude is an embarrassment to us and yourself.  Got the memo.
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Last gasp of entitlement felt.  It was the era, graduate college, move out, get married, get a job, pay for husband's master's degree, save money, build a house, get a second degree, horticulture, by age 27.  This was the go-go mid/late 80's and I was the failure, so many my age already living in the big homes, blah-blah.  Parents always had stories to share, in detail, about childhood friends made CEO or selling their 2 day old company for millions (ha!).  My profession a misery to my parents.  Until he died, dad tried turning me away from horticulture, into my engineering degree.  No worries, at this distance, he did it from love.
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Knew at college graduation I would eat dirt off the sidewalk before asking parents for help, instead missed a lot of dinners.  My sister has a knack for sending articles about snowflake millennials that make me call her almost immediately just to laugh together, imagining if we had behaved similarly, we wouldn't be alive now.
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A sweet duality, seeing tables with chopped off legs.  A madeleine, a Proustian moment.
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Garden & Be Well,   XOT

Color Echoes: House to Garden

Tiny and potent, below.  A joy to see simplicity of plantings, lines, materials.  More, the cunning echo of pot color & edging color from house to garden.  Wicked good.


Pic, above, here.
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My only design concern, above, was allayed looking more closely, really close, & seeing it dealt with, bravo.
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Did you think the same thing?  About the 'mulch'.
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They've already planted groundcover, soon, zero need for mulch.
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Garden & Be Well,   XOT
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Life is good for this home, pretty garden AND a marmalade cat.  My marmalade, Mister, lived to 22.  He's buried in a song bird meadow, where the deer slept in the tallish grass toward the start of the wild wood.  Only the best for Mister.  How anyone shares/posts about their pet 'just' dying, is beyond me.  Tearing up now, and he's been gone over a decade.

Pure Science: Introverts vs Extroverts

"I'm not like you, watching chickens, reading books, being in the garden, lunching with your girlfriends in the conservatory is not living.", Beloved said with great 'tone'.
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Classic collision of introvert & extrovert.
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Beloved's extroversion an education.  Retreating to the garden, books, chickens, my tribe, for replenishment.  At a minimum Beloved 'sees' introversion in action, excepting, no depth of field to his lense.  



Pic, above, here.

There is a science to extroversion & introversion.   For decades I've known, Gardening/gardens is/are my drug.  Recently, validation to my drug theory.  It's fact.
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"
  

It’s all about the dopamine, which makes extroverts want to seek additional stimuli

Extroverts’ need to seek additional stimuli, which results in constantly seeking new hobbies and interests and cherishing the unfamiliar, may be the result of their genetic code which controls the dopamine function that forces them to look for new experiences.⁴ Moreover, extroverts are more likely to seek out situations that will provide them with reward because of their dopamine system.⁵

On the other hand, introverts prefer acetylcholine, which is another neurotransmitter. Acetylcholine also creates that pleasant feeling, but it’s related to introspection. For that reason, introverts don’t need to seek external stimuli to feel good. That is why extroverts might come off as easily distracted by new things, while introverts seem more focused."  Lifehack, here.

 
Pic, above, here.

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How are introverts Different From Extroverts?

While Carl Jung was the first to coin the terms “introvert” and “extrovert” and provided theory explaining the main differences between the two types, later research showed the differences in the brain structure of the two types of personalities as well as the different ways in which they react to stimulations and recharge their energy.

Namely, extroverts possess lower levels of arousal, therefore they are always on the lookout for new exciting adventure, while introverts, possessing higher levels of arousal, will look for activities and situations that require lower levels of arousal. ⁵

Moreover, introverts would always choose a more relaxing activity for recharging, while extroverts are more likely to choose rewards through excitement. This has to do with the fact that brain of extroverts feeds on dopamine, making them feel pleasant only through challenges and excitement, while introverts’ brain prefers acetylcholine, which creates pleasure through introspection and more self-focused activities."  Lifehack, here.

Ideal jobs for thinking introvert

• Aerospace engineer
• Industrial engineer
• Computer programmer
• Web developer
• Video game artist
• Fashion designer
• Interior designer
• Graphic designer

Lifehack, here.          

Rather prophetic list, above, I have an engineering degree, and horticulture.  Take the link, above, there are more lists for different types of introverts. 

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If you are in love with an introvert

Introverts are great partners as they can provide genuine love, support and thoughtfulness to their love interest. Since they don’t act before they think things through, their partners can be assured that they are the only center of their attention. If you are in love with an introvert, make sure to respect their need for private time, don’t interrupt them, and don’t force them to make quick decisions about your lives together.   "  Lifehack, here. 

Priceless, above.  Ask me to make a life decision?  I'll get back with you.  The extrovert thinks I'm crazy not to answer within the conversation, I know he's crazy thinking I should answer that fast.  Now, I have another answer, "Go get your dopamine somewhere else."     

 
Pic, above, here.

 
Pic, above, here.

 
Pic, above, here.

 
Pic, above, here.

 
Pic, above, here.

 
Pic, here.


Pic, above, here.

 
Pic, above, here.

Now I know, quotes above & similar types are  a division, in the macro, between those needing dopamine or acetylcholine.
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Cannot imagine needing dopamine so badly.  On the outside looking in, pure curse.  Hilarious, I'm sure living the life of an introvert would be a curse to the extrovert.
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More, finding the Lifehack article made me realize, majority of my clients are introverts.  Some, more than me.  I find them enriching.  Of course.
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Garden & Be Well,  XO T

Serendipitous Focal Point

Approach, below.



Obvious, below, pair of urns as back drop to the bench.  But wait. there is more.



Look what happens, below, with one of those urns from above.



When I'm designing gardens on site or in my office, this 'game' always happens.  Designing historically, and receiving serendipities, above.
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Makes me laugh out loud, every time.
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The serendipities are sign posts, "You're doing this right."  More, knowing my Muse is in league with the same Providence as, above.  They're all having a party while I'm working.  This 'work' my party ticket.
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Work a poor word for my livelihood.  One meaning includes, "...the absence of pleasure."
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Anyway.  All of the above merely letting you know when you get it right, you'll receive party tickets too.  Along with a gorgeous garden.
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Garden & Be Well,  XO T
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Pics from Ben Pentreath.

Double Axis: Focal Point Technique

Double Axis.  A focal point must have a focal point at both ends of its axis..
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Amazing, the things they do not teach you in school.
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Focal point bench, below.  Sitting in the bench, you must create a focal point in the opposite direction, bottom.




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Got it?
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Do it.
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Garden & Be Well,   XO T
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Pics from Ben Bentreath.
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And most think Garden Design is some sort of voodoo, its practitioners thinking up la-ti-da maybe this/maybe that a bit here a bit there.  Nope.  Garden Design is pure templated known geography zero recreating the wheel its mechanics laid bare for all the world to see.  See.  Therein lies the problem.  Pure seeing.  My best epiphanies about garden design came years after looking, not seeing.  The map is not the territory.  Gardens that do not satisfy are exactly drawn from the known map.  Beautiful gardens expose the territory here, and other realms.  Want that?  Get you some.  Bemused I am about how befuddled I was before seeing the territory, trying to follow the map.
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Best compliment ever, recently.  A Canadian client said I was PECULIAR.  Ok, thank you.  In truth it's peculiar to me, trying to live by the map.  Been there done that.  Once you hop off the map, into the territory of your life, there is no going back.  Why would you?  Got it?  Do it.  Want it?  Get it.
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Warning.  Not for the faint of heart.  Leaving the map, for your territory, is exactly where the ancient mapmakers, before knowing the world was round, foretold at map's edge, Beyond this point there be dragons.  Remember the dragon, breathing fire at all who would take his virgin girl.  Every scale of his hide a 'Thou shalt not'.  That fact is living according to your life's map.  Killing that dragon is living in your life's territory.  Got that?
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From, In the Field,

"The privelege of a lifetime is being who you are.

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What you have to do, you do with play.

Life is without meaning.
You bring the meaning to it.

The meaning of life is whatever you ascribe it to be.

Being alive is the meaning.

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The warrior's approach is to say "yes" to life: "yea" to it all.

Participate joyfully is the sorrows of the world.

We cannot cure the world of sorrows, but we can choose to live in joy.

When we talk about settling the world's problems, we're barking up the wrong tree.
The world is perfect. It's a mess. It has always been a mess.
We are not going to change it.
Our job is to straighten out our own lives.

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We must be willing to get rid of the life we've planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us.
The old skin has to be shed before the new one can come.
If we fix on the old, we get stuck. When we hang onto any form, we are in danger of putrefaction.
Hell is life drying up.
The Hoarder, the one in us that wants to keep, to hold on, must be killed.
If we are hanging onto the form now, we're not going to have the form next.
You can't make an omelet without breaking eggs.

Destruction before creation.

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Out of perfection nothing can be made.
Every process involves breaking something up.
The earth must be broken to bring forth life.
If the seed does not die, there is no plant.
Bread results from the death of wheat.

Life lives on lives.

Our own life lives on the acts of other people.
If you are lifeworthy, you can take it.
What we are really living for is the experience of life, both the pain and the pleasure.
The world is a match for us.
We are a match for the world.

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Opportunities to find deeper powers with ourselves come when life seems most challenging.
Negativism to the pain and ferocity of life is negativism to life.
We are not there until we can say "yea" to it all.
To take a righteous attitude toward anything is to denigrate it.
Awe is what moves us forward.
As you proceed through life, following your own path, birds will shit on you. Don't bother to brush it off.
Getting a comedic view of your situation gives you spiritual distance. Having a sense of humor saves you.

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Eternity is a dimension of here and now.
The divine lives within you.

Live from your own center.

Your real duty is to go away from the community to find your bliss.

The society is the enemy when it imposes its structures on the individual.
On the dragon there are many scales. Every one of them says "Thou Shalt."
Kill the dragon "Thou Shalt."
When one has killed that dragon, one has become The Child.

Breaking out is following your bliss pattern, quitting the old place, starting your hero journey, following your bliss.
You throw off yesterday as the snake sheds its skin.

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Follow your bliss.
The heroic life is living the individual adventure.

There is no security in following the call to adventure.

Nothing is exciting if you know what the outcome is going to be.

To refuse the call means stagnation.
What you don't experience positively you will experience negatively.

You enter the forest at the darkest point, where there is no path.
Where there is a way or path, it is someone else's path. You are not on your own path.
If you follow someone else's way, you are not going to realize your potential.
(note: this is what the Holy Grail is all about... not some cup --dv)
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The goal of the hero trip down to the jewel point is to find those levels in the psyche that open, open, open, and finally open to the mystery of your Self being Buddha consciousness or the Christ.
That's the journey.

It is all about finding that still point in your mind where commitment drops away.

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It is by going down into the abyss that we recover the treasures of life.
Where you stumble, there lies your treasure.
THe very cave you are afraid to enter turns out to be the source of what you are looking for. The damned thing in the cave that was so dreaded has become the center.

You find the jewel, and it draws you off.

In loving the spiritual, you cannot despise the earthly.

The purpose of the journey is compassion.
When you have come past the pairs of opposites, you have reached compassion.

The goal is to bring the jewel back to the world, to join the two things together.

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The seperateness apparent in the world is secondary.
Beyond that world of opposites is an unseen, but experienced, unity and identity in us all.

Today, the planet is the only proper "in group."

You must return with the bliss and integrate it.

THe return is seeing the radiance everywhere.

Sri Ramakrishna said: "Do not seek illumination unless you seek it as a man whose hair is on fire seeks a pond."

If you want the whole thing, the gods will give it to you. But you must be ready for it.

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The goal is to live with godlike composure on the full rush of energy, like Dionysus riding the leopard, without being torn to pieces.


A bit of advice given to a young Native American at the time of his initiation:
"As you go the way of life, you will see a great chasm.
Jump.
It is not as wide as you think."

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Joseph Campbell & Bill Moyers, "JOSEPH CAMPBELL AND THE POWER OF MYTH

Ep. 4: Joseph Campbell and the Power of Myth — ‘Sacrifice and Bliss’

June 24, 1988

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In the fourth episode of The Power of Myth, Bill Moyers and mythologist Joseph Campbell discuss the role of sacrifice in myth — including a mother’s sacrifice for her child — and the need for all of us to find our sacred places in the midst of today’s fast-paced world. In this clip, the two discuss where heroism can be witnessed in modern society.

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Watch, or read the transcript, here.