Quinault Lodge today.

Daily musings, art of all kinds. Life is art after all...the art of being kind, not reacting, being, in the deepest sense of the word One with all, because, there is only One, after all. Stardust is our nature we are extraterrestrial bound. 

Everything IS that. 

Quinault this morning after days of rain and thicker mist bending to the wind side ways and even bent, it’s a sunny day. 

 Currently for a long time I have not been able to upload photos here. I do plan to go elsewhere and not to something poorly named. 

I like something more poetic for my writing and photos. 

Post Haven is rather nice. 

I’m not willing to go to popular ones unsuited for the lyrical at heart. I’d prefer pages to open like a book to a backwards scroll. 

I won’t use SUBSTACK!!

It’s frightfully name. 

Oh well later I’ll try my computer to as photos. 

I do have computer work to do. Not to mention if you want to eat. The nearby restaurants I no longer recommend. Thank goodness I brought miso paste and a kettle. Spinach, onion. Cheese, sourdough, fruit and peanut butter. 

I have to say #quinaultlodge has disappointed me. Maybe for the last time I don’t want to ruin this by listing the egregious problems here 

But whenever anyone goes, if the small things are wearisome you can bet the big things are even worse. 

Il write on this another day. 

Suffice it to say hydrangeas have not been degraded and pruned. You run out of shampoo etc and no place to heat water, microwave in one’s room while the restaurant is not open and its a large part of the overall experience. 

Aramark corporation has not been doing much at this lodge or Lake Crescent to preserve this heritage. 

People do need to complain to proper authorities and watch dog groups reviews mean nothing to a corporation. I know because I complained every time I came and for important things. 

It’s in their charge they’ve made a lot of money with these properties that are historical letting them go downhill. 

Let me just say hydrangeas have not been deadheaded. Pruned etc. They’re putting out new growth. They don’t actually have many anyone could do it if I had pruners I’d volunteer. 

This is nothing comparatively. The whole scheme of things here are highly complex and money is not being spent as it should be. 

Here Now.

Daily musings, art of all kinds. Life is art after all...the art of being kind, not reacting, being, in the deepest sense of the word One with all, because, there is only One, after all.

Hard as it is for most to know this but living in the present is not only all there is, it sheds a light that’s impervious to the drama many would drag one into. 

Their dramas. Their fears their insecurities. 

But right now there are no problems. 

Autumn passing by and winter time of cheer, snow, and eggnog..

Daily musings, art of all kinds. Life is art after all...the art of being kind, not reacting, being, in the deepest sense of the word One with all, because, there is only One, after all. LOVE

Thanksgiving at India Belly Restaurant in Snoqualmie WA and a  small arboretum near my home..Wishing every one thank for for something , hoping every one finds peace if they are alone, it is a challenge, but it is just another day in fact, and time alone is good for the  soul, but Yes, I care with those facing with this challenge. Prepare for Christmas to invite someone to be with you..

I asked Rob to read the menu for me and pick something, I sent him 4 pages, within seconds he's back with recommendations..

                                                                     MT Baker

                                                                      HOME

An autumn day on the bay.

Daily musings, art, of life the eternal continuum..

. Life is art after all...the art of being kind, not reacting, being, in the deepest sense of the word One with all, because, there is only One, this continuum of eternity.,

It’s an autumn thing to do, prose.

Daily musings, art of all kinds. Life is art after all...the art of being kind, not reacting, being, in the deepest sense of the word One with all, because, there is only One, after all.

Let’s reconsider assumptions. Let’s ask questions. 

We are all One but we are all unique. Still we have actions. And a need to be respected. If we want to be understood we have to realize people are different and formed by what they experience. 

Some people are not our cup of tea for two. That’s ok. 

But we can talk about ourselves and try to come to some agreements. Or we can go our own ways. 

This is true for all people and all situations. 

Also we can examine our expectations. 

Autumn is perfect for reflection. 

Here’s a bit of prose from 2021. 

It’s an Autumn Thing to Do…

Wonder…where I’ll get the best corduroy jeans.

reminiscing on how good nature looks Before the fall of leaves and the frozen garden turns bluish green

Thinking of the quaking aspen trees shaking their leaves not knowing what they’re saying but love hearing them speak

To me

I know a place where dear Puddha rests, my special feline friend, buried amongst the cat tails

The sky will be blue with his features in the clouds and whiskers too

There will be places, spaces, and faces, of friends offering a tour of their gardens and orchards or vineyards too

It’s an autumn sort of thing to do..

Sherry Stewart  copyright 2021

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                           Corngold mum 

                        The Chewuch River 

             This valley was a huge glacier at one time 

  A pond built by beavers, their home abandoned now for lack of water. 

Below 

         Sun Mountain below 

Words about poetry and prose..

The Dismantling of Wisdom

“The reason we go to poetry is not for wisdom, but for the dismantling of wisdom.”

–Jacques Lacan

> I prefer poetic prose rather than poetry.

In 150 words of poetic prose draw out what Lacan might be indicating here.

∞ We seek poetry not to uncover answers but to unravel the very foundations of certainty. 

Lacan suggests that within verse lies the power to dissolve the structures of thought that confine us. Wisdom, often held as the pinnacle of human understanding, becomes a cage of familiar truths. 

Poetry, in contrast, is the hand that shakes the bars loose, allowing us to glimpse the chaos and fluidity of existence. 

It is not in poetry’s intent to teach, but to unmake; to pull apart the seams of constructed meaning, offering a momentary freedom in ambiguity. In this dismantling, we are invited to wander, lost and liberated, among fragments that resist coherence. 

Perhaps in this space, Lacan sees the real—beyond the symbolic order, where wisdom ceases to be solid and becomes instead a fleeting echo in the vastness of the unspoken.∞

> Next iteration. In this we leave Lacan out of the picture and we instil more poetry into the prose. The title is "The Dismantling of Wisdom". The voice of the prose is a wanderer, like the elders of India who used to wander alone in the forest after retirement. Or perhaps still do. 150 words.

∞ **The Dismantling of Wisdom**

I walk the forest path, not to find answers, but to watch the world unravel. Wisdom, once a crown upon my brow, grows heavy with its knowing. The trees whisper of a deeper truth, one that slips through the fingers of thought. Here, in the quiet pulse of earth, wisdom crumbles like dried leaves underfoot, turning to dust in the wind. The path ahead offers no revelations, only the soft undoing of certainty. 

What is wisdom but a tether, pulling us toward the same familiar shores? I seek no shores now. I seek the river, the current that sweeps away all solid ground. In this dismantling, I become weightless, unburdened by the need to know. 

I walk not for the destination, but for the way the light shifts between the branches, for the quiet chaos beneath the wisdom we cling to, as it dissolves into silence.