tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-308309722011-12-14T21:38:09.695-05:00--the art, poetry, musings of M. David Orr. The focus is on spirituality and living. RSS Feed: http://littlepiecesofspirit.blogspot.com/atom.xml (c) Copyright 2006 by M. David OrrDavid Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.comBlogger691100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-26758510288920135052007-10-10T05:08:00.000-05:002007-12-13T09:15:14.066-05:00

What happens when an artist moves to a new location? He/she is inevitably influenced by things in the new envirnoment. A couple of years ago my family and I moved from Chicago to Fairview, N.C., near Asheville in the Blue Ridge Mountains. In the course of checking out the local crafts, I came across some birdhouses made of gourds and decorated with flowers in acrylic paint. I thought these were

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1164038771768118652006-11-20T11:03:00.000-05:002006-11-20T11:06:12.600-05:00

A friend of mine Dell Washington is a Christian musician. He has posted some great gospel songs online at http://www.geocities.com/sharethenews/. The other "good news" is they are available as free downloads. If you like gospel, check them out.

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1162159463156647702006-10-29T17:02:00.000-05:002007-12-13T09:14:16.461-05:00

I got saved in a small Pentecostal church in Norfolk, Virginia, in 1968. As with most new believers in any cause, questions and doubts arose with me as I began to read more of the source text of my belief the Bible. My conversion had been experiential, not intellectual, so there were many loose ends.For one thing, I still firmly accepted the scientific description of life as being the result of a

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1161955826474692632006-10-27T08:15:00.000-05:002006-10-27T08:34:45.070-05:00

I walked with shardsOf a broken potClutched tightly in my hand.The shards were sharpAnd cut me.Blood, that startedWhere the heart beats,Colored the shards,A gaudy glaze.I went into a gathering of men.Each had his own broken potWith bloodied shards,In open hands.Each man thoughtHe was alone with painAnd his own broken pot.First one, and then another,Screwed up his courageIn the sacred space we

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1160235123859141232006-10-07T10:22:00.000-05:002006-10-07T10:32:03.873-05:00

--to M.If I forget you,May the leaves that swirlOn streets in fallLie still.If I forget you,May the opalescent skyTurn greenAnd black tornadoesShred the buildingsOn the ground.If I forget you,May timeRun fast and draw me swiftlyToward the blacknessAt its end.If I forget you,May hornetsSwarming in their quilted nestBurst forth and stingMy faithless heart to death,If I forget you.Copyright 2006 by

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1158673127256297772006-09-19T08:29:00.000-05:002006-09-19T08:38:47.346-05:00

"What happened to my monster boy?" my mother asked."He died," I said."It was no easy death.This death had no romantic tone." Baptism Of FearHard knobs of wood upon an oaken chestWere not so hardAs knobs of hatred nestled in his breast.Steel pins in voodoo dolls were not so sharpTo pierce a human's skin,Nor balsa hatchets dullAnd impotent to crush a skullAs this his pet, his friend, his hatred

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1158591129784895632006-09-18T09:47:00.000-05:002006-09-18T09:53:29.386-05:00

--to Martha A.Off the water shimmering, the image of the moonBathed my soul with light, my love was there.Her skin was white with moon-flake snow,All honeysuckle breath, chocolate eyes, wisteria hair,The green grass and brown earth--our bed.I could hardly breathe the perfumed air.The stars bedazzled blackened sky,She dazzled me.Nothing on earth or heaven, at that moment, was more there.I touched

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1158089564924527432006-09-12T14:25:00.000-05:002006-09-12T14:35:09.763-05:00

Below is the original nude image in watercolor. The idea was to explore the curves and lines--the geometry of the female form. Using digital manipulation brought in the dimension of texture--polished stone (middle) and sandstone (top). Fun, eh?

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1158005742427388502006-09-11T14:48:00.000-05:002006-09-11T15:26:45.770-05:00

Sometimes it's hard to filter out the truth from conflicting testimony. People, conconsciously or unconsciously, shape what they say to fit a vision of the truth. For example, I just watched part 1 of the ABC special on The Road to 9/11. The movie showed CIA and Northern Alliance people hiding just outside a camp where bin Laden was meeting with cohorts. They had no doubt that they had him now

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1157721440358308392006-09-08T08:14:00.000-05:002006-09-13T04:48:24.923-05:00

Twenty-four years ago I kept a journal for recording thoughts and feelings, mostly about God and my relationship to God. My wife and I had been trying to have a baby for five years. I was 36 and she 34, so the biological clock was clanging.We went through all the fertility stuff--physicals, little white cups, porno magazines and lab technicians, making love then standing on her head, making love

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1157466837360053742006-09-05T09:28:00.000-05:002006-09-05T09:33:57.393-05:00

It's the sound from the vacuum created when Steve Irwin, the Crocodile Hunter, left us. All his enthusiasm and energy is gone with him. I think he was the perfect example of how when someone is truly himself, he blesses us all. He didn't really do everything he did for us; he did it because he enjoyed it. Yet, we were blessed in seeing his enthusiasm. Say hello to God for us, mate!

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1157463052783707722006-09-05T08:22:00.000-05:002006-10-06T20:43:52.616-05:00

I took this picture yesterday on the Blue Ridge Parkway at Craggy Gardens. It's a reminder of mortality, I guess, because I'm 60 and the males in my family only live until our mid-seventies. In the photo everything close is in detail and color, with the distance looking shadowy, though mysterious and intiguing. This image is how my present and future look to me.

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1156945403156642282006-08-30T08:35:00.000-05:002006-08-30T08:43:23.236-05:00

People don't usually associate death with beauty, but it's there sometimes anyway, if we can bear to look.

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1156877090582642442006-08-29T13:40:00.000-05:002006-08-29T13:44:50.606-05:00

We take our ease while madmen stalkOur peaceful people down like cats do doves.We cannot live for long on love,For every country loves its own,And none will seek our safety like ourselves,If we can only teach ourselves to seek.Copyright 2006 by M. David Orr

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1156772862781468762006-08-28T08:45:00.000-05:002006-08-28T08:47:42.800-05:00

The Apostle Paul quotes the Cretan poet Epimenides in Acts and Titus. The line from Epimenides is "In thee (referring to Zeus) we live and move and have our being.” In Acts 17:26-28, Paul addressing the Athenians and referring to the Cretan poet, says, "From one single stock he not only created the whole human race so they could occupy the whole earth.... And he did this so that all nations might

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1156078936954609812006-08-20T07:53:00.000-05:002006-09-02T03:18:43.600-05:00

Starting at the August 26 Grand Opening, David Orr will be exhibiting at The Appalachian Artisan Society Gallery in Old Fort, N.C., near Asheville. Here is the promotional blurb for the Gallery:When you're visiting Western North Carolina make time to visit the Appalachian Artisan Society Gallery. Conveniently located in the heart of Downtown Old Fort, North Carolina. Just seconds off the I-40

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1155984480267291342006-08-19T05:40:00.000-05:002006-08-19T05:48:00.276-05:00

The French Broad River runs about 200 miles through North Carolina into Tennessee. It is the third-oldest river in the world. (The Nile is the oldest; the New River, also in North Carolina, is the second oldest.)This 2006 photo by M. David Orr looks north at Walnut Park near Weaverville, North Carolina. BTW, the smallmouth fishing is outstanding. You can even catch 40-inch muskies in this old,

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1155905765997884312006-08-18T07:51:00.000-05:002006-08-19T05:50:41.283-05:00

From Reclining Buddha Statue - Origin UnknownI walked among the ruinsAnd saw the BuddhaLying on his side.He looked like heWas trying to hideAmong the lush and floweringGreenness of the shrubs.I walked the path beside him,Pried in every moldering crackFor signs of living creatures.There was a nest of birds,A lizard dressed in shiny black,A colony of bees.I fell on my kneesAnd sought a placeTo

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1155843689848994972006-08-17T14:34:00.000-05:002006-08-17T14:43:43.870-05:00

In my first year of college (40 years ago), I was becoming an atheist. It didn't take long at all. It started in the first week of classes, when my history professor, Dr. Patterson, offhandedly classified Christianity as just one of many Eastern mystery cults centered around a divine or semi-divine hero who dies and is resurrected in some way.This was the first extra-cultural assessment of

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1155736525042197192006-08-16T08:42:00.000-05:002006-08-16T08:55:27.210-05:00

Three singer performing a frottola, an Italian song popular c. 1500 by Lorenzo CostaWe have come far from love's beginning—The days we danced to Gypsy tunesOn violin and flute,When new wine flowed,And we were young.It was sweetness then,All wild delight,All passion flowing redLike wine we drank,Like our red blood.Our colors run to amber now.Our hair is intermixed with gray.We are far past the

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1155654530419422962006-08-15T10:00:00.000-05:002006-08-15T10:08:50.500-05:00

Portrait of Rudolf II as Vertumnus, the Roman god of the seasons by Guiseppe Arcimboldo c.1590Corn King, solitary man,Where did you get your wandering ways?Can you stay the season's end to bless the boy,To see the corn turn gold,To watch the wheat wave,Will you wait to bring the harvest in?Under the fluttering cottonwoods,Vast in undulating, half-caste shade,You mused the summer through,With

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1155578860647891522006-08-14T12:57:00.000-05:002006-08-14T13:07:40.736-05:00

--to John B.I can see the young manIn your eyes,The fierce oneFighting many battles,Strong of armAnd courage.I can see you fan the flames,Burn away your indecision,Move toward a goal--mighty.In the firelight,I see another gleam.The fierceness is gone--You talk about your loves,Your care for son and wife.You wonder how you've spent your life,Whether your care will be enoughTo make your son an

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1155402731289780332006-08-12T12:10:00.000-05:002006-08-12T12:12:11.290-05:00

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1155402629423891572006-08-12T12:08:00.000-05:002006-08-12T12:10:29.433-05:00

Remember how the wild bird flew,How the morning and the eveningWere the first dayOf the rest of his life?Remember how the hunterMissed his markAnd watched the bird formHurtle toward the setting sun,Then sat, lit a smokeAnd wondered at the mystery of the universe.Copyright 2006 by M. David Orr

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1155310287389897982006-08-11T10:29:00.000-05:002006-08-11T10:37:13.250-05:00

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1155309174485742162006-08-11T09:54:00.000-05:002006-08-11T10:36:51.013-05:00

I cut down through skin, gristle, bone,Like a surgeon through a patient's chest,To find his heart--Beating, beating, beating,Black with sin.Christian evangelicalsBelieve that people can be savedWithout a human doctor.The Holy Spirit comesAnd cleans the heart,And we are freeTo sing the praises of our God;At least, that's what they tellThe ones they're trying save."Trust God and all goes well,"

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1154989245206757192006-08-07T17:14:00.000-05:002006-08-07T17:24:00.450-05:00

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1154789714960774722006-08-05T09:50:00.000-05:002006-08-05T09:55:16.503-05:00

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1154788736501534642006-08-05T09:13:00.000-05:002006-08-05T09:38:57.243-05:00

Human beings have used gourds since pre-history, and have decorated gourds for almost as long. Since we moved to North Carolina we have admired pieces of gourd art in gift shops and tourist traps. Most of them are bird houses, but some are genuine pieces of abstract art.David is an artist who usually works with watercolor and oil, but he couldn't resist creating some gourd art himself. Here are a

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1154722178000983812006-08-04T15:02:00.000-05:002006-08-04T18:34:49.210-05:00

The Female, a photo by M. David Orr, 1999

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1154720476195879702006-08-04T14:27:00.000-05:002006-08-04T14:46:38.890-05:00

The Female to the MaleI know you're busy with important things, with scary things that frighten you. I know our living hangs on what you do or fail to do. You focus fiercely on those things, and as you do, you get them done but leave large parts of you dying on the battlefield, when there is an easier way to win without being so depleted. You think that focus and fierceness are what wins the day,

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1154610546527390852006-08-03T07:58:00.000-05:002006-08-03T08:09:06.660-05:00

You'll find it where wisteria twines,Where ivy branches root and wind,Where dogwoods blossom on the hill.You'll find it where September swelters--Winter's season there seems but a week,Since March begins the sultry spring.The April breezes warm the grass,And drowsy students bask in suns of May.The lethargy of rising sapAffects us longer there.Our neighbors slow their evening strollTo chat with

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1154544295841292202006-08-02T13:38:00.000-05:002006-08-02T14:05:02.976-05:00

Scarce an hour past, you lay,Your head upon my pillow.Now an evening not to be forgottenFades with subtle traces of perfume.Copyright 2006 by M. David OrrNude with a Red Rose, photo by M. David Orr 1999

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1154399320909016332006-07-31T21:25:00.000-05:002006-07-31T21:28:40.910-05:00

After Sunset by M. David Orr 2000

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1154398985747532782006-07-31T21:10:00.000-05:002006-07-31T21:33:20.470-05:00

--to Harriet KochOnce we were young,The day seemed bright and endless.Our paths lay wide and firm across the meadow,Rising toward the heights.Our dreams were all untarnished, unfulfilled.We were new; the world seemed newer still.Over in the west, we pause to see the reddening sunBeyond the breeze-blown flutter of the cottonwoods.We can say, “This day was good,This day we thought would never end.”

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1154314902579290992006-07-30T21:54:00.000-05:002006-07-30T22:01:42.586-05:00

A woman touches man in many ways—Of course, in deep delight of sex;But she will also pat him like a child, orStroke his hair or brow to say,"You're quite a man, and I like that!"Or just to say,"You have a lovely brow."

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1154178352176271312006-07-29T08:03:00.000-05:002006-07-29T08:05:52.176-05:00

Fragmented by M. David Orr, watercolor, 8" x 10,"1996

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1154178203477102092006-07-29T07:56:00.000-05:002006-07-29T08:03:23.486-05:00

Who can talk to the green field,Who say, "Give me peace?"What is in the grass,The sun-yellow filtering through leaves,That makes us thinkWe hear the wind's voice,Tales of wisdomSpoken by the breeze?Who can talk to the green field?Copyright 2006 by M. David Orr

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1153797960274004472006-07-24T22:12:00.000-05:002006-07-31T21:34:39.006-05:00

In the 1950s one of the men at my dad's insurance office H.L. Porth and his wife Frances owned a farm just outside Columbia on the west side of town. Several times we went in with the Porths to buy a whole cow or hog, and butchered it ourselves at H.L.'s farm.It is hard for someone raised in the city on pre-packaged meat to comprehend, but butchering is great fun and a lot of work. People in the

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1153729067151704322006-07-24T03:14:00.000-05:002006-07-24T03:17:47.156-05:00

Oh, walk me down an ancient pathYou charted when the stars were young.The stones and dust I pick my way among,The briars that tear my arm and calf,Have not discouragement enough to slow my way,When gems and stones of gold betray the pathTo be so old, so old, so old.God! my heart has never failed to leapWhen spotting gems and stones upon the road.My feet, as tiredness flees, begin to danceAnd trip

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1153660449196837772006-07-23T08:11:00.000-05:002006-07-23T08:14:09.203-05:00

Waiting Lady by M. David Orr, charcoal, 22"x 30" 1995

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1153573966685842672006-07-22T07:37:00.002-05:002006-07-22T08:42:42.946-05:00

I was hunting colored treasureBuried in the Southern, springtime grass,Delighted to run among the giant oaks and pines,To race the hundred other childrenCelebrating Easter time.It was warm, a light breeze blew,The dogwoods scattered whiteBelow the overarching oaks.The pink azaleas stood in fluttering banksAround the trees.Through rustling leaves,I heard two children whisper,"Don't tell him, but

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1153515158668373892006-07-21T15:30:00.000-05:002006-07-21T16:00:31.896-05:00

Abused by M. David Orr, watercolor, 8"x10", 1996Mutually intolerant groups—Liberal-Conservative, Communist-Capitalist, etc.— seem to thrive on rancor. The True Believer by Erik Hoeffer offers a keen insight into the source and meaning of the rancor.Hoeffer was a self-educated Longshoresman who wrote his profound book by looking with his own eyes outside the boxes provided by each of the

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1153439152243853962006-07-20T18:43:00.000-05:002006-07-20T18:45:52.243-05:00

Fire by M. David Orr, watercolor, 5"x 7", 1996

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1153438169571803452006-07-20T18:23:00.000-05:002006-07-20T18:39:42.346-05:00

William Buckley once said something like, "Hell is an address, like Main Street," meaning that it is real. I hope not, but it could be. I know it is also metaphorical because, like many people, at times in my life I have felt like hell, and had the sense that God delivered me from that hell.Personally, I've always had trouble with reconciling the doctrine of hell with a God who is Love and with a

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1153310270959711372006-07-19T06:42:00.000-05:002006-07-19T20:27:59.876-05:00

I've always loved abstractions--the bigger the better--God, quantum mechanics, cosmology, whatever. I love pressing my mind up against these big abstractions. I once thought I had to understand and harmonize all these to be happy, free, and justified, and, more importantly, so life would have meaning. A psychologist I saw once said to me, "David, if you can feel your life, it will have meaning."

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1153251367873331292006-07-18T14:20:00.000-05:002006-07-18T14:36:07.990-05:00

Digitally manipulating art photos has added a fun dimension to art photography. For example, this photo I took of model Heather Bailey is a routine over-the-shoulder B&W shot, but using the computer to add a hot wax coating, then manipulating the contrast has the pleasing results shown on the left.I've even taken photos, manipulated them, then used the results as a basis for a painting. Taking

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1153236041446481402006-07-18T10:04:00.000-05:002006-07-18T13:25:48.590-05:00

The most deadly bait for bluegills is the awesome catalpa worm. Down South, there are lots of catalpa trees. This broad-leafed tree grows to the size of an oak and attracts moths that lay their eggs under the leaves. When the eggs hatch, larvae emerge and begin to feed on the leaves. These larvae develop into beautiful black and chartreuse, longitudinally striped caterpillars that can get six

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1153145411851679002006-07-17T08:43:00.000-05:002006-07-18T09:20:26.873-05:00

The Saluda River runs from the cold bottom of Lake Murray dam to just west of Columbia, S.C., where it flows into the Congaree River. The rapids were enhanced by General Sherman, when his troops blew up the dam for a cotton mill used to make cloth for Confederate uniforms.These days, they call this part of the Saluda Mill Race Rapids. Columbia built its small, but excellent, zoo on the banks of

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1153143797283640852006-07-17T08:38:00.000-05:002006-07-17T08:43:17.290-05:00

I felt words in my mouth.They tasted like grit,Like the dust in the airOf red-clay roadsI walked as a boy.I tasted the breezeWetted with spray,Fragrant with weedsAnd wildflowersGrowing from cracksIn the rocks of the damThat Sherman blew up--On the cold Saluda RiverOutside the cityIn the SouthWhere I was born.I smelled the moon's white lightBathing the rapids' rocks,Silvering the spray and

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1153051979863685692006-07-16T06:57:00.000-05:002006-07-16T14:54:35.106-05:00

I mentioned Dante Gabriel Rosetti in the essay below on ways to learn, so I thought I ought to include at least one of his paintings. This painting is called "Proserpine" Other names for this mythical figure are Proserpina, and Persephone. She was a daughter of Zeus and Demeter, abducted to Hades, but allowed to return to the surface of the earth for part of the year (she is also a

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1153049699619667352006-07-16T06:17:00.000-05:002006-07-16T06:54:03.186-05:00

Early in my senior year in college (1967), I looked myself in the mirror and realized that with all the grade-seeking and crash-memorizing I did, I didn’t really retain a whole lot of what I learned. This bothered me so much I decided to study more each day and to just follow my nose. If something got me curious in my studies, I would follow that thread, maybe read an extra book or article I didn

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1152959993617071802006-07-15T05:37:00.000-05:002006-07-15T05:42:45.663-05:00

Backlit, photo by M. David Orr 1999

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1152957173866242592006-07-15T04:27:00.000-05:002006-07-15T05:17:26.396-05:00

Struck by BeautyOne night when I was in the U.S. Navy in Virginia, I took the jitney bus into Virginia Beach after work. I found an all-night restaurant, sat down and ordered a cup of coffee from this beautiful, soft-spoken brunette. Her name tag said “Kathy,” and my heart said, “YES!” I think I had enough self-control not to drool or hang my mouth open, but the feelings were there. This was 80%

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1152893882429422782006-07-14T11:14:00.000-05:002006-07-14T13:33:39.566-05:00

In 1995 at a men's retreat, I identified my life's mission: “To create beauty and share it with others.” I now understand this mission is, in an earthly way, sharing in the Creator's creative power. (Beauty has a particular significance for me, see the post below “What is God's Name?”)Some things I've learned about creativity:1. The number one enemy of creativity in me is fear--fear of who I

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1152805169243878252006-07-13T10:32:00.000-05:002006-07-14T09:06:05.076-05:00

Everglades Sunset, Phot0 by M. David OrrI see a shadow driftingOut across the Everglades,Darkening the wilder places.A cloud moves overhead,The sun behind,And I stand gazingFrom a small hill at the space,Broken by tall grass, cedar tree, and vine,Alligator hole, and long canal.I see no waste,For every rotted trunkGives place for fungal lifeAnd teeming insect hoards.The subtle water drifts among

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1152736499357389302006-07-12T15:31:00.000-05:002006-07-13T09:21:11.576-05:00

Focii by M. David Orr, watercolor, 10"x 17," 2001

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1152733768251302332006-07-12T14:39:00.000-05:002006-07-12T15:04:09.226-05:00

I wrote an essay about two years ago when I lived in Chicago and hosted a forum on Ryze network called God Talk. It always amazed me how much people argued from preconceived notions and handed-down phrases. The essay has a mild Christian slant, but has much to offer for anyone concerned with seeing things with your own eyes.A Fresh LookIt's hard to take a fresh look at the Bible (Hebrew

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1152630331980890832006-07-11T10:01:00.000-05:002006-07-11T10:05:31.980-05:00

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1152629661250063082006-07-11T09:47:00.000-05:002006-07-11T10:01:03.596-05:00

Fearing the Divine is like a fishSwimming in a streamAnd fearing its own flesh.It's like a bird flying in the blueAnd fearing flight.It's like an artist paintingOn a canvasFearing colorOr the background white. Copyright 2006 by M. David Orr

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1152535901224145882006-07-10T07:44:00.000-05:002006-07-10T15:01:30.310-05:00

Concentric, a photo by M. David Orr, 1998I made this photo while touring some of Chicago's old steel bridges one Saturday in November. There was a rock causing the ripples on the surface. This photo reminds me of the human condition--why do you think so?

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1152535340579493242006-07-10T07:39:00.000-05:002006-07-11T20:21:43.516-05:00

Personal Growth, Personal Independence: The Limit Is Me. One day all the employees reached the office and they saw a big advice on the door on which it was written: "Yesterday the person who has been hindering your growth in this company passed away. We invite you to join the funeral in the room that has been prepared in the gym". Photo credit: ">Fred Goldstein In the beginning, they all got sad

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1152434891190284972006-07-09T03:47:00.000-05:002006-07-09T03:48:11.196-05:00

Cyber-Savvy Pastors Blog When the Spirit Moves Them . Pastor Ben Arment spends several hours each week carefully preparing his Sunday sermon for the 100 members of History Church in Oak Hill. In contrast, he takes just minutes to jot down a few thoughts on faith for his blog; within 24 hours, his message has reached about 300 people. By Megan Greenwell.

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1152434366149144122006-07-09T03:37:00.000-05:002006-07-10T15:39:45.196-05:00

The Stranger by M. David Orr, 8"x10," watercolor and ink, 1995

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1152433740458761122006-07-09T03:19:00.000-05:002006-07-09T03:35:36.716-05:00

Judge not, that ye be not judged. Matthew 7:1We seek the things most like our selves we like.We shun the things most like our selves we hate,And all the rest we hardly see at all.Daily we judge ourselves in part unfit.That part we toss upon a rubbish heap,And all resembling parts in other people.Up from the heart,Unruly thoughts are turned,Feelings flow chaotic.We are twisted inside out,Like

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1152433122850471432006-07-09T03:06:00.000-05:002006-07-09T03:18:42.856-05:00

I once stopped to listen to a Black Muslim preaching to the crowds on State Street in Chicago. Something he said really stuck with me: We all have an image of God in our minds, but we should not worship that image because it is just that, an image. It is not God himself, but an idol.Muslims are very strict about not having graven images in their mosques. This guy was spiritualizing the principle

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1152372598272764442006-07-08T10:23:00.000-05:002006-09-02T03:21:09.733-05:00

Starseeds by M. David Orr, watercolor, 8" x 10," 2001My wife tells me that educated men no longer seek for God;The superstitious, and the old, and those afraid are those who pray.I've heard this all before, and ten years past,I would have seconded her thought--that evolution's mighty forceHad torn the Ancient Darkness' alters down,Had ripped the shroud from our pretentious Lord,And bared a

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1152371565934311212006-07-08T09:45:00.000-05:002006-07-08T10:42:33.056-05:00

10 years ago I was seeing a Catholic spiritual director named Bill Creed. At the end of one session, he asked me, “David, what is your name for God?”I was stumped for a second, then groped for an answer, “I don’t know, I suppose ‘Love’ or something like that.”I must not have sounded too convinced because Bill said, “Well, think on it, and let it come to you.”(Beauty by M. David Orr, watercolor,

David Orrhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307413737966247181noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30830972.post-1152369793794101502006-07-08T09:33:00.000-05:002006-07-08T10:41:45.056-05:00

This blog is called "Little Pieces of Spirit" because my experience of God has been through ordinary, concrete things. For example:Ike was this smiling, friendly guy from India who ran a convenience store next to my technical writing business. As we became friends, I learned that he was a Muslim and his wife a Hindu. Knowing the history of conflict between the two religions in India, I was

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