The Humblebee & Ree, Plus Other Flowers at the Faire

Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote a poem about the Humblebee:

Insect lover of the sun,
Joy of thy dominion!
Sailor of the atmosphere,
Swimmer through the waves of air,
Voyager of light and noon,
Epicurean of June,
Wait I prithee, till I come
Within ear-shot of thy hum,—
All without is martyrdom.

This is not to be confused with Humblebee Records, who produce such sweet music as the Loveninjas and Apple Orchard ("A Hiding Smile" is particularly perfect for a lazy summery day).

I was reminded of the relation of bees to flowers when I saw Liz Hilderbrand of the Humble Gourmet at the Stanford Spring Faire this Mother's Day. She sold me a delightful jar of peppermint honey. It is very powerful stuff! She had never heard the name "humblebee" before. It is what the British name what we Americans call the "bumblebee." I prefer the term "humblebee," because it seems jollier and less insulting. The creatures do their work quite humbly and happily, regardless of whether they do seem to jostle and bump into things from time-to-time. I'd prefer to focus on their forte than their foible.

Liz and I spoke briefly about the virtue of humility. Many people think poorly of humbleness in modern America, and Liz lamented how she had to defend the very name of her enterprise from time-to-time.

So I told her about the medieval Christian belief: humility was a shield against the sin of pride. One of the seven virtues to defend against the seven vices. Was not humility one reason (the other being chastity) why Galahad was able to achieve the Grail? Indeed, Ector de Maris was barred from entry to the Grail Feast because he was (quite literally) on his high horse, and deemed too proud to enter.

The honey bee is a symbol of happy industry combined with humility, often associated with monastics. Therefore, I thought it quite appropriate for the Humble Gourmet to sell the sweet product of the bee.

The reason I was there in the first place was right across the way in the stall opposite the Humble Gourmet. Liz was working across from Ree Slocum, of Arcadian Images. I had met Ree the weekend before at the Mountain View street faire. On that day a week ago I met my friend Richard Henkus and we had wandered about chatting and shopping. After going our separate ways I wandered into Ree's booth, attracted like a bee to the flowers she had on display.

While I have been taking more images for the project since the beginning of 2006, Ree has been doing her work for years. I was in awe of her vision and aesthetic sense. I was glad to speak with her and helped her break down and pack up her booth at the end of the show. Goodness knows how many trade shows I've been to in my day—I know what those final hours can feel like! So I was glad to help her get all squared away. In return, she gifted me with a beautiful image of poppies with an accent of purple lupins.

I told her of the wonderful old Monty Python sketch about Dennis Moore. That was the first time I had ever heard of lupins. Ever since then I cannot help but chuckle at the thought of lupins and the distribution of wealth. I also keep thinking about the Existential Blues whenever someone mentions poppies. (...poppies ...poppies!) So it was an honor and a quirk of fate and humor that I received an image of poppies and lupins in thanks from Ree.

• See Carrizo Plain Poppies, Ree Slocum, Arcadian Images

This last week I also brought a friend with me to meet Ree. My fellow Flowers in the Cracks colleague, Tatiana (Emma) Scutelnic. She was utterly fascinated by the 35th Annual Stanford Powwow at the Eucalyptus Grove at Stanford, held the same day. The Native American dancers from so many tribes had utterly enthralled her: their songs, their costumes, their dance. As I was making my way over I gave her a cell phone call. She excitedly spoke about how she had always wanted to see such things herself. Tatiana was amazed at it all.

After spending a fair deal of time there, meeting a pair of Tatiana's friends and witnessing the panopoly of dancers, and also stopping in to look at the jewelry of Nathan Lefthand (being left-handed I was quite interested to see what he had for sale) we made our way to Ree's booth at the other side of the Stanford campus. It was two completely separate faires. Three, actually. There was also a sports-oriented faire where we saw a band performing near the swimming pool. The band was great. I had passed by and heard the Stanford band playing on the way over to see Tatiana. We stopped to listen to their funky music briefly before heading on our way towards the Spring Faire by the campus bookstore.

I was utterly pleased to put Ree and Tatiana in touch with each other. For now, it was a simple introduction. We'll see if anything more comes of it in the course of time.

Tatiana was also struck with the beauty of Ree's images. And they are! I still love the image of the calla lily.

Tatiana had to depart early to say farewell to some friends leaving the country. I also did not want to crowd Ree's booth and chase away her patrons. So alone I wandered about the faire to explore and speak to other people. A second photographer in particular struck me: Youssef Ismail, the principal at Organic Light Photography.

Youssef's images are silent hymns. Prayers of light. He is a deeply spiritual man who remains bouyant and filled with positive faith. His family is Shi'ite. He himself is Sunni Muslim, with Sufi influences. Sufi? Yes, it turns out he knew my old Aikido sensei, who was also Sufi. We had a connection there.

Youssef also knew Ree's work, and admired it greatly. I told Youssef about my own project, Flowers in the Cracks, and offered that if there was any way we might all collaborate together, we might want to see what we could do. Maybe an art exhibition at a gallery or museum? Some consortia to better sell their images to individuals and businesses?

I also mentioned Youssef to Ree later, and she admired his work in turn. They were already in mutual admiration on a professional basis. It's all good stuff! The law of networking says that the power of a network is equal to its nodes squared. So the more of us working towards the same ends the better we can do if we support each other. All the flowers striving to help each other rise through our own cracks and establish ourselves in whatever places we seek to plant ourselves.

It was still at the stage of initial introductions and mutual exchange of business cards, handshakes, and ideas, but it was quite a tremendously positive feeling to speak to Youssef.

The other photographer I met at the faire was Marv Poulson of Imagedancer. His works are of organic shapes. Yet he can make stone look fluid, based on the wind and water-swept sandstone of the Utah wilderness. Ree introduced me to him. Marv was happy traveling with his three dogs, though a few of them are getting up in years. I spent the least time with him face-to-face of all the artists I met this weekend, yet I did more research and came across this quote:

The notion of quality naturally embraces subjectivity beyond most judgmentally derived concepts. For me, the idea of photographic quality begins with desire. This means love, passion, questing, striving . . . for making pictures. I believe when you really like to do something, it shows in the results.

As many of you know, I'm always in support of a fellow traveler on their quest! Best wishes to you wherever you are this day, Marv.

As the faire drew to a close, once again I helped Ree break down her booth, and we both helped a fellow jeweler we knew from the Mountain View show. Once again I received a print in kind regard for my assistance. In this case, it was the first print I took off the pile of those I had helped carefully pack away.

Little did I know at the time, but later I was to discover it was a variety of rhododendron called the Blue Peter. Though I wouldn't know one rhododenron from another I knew the vexilological reference. The Blue Peter is the maritime signal flag for the letter "P." Raised alone it is the symbol that you are all aboard and about to head to sea. It is also, as I have discovered, a popular British television show.

Returning to the themes of honey and discovery in a new light, there were many other photographers, artists and craftspersons at the show I did not get to meet, including Chris Honeysett. There were just too many to meet in one afternoon before the show had to pack up and move on. There are ever going to be more people to bring into a circle of friends and a network of contacts. Fortunately, as I was once taught by an Irishman, "The man who made time..." (here one pauses and nods knowingly and waits a while with a friendly smile) "...made plenty of it!" Hopefully we'll have time to explore more of these above-mentioned artists their works, and the works of others as Flowers in the Cracks blooms over the coming days.

Before I conclude tonight, there was one more organization that I ran into this Mother's Day I am thinking of quite a bit tonight. FuturesForChildren.org helps young Native American men and women through school and partners them with mentors. A few years ago for personal reasons, my friend Kathy and I drove out to the Zia Indian Reservation. I remember the starkness of the setting. Here were the people whose sun-symbol graces their own flag as it does the flag of New Mexico. It was a quiet place. Our trip was brief. We drove around, saw what it was like, then slipped away quietly on our trek to California. I wondered at the time what I might do to help.

Apparently this year I may have an answer. I have no children of my own to take care of. Yet now I may financially extend myself to aid others far away.

Now I feel like Jack Nicholson in About Schmidt. I'm not alone. Many people, it seems, are writing today to Dear Ndugu. Unlike the fictional child in Africa, I am hoping to support someone closer to home. Someone very real, who needs educational and fiscal support. Conversely, and quite humbly, I must admit there's something in my own spirit that needs support; that needs to do this just as much as someone else needs for me to do it. What little I may give in fiscal support is, in a way, a contribution to salve the pain in my own heart. For I'd love to have children of my own, and yet, I do not.

To support someone else's child is the least I can do until I have my own. It is a comfort to my own solitude to help children, any children, even if they are not my own biological progeny. This same sort of connection with the distant Ndugu seemed to help Schmidt in the movie to get his own feelings straightened out regarding his own estranged daughter and his life in general. Perhaps, if I give a little of myself, I might be able to straighten a few things out so I might be able to welcome whatever family will manifest itself in my own life in due time.

Santa Claus never had children of his own, yet he does well giving presents to the children of other people. I've been a game designer with the wistful hope that I might be considered one of Santa's Helpers. In a similar vein, I can perhaps give more pragmatic gifts to put a child through school.

I met the Futures for Children group when I was wandering through the Powwow with Tatiana. I had taken their information after speaking to them about Alpha Phi Omega, the National Service Fraternity. A long while ago, I took a life pledge to the principles of leadership, friendship, and service. It seemed to resonate with the same goals of Futures for Children, though the staffers had never heard of A-Phi-O before. I suggested they look them up to see if there was way to connect the two organizations.

So Sunday night I sat in a booth eating dinner at Fresh Choice, reading over the Futures For Children brochures and newsletters. I watched the families sitting down to eat together on Mother's Day. I thought about all that was on my own plate, both literally and figuratively. I said my prayers and was thankful for all that I had been given so far in life. In silence, I resolved to give back what I could, as I am able.

These are just a few of the people who touched my life this weekend. I hope their work touches your life as well, and through that touch, your soul is transformed. And through that spiritual transformation, your life leads to a manifestation. A new direction of growth. Some "Flower in the Crack" of your own life.

Finally, I also wanted to wish a happy Mother's Day to my own mother, Beatrice Corless, and to her mother, Olivia Conlon, who passed away this Epiphany, and my paternal grandmother Mary Corless, who passed away years before. Also to my sister Catherine, who has been a mother since late 2001, and to my sisters-in-law Cecilia and Judy, who are now new mothers for the first time this Mother's Day, 2006. And to all the mothers and grandmothers who made my life possible, and all our lives possible, back through the centuries to this day. And to my godmother, Jeanine Conlon, and to all the spiritual mothers of the world.

Here are some roses for you all. Enjoy!

Springtime

Springtime in New York City, Jamaica Bay, Queens.