Except as noted, all images copyrighted by and should be attributed to E B Hawley.
I had become many eons ago a traveling literary gnome, inquisitive about places I had and had not visited,
walking the same paths of peoples from the past, through places once grand and still grand,
photographing images that now show me the places about which I still dream . . .

Sunday, September 9, 2007

Monks in Dallas


The Buddhist monks began the construction of a mandala yesterday at the Crow Collection building. The deep and touching chanting lasted about thirty minutes. I swooned a bit by their vocal vibrations and the very thought of the deep faith in their god. During the next week, they will pour millions of colored grains of sand into the design. After they finish the construction, its dismantling will reflect change, impermanence, and its grains distributed in a body of flowing water as blessings for healing and health.


A grandmother explained things to the little girl whose attention, in turn, seemed consumed by the exhibit of another culture. Love the dude in the photograph.


An artist sketched some of the colorful scene.


I felt blessed for everything and for a lovely day in Dallas with my Mr. Mallory. So inspired did he feel that he chanted as we strolled under these trees.


A fellow and his young daughter agreed it was a perfect day to bring out the 1971 Triumph, top down, of course.


Another pretty day in Texas.
For information on the construction of the mandala this week, visit www.crowcollection.org
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Let Lovely Turn of Phrase Begin

JMHawley Gave Me a Kiss to Build a Dream On

Listen, will you? I think that . . . literature, poetry, music and love make the world go round . . . while mathematics explains things; I fill my life with them, then go walking in snowy woods.
Let us go then, you and I
like two etherized patients floating
through life, together feeling prufrockian.
DDB Jr. makes my world go 'round; during his absence, Pachelbel fills it up.
One summer I sailed across the Atlantic Ocean, then through the Gulf of Finland to reach Saint Petersburg; I pursued Joseph Brodsky in its alley ways. I dream of making that two summers.
I read “Biking to Electra;” found my way in a Jaguar car, and glanced at the flashing steel grasshoppers at sunset. I’ll follow K.O.P.’s footsteps after he followed N.Scott Momaday’s; find warmth and inspiration on a rainy mountain.
Throw chinese coins for the I Ching.
Save the whales, the spotted owl, the woman in toil.
Cast a fly for trout; my memories of fly fishing under the sunny blue Colorado sky remain; I yearn to build more . . . with more trophy Browns.
Listen for the swan’s calls on the Baltic Sea. Feel KKII's joy, his arms spread wide in Yazilikaya.
Good night, Jimmy Durante, where ever you are.