College professor and artist Michael Jones McKean made a machine that generates two-story rainbows with the flip of a switch. His rainbow machine is comprised of commercial jet pumps and custom-designed nozzles that spray a dense wall of water into the sky—it’s the same as how you can get a rainbow from the sprinkler in your backyard, just on a much more impressive scale.

Everyone forgets that Icarus also flew

 First, let me say, I am so sorry I've been the Queen of Lame with my lack of decent posts lately.  I've been busy busy with life and all it's multifaceted textures, surprises, colors, and more.


As a means of procrastination (lab report? nah...), I decided to read over some of my Dec. 2009 blog posts.  It's so interesting to get a peek into my mind/heart from a year ago.  So much has shifted in terms of my circumstances, but not so much in my heart.  And that's pretty cool.  It reinforces the fact that I am on a path that serves my authentic Self.

I am very much in one of my nostalgic moods...this happens once in a while, you know how it is.  Digging into old moleskines, flipping through photos, etc.

I can hardly believe how much has changed in one year.  ONE year!  12 months!  I predicted, on December 31, 2009 that this was going to be an awesome year.  It surely was.  It was simultaneously one of the most challenging, gratifying, and grounding times I've experienced.  I feel like I've evolved so much in such a short time, and continue to do so on a daily basis.


This past year has urged me to connect with and be grateful for a strength that I never knew was within me.

[I'll do a 2010 recap before the New Year!]

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Visiting my brother in Peru in March :)

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I have so much to emote right now, but the words don't want to come out through a keyboard, so I'll take a pen to paper.


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I was thinking about that evening with Jack Gilbert last Spring and it made me want to read everything of his all over again.  So I did.  Here's one for you:



Horses At Midnight Without A Moon

by Jack Gilbert

Our heart wanders lost in the dark woods.
Our dream wrestles in the castle of doubt.
But there's music in us. Hope is pushed down
but the angel flies up again taking us with her.
The summer mornings begin inch by inch
while we sleep, and walk with us later
as long-legged beauty through
the dirty streets. It is no surprise
that danger and suffering surround us.
What astonishes is the singing.
We know the horses are there in the dark
meadow because we can smell them,
can hear them breathing.
Our spirit persists like a man struggling
through the frozen valley
who suddenly smells flowers
and realizes the snow is melting
out of sight on top of the mountain,
knows that spring has begun.

The last thing I do
is step out to the back yard
for a quick look at the Milky Way.


The stars are halogen-blue.
The constellations, whose names
I have long since forgotten,
look down anonymously,
and the whole galaxy
is cartwheeling in silence through the night.


Everything seems to be ok.

We washed the dishes in the gurgling creek.  The roaring bonfire kept the mosquitoes away.  A new moon peeked down through the pine boughs.  We rolled out our sleeping bags and went to bed early, bone weary.

Music Explosion

Genius

::sigh::....really.