The Disregarded
There aren’t any, disregarded, unless I personalise. That is ‘I’ disregard something as a form of exclusion. Otherwise everything is loved by something. And loves in turn. Whatever form that takes. The loved and the loving, all is love in the mystery of no-thing. And all are relentlessly drawn to that union. Not as a group or gang, hive or flock, which has its place, but in being, undivided from the wondrous intelligence before the separation into me and not began. Or begins, since the beauty of being is now not then.
It’s why everything dies, and dies into the being of the beautiful Earth where all our existential forms begin to form, and before that still where no form is.
Sort of. ((:
Who cares, really? In the end, as in the beginning, the nuts and bolts are in meditation – on the pure sensation and the practise of being – no-existential-thing.
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This creature came in under the door and ran frantically round the room until it exhausted itself. I suspect the surface of carpet is the equivalent of walking on sand to an insect, not easy. So I picked it up, gave it some water, posed it for a few shots and sent it on its way.
Mole Cricket it’s called. They dig into the earth with those big strong looking claws. And do whatever they do under the earth. I don’t know and can’t imagine but what all creatures do.
The same things you and I do. Did you imagine something else?
© Mark Berkery ……. Click any picture and click again to enlarge
Dew Drop Time
Everything, the I in it I am, cycles through predictable change over time. Predictable to the objective observer. Most of it is no change at all, just the same old changing, changing the same old way. It’s a kind of change, or it is change itself. Really, the only change that matters is no change at all. Only nothing doesn’t change. And changes everything.
Dewdrops have a special place in the great scheme of change. They only occur at a certain time of day, a certain time of year, of life, when the circumstances are right. The most important of which is that I be there to see.
That makes sense. If I’m not there it doesn’t happen in my experience. And what else is there but my experience? Imagination? So it could be said I make dewdrops, by being there to sense them. Sense makes sense.
I make dewdrops.
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At dewdrop time the bugs are still asleep, for the most part. So it’s fairly easy to sneak up on them though they don’t sleep just anywhere. I have found a place where Dragons sleep, a field of long grass next to the creek-side growth of trees and bushes.
So far it hasn’t been easy getting a good shot with all the grass moving so easily but like anything it takes time to realise the optimal. And in the end that is what is allowed, or given, by a greater power than I. Being, of the well, what else.
My own true nature.
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No dewdrops today so it’s visitors to the marigold.
© Mark Berkery ……. Click any picture and click again to enlarge
The Lookout
Bugs are bugs. They are born and die just like people. And in between they eat, defecate, grow, kill, run, sweat and reproduce, just like people – mostly. They don’t think about any of it, unlike people – mostly.
I’ve never seen an unhappy bug – ever.
© Mark Berkery ……. Click any picture and click again to enlarge
I’ve never seen an unhappy bug.
© Mark Berkery ……. Click any picture and click again to enlarge
A Most Unusual View
Many times I have been shooting a fly that was rapidly rotating its head and every time missed it on the upturn. This time I saw it was rotating but left the fact out of my consideration re the shot and got it three times with one and six frames separating them. The originals look much better.
You’ve got to be a bit lucky. And surrender to the fact.
© Mark Berkery ……. Click any picture and click again to enlarge
Predator – Shield Bug
Came across this fellow recently.
Feeding on a bigger bug.
After a short while the weight became too much and its food dropped to the ground. So I arranged a few more shots.
I put it back where I found it and it immediately went in search of food. And found it in a resident Longhorn Beetle.
The Longhorn Beetle was aware of the bug but was slow moving and it didn’t get away.
Though the LB eventually made a ‘run’ for it.
The SB was tenacious. And the LB walked off into the bush with the SB in tow siphoning off its innards.
Symbolic?
© Mark Berkery ……. Click any picture and click again to enlarge
A Fly by Four
Someone said “Great pix, but flies are disgusting.” Disgusting is in the mind, a self imposed, self perpetuating condition that prevents from seeing the objective reality of awe inspiring – universal – intelligence behind the form. Objective reality – having its being independent of the observer. How can one see what’s behind the form if one is hung up on an interpretation of the form.
One, you, can’t. To get behind the form, the fact, you’ve got to get down to the fact. By leaving the interpretation out of it. And the fact is of sense, which resolves to the pure inner sensation – meditation.
It’s an exercise and there is no other way but to do it. When you’ve had enough of being lost in the mind–ing.
© Mark Berkery ……. Click any picture and click again to enlarge
Nature's Place 
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