tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-308309722009-03-02T11:02:17.106-05:00--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.comBlogger69125tag: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

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