daily childhood mysteries

Nikon D80 | 1/400 seconds | f 3.5 | ISO 100 | 50 mm

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“The important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reason for existing. One cannot help but be in awe when he contemplates the mysteries of eternity, of life, of the marvelous structure of reality. It is enough if one tries merely to comprehend a little of this mystery every day. Never lose a holy curiosity.”

Albert Einstein [German born American Physicist who developed the special and general theories of relativity. Nobel Prize for Physics in 1921. 1879-1955]

choosing the right mug for a good friend

Nikon D80 | 1/200 seconds | f 5.6 | ISO 320 | 80 mm
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today i "stumbled", at someone's recommendation, into a text called "life's little instructions". the author wasn't mentioned, but i enjoy it, although, i must confess, i do just about 40% of the things. i decided to sent it further to others, after adding to the list one of my own: "choosing the right mug for a good friend"

so there it goes..

"life's little instructions"
* sing in the shower
* treat everyone you meet like you want to be treated
* watch a sunrise at least once a year
* leave the toilet seat in the down position
* never refuse homemade brownies
* strive for excellence, not perfection
* plant a tree on your birthday
* learn three clean jokes
* return borrowed vehicles with the gas tank full
* compliment three people every day
* never waste an opportunity to tell someone you love them
* leave everything a little better than you found it
* keep it simple
* think big thoughts but relish small pleasures
* become the most positive and enthusiastic person you know
* floss your teeth
* ask for a raise when you feel you’ve earned it
* be forgiving of yourself and others* say “thank you” a lot
* say please a lot
* avoid negative people
* buy whatever kids are selling on card tables in their front yards
* wear polished shoes
* remember other people’s birthday
* commit yourself to constant improvement
* carry jumper cables in your trunk
* have a firm handshake
* send lots of Valentine cards. Sign them “someone who thinks you’re terrific”
* look people in the eye
* be the first to say “hello”
* return all the things you barrow
* make new friends and cherish the old ones
* keep secrets
* sing in a choir
* plant flowers every spring
* always accept an outstretched hand
* stop blaming others
* take responsibility for every area of your life
* wave at kids on the buses
* be there when people need you
* don’t expect life to be fair
* never underestimate the power of love
* drink champagne for no reason at all
* don’t be afraid to say, “I made a mistake”
* don’t be afraid to say “I don’t know”
* compliment even small improvements
* keep your promises no matter what
* marry only for love
* rekindle old friendships
* count your blessings
* call your mother

memories from his boyhood

Nikon D80 | 1/400 seconds | f 4.8 | ISO 160 | 48 mm [Orton Effect]
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first i wanted to write some text for this post, as usual. but analyzing all the thoughts that came into my mind i realized that a better way to express myself is to give you a fragment from a famous Romanian book called Childhood Memories, written by Ion Creangă, storyteller and memoirist. The book was translated into English a while ago under the title "Memories of My Boyhood". In this book the author gives an extraordinary tribute to his childhood, by reviving those days page by page. Actually, now that i think about it, things aren't that much changed in a certain way. Romania is, in proportion of 60%, still a rural country and many children are born and raise there until they have to go to college, if they go. Creangă's memories are in a way brighter than the reality today, when the children play less and work more, starting at the early age of six or seven.
I realize the fragment is quite long, but i have no doubt that you will enjoy it. it's a real delight. oh, and by the way, one more detail to increase your interest, almost every child had ore has to learn it by heart in secondary school, as a requirement for maternal language classes.
so.. there he goes:

"I don't pretend to know what other people are like, but for myself, I seem to feel my heart throb with joy even to this day when I remember my birthplace, my home at Humulesti, the post supporting the flue of the stove, round which mother used to tie a piece of string with tassels at the end of it, with which the cats played till they dropped exhausted, the flat ledge of the stove that I used to cling to when I was pulling myself up and learning to walk, the place on top of the stove where I used to hide when we children played at hide-and-seek, as well as other games and delights full of childlike fun and charm. Lord, what good times those were, for parents and brothers and sisters were hale and hearty, there was everything needful in the house, the sons and daughters of our neighbors were for ever romping with us, and everything was exactly as I liked best, without a shadow of ill-humor as if the whole world were mine! I myself was as happy as the day was long, whimsical and playful like the gusting wind.
Mother, who was well-known for her spells and cantrips, would say to me sometimes with a smile as the sun peeped from behind the clouds after prolonged rain: "Go outside, you fair-haired child, and laugh at the sun, maybe the weather will change." And the weather did change at my smile.
The sun no doubt knew what I was capable of, for I was my mother's son, and she in truth could work wonders: she would chase away the black clouds overhanging our village and drive the hail away into other places by sticking the axe into the ground, outside the door; she would so curdle water by means of a couple of beef bones that the people crossed themselves in amazement; she would hit the ground, the wall or any wooden thing that I bumped my head against saying: "Take that!" and forthwith the pain was gone.
When the red embers moaned in the stove, which is supposed to foretell wind and bad weather, or when the embers hissed, a sign that someone is talking about you, mother would scold the hearth and beat it with a poker to make the enemy shut up. More than that, if I didn't look as well as she thought I ought to, she would immediately lick her finger and make a muddy mixture with dust from the heel of her shoe, or, if she was in much of a hurry for that, she would take soot from the stove and say: "As heel or stove are free of the evil eye so let my baby be free of it!" and she would make a mark on my forehead lest her precious pet come to harm. These and many more things did she do.
That's what mother was like when I was a child, full of strange and wonderful practices, as far as I remember; and well do I remember, for she rocked me in her arms as I sucked at that sweet breast of hers and nestled in her bosom, babbling and fondly looking up into her eyes! I have taken my blood of her blood and my flesh of her flesh; I've learnt speech from her and wisdom from God at the time when a man has to distinguish between good and evil."
- Memories of My Boyhood (Childhood Memories), by Ion Creangă
Translated by Ana Cartianu and R.C. Johnston at Minerva Publishing House, Bucharest, 1978

Sources: http://www.tkinter.smig.net/Romania/Creanga/index.htm
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ion_Creanga

light and future in their hands

Nikon D80 | 1/400 seconds | f 5.6 | ISO 320 | 105 mm
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Childhood - The 21st Century

How advanced they are, these children of the future,
Like small adults, within their tiny frames,
They grow up in a fast 'speed driven' culture,
Where 'learning pressures' change their kind of games,
Where is their childhood, in all this hurly burly,
Where is their pure untainted view of things,
Why do they have to grow so old, so early,
And lose the joy that only childhood brings.

Our childhood was filled with thoughts of joy and gladness,
We lived our lives, oblivious to the world
And all the hardships, wars, the grief and sadness,
We stood, waiting for our lives to be unfurled.
We had time to grow, and gain an understanding,
Of each new phase, each change along the way,
As we grew slowly, our senses all expanding,
So with clarity, we slowly changed our play.

We had a framework on which to build and flourish,
Slow and steady, this was no rushed affair,
Taking each step, then step by step to nourish,
Our childhood, so finally adulthood we would share.
What will become, of these 'New Century' learners,
I doubt if they, a dreamy childhood see,
Will they then tell to all those bright discerners
Of their own, how they remembered their childhood to be.

a poetry by Ernestine Northover*

source http://www.poemhunter.com

cheatchatting thru life

Nikon D80 | 1/15 seconds | f 5.6 | ISO 160 | 200 mm
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I will always remember my first nikon week. it was also the first time when I was in the magic land of Sighisoara.. as you can see I was far for ready to use the camera, but I really like how it turned out this picture. I made me realized, again, the blessed period of childhood, without any wories..

"The child laughs: my wisdom and love is the game. The young man sings: my game and wisdom is the love. The old man says nothing: my love and game is the wisdom".
Lucian Blaga [a Romanian poet, playwright and philosopher. 1895 - 1961]
Lucian Blaga is the same who said “God, I have only one prayer: never let me be satisfied with myself!”

any day is a good deed day

Nikon D80 | 1/15 seconds | f 5.6 | ISO 160 | 125 mm
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.. as one friend stated today “the children that weren’t present, didn’t get any present from Santa.. hohoho”, I realized this Christmas [as I realize it every each one, and here I take my blame] that we are forgetting what are the real significations of it. And I remember what I read recently, an affirmation of Calvin Coolidge, the thirtieth President of the United States: “Christmas isn’t a period, neither a season, but a state of spirit. The true spirit of Christmas means to value peace and good willing and to offer, fully, compassion”. And remember.. we don’t really need the Christmas to gave presents.. any day is a good day for making good deeds :)

And now.. some kind of post scriptum.. Recently I was asked why I tend to see always the down side of things an accordingly to that to take photos and to manipulate them thru processing or thru the words I say. . So I made an inventory of all the entries in this last few past months since I started this photoblog [is great that I had also the time to do so].. and.. I discovered that it’s a doze of truth in those allegations. Still I refuse to comment upon the matter. Is my way to see things. Everyone else is free to get a camera and relate their own We all are moody human beings, or not?

Note: you can place your wish by clicking on the comments link on the top of the picture

the cotton candy mystery

Nikon D80 | 1/20 seconds | f 5.6 | ISO 160 | 135 mm
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most childhood memories include reaching up to grab huge, pink swirls of cotton candy clouds at the circus or an amusement park. It brings back hot summer days, crunchy sweet candy you can only eat with your hands and of course, pink sticky faces and clothes. The smell and scent are unforgettable - often times it makes one feel a bit nostalgic. and, above all, it always remains the cotton candy mystery.

carnival of joy

As I was wondering around the spider web streets of Sighisoara, one of the most revealing places of Romania, a loud drone of happiness bit my inner sorrow.. down the hill, with and enormous energy, were coming three little creatures of joy with yet undefined faces.. they seemed to be playing a strange game, with unwritten rules and bizarre hand sings, approaching faster that I was thinking this thoughts..
..and then.. there she was, like a rainbow in an almost sunny day..
hope that brings you the same feeling that she brought to me..

p.s. … and now, the funny side of the story.. while I was imagining the perfect shot, in slow motion, I almost lost the real one.. in that moment of confusion I said to my self that I have better chances to freeze the frameworks of the moment if I kindly came forward and speak to her. And so I asked her, in a very polite English, to pose for me.. Only God knows what was I thinking when I did that, but then it seemed to be the only way I had to stop her even just for 1/4000 second…
I was honestly frightened to lose that moment.. and then, like a divine intervention, she turned to her friends and, with a very puzzled look, asked them in the most pure Romanian language, my mother language, this: ce-o zis asta?, that stands for “what is she saying?”, in a free translation, translation that doesn’t even came close to capture the subtle irony of her genuine innocence.
Conclusion? I never got my perfect shot, this is the closest one and, as a matter of fact, the single shot taken before she fade away again in that blessed period of life called childhood

just a worries free day

“The things which the child loves remain in the domain of the heart until old age. The most beautiful thing in life is that our souls remaining over the places where we once enjoyed ourselves” - Kahlil Gibran [Lebanese born American philosophical Essayist, Novelist and Poet. 1883-1931]