Author: Marty Luster

Rhythm of the Tide

There are places, like the Goose Cove Causeway, where
the tide rushes into the cove, sounding like a
marathon runner sucking air during the
last kick before reaching the finish line.

The water foams and the buoys bend and the
tidal current rips under the bridge with just
a brief pause at slack to catch its breath before
reversing direction and roaring out.

Viewing the tide at such places can be
exhilarating and fascinating, but
I prefer to do my tide watching at the
calm pools and rivulets of Jones Creek.

In peaceful weather, through the afternoon into
the evening, I stand there listening to the
serene, quiet breath of the earth as the pool
gently rises and falls – a giant liquid Buddha.

It’s easy, in times such as those, to become
part of the pool, like the mist that sometimes forms
on the surface on a cool, still evening and
stays attached as the breath goes in and out.

My body is the body of the earth;
the rhythm of the tide governs my breath and
flow of the creek, pumped by the heart of the ocean,
nourishes me and cleanses me.

I will stare, listen and I will breathe with the tide
and receive renewed life blood from its flow
and be one with this wondrous world until
the tide runs no more and the creek  is finally dry.

Marty Luster

Encore, originally posted January 12, 2012

“The fog was where I wanted to be. Halfway down the path you can’t see this house. You’d never know it was here. Or any of the other places down the avenue. I couldn’t see but a few feet ahead. I didn’t meet a soul. Everything looked and sounded unreal. Nothing was what it is. That’s what I wanted—to be alone with myself in another world where truth is untrue and life can hide from itself.”
― Eugene O’Neill, Long Day’s Journey Into Night

By Shanti, age 5.

 Does anyone know of open gallery space on Rocky Neck next summer?

 The Good Harbor Beach footbridge brings to mind Van Gogh’s Langlois Bridge at Arles.

The Fish on Fridays series is a collaboration between Gloucester photographers Kathy Chapman and Marty Luster. Look for various aspects of Gloucester’s centuries-old fishing industry highlighted here on Fridays.

 Photo © Kathy Chapman 2013
http://www.kathychapman.com

The Illusion

At mid ebb I was sitting at the side of
a tidal creek along the edge of the marsh
that cushions Essex Bay like a large soft pillow
placed on a  hard granite bed.

The stream was long and snaked off into the distance
reflecting both the border marsh grass and the
thin clouds far overhead.  The stones in the water
were like signposts showing the way to the sea.

What a lovely scene, I thought, how gentle and sublime.
This is the way to experience life; immersed in beauty,
a vision to hold onto – a flashback of the
best there is –  a remembrance of joyful days.

Three hours later, the stream was gone, the rock filled
bed was mud, no more a mirror of sky and grass .
And the rocks, alone and exposed, spoke only of what had been;
my river of peace and beauty now empty.

This must be a magician’s trick, an illusion that
appears and enthralls only to disappear
at the pass of a wand or the murmuring
of some secret and ancient incantation.

But I am the sorcerer. I am the illusionist
who attaches to objects and scenes the word
sublime. I conjure up the images to
be remembered; if not for me, beauty would not be.

Marty Luster

An encore, originally posted February 12, 2012.

 From L, Marty Luster – banjo uke, Andrea Ebinger – mandolin and vocals, Peter Liacos –  6 string guitar, James Eaves – 12 string guitar and vocals, Len Burgess – 6 string guitar.
Photo, courtesy Charlie Carroll.

Missed all photo ops. Watched all of season 6 Breaking Bad. I’ll do better tomorrow. I did it for my family. Bitch!