An Intro is worth a thousand words...and questions. Always the Qs. Gates open.
Mind stories begin. Who are they? Who's art depicts? Are these real? They?
Why not before?...
So much in our mind's eye is irrelevant. Busy work. Filler. Waste.
The journey simply Is.
Colors simply are.
Winds. Breaths. Moments. Stills.
We hold the moth's wings and the flying is lost. We lose too much.
We're good at losing - too good at lost sight. So we take these moments. Others do the work. Photographer Karolin Klüppel turns her camera and does the work. And we sit and soar.
It's that easy: We let. We be.
We win for a while...
The irony is putting into words an image - a feeling - that is beyond all that clutter.
It should stand alone. It does.
But I'll have to go on about it anyway. About hers anyway. Anyway. ...young.at.the.window.will.show.us.her.grace.and.light.up.the.sky
The Dance is different from the Game. The Game is arbitrary. It's noisy. Prideful.
It lacks depth and significance. The thin name says it all. The Game is for kids.
The Dance is different. It is pronouncement. Statement.
It is off-our-asses and moving in Mind.
It is triumphal.
The Dance is Grace.
And it reminds. Girls on walls, girls with bugs, girls floating beneath - they remind us. Remind us of worlds beyond form. Beyond stricture. True worlds. Our Worlds. The Dance brings us back to where we are...
I'll wait. I'll watch from here. I'll see you cook and work and be.
I'll hear you, and I'll watch you smile.
...Yesterday I was out with you gathering. I felt strong and proud.
You bring lessons with every step. A thousand words with every intention.
I love playing apprentice - my readying role.
It fills my sleep and lights my daily rise. Not to rush to it.
Just to follow behind you. Closely behind. I'll wait...
Breath. Yasmin. Tall. Eyes. Backbone.There before. Timeless. Familial. We / They. Mom's worker. Stoic. Sandals. Firm ground. Brothers beside. Focus beyond.
She welcomes your seeing. She holds the day at the River.
I used to take those moments to break away.
Or maybe it wasn't so much breaking from, as it was going to. Kind of home and all of it.
In those moments I could see and feel everything.
The bubbles pop. The waves rush.
I could hear the air as it pressed out of me.
I could see the water gauze every sight-line between.
Womb-like. Warm/cool holding me like the Nature Mother.
I love the others and I would of course love the rejoin and the runandplay.
But not in these moments.
One breath, and a forever world away...
Wanda stands for all the children. She is all of them.
Part princess. Part knower. Part teacher and friend.
She'll take in our gaze and return the unwavering Still. She will represent.
Wanda is their strength and our wisdom - the reminder that the eternal begins
beyond our parochial knows.
Our noise and filler pale to her bounty.
Our clouds part to her rising sun.
We as the Fleeting will come and go. Wanda will remain...
Karolin Klüppel, a Berlin-based photographer, spent six months documenting the children of Mawlynnong, in the Indian state of Meghalaya. There, the Khasi People practice an ancient matrilineal system, where lineage is traced through the wife's surname, and the youngest daughter inherits her parents' property. (source: The Independent)