What we see depends on where we stand, sit, crawl or fly to see it. Think of a crawling baby's eye view of your house. It would be filled with chair and table legs, dust bunnies under sofas and beds, the grain of wood floors or texture of carpets and rugs. And how do you think you would seem to that child? If she or he could talk you'd probably learn more about the look and smell of your shoes than you'd want to know! So when I decided it was time to take my first photo of autumn, I tried to come up with a different point of view, one that I had not seen before. We're used to seeing flaming maple leaves framed against brilliant blue skies, twirling in midair or lying at our feet. But by placing my camera on the ground and using my remote shutter release, I was able to see this backlit leaf at eye-level, much as a worm might see it.

I'd like to share a comment that Kal Khogali (http://www.pbase.com/shangheye) posted on one of my recent photos. He wrote: "Art is about perspective, so it becomes infinite in my opinion. The same ordinary subject, but a different view. The more extraordinary that view the more artistic, and as such it begs the question what we believe is extraordinary. We all have to agree on some things being extraordinary, and it is the remainder (and by far the majority) that becomes the fodder of critics and fans."

I think we all have at least one pair of shoes that looks like this: somewhat shabby, perhaps with holes in the sole, most of the tread worn down. But we love them. They fit us like a second skin. When we're wearing them our feet feel happy and content. Often our Significant Others try to get us to throw them out, but we don't. Somehow we CAN'T. It would be like throwing out an old friend just because their hair has thinned out, their bellies sag, their clothes are sometimes stained. No, you stand by your old friends--and your old shoes--because they have stood by you in good times and bad.

I took this photo at school yesterday. Actually, this is just one of many photos I took of the kids' shoes. They thought I was a little bit nuts. "Why are you taking pictures of our shoes?', they asked. "Because that's what artists do--try to come up with subject matter that others might not notice. And if it's of something ordinary, that's all the better."

What do you think?

My husband Ed and John Snyder have been making music together for almost 60 years, Ed on the piano and John on the harmonica. Ed and John were both Psi U's at Michigan State University back in the late 40s and early 50s, and Ed even lived with John's family in East Lansing after John had graduated. John was a groomsman in our wedding 41 years ago, and we doubled out with him and his now-deceased wife Betty on their first date. Even though John has lived in the Washington, DC area for 50 years, and Ed and I have been in the Detroit area all of our married life, we've remained best friends. So when John planned a trip to Michigan to celebrate his 60th high school reunion, he naturally included an overnight visit with us. And it's been great! Not only do we make music together--I add voice to the mix--but we share our artistic passions as well, John with his videos, and me with my photos. There's nothing like old friends to warm your heart.

Arlington Midwest was more than a symbolic reminder of the human cost of war: it was a place where that cost could be openly expressed. Ray was an example. Grand Circus Park in downtown Detroit is home to many of our city's homeless. And all too many of these folks are veterans of America's many wars, especially Vietnam and, most recently, Iraq. So when this travelling installation of over 4200 mock wooden tombstones and poles with the names of both U.S. troops and civilians killed in Iraq came to their park, there were strong reactions. Dan Lombardo, Detroit's organizer for this event, and the volunteers he had enlisted to stay with the installation 24 hours a day from Thursday through Tuesday morning, were often in the line of fire. When I got there on Saturday afternoon, they'd already had to call the police once because of Ray's rage and threats. But the police had never shown up. So when Ray, an Iraq war veteran, again got in Dan's and then in Cindy's faces with his yelled objections to the Arabic music that was part of the CD that accompanied the exhibit, we all understood but were uneasy about where this might go. After Ray had ranted for a long ten minutes, I found myself scooting up and taking his hand. He stopped yelling for a moment and looked down at me. I said, "My name's Patricia. Can you tell me your name?" I can hardly describe what happened next. Within a minute or two I'd opened my arms, and Ray had put his head on my shoulder and started to weep. It was then that we saw the wrenching grief and remorse that his anger was trying to hide, especially from himself. "I trained these boys. I should have protected them!" He then told us of a 19 year-old man in his unit who had died in his arms after his legs had been blown off by a roadside bomb. We never know, do we?

I've put up a gallery of my photos from Arlington Midwest. CLICK HERE to see it.

I'm sorry but I'm not ready for summer to end. Yes, fall is beautiful with its crisp sunlit days and flaming colors, but. There's always the BUT of winter waiting in the wings, especially here in the northern states of the U.S. And I know, winter's lovely too with its stark blacks and whites, its pared-down essence, the very essence I said I wanted in yesterday's entry. But. Winter makes it hard to me to get around in my scooter, especially if there's lots of ice and snow. Winter means short dark days. Winter means making dates or appointments that always end with the phrase, "Weather permitting." Winter means hungering for the color green. Winter means wearing layers and layers of clothes. OK, you get the picture.

But today I will go outside in shirtsleeves, scoot on accessible streets and sidewalks, be surrounded by the color green, feel the sun kiss my bare arms, and take photos to my heart's content. Today is still summer.

Today was my first day back at school and our assignment couldn't have been more perfect. September 21 is the International Day of Peace and our inspired and inspiring art teacher, Ms. Susan Briggs, celebrated it by asking the students to make "Pinwheels for Peace," a project started in 2005 by two high school art teachers in Florida. On September 21, 2006, they estimate a million pinwheels were planted in 2,500+ locations! You can go to their website at http://www.pinwheelsforpeace.com to read all about it and to participate yourself.

This is the seventh year I've volunteered in Susan's art classes at a K-5 school in East Dearborn, Michigan. I've learned so much from her and from the students, most of whom are first or second generation immigrants from the Middle East. I started volunteering there in October 2001. It was my wish to do some small thing to counterbalance the terrible anti-Arab anti-Muslim attitudes and actions that were sweeping across America after the attacks on September 11th. My role there is loosely defined: usually I simply sit at the children's tables--a different one each week to keep it fair--and work on whatever art project they're working on. Today it was the Pinwheels for Peace.

Since I don't have parental permission to post photos of the children online, whenever I do take photos of them, I have to be sure they can't be identified. That's why this Grade 5 girl is holding her pinwheel in front of her face, and it's why the PBase gallery I've posted of the kids making art is focused on their hands. That gallery--"Young hands make art"--can be seen if you CLICK HERE.

My volunteer day this year is Thursday so don't be surprised if every Thursday afternoon (Detroit time) my photo-a-day has something to do with school.

As I woke and slept during the night, I realized I wanted to create a gallery of the photos I took on my last day in Washington, DC, photos that were inspired by Edward Hopper. Instead of unpacking, that is how I've spent my first day back home. That, and sleeping in until 12:30 p.m.! I call the gallery, "Seeing the city through Edward Hopper's eyes" and to see it you can CLICK HERE.

I thought I'd be putting up a photo of my wonderful nephews, nieces and grand nieces and nephew today but the artist in me took over and decided which photo she wanted used. Maybe if I hadn't gone to the Edward Hopper exhibit at the East Wing of the National Gallery of Art this afternoon you would have been seeing seven grinning faces instead of this study in light and shadow, but Hopper's that way: he gets under your skin. What a master in working with light! Most people get so caught up with the narratives--or implied narratives--of his paintings of alienation and anonymity in the city that they miss his craftsmanship. And light was Hopper's passion. It was all I could do to keep my hands off my camera as I went through the exhibit. The minute I left the building, my camera was to my eye. I couldn't wait to see this city--Washington, DC--through Hopper's eyes. And what you see above was just one of many photos I took in my search for interesting light and subjects that evoked feelings similar to those evoked by Hopper's subjects. To be honest, it was great just being a photographer again! It's a pretty intense existence being an out-on-the-street activist and photo-documentor for six solid days. I was ready for a break.

Tomorrow I start my drive back home and will be unable to post an entry that day (Monday). I'll catch up with you again after I get home on Tuesday.

This photo is of Bruce, a Veteran For Peace from Minneapolis, Minnesota. He was one of dozens of activists I met during my vigil today in front of the White House. Actually, Washington, DC is a beehive of activist excitement tonight as everyone converges on the city for tomorrow's huge antiwar rally and march. It starts with a rally at noon in front of the White House that will be followed by a march to the west side of the Capitol. Much as I loved today's opportunities to meet and talk with so many amazing people from around the country, I have mixed feelings about being part of tomorrow's activities. I'll be there for sure, but, for me, large demonstrations like this no longer feel as effective as my solitary vigils. Yes, being part of a huge crowd of like-minded folks is sweet, but it also feels like we're preaching to the choir. Since these marches occur on Saturdays when all the city workers are off, no one sees us except small numbers of tourists. The media gives these events little attention, and if they do cover them, they always downplay the numbers of persons participating. We're presented as a fringe group that has little credence, even though people go to great efforts to come here from all parts of the U.S. and even from other countries. I've been to more of these large DC marches than I can remember, and I may be wrong but I think tomorrow is going to be a big one.

So, why do I say that I think my solitary vigils have a better chance of being effective than the big demos, and what do I mean by the word "effective?" I define effective as being capable of changing minds and hearts, in this case regarding our attitudes about peace & war, freedom & oppression, and whether we see our global neighbors as sisters and brothers or enemies. For me, solitary vigils have that potential because they focus not on the already-converted but on the questioners, those who ride the fence in their understanding of an issue, and even those who disagree with the vigiler's viewpoint as presented on his or her sign. And the major difference between a large demonstration and a solitary vigil is that the latter, when done with a spirit of openness and in a non-confrontational way, encourages one-to-one dialogue, and to my way of thinking, dialogue is what can change minds and hearts, the vigiler's first of all. On the contrary, most speeches given at a rally like tomorrow's are filled with rhetoric that excludes all points of view except those held by the organizers and the majority of the marchers. I find these speeches are often strident, critical, and dripping in sarcastic, meanspirited portrayals of the leaders whose actions they are protesting. Many of the participants' signs also reflect this negativity.

I've come to the awareness that if I don't model the peace I want nations to practice towards one another, then I am as much a part of the problem as the war or leader I am protesting. In order to model such a spirit of peace, I must set aside my rigid ideas of what is "right" and be willing to listen, really listen, to the views of those who disagree with me. This is VERY hard to do, at least for me. But listening is the heart of dialogue. It is very different from debate where each person is trying to talk the other into their way of thinking; instead it is where each person--or even just one person--is trying to understand the other and find common ground. My personal experiences of solitary vigils have afforded me opportunities to practice the art of dialogue, and in so doing, have opened the door to change, both within myself and the person with whom I am engaged.

But even if dialogue is not a major part of a solitary vigil, as was the case for me this time, just being out there is enough. People are touched by your presence, by your willingness to stand up publicly for your beliefs even if they disagree with you. And anyone who reads your sign takes it in like they take in food or the air they breathe. Whether they like it or not, your message takes up permanent residence in their minds and hearts. Just as we become what we eat, so we become what we see and read.

So, yes, I will be at tomorrow's rally and march but it can never surpass what I have already experienced during these past five days of vigiling by myself on behalf of negotiations with our neighbor Iran rather than war. There are no words to express how grateful I am to have had this opportunity, and how grateful I am to you, my PBase sisters and brothers from around the world, for your ongoing support. I could not have done it without you.

I took many photos of the wonderful people who crossed my path today and, as always, you can see these newly-uploaded images by going to my Iranian Vigil for Peace gallery. CLICK HERE to see them.

Friends, I have had an extraordinary day here in Washington, DC, a day that has filled me full to bursting with hope for our world, and a day that has left me so sleepy I can barely keep my eyes open even though it is only 8:30 p.m. What I'm going to do is take a shower and go to bed. When I wake up, which is likely to be in the early morning hours, I will prepare and post today's collection of photos and write my blog entry. But first let me get some sleep...

It's now 6 a.m. and I've been up since 1:30 a.m. working on my photos from Day #3 of my peace vigil here in DC. I've just finished uploading 39 new photos to my Iranian Vigil for Peace photo gallery. CLICK HERE to see them. And now I'm going back to bed for a few more hours of sleep. I'll write Wednesday's blog entry when I get up. I promise!

It's 9 a.m. on Thursday and I'm back, ready to share Wednesday's many adventures with you...

I call this blog entry "butterflies of hope" because of the people I met, people who are acting in ways to bring peace and justice to our nation and our world, with the emphasis on the word, "act." People like the coalition called A.R.T., Activist Response Team. On my way to Capitol Hill for my daily vigil for a peaceful solution to our concerns about Iran, I happened upon a group of people in a park near the Capitol. I heard them before I saw them because they were speaking through a sound system using phrases like "End the war now!" and "Peace in the Middle East." I could tell they were my kind of people! And when I crossed the street and saw the decorated truck with a "Gold Star Families for Peace" banner on its side, I knew I was right. For the next 45 minutes or so, I talked with Laurie Arbeiter, one of the organizers of this postcard action for peace. Laurie is an artist/activist who was one of the founders of The Critical Voice in NYC (http://www.thecriticalvoice.org, the group that started the "We will not be silent" T-shirt and banner campaign. She showed me one of 9 books with over 4000 copies of postcards written by people across the country who want their elected officials to represent their views and stop the wars and aggression that the U.S. has been engaged in, especially since 9/11. I also heard these messages being read aloud on a stage--that was what I'd first heard--which I learned they'd been doing throughout the night. And I met Barbara Cunningham from San Antonio, Texas, and Ann Shirazi for NYC, who was so grateful when she saw my sign. Ann has been married to an Iranian man for 40 years and calls his family in Iran her own. Like I, Ann is terribly concerned with the current White House PR campaign to demonize Iran in preparation for attacking it. This group's planned action was to take their 9 books of postcard messages to the Speaker of the House, Rep. Nancy Pelosi's office at 11 a.m. and stay there until she met with them. Several were prepared to be arrested if necessary.

So, by 9:30 a.m. I had already seen my first butterfly of hope. But there were many more to come.

Soon after parking my scooter and holding up my sign in front of the Rayburn House Office Building, I was greeted by Col. Ann Wright, a co-founder of Code Pink, and her two companions, Brandy and Miles. Ann and I had gotten to know one another last summer when she was part of the Troops Home Fasters in front of the White House, and I was there mounting my 18-day solitary vigil for Lebanon. Today they were on their way to Rep. Nancy Pelosi's office to join the A.R.T. postcard campaign.

The next butterflies--and there must have been 100 of them!--marched right by me on their way into the Rayburn House Office Building to see their Congresspersons, including, as it turned out, Rep. Nancy Pelosi. Lots of action in her office on this beautiful September day! It was the deported immigrants' rights icon/activist/organizer Elvira Arellano's community from Chicago, and they wanted to talk with their elected officials about the rights they deserve under our Constitution but are not receiving. This group of men, women and children had just arrived from Chicago by bus--at least a 20 hour ride--and would be turning around and going home tonight. But for now they were full of energy and life! Included in their numbers were 8 year-old Saul, Elvira's son, and the Rev. Walter Coleman, pastor of the church where Elvira took sanctuary for many months.

And this gathering of butterflies wasn't over yet. Next I met Meg and Ovidio Pena Wer, parents of Mario, who had walked from Chicago to DC on a March for Peace that had started months ago in San Francisco with two students, Ashley Casale and Michael Israel. Not long after I met Meg and Ovidio, Ashley and Michael appeared, but only long enough for me to snap a quick picture as they were also joining the A.R.T. folks in Rep. Nancy Pelosi's office.

From then on, it was butterfly by butterfly. Jim Goodnow, a 68 year-old Texan, who has not been home in over two years because of his commitment to driving the 40 foot Yellow Rose Peace Bus (http://www.theyellowrosepeacebus.com) around the country, going wherever he is needed. He told me he'd covered 29 states and approximately 35,000 miles in that time! Bill McPherson from Washington state, who was in town for this Saturday's antiwr march and carried a huge handmade sign on which was written, "Defend Our Constitution--2008 Is Too Late--Impeach Now!" Anne and David Bollen from Goulburn, Australia, who stopped to voice their support of the messages on our signs and even posed in a group portrait while holding my sign. Engy Tawfeik, who is on the faculty of economics and political science at Cairo University in Egypt. Jim Goodnow remembered seeing her with her students at General Petraeus's speech before Congress on Monday, the speech in which he said the "troop surge" in Iraq had been successful. Successful??? Camp Casey's Poet Laureate Rick Burnley who recited several of his excellent political poems to Bill McPherson and me on the street corner. And finally, the Monarch butterfly who is pictured above. I met this butterfly in the tiny jewel of a park where I took my breaks and finished my day.

But there were other unnamed butterflies fluttering around me all day long, and these were the countless passersby--many of them staffers for Congresspersons inside these halls of power--who expressed their support for my message in words and gestures. Yes, it was a VERY good day! And now it's time to get out there again...

Day #1 of my Iranian peace vigil was excellent, and I have all of you to thank for that. Well, maybe not ALL, but certainly most! Yes, I sat by myself with my sign in front of the American Enterprise Institute from 8:30 a.m. until 4 p.m. with a half hour off for lunch, but I never felt alone. It was as if I were surrounded by large numbers of my sisters and brothers, all of us wanting the same thing, all of us willing to respond kindly to unkindnesses--only one, really, when a woman called me a moron--all of us ready to dialogue nonviolently with anyone who felt so inclined.

I'd thought I was going into the "belly of the beast" because the American Enterprise Institute (AEI) is considered the #1 neoconservative think tank in the U.S.--Dick Cheney's wife is one of its executives--but instead I found individuals who may not have agreed with my message but who, in almost every case, were courteous and sometimes downright kind. Now some of that may have been because I was totally non-confrontational, smiled a lot, and am a "little old lady in a wheelchair," but it might also have been the fruit of some inner work I did on my long drive to DC. I'd realized that I still had some hatred of the "powers that be" and that if I mounted a solitary vigil with that kind of negativity in me, I would be doing more harm than good. So I released it. And today I saw that I really had, because when Newt Gingrinch walked right in front of my scooter, my immediate response was a smile and a nod. Yes, I've come a long way!

Let me talk about the kindness of strangers. It was a very hot, muggy day, and folks seemed worried that I might get overheated. One young man came up and gave me a cold bottle of Gatorade. Then Manny, an older Asian-American man who I think manages the copy center in the same building as the AEI headquarters, came outside several times expressing concern that I was in the sun--that spot made me more visible to people walking along the street--and finally put his own hat on my head! He also gave me a cold bottle of water.

And now to tell you about people's reactions to my sign. Yes, there were a few openly negative reactions but only one that was mean-spirited (the moron comment). And I saw quite a few pursed lips and pinched noses as if they were smelling limburger cheese, but what surprised and delighted me were the dozens of positive responses expressed by passersby and even by people who had attended the AEI presentations. I received more "thank-you's" than you could imagine, lots of thumbs-up, and even a round of applause from an older man who was walking by. And lots of people took my leaflets!

Now I am one tired puppy who just wants to lay her head down on the pillow and dream of my PBase sisters and brothers who are here with me in this work for peace. Tomorrow is another day and I want to be nice and rested before I take my message up to Capitol Hill, 'cause that's where I'm off to in the morning. See you out on the streets...

I've added 19 more photos to my Iranian Peace Vigil photo gallery. CLICK HERE to see them.

Tomorrow (Saturday) I will get in my wheelchair-accessible van and head southeast towards Washington, DC. This 500 mile/804.6 km trip takes me two days to drive by myself. For the next six days--from Sunday afternoon through Friday evening--I will mount a solitary vigil for peace in front of the White House and the U.S. Senate and House office buildings. All day Monday, September 10th, I will be on the sidewalk in front of the headquarters of the neoconservative think tank, the American Enterprise Institute, where they will be hosting two public presentations, one of which is called “The Iranian Time Bomb.” My final day of demonstrating--Saturday, September 15th--will coincide with a massive anti-war march and rally in DC which I plan to attend. On Sunday I hope to get together with family and friends--I was born and raised in the Washington, DC area--and, all going well, I'll be back home in Detroit by Tuesday evening, September 18th.

As you see in the photo, the sign I will be holding all week says “Don’t bomb Iran.” It is illustrated with two photos from Ali Majdfar’s beautiful PBase gallery, “Throughout IRAN.” Ali and I have been in contact regarding my intention to mount this vigil, and he offered his photos for me to use in any way that might be helpful. As it turned out, he chose one and I chose the other. I am only sorry I had to crop his exquisite photo of the bridge in Isfahan in order to make it fit on my sign. But I know Ali will be OK with that. He and I are in this together. I will feel his presence beside me every minute of every day.

I will be unable to post a photo blog entry tomorrow (Saturday) but intend to post daily entries during my entire vigil. Please hold this small effort for peace in your hearts. May it help my government’s leaders wake up to the disaster they are contemplating. May all who see my sign stop and think before they support any attacks on Iran. But most importantly, may Ali and his countrymen and women be protected from harm.

Studies are conducted, classes taught, speeches given, workshops facilitated, organizations founded, groups formed, films made, books written, dialogues encouraged, even laws passed and enforced. For what? To help us learn to live together without prejudice or discrimination, to break down the barriers we put up that divide us. How complex we make it seem. Yet all I had to do was spend time at the jazz festival with my dear friends, DeShaun and Neil, to see the answer to our struggles. As the song says, "All we need is love." Differences in race, age, gender, ability, size, sexual orientation, religion, economic and social background, education, ethnicity, national origin. None of it is any match for the power of love. That's what DeShaun and Neil taught me without saying a word.

After having posted my gallery of self portraits called "Facing up to my face at 65", and hearing from viewers that this visual expression of coming to terms with the effects of aging was helpful, it occurred to me that I might do the same with the subject of disability, a subject I know intimately.

In September 1988, I was diagnosed with chronic progressive MS (Multiple Sclerosis). In 1994 I started using a cane. In 1996 I moved up to a walker. And in 2000, I graduated into a mobility scooter. Through it all I brought my artistic sensibilities to the process by decorating my assistive devices. I retain my independence with the help of my wheelchair-accessible minivan, Sojourner Truth.

So I've just put up a gallery that I call, Able or not, here I come!. Hopefully it will give you some idea of what it's like to live in a body that can't always do what you ask of it. I plan to add to this exploration as time goes on. CLICK HERE to visit my new gallery.

As the Labor Day weekend gets underway here in the U.S., every moment of warm sun, green grass and leaves, flowers in bloom--even those on their last legs like the ones shown here--becomes precious. I scoot down our neighborhood streets with heightened appreciation for the gift of summer, my favorite season. Already I see the occasional red leaf, but I don't want to photograph it. Not yet. Fall will come soon enough, barreling through on gusty winds with outrageously brilliant colors. But today, all I want to do is savor the birdsong that comes through my open bedroom windows, air so warm it caresses my skin like a tender lover, clothing so light I even don't know it's there, and a long holiday weekend of glorious, free jazz in downtown Detroit. I know the season to come will bring lessons in letting go, but not yet. I'm not ready to learn those lessons just yet. Today is for holding tight to the wonders around me, the joy whose name is summer.