My favorite reflections are water based even as I fully realize below the surface, life isn’t calm and still. Maybe it’s time to dive under and look back up, see the reflection from a different angle. Would a water’s eye view make me reconsider the beauty already around me?
There are moments these days when I have no idea what’s up or down. Is it the branch heading toward submersion? Or is it the tree growing unfettered against a cloud-speckled sky?
Spent but not yet done
Colors cling despite the fall
Giving as they fade.
Expose: to subject (a sensitive photographic film, plate, or paper) to radiant energy. A little drunk on sunshine after days of moody gray skies, I decided to open the exposure on the camera and go a little out of focus.
Brilliant green branches gestured toward the light, as if to usher up the path softened by fallen pine needles. A vague worry about the tree in the middle of the path is muted by curiosity about what is beyond. Yet when you arrive at the middle, with distance from the start and to the light muddled by pine straw, a polite sign invites you to choose a side: adventure on the left, amazement on the right.
The choice, it seems, is yours.
For the first four weeks of stay home/stay healthy (for me) Easter stood as a beacon of normalcy. We did attend Mass (on the computer), there was ham on the table. We gathered with family on Zoom (something which we’d never have done without an order to stay home). In all it was an Easter to remember with a smile.
Now the beacon is behind us. I feel like we’ve gone past all the harbor markings into a wide ocean without a plan.
Time to double down and stay the course.
Quiet spires just after dawn this Easter Sunday. It wasn’t until we tuned in to watch Easter mass on the computer – instead of watching from the choir loft – that the quiet finally sank into my soul.
I read a great comparison of this Easter to that first Easter: the disquiet, the uncertainty, the fear. We are encouraged to look to the empty tomb and fill our heart with the power of the day.
Faith. I think I look for it in every early morning walk. To fill the soul and bask in the light.
I headed out, mindlessly choosing the simplest direction: south on the alley. I noticed a chalk circle at the end of our part of the alley. Paused, wondered, went on. Then saw this arrow and figured I was heading in the right direction.
I usually look up on a walk but for some reason this day I looked down. And there on the sidewalk was a menu for this age. Comfort in every suggestion.
Walking in the middle of the street is my new normal. It’s the best way to avoid any awkward pas de deux with walkers heading toward me. I’m now familiar with the sensation of spying someone up ahead, guesstimating when I should detour to the street as the distance closes, then feeling mildly guilty when they move first.
Covidetours. Another reason to second guess.
This view caught me as the sun broke out through the clouds, the crest of the hill was nearly in reach. Who knows what lies beyond the crest?
Pretty much a parable for this week. Who knows?