It’s hard not to see
the sky as crying,
the trees as reaching
for things taught to them
in dreams, as whispers
in the interminable night,
not to see loneliness
in winter’s swift taking
of autumn’s leaves,
and hope when in spring,
buds sprout green and true.
Do the mountains
grumble with discontent
before they explode
their molten heat
on an unprepared city?
Do the rocks sigh
from the burden
of absorbing our pain
over the centuries?
I ask these questions,
and understand the work
I have to do, to sit
in silence with all beings,
until I know where
suffering really lies,
and where it is
we have our comfort,
our nourishing, our healing.
– Tammy Takahashi
Maybe you are tired (you are not alone).
The brightness, the lighness of step
receded, past resistance, to memory.
It’s been like this maybe for years;
you’ve stopped just shy of wondering
what happens between the early years
of boundless joy and laughter, and now,
and why and how and by whose design
we’ve come to decide on a version of life
less saturated, sparkling and true.
But something stirs. It is inside you,
a gem that cannot be buried long.
It pulses, takes you on the first steps
of a journey you could not have known.
There you are, as if grace itself appeared
to lift the veil, and so you do. And see,
you are standing, has it always been like this?
On the lost wing of stunning remains:
a one-winged butterfly, larger than any legend,
resting for awhile on a mount only rising.
Joy was there in the early morning,
Hoping we wouldn’t pass her by
In a world that always offers so much
To weary souls and striving minds
Living off the landscapes of our old stories,
Joy, that other most primal of emotions,
Waiting with a fierceness of strength,
Like the trees and mountains that
Fuse with our ancestral lines in evolution,
Yet with a love-laced gentility and grace,
Because she has weathered our histories,
She knows what we think we have needed
And what we can, when we try, come to know,
And she is there, on the other side of knowledge,
Her edges glinting in the new day’s sun,
Her borders diffusing at day’s fiery end,
And her capacity for play is infinite,
And her sparkle and reach will never wane,
And we can find her everywhere,
Instinct tells me that today is the last day of this project, and in honour of this, I repost my favourite shot of the series.
It’s not the most technically perfect short. It’s funny and blurry and a bit distorted.
What I love about this photo is that it is brimming with life.
This street, even this country, is not always brimming with my life, the way I experience it, anyway. But perception is a strong ally and a worst enemy, depending on our perspective. When I’m feeling low, I see an old street with an aging population and abandoned buildings – an abandoned commitment to life, and renewal.
On better days, I look around and see so much life it bursts my heart.
Life is just … life. We choose how to see it, and what to see.
Let’s choose life!
Thank you so much for your interest and participation. xo