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Archive for August, 2011

The cliff is an obstacle. The water is your will.

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What is the use of an old wheelbarrow no longer functional?  And what is the

good of unruly flowers escaped from the garden?  What is the point of this

rusted, broken-down, ill-kept … flowerbarrow?  Nothing really, except that

it has somehow gone past usefulness and become winsome,

something full of character and whimsy;

and can now stop a wayward traveller for a moment of contemplation.

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Beach Stones

A scattering of colourful beach stones lies on a stretch of monochromatic sand.

 What happens to the colour from the rocks that break down to form the sand?

 Where are the blues, the oranges, the reds, the whites? Look carefully at

the sand the next time you walk the beach. The colour is there in

minute particles. But you may find an even more beautiful thing

is that you took the time to examine something closely.

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The Horizon

A vibrant sunset across an arching horizon isn’t always the point of interest

in a picturesque scene; just like distant, glorious goals shouldn’t always

take precedence in your life. The random details right in front of you

day after day hold their own indisputable beauty.

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Standing alone can represent towering strength or abject loneliness depending

on the day, the light, the mood. It is not usually up to us to decide on the

interpretation, only to see it through gracefully till simple time

changes the atmosphere once again.

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Day’s end

A tender moment. Two ferns emerge from the crowd to lean on one another at the end of a day in the forest. There have been no fires, no tramplings, no disease, no one has been consumed in the hardscrabble existence that is life. While some plants dance in exaltation at this time, others simply hug.

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Have you ever exchanged a lengthy stare with a creature of the forest?

Stood there still as could be, just looking into wild eyes? Hoping you don’t

scare your newfound acquaintance; wanting to take in all the chaotic detail

of its physicality; until one of you turns away to go about his business

and then the connection is broken, except for the memory of the

moment that you carry with you from then on.

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