Archive for October, 2011

After the Storm

When you feel ravaged by a particularly fierce storm in your life,

know that the persistent sands of time will eventually heal

the open wound of your hurt and restore your serenity.

Trust in this because that is the way of nature and

you are no more and no less than part of the natural world.


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A dying tree peels back its outer layer bit by bit, slowly disrobing

in its promenade to death. And even as it reveals

its time-ravaged body, it does so with grace and dignity

so that there is beauty at the end of life.

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What is it stealing softly up the lane, scaring the leaves into colourful flight?

Could it be winter sniffing about, looking for a place to spread its white quilt

and hunker down, all breezy one minute and frozen solid the next?

Our fortunes can sometimes be read in the leaves.

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A birch leaf rests atop a maple leaf that bends the surface of

dark water reflecting the trees and sky above it all. There is a point

where all of these layers of reality come together; a point where

leaves meld into water into reflection into light. That point exists

within all of us, too. It is that humming, vibrating place of

our consciousness where everything and nothing exist all at once.

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Tales Adrift



The prow of an old building comes at you, plying the vanished waters

of a ghost sea; cargo abandoned, passengers, crew and captain

long disembarked. In the wake of the creaking hull there are stories –

histories of travellers no longer here, most forgotten.

The tales are adrift, waterlogged and sinking, slowly,

inevitably below the surface of our awareness.



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Search Pattern

Roots crisscross a path. They are worn clear of their bark by the

scuff and footfall of sightseers probably not even looking down.

The roots lace the woods with their design; a pattern brought about

by the hungry search for moisture. And just like the walkers

in the forest look overhead for beauty, the roots look below

for moisture, even though it falls plentiful from the sky above.

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The search for truth is often convoluted. This root has come above ground

in a quest for moisture. It does an incremental writhe in its hunt;

circling, branching out and then returning back under the ground.

Relentless until death, the seemingly illogical tendril creates

aesthetic wonder in its simple but vital task.

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How would an artist paint this scene? How would he choose the

blue for water that is reflecting the colour of the sky?

The yellow for a leaf mimicking the colour of the sun?

The spilt-box-of-Crayons colours for the chaos of natural beauty

awaiting his canvas? He could only be successful if

he was painting for the process, not the result.

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Your reality is based on your perception of your surroundings.

If you want to alter your reality, you can change your surroundings

or you can change your perception of the place you are at.



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She artfully decorated her wild hair with butterfly leaves,

dressing for a forest ball. She really didn’t care what was in fashion

that season or even what others might think about her designs.

She had reached that glorious point in life where

her own style mattered more than the whims of others.



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