Archive for April, 2012

This is what survivors look like.

Standing stunned and tattered on their desecrated land.

 Beaten into submission by an enemy much greater than they.

But who has really won here?

Winter is gone and these cattails still stand.



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For something to stand out, other things must stand back and

not compete for attention. The more subtly beautiful the background,

the more significant the object in the spotlight appears.

There can be honour in standing back, knowing it is integral

to what is in the spotlight.


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Repetition is sometimes thought of as boring and predictable,

but life itself is based on repetition – cells dividing and growing,

dividing again and then growing, on and on.

This process of mitosis is the very engine of our existence.

The fact that repetition can also create beautiful patterns

is just an elegant bonus.


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The mind can be a tangled place, overrun with thoughts and schemes

and memories and plans and and and.

But within this entanglement there are relationships, connections

and support. Something within your mental cacophony can trigger

a peaceful feeling, a pleasant awareness, a path back to the present moment;

just like grasses use shrubs to climb toward the sunlight

and the shrubs feed on the nutrients of the seasonal grasses.



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A rush hour of flowers herds its way up a hill in a hurry

to get somewhere as soon as possible. There is photosynthesizing,

pollination and so much more to be done. Where has the day gone?

This city of flowers is energetic; the close proximity of its inhabitants

makes growth contagious and leaves the air heady with

the intoxicating perfume of progress.


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It is not only the strong and forceful who will leave a lasting impression

on this world. Softness, patience and dedicated attention to minute detail

can also elicit dramatic results. The work of water on rock –

ridges, waves, cracks and holes – is testament to the power of softness.

For the meek shall influence the earth.

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If you look deeply into the past, it can mesmerize.

Take a simple roof shingled a half century ago.

Weathered, sun beaten, rain battered, coming out of the days-gone-by

in waves, hypnotically; each hand-shorn shingle a story,

an event, an overlapping layer of what was.

There are patterns from the past here that can hold your gaze infinitely,

if you let them.

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Somehow a sprig of lungwort has found purchase on the side of

a granite boulder painted green by the spray of corrosive lichen.

It is in the quiet moments of the late afternoon forest that

these unlikely dynamics come to light; this patient bloom

on a seemingly unwelcoming perch that results in

a dramatic portrayal of life on the edge.


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Stones on the beach rise and submerge, like the great mammals of the sea.

The comparison goes even deeper. A good percentage of sea mammals’

bodies are water, like their home environment, and one day they will

break down and infuse the ocean itself. The beach stones float in a

sea of tiny rock particles. They too will one day break down and

join the very soup in which they swim.


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Last year’s oak leaf lies facedown in a pool of water.

Spring shoots grow up around it, like pedestrians casually avoiding

a homeless person begging on the street. The leaf is right there

in front of them but the shoots have things to do, places to go;

even when the leaf finally breaks down and they feed off its remnant nutrients.

 But there is no judgement here. The leaf isn’t any the less for dying and

the shoots aren’t any the less for living.


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