Tuesday, December 11, 2007

"...to see it there in just this way I wonder, how survive; and how cruel the axman take another swipe at life. Oh bruised sky above I pray, in sunshine give it peace, for I do fear it's dreary life, in bending more decease." Seeing a weeping willow this summer, those words came to mind. That poor old tree had been battered by ice, goats, and lawnmowers. It was a difficult time, and my eyes were only accustomed to such sights then. "What we see depends mainly on what we look for." John Lubbock There was a great deal of adversity back then in those July days, but also a good deal of light, thank goodness. People that I knew and some I did not even know at all became beacons though, lighting the path of friendship and kindness, most often times the latter was from strangers. In the mail came new surprises, correspondence from near and far. A story had been done in a newspaper about this little old farm and it's "back story", it's true essence of a vocation fledged out like a little bird given wings to fly. In the midst of a great disappointment, a letter from the east came(due to the article)"You are beautiful" it said. I certainly didn't feel beautiful, but it was a deep kindness sent to convey the feelings of the story. It helped me, brightened my moment-as I sat upon my porch swing,tears ever present on my cheeks. I do not believe it was meant to validate-it was the kindness, the take-the-time-to-write, the "I was touched, I had to respond" kind of gesture. From the east, and west and the city of angels- letters came. I began to see and feel other's stories as my own, for they were my own-as every one's sorrow came into the fold I realized the connections we all make, must make to brighten this world up a bit, for each other and ourselves. And the misery I speak of was transcended by each of those writers-as a deeper appreciation for life, it's moments of bewilderment, joy and sorrow-came together in such a way that a revelation, a shape formed. It resembled a heart, this shape-but it's boundaries a bit fuzzy, you cannot see it by looking directly at it, no- one must use the eyes of hope. They are often so hard to open, those darn old near-sighted eyes, to see the beauty in the many facets that make up a person, a life. Look for a joy- a single solitary joy, I promise you'll find it. Look for a sorrow, you'll find that too, all around-too much of it. Open up those hopeful eyes, share with me, with the world what you see...won't you? Thanks. Take care-

(A little late in posting today, ice+satellite mix=malfunction.)

1 comment:

bam said...

maybe late, but never less than beautiful, wondrous. free form poetry. every word. and wisdom too. signed, a believer
p.s. the beauty those letter-writers saw, it's real. i saw it with my clear-seeing eyes before i ever laid eyes on you.
p.s.s. can't wait to see what you stumbled on in your walk this mornin' (wednesday), and so so sorry for the empty, unfillable space on your canvas.