My dear Siya? She ends the year by holding still.
She wakes midwinter, without stirring.
She starts the year by holding still.
Very still. She has woven a basket to catch you, but did you see her move?
Then she holds still and pushes out clouds of sunlight.
Now she has your attention.
Then she holds still while the clouds bloom into stars.
Then she holds still, offering you her fruit.
In what is called summer, she ripens her leaves. Without moving.
And now, when the cold comes?
That’s right. She doesn’t move. You do, though, and that is enough. European wisdom says that this bush finds its full expression in its fruit, and dies back in winter, only to be born again. Oh, hardly. She holds absolutely still, as the sun blows through her like music. When you see that, you know you are one of her children. She is always here.
Categories: First Peoples, Gaia, Grasslands, Land, Nature Photography, Other People, Spirit, Sun
I love the visual imagery you create with your words. It enhances your photos.
I think, there is just a christian message to make believe in all those phrases of dead and return, no real look at nature like in your words and images.
Geez, Harold, this was really lovely.
What some would call “eternal life” – thank you for this sequence of thoughts and images!