Beauty comes to me as a love letter. Unfolding it, something enfolds me, and I cannot move past it. I am held by sight, sound and touch, sometimes even by a scent of something so lovely moving on is simply impossible. I must pause from whatever I am doing, wherever I am going. I must … More Is it not enough?
“Accept being shipwrecked.” Ah, yes, I think, as I come to this line in my morning reading. This wisdom is stabilizing. And then I smile at the irony the wordplay, a small gift of whimsy, ribbon wrapped around the greater gift of perspective. For the past 16 years, I have spent the mornings of late … More Shipwrecked – but reaching
At first I thought the birds had simply found a pleasant, albeit ironic, perch. A metal sculpture of a great bird, a raven or a large crow, perhaps, secured to a black pole and grounded in a garden. I was looking for birds, camera in hand, eyes scanning the winter landscape, where leaves do not … More And then some…
Lynda MacGibbon 