Nothing is Still, Not Even the Stillness
January 15, 2023
Rise and fall bright and dim everything moves everything changes. Nothing is still, even the stillness. Earth turns light dawns deep colors reds and golds and darkest blues reflect the sound stirring in the darkness.
Light approaches colors brighten oranges now and lighter blues clouds unseen suddenly lit the crescendo as life awakens.
Then the lull the in-between colors fade light condenses to that one place on the horizon a held breath awaiting her arrival.
Finally she breaks the spell lights the clouds in white and gold a full burst of trumpets herald the dawn, a new day has come. Rise and fall bright and dim everything moves everything changes. Nothing is still, even the stillness.
Hello friends! This week I really wanted to give you an experience of sunrise, the way the colors change, especially in winter when it is stretched out and we get those extra deep colors. All of the above photos were taken over a 35-minute period on the morning of 1/10/2023. The first photo was 18 minutes before the official sunrise time and the last photo was 17 minutes after. These extended sunrise experiences are one of my favorite parts of winter.
(I wish this platform would let me put the words next to the photos - it would be a better visual! Maybe in a book someday?)
After our drought this summer, I really notice how sparse the vegetation is - and how it has impacted the bird populations. While we definitely have flocks of robins, blue jays, and juncos there are fewer than I usually see. Or at least fewer in the locations I frequent, my hope is they have found food and shelter in other locations. This makes it an extra treat when they do come to visit!
I’ve been contemplating the gifts and challenges of sparseness. The challenges seem easier to identify but what is the gift? I’m watching my furry and feathered friends for clues. Meanwhile, there is still beauty, especially the contrasting monotones that show up when there are fewer colors.
It’s been two years since my mother died. I feel her absence as a sparseness. A space where once there was color, form, love and belonging. I know her presence with me at times and still it’s not the same as a hug.
Take good care of your bodies, hearts and minds whatever your week has in store.
Gorgeous photos and poetry. I also look forward to your posts. (And your books!!) I lost my dearest friend during the same time you lost your Mom and you still graced us with your beautiful work each and every day. I am grateful for the inspiration, the joy, and the comfort, you continue to bring. Thank you, Karen
Grieving a lost parent is truly an experience of sparseness; parents could make the world fuller and brighter. Yet in that sparseness of grief, I imagine two eagles making their way across the sky, soaring, with a nod to each other. I smile. ( still grieving a lost mom in 2017 and a lost dad in 2021 but take comfort they are together). Take care of your heart, Karen.