my father taught me how to really see into nature despite having a blind eye turned to matters of the world. he told me how to gaze upon the scrubby bushes covering mountains and see the whole sleeping creature underneath, the texture, the fur of the world so to speak and the delicate worlds living therein are so small and potent such as the purple bud of the queen of the hills that when crushed gently and inhaled will transport to a place where beauty and calmness are things of air and water and earth and all the clamour and noise of the tv's and the cars fades away and there is a remembrance of what we really could be.
1 Comments:
Sitting in my living room in east London, at the start of a cold, dark wintry evening, that photo makes me pine with such longing for the countryside. I can't wait to sell up and move elsewhere in England - hopefully it will be within the next few months as my flat is up for sale and I'm looking right now at the possibility of Devon or Cornwall, lands of faerie and classic English countryside.
I love all the seasons when I'm closer to the natural world, but in the city, for all its modern delights, which I do appreciate, the only weather I can handle is sunny and hot. Anything else, the cracks start to show, the streets look dirty and everyone has this kind of template of a miserable face which depresses you as you walk down the street or travel on the tube. It's like Attack of the Po-faced Clones at times... If folks are so unhappy, why do they stay in unhappy places and unhappy situations? It doesn't take money to break out and be yourself. What it takes is courage and recognition there's more out there than the golden coin and what the boss tells you to do.
I love, love, love this photo and the words which accompany it. A slice of sunshine and nature and life.
Thank you.
Post a Comment
<< Home