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| There are two agates (at least) in this photo; can you see them? |
I move from shadows into light with anticipation, and I also notice fear, fear of loss of light. Thus, I miss full enjoyment of the light as I fall into anticipated shadows. I think that I am "preparing" myself for darkness, yet an onlooker would only see me gloomily sitting inside while sunshine and blue skies gild the nearby.
Walking along a gravel road in the evening after a rain, puddles can look like shadows, shadows like puddles, and at a swift pace, only in the stepping does one discover the difference.
Yes. Only in the doing, the experiencing, can we understand more fully.
I play Mahjong on my computer, a relaxing, simple game of matching tiles with Chinese symbols on them that my brother introduced me to several years ago (and I remember thinking how inane it seemed, wondering how he could waste time with it). And then I realized while playing one day that THIS is what life is like.
We think we are at the end. . . that no other possibilities for movement exist. . . and then, we see one more tile, turn it over, and everything opens up, everything changes.
We can never see everything or be fully "prepared" for what's to come. And in this Mystery is much of the joy that is life, and, of course, some of the suffering.
* I'm humming Rickie Lee Jones' tune, "On Saturday Afternoons 1963," beautiful and melancholy.
* I'm humming Rickie Lee Jones' tune, "On Saturday Afternoons 1963," beautiful and melancholy.
Very nice! I love that the game became an opening to another way of seeing. And I love this: "We think we are at the end...that no other possibilities for movement exist...and then, we see one more tile, turn it over, and everything opens up, everything changes." I always need to be reminded of this. Your post was timely for me this morning, when shadows loom on the horizon - only in my mind of course :)
ReplyDeleteI ALWAYS need to be reminded, too, Christine; glad that the reminder was a timely one for you. Hugs. . . ;-)
ReplyDeleteI get it. In the light but not fully because it might go away. Sometimes I fear when I'll stop liking things. Like I fear not loving the green paint on the kitchen walls that I now adore. I dread the day I don't like it anymore, it'll be such a sad day. It'll probably come. But maybe not. ;-) xo
ReplyDeleteOh, my, Peggy, yes: I suppose it's yet another description of fear of change, fear of not being able to summon the energy to face the changes. . . yet with the knowledge, the belief (faith?) that we still cannot see the entire picture and some lovely surprise may open up before us, like elves sneaking into your kitchen and repainting it for you----a color you never imagined, yet it is PERFECT. . . for the time being. ;-) xxxxoooo
ReplyDeleteI see one agate, maybe two. But if I were there, in that place, and saw one agate, I would anticipate seeing more and would continue looking. Hope and possibility come in many guises.
ReplyDeleteYes! Two! And, sure----I kept looking (and finding) for hours. Thank you for finding the connection, too. . . Blessings. . .
DeleteThanks for reminding us of possibilities when we least expect them!
ReplyDeleteYes. . . It's EGO that causes us to THINK we can anticipate and take care of everything, and it feels good to let go of that and see what opens up. Thanks!
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