Four weeks of whiteness began on December 16th of 2009. I came to love the cold winter: its beauty and peace, the voice of snow, mystical, beyond the normal range of sound. Obligations to the outside world fell away. I slept without inhibition, ripping off hours of sleep, savoring it like fresh warm bread. When I was rested, I ventured into the woods, down to the small spring and stream there. Hoof prints of deer, pale blue arrows in the snow, clustered around spots where the animals had stopped to drink.
This particular day, in the silence of the woods, I came face to face with this creation by the spirit of water. In one form, she assumes an austere and pure shape; in the other, a playful, joyous motion, transforming and carving simply by journeying where she will, where nature leads her. Two discrete forms of the same element, one less fixed that the other, achieving together great beauty and cooperation. Even more, this note from nature was quickly writ, as the tableau was erased, melted, soon after I encountered it.
But this image, this winter gift, has returned to me again and again, making me pause and think carefully about what it means, in the dreaming part of me, in the splendid hours when the mind takes the time to savor and understand experience. I seem to be receiving a simple message about loss, and it comes from an old Gene Pitney song: Only love can break a heart. Only love can mend it again.
This particular day, in the silence of the woods, I came face to face with this creation by the spirit of water. In one form, she assumes an austere and pure shape; in the other, a playful, joyous motion, transforming and carving simply by journeying where she will, where nature leads her. Two discrete forms of the same element, one less fixed that the other, achieving together great beauty and cooperation. Even more, this note from nature was quickly writ, as the tableau was erased, melted, soon after I encountered it.
But this image, this winter gift, has returned to me again and again, making me pause and think carefully about what it means, in the dreaming part of me, in the splendid hours when the mind takes the time to savor and understand experience. I seem to be receiving a simple message about loss, and it comes from an old Gene Pitney song: Only love can break a heart. Only love can mend it again.
1 comment:
beautiful. thank you!
Post a Comment