it's possible there may be sun at some point.
I have no idea why I'm sitting here writing this, choosing pictures at random to post. but no, that's not true, I do know why I'm writing this, however pointless and rambling it might be. because I can, because it helps me.
one of the things I love most about my camera is that I miss so much the first time I see something, or I see it in such fine detail or from a overwhelming blur of distance that the pictures inside the pictures are lost to me. and it's only later, upon reflection, that I can see clearly.
I delete more now than I save. but I still save too many, for what purpose I don't know. my eight year old tells me to print some pictures, asks me why I don't print any. I don't know why, and again as I'm saying I don't know, I do. because I don't think the cost of the printing (the money, the paper, the ink, the chemicals, the time, the electricity, the gas) is worth another piece of something that won't last. so that it can end up in a plastic storage box somewhere, more clutter to burden the world with.
you can see how I limit myself, with all this heaviness of thought. it's a guilt and an unworthiness I caught from somewhere, a disease that winds itself around my spirit as artlessly as the ivy in the alder tree. wrapping around it with the softest and greenest of fingers and then hardening into what looks like a support or a cage, depending on your perspective.
but even with everything I've done badly or half-heartedly or wrong I know that three beautiful things have grown in and beyond me. so I suppose the pointlessness I so often struggle with is nothing more lasting than any other sort of light, or shadow.
Monday, October 6, 2008
it's grey today but not unpleasantly so.
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2 comments:
this is a marvelous post! The photos perfectly illustrate your words; even if you chose them randomly they work on every level. I like my Zen board the way you like your camera - it teaches me to let go, teaches me about fleeting images, and allows me to recreate. I think of you often when I take my walks, knowing we would be talking, or not, about all these things as the falling leaves spiral around us.
well then I'm pleased with the post, pauline, and thank you. I suppose that if I write whatever comes to mind, and choose whatever photos strike me, then the connections must be there somewhere, between the words and the images, seeing as how both came from inside(through) me.
I'm feeling brighter today, probably because I haven't been keeping so much inside and tormenting myself with it. I'm lonely sometimes, I have such good friends around me but keep to myself so much when I feel bad that it gets worse, but when I feel like that I hate to inflict myself on anyone, not wanting to sour their days. I think that's a big part of the weepiness, the apartness I impose upon myself.
I'm also 46, so maybe perimenopause? who knows. garden variety depression, a naturally melancholy disposition, some deep-seated neurosis, what does the name matter? I suppose the name helps suggest a certain course of action, but maybe it's not something that can be fixed, but just borne? I have no idea. but I'm not in the mood to be sorrowful and self-absorbed today, thank goodness. I'll just be grateful for that.
we'd have such good conversations on walks together, even when we weren't speaking. plus we'd have to be quiet, to eavesdrop on the discussions the birds were having.
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