Manna Meditations

sometimes i find the manna at the threshold of the day …

… standing still and quiet on my doorstep:

💛

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Everyday Wonder

A gift to the current Me, from the girl I was last Fall …

Every once in awhile, this magical thing happens to me.

I’ll be plowing through my day, hurried and tense, when suddenly I’ll stumble over a little loveliness, left behind by my past self.

It’s like a gift, really:  the rose petal pressed between two pages.  The poem scribbled on a cocktail napkin, tucked in my coat pocket.

Today though, I found a gift on the memory card of my beat-up old Canon Rebel:

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I don’t know how it happened, but I must have forgotten to load a set of photos from last Fall, because when I plugged in my camera cable and flicked my Rebel on to download new material, a sudden wash of yellow blazed across the screen — the unmistakable colors of Autumn.

I was a little sad back then:  my heart still raw over a dear friend who’d hurt me.  But an aching heart is good for art — every artist knows that — because it’s hungry for the Light.  

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(And when it comes to the Light, hungry is a good thing to be.)

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I still remember taking these shots:  in a sudden fit of frustration, I’d pulled the lens off my camera and simply held it in place, letting the light leak through.

The result is a series of unedited shots that look like watery Impressionist brushstrokes, washed with sun, messy and soft:

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And I needed messy and soft today…  

Maybe you do, too. ❤

 

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Everyday Magic

The Sunshine State, in Black & White

For a long time now, I’ve had a special place in my heart for Florida.

I spent summers there as a kid, tearing around on a bike near the mangroves, coming alive in the steamy green heat.  It’s a nostalgic place for me, and like most nostalgic places, it strikes me as beautiful.

But.

Florida’s beauty is glaring:  like a particularly striking woman who sports bright makeup and an orchid in her hair.  You can’t help but look at her, but if she smudged off the dark lipstick and traded her red dress for black, you might notice the pool of light in the hollow of her collarbone.  

The sun sliding slow over her shoulders.

The subtler magic.

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I guess that’s why I’ve come to like Florida best when she’s photographed in monochrome.

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The photos that follow are quiet ones, collected during a lazy, contemplative week in Punta Gorda.  While there are lovelier snapshots of the sunshine state — oceans full of sundazzle, and foam-swept crashing surf — I think these represent a gentler beauty that others may miss. 

Enjoy… ❤

 

  

   

   

   
  
  
 

  

   

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Almost Poetry

brave words for fearful people …

Go out into the world:

a rain-spattered window, with bare tree limbs beyond, rendered in black and white

Go!  Yes, you — though you are fearful and fragile and small.

Go broken-winged and bent-boned and beauty-starved… Lovesick.  Stardrunk. Skydizzy.

Or go sharp-eyed and sober, if that’s how it is — the hunger for the light a clenched fist in your stomach.  A hand, opening slowly in your chest like a flower.

If you are frightened, use it.

If you are desperate, use it.

Let the jitter and snap of your fear drive you scrambling up the cliff.  Grasp the sudden handle of the crescent moon, and haul and kick your way to the top.

Go!  Go by sea or land or air, or in the unfettered flight of your dreams.  Go alone, if you must.  Drag us with you, if you can.  

Just go.  And keep on going…

a pale blue and pink sunset sky, framed by bare tree limbs

Yes, you. ❤

 

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