Marcoclicks - images, words

Dying

It is not hard to know the time of year, although at moments it can be deceiving. Still, the truth is all around us, at our feet, in the air.Walking down leaf-littered streets, watching their last inevitable downward flight, it is likely to become clear to us.

I see I bring my assumptions with me to this cloudy time, this on-going moment of transition. I notice that the sorrow that wells up is for me rather than for the leaves or the coming dark time. And in that sorrow, I am more likely to be present to the limitations of  age rather than attuned to its blessings.

Oh, there is so much here, such richness to mine in the occasional and increasing discomfort of my body; such unaccustomed patience that brings me to sit with my old, familiar story of haste and certainty as it dissolves into a comforting blend of experience and acceptance.

Life brings opportunities to learn and learn again, and long life brings even more chances. If I let it, I can continue to journey, through autumn and winter and perhaps even again to spring. You never know.

Blessings,

Marco

Seeing

I stood there, on a gentle wooden bridge over a small, hand-made pond surrounded by the handiwork of autumn trees. The whispers of wind raced overhead, disturbing nothing. It wasn't cold at this distance from the surf-blown water. It was clear and bright at mid-day and the passionate colors fell in almost-circles softly around me. It was deeply quiet.

What came in that moment was a subtle reminder that by letting our eyes focus with less precision, we end up seeing more; that we are changed by what we look at, changed in ways both deep and trivial.

It is useful to remember this about seeing. Such a practice can be uncomfortable but valuable. We define  an on-going, ambiguous relationship to the visible world. We let go of what we expect to see and simply view what appears. Sometimes it's water; sometimes art; sometimes dead leaves.

Blessings

Marco