Early this morning I read Heidi's Caringbridge blog for the past two days, which held a mix of the hard times of radiation treatment and celebrating life in the moment. I headed out for my usual walk, carrying my camera, just as the sun was coming up.
Here it is again, that combination of light and dark that so often appear together when I become aware of a spark of light, that moment which in some way causes my heart to sing.
As I walked on, it occurred to me that those moments often cluster in transition times. Early morning and late afternoon light create more interesting photos than the full light of day; the change of seasons brings new color; life’s transitions often make us more acutely aware of the gifts of the present. A fall leaf is beautiful, and bittersweet, and precious because it is both.
Returning home, I started noticing a scattering of diamond bright light sparking from the short green grass – morning sunlight hitting the dew on the grass blades. I didn’t bother pulling the camera out. I took delight in the light, but knew I didn’t have the photographic skills to capture it.
I came in to read today’s email and found this Word for the Day from gratefulness.org, a quote from Bengali poet and Nobel winner for literature, Rabindranath Tagore:
For many years, at great cost, I traveled through many countries, saw the high mountains, the oceans. The only things I did not see were the sparkling dewdrops in the grass just outside my door.
I had to go back out and commemorate my grass diamonds, whether or not the photo did justice to it. If you look closely below, you’ll find dewdrops, but the flashes of fire are missing. You’ll have to go out and look for them in the dewdrops in the grass outside your own door. What other sparks of light will you find as you look around your everyday life?
"Instructions for living a life:
Tell about it."
Mary Oliver in "Sometimes"
I've taken on a prayer practice of looking for the moments of light in each day, whether actual or metaphorical, and then writing or posting photos of what I find.