Maybe it is what it is, like it is for everyone, and will be for me again, if I'm fortunate.
Instead, here's a picture of a fawn, come to drink from the lake, which has a clarity only morning can muster.
Isn't she beautiful?
Wasn't I lucky to capture that?
The world gets more beautiful, not less, with time. I think so—if you keep your eyes open. Maybe that's why aging hurts so much. It's not all sadness or the yearning for a youth gone past.
It's the exquisiteness of having, when all of life is positioning you toward loss.
And yet—isn't she beautiful?
Wasn't I lucky?
And don't you just love it when you're in your own skin and the silence surrounding you—
lasts?
5 comments:
Lovely writing here. "A clarity only morning can bring." Very nice.
Clarity--I think for myself I will have to look up the definition and see if it rings somewhat true in my own existence. Meh no matter, I don't get swept up in things beyond my control and never see fawns and have passed my 30's so long ago I don't really have much memory of them. But for you Sarah, pass through the milestone with your typical grace and everything about moving forward will simply appear as an unbroken line.
Charles, thank you. It was nice having the pics as a prompt for this one.
Mark, I will try. Thanks for that last bit. Beautiful, as always.
I'm glad you saw them on your birthday.
Better seeing them over me, to make your day. :)
I think the reason why shows like Star Trek and Doctor Who are such a hit spanning decades and countries, is because they show beauty and mystique in past, present and future; our planet and others we'll never know about; in deserts, oceans and lands greener beyond our imagination.
We can find beauty in wildlife and in a grand piece of architecture. Or we can just see faults in them.
You, my dear, dear friend, see beauty in everything. And from my limited view of the world, I truly believe, the world sees beauty in you too.
I think one of the great tests of life is to keep that perspective through years, and through a whole pileup of loss. In a way, I do think the loss makes everything more precious and beautiful. You feel what's at stake. You feel the poignancy of your own temporariness reflected in those waters.
I think you have to fight against a sense of growing irrelevancy as you age, too. Make that invisibility work for you, as an observer, instead of as the star, I guess. Not sure if that makes sense, but it's something I'm starting to feel at 40, and I think it will grow stronger in the years ahead.
I think you see that beauty, too, Aniquez. And I'm grateful for our shared point of view. And what your friendship brings to my perspective, too. Always, always, always.
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