I’ll take the sea with me, deep in my bones, its tides making their way through my soul.


Notes:

Gash in the heavens

The only other source of light is a gash in the heavens, its edges bubbling with clouds, as though the sky has developed an infected wound. The moon’s glow pours through.
 
—  Hisham Matar, The Return: Fathers, Sons and the Land in Between (Random House, July 5, 2016)

Photos: DK, October 9, 2020, 6:10 to 6:40 a.m. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT

Monday Morning Wake-Up Call


Notes:

  • Daybreak. August 31, 2020. 5:59 to 6:08 am. 60° F. Humidity 70%. Wind: 6 mph. Gusts: 7 mph. Cloud Cover: 32%. The Cove, Stamford, CT
  • Inspired (again) by Helen Macdonald: “I kept trying to find the right words to describe certain experiences and failing. My secular lexicon didn’t capture what they were like. You’ve probably had such experiences yourself – times in which the world stutters, turns and fills with unexpected meaning. When rapturousness claims a moment and transfigures it. The deep hush before an oncoming storm; the clapping of wings as a flock of doves rises to wheel against low sun; a briar stem in the sun glittering with blades of hoarfrost. Love, beauty, mystery. Epiphanies, I suppose. Occasions of grace. — Helen Macdonald, Vesper Flights (Grove Press, August 25, 2020)

Saturday Morning


Daybreak. August 22, 2020. 5:20 to 5:35 am. 72° F. Humidity 84%. Wind: 7 mph. Gusts: 13 mph. Cloud Cover: 95%. The Cove, Stamford, CT

Saturday Morning


Twilight. August 15, 2020. 5:40 to 5:50 am. 70° F. Humidity 74%. Wind: 8 mph. Gusts: 16 mph. Cloud Cover: 16%. The Cove, Stamford, CT. (And for those tracking the lonely Swan, link here.)

Sunday Morning

In my room, the world is beyond my understanding;

But when I walk I see that it consists of three or four hills and a cloud.

—  Wallace Stevens, “Of the Surface of Things” in Wallace Stevens: A Celebration

 


Photo: DK – Daybreak. 5:51 am. July 5, 2020. 70° F. Humidity 96%. Wind: 6 mph. Gusts: 11 mph. Cloud Cover: 21%. Weed Avenue, Stamford, CT

Monday Morning Wake-Up Call

If you are a poet, you will see clearly that there is a cloud floating in this sheet of paper. Without a cloud, there will be no rain; without rain, the trees cannot grow: and without trees, we cannot make paper. The cloud is essential for the paper to exist. If the cloud is not here, the sheet of paper cannot be here either…

If we look into this sheet of paper even more deeply, we can see the sunshine in it. If the sunshine is not there, the forest cannot grow. In fact nothing can grow. Even we cannot grow without sunshine. And so, we know that the sunshine is also in this sheet of paper…

And if we continue to look we can see the logger who cut the tree and brought it to the mill to be transformed into paper.

And we see the wheat. We know that the logger cannot exist without his daily bread, and therefore the wheat that became his bread is also in this sheet of paper. And the logger’s father and mother are in it too. When we look in this way we see that without all of these things, this sheet of paper cannot exist.

Looking even more deeply, we can see ourselves in this sheet of paper too. This is not difficult to see, because when we look at a sheet of paper, it is par of our perception. Your mind is in here and mine is also. So we can say that everything is in here with this sheet of paper. We cannot point out one thing that is not here — time, space, the earth, the rain, the minerals in the soil, the sunshine, the cloud, the river, the heat. Everything co-exists with this sheet of paper…This sheet of paper is, because everything else is.

—  Thich Nhat Hanh, from “Peace Is Every Step: The Path of Mindfulness in Everyday Life”

 


Photo: Anka Zhuravleva with Head in the Clouds

Lightly Child, Lightly.

I take pictures, not for a living, but for reasons that I’m not quite sure of yet.

~ Petra van der Ree, Rotterdam-based web, text, and image editor via Ignant’s “Petra Van Der Ree’s Photographs Take Us Outside Ourselves (April 29, 2019)

 


Notes: Post Title & Inspiration: Aldous Huxley: “It’s dark because you are trying too hard. Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly. Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply. Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them.”

 

Murakami’s brushstrokes

Autumn steadily deepened around me.

The sky opened up, the air clear and crisp,

the clouds like beautiful white brushstrokes.

~ Haruki Murakami, Killing Commendatore: A Novel (October, 2018)


Photo: Matt Champlin with Brushstrokes

Lightly Child, Lightly.

If you are very very quiet

you can hear the clouds rub against the sky.

~ Raul Gutierrez, from “Lies I’ve told my three year old recently


Notes:

  • Photo Source. Poem source: See more
  • Prior “Lightly child, lightly” Posts? Connect here.
  • Post Title & Inspiration: Aldous Huxley: “It’s dark because you are trying too hard. Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly. Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply. Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them.”

 

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