With my feet planted firmly on the ground and head erect, I can obtain a broad and expansive perspective of the world. Or can I?
Sweeping landscapes offer splendid vantage points, however my favorite is the macro perspective.
Lying down on moist grass, peering through blades of new growth, fills me with wonder. Oh, to have Alice's magic potion, labeled "DRINK ME". How I would love for just a moment, to shrink to the size of a beetle and slide down the stalk of a leaf, dropping me into nature’s hidden realm.
In my new beetle body, I would scale the foliage as if it was the Andes. I would drop into the verdant caverns and float in the pristine dew ponds, paddling like mad with my tiny jointed legs.
I imagine lying amongst the towering fronds, while gazing up at the beads of moisture creating columns of mirrors, catching the morning’s light putting Versailles’s Hall of Mirrors to shame. While gliding across my crystal pool it is here the magnitude of nature’s mystery is apparent.
Excuse me while I drift.
Live in color,
Please join me as I re-visit San Miguel, however this time...in color.
The colors of my life are bountiful and bold,
The purple glow of indigo, the gleam of green and gold.
The splendor of a sunrise, the dazzle of a flame
The glorying a rainbow, I'd put them all to shame.
No quiet browns and grays, I'll take my days instead
And fill them 'til they overflow with rose and cherry red!
And should this sunlit world grow dark one day
The colors of my life will leave a shinning light to show the way.
Thank you Cy Coleman for your wonderful lyrics to The Color of My Life from the play Barnum.
Live in color,
It was a long winter.
The snowbound days of a Vermont winter bring interminably long nights, and excruciatingly short days. I dreaded those months, but no longer. I have discovered that the relentless solitude provides me the opportunity to re-boot. Come January, I slip into a sort of creative incubation. Without the stimulation of being in nature, without its glorious melodies and scents, without the moist grass, slipping between my toes, I grow quiet...until Spring's first shimmering shafts of light appear.
A return visit to San Miguel de Allende, Mexico this month, provided me a jumpstart on my much needed light therapy.
I discovered something new, photographically speaking, with this visit to SMA. Not completely awake from my creative slumber, I strolled the streets each day in search of inspiration. Finally, day 7, there it was — shafts of light. The vibrant confetti colors of San Miguel took a back seat this time to light. Light, the very ingredient that was missing from my Vermont diet, the essential building block I was starving for.
With streaks of light revealing themselves to me wherever I turned, I realized it was my light deprivation that made me hypersensitive. How could I possibly appreciate light if I never experienced the darkness of winter? How could I appreciate the sun's warmth without enduring the frigid days of the north? Simply, I can't. It was this contrast that led me to a valuable understanding.
Finding myself washed in both shadow and light, I gave permission for this phenomenon to take hold. I stopped cursing the cold of the north and settled down to what was. Our entire physical world is based on duality, so I better get with the program, and accept what is.
Thank you darkness, thank you light.
Live in color,
An image alone sometimes feels insufficient, that’s where Musings come in. A space where words and images come together to tell the story.
I promise not to sell, rent, or share your email address with anyone. Ever.