I usually find this to be a tough time of year. It seems too early to get ready for Spring (which often means when Spring arrives, I'm not yet ready). I don't particularly enjoy being out in bitter cold, and I haven't ice skated on a pond for years. Ice fishing doesn't do much for me either, probably for the same reasons I have a hard time sitting still on a deer stand. All that helps explain why I'm so glad our days of below 0F seem behind us and we may even see a brief thaw this weekend. I want to get back outside with a camera, and maybe a field guide, and poke around without freezing major parts of my anatomy.
Autumn leaves, St. Croix River
Photo by J. Harrington
Fortunately, there's a lot of in-door arts-related activity the Better Half [BH] and I have lined up. Tonight we're meeting a friend for dinner and a play (Pericles, I think) at the Guthrie. Tomorrow evening is the opening of That's What Eye Saw at the Hallberg Center in Wyoming, MN, where the BH and I will then be among the volunteer staff Friday evening. After years of using my photography almost entirely on-line, it's a very different and satisfying experience to see it printed and hung. I'm looking forward to a chance to share some of my writing and wondering if getting prints of some other photos I've taken might help me progress a chapbook project I'm trying to get started. So, this year, I'm not only looking forward to Spring, I'm grateful that I seem to be making some progress in the creation of an "alternative lifestyle." Following the Zen guidance to live in the moment works better for me when I can help the moments align with what I like to do. We're getting there.
Seeing for a Moment
I thought I was growing wings—it was a cocoon.
I thought, now is the time to stepinto the fire—it was deep water.
Eschatology is a word I learnedas a child: the study of Last Things;
facing my mirror—no longer young,the news—always of death,the dogs—rising from sleep and clamoringand howling, howling,
neverthelessI see for a momentthat's not it: it isthe First Things.
Word after wordfloats through the glass.Towards me.
Thanks for visiting. Come again when you can.
Please be kind to each other while you can.