Spirals and Seeds

Bright red berries contrasted against dark trees

Red Berries

Instead of resolutions for 2012, I decided to set intentions. After all, intentions don’t necessarily need to be a written list, and they can be broad enough so that many activities count that would, in stricter interpretation, be lost. So…re this blog: I intend to post something each day for the entire year, come what may. My original idea was to take a photo each day and write about it, but that quickly changed when I realized I’d be stuck with pretty much the same topic on a weekly basis. Nothing much ever happens here…

So. Digging around in my iPhoto file, digging around in what’s going on in my life and putting the two together for my audience of 1 (so far just me). No theme has come to the surface yet, though I don’t doubt that some sort of theme will coalesce eventually. Meanwhile, I post random thoughts and look for photos, or look for photos which inspire random thoughts. Whatever.

About a month ago on Facebook, I received a Friend request from a woman I’d known 50 years ago. What a joy to discover her name in my message list. Memories of our childhood adventures flooded into my head as I eagerly said yes to the request and zapped her an email telling her how happy I was to see her there, connecting. So much to tell. How to condense it into email: the sorrows and joys of my life up to this point, and hers, still waiting to be told.

Life, to me is a long woven spiral. Some threads fill it at the beginning and then disappear. Other threads start there, too, and continue until they finish their length. Still others poke through here, disappear, and turn up again there, spiraling up, a rich cone of texture and color. What glimmers below shows up higher, sparkling into my viewpoint. Memories re-bound, re-freshed, newness adding richness to the slender threads. Up and round and up again. Sweet surprises.

Seeds too, have their place in this. What has been planted in my life bears fruit in its season. The red richness which fills my eyes falls to the ground to be buried, quickened, and rises again to appear in its season.

I find joy in small growing things.


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