I understand.
It is not so easy, pas si simple, as to say that when I woke this morning there was a bank of fog so thick that I could not see the road ahead while walking the dogs…and then, the sun broke through to burn the brouillard away.
Perhaps you don’t want to hear that right now, you are far too angry; or maybe you are dying to…just a little reassurance, fingertips to pat the top of your hand as your Grandmother once did. And then there are those who might raise their chins victoriously, certain that is exactly what happened.
Save that I am not talking in metaphors.
Or only partially.
In my daily life, I am often cotton cocooned in confusion. It is overwhelming being back in France on so many levels, especially after such a challenging yet undeniably fruitful eight months in the States. There has been elation and disappointment alike. I don’t know exactly what I want or how long I will be here, which means that I have no idea what lies ahead.
But so many of us are feeling this way. Not everything is personal.
I talked the dogs up the steps and onto the green to peer into formless knowing, the humidity dewing my cheek, dotting my eyelids. Noses to the ground, they found their way.
In this new alone, I have to remember that I am not.
Because we just have to keep going. And by so doing, shining out light to burn away all that is obscuring our view. You know what light that is. I do too. The one that is not – not now, not ever – fueled by fear.
The sun did come out. And everything was clear. In that moment. Of course I am oversimplifying and nothing is so simple anymore. But that doesn’t mean that I am hiding my gaze or turning solitary contrary just yet. No. I will fight for joy or beauty when I can get it and I want out of this confusion. So,
My eyes are open and they speak for me.
Still here, still here, still here.
I will take the postcards and the reality too. Simple is a (even if temporary) balm and only a very few of us can actually see ahead. “The only way past is through,” on repeat. It is a start.
Oh dear Heather!!!! These pictures are so beautiful! They made my day! xx
The scenery is positively grand…enchanting almost…especially the way that you have captured its beauty.
You are definitely not alone.
XO
Glorious countryside, beautifully photographed, and insightful, lovely words. If only our President-Elect spent time outdoors (not on a golf course), if only he had ever had a dog, cat, or any pet, he might know so much of which he has not an inkling….You are not alone. Caring, Leslie in Oregon
What beautiful photographs! That foggy path is so beautiful. I think we've seen it once or twice in different light. I like fog for the same reason I love snow, it shrinks our worlds and heightens each detail. Every little thing unfolds in discovery. So wonderful that you're drinking in all the beauty!
Blessed be.
I think this is my favorite of your many beautiful posts. "In this new alone, I have to remember that I am not."
We're all in this together; so no, you are definitely not alone.
Beautiful photos, too. xo
Thank you for your beautiful words and photos. Although you have shared your pain and suffering, what you write always carries such dignity and grace and elegance.
I have been looking forward to your posts during this turbulent time. This one comes at exactly the right moment with a message I will hold onto. Merci, my friend.
Nature .. the great healer, bastion of happiness, luminary, and stimulator of Creative Urge .. wherever we are, whatever our circumstance. Ah, that nature has touched you and stimulated this post .. Mahalo et Merci, Heather
Lovely photos of the Rhone, still as glass. Not always, though, like life.