Life is made up of moments.
The right moment can define and change us for all the years to come. A moment can give joy, laughter, hope, deliver insight, introduce love.
A moment can make our life…or break it.
The wrong moment can destroy us, allow egregious damage, set us upon a faulty path, or end our life in an instant.
Most moments, of course, aren't nearly so monumental. In fact, most moments come and go leaving us blithely unaware of their passing. Which may be a good thing. But every once in a while you experience a moment which—while not earth-shattering—enriches and uplifts your day.
I had such a moment yesterday evening on the way back from the grocery. I'd detoured to drive past a swath of prairie which I hadn't seen for a couple of months. Maybe, I thought, I could make a picture or two of big bluestem against the melting snow. But by the time I arrived, it was all but dark. Too dark for my intended photography.
Then I heard their cries and looked up. Geese! A ragged, weaving string of them, winging across a painted sky. I framed, focused, shot. And then I watched…watched until the two-dozen or so big Canadas disappeared from view beyond a low hill. It didn't take long, only a moment—but it was the best moment I had all day.
12 comments:
Grizz -
glorious moment - beautiful picture to share the glory. Hallelujah!
Love Gail
peace.....
Yes Grizz, such moments not only make our day, but stay firmly embedded in our memory and when the going gets tough, it is good to take them out, dust them off and think better of the world.
Hugs from a burning land Down Under.
Gail…
Yup, sure made my day! I'm just glad I managed the photo.
Arija…
I've worried and wondered about you down there with all the weather problems. I hope in the midst of things you manage to find those good moments to hold and savor.
A gorgeous photo, Grizz, capturing what was surely an ecstatic moment. One moment like this every day can lead to a very happy life, regardless of what else comes our way. I wouldn't say we are partners in crime, but perhaps partners in the sublime, for I often spend time on back roads just making myself available for a miracle created by life or light or some combination of the two. And more often than not, especially if I'm patient, I find it. The older I get the more inclined I am to think that waiting is often more fruitful that seeking.
George…
Indeed, watching those big birds wing across that sunset sky lifted my weary soul in a way that was almost transcendental. Unquestionably sublime. And, like you, the reason why I invariably take the long way home, and regularly ply the backroads and byways—which I've done since the day I got my first driver's license.
In regards to patience, waiting, and seeking…I think you've found an often overlooked truth. Seeking is a form of hunting. Just as a squirrel hunter might choose to sneak quietly and carefully through the woods. You have to be a really good woodsman to accomplish this, as it's a perfected skill bordering on an art. You can also hunt squirrels by sitting quietly, generally close to a nut tree such as a hickory or walnut, and patiently waiting for the squirrels to come your way.
Two forms of hunting/seeking.
The notion and subsequent attempt of placing yourself, as you say, "available for a miracle created by life or light or some combination of the two," is also seeking/hunting. And like the stalker and sitter, it can also be accomplished both ways—actively or passively. But…and here's the point I want to make which I think so many miss, and which lies at the heart of why the latter is so often more productive…the proactive approach—i.e., the stalking/seeking—is chosen because the one doing it hopes to retain a greater measure of situational control. By being active, we get to make choices—and choices, theoretically, imply control. It's a false premise, or at least false for all but the most accomplished and skillful.
It also simultaneously places a barrier of thought and movement. To seek proactively, you have to think about what you're doing, plan your next step, your next turn, become engaged in the process of actively seeking.
Yet the alternative, patience and waiting, gives us far more fully into the possibility of those magical moments by allowing them to unfold in their own space and time around us. All we have to do is recognize them.
You might say the active seeker is a black line across a white page…while the patient, passive one is a white, unblemished sheet waiting for the sublime to make it's mark. Like you, I've learned to favor the latter.
Thanks for the thoughtful and edifying response to my comment, Grizz. Have a good day!
George…
You're welcome…but after my long day and a meeting last evening, by the time I got around to answering your comment, I'm not sure "thoughtful and edifying" applies. It was definitely verbose, though.
It's rainy and dark here, the river's muddy and rising, so I'm probably going to have to amuse myself by working inside. But I'll make it the best day I can manage. Thank you. Maybe you can encounter the sublime somewhere along your day and share it!
I know exactly what you mean by such a moment.
We drove last evening--eastward from where we live. Along the way, we saw several large flocks of Canada geese flying south (yup, it's been that kind of "winter").
Only difference--I had NO camera along. Not sure I could have gotten a decent shot, though, as they were at more of a distance that your photo seems to show.
Just such a moment.
KGMom…
You've read my posts long enough to know I have a thing for Canada geese—always have, always will. Especially Canadas in flight. And when they fly across a spectacular sunset sky out in the country where it's quiet and I can here them calling…well, it was just, as George called it, sublime.
And, that is exactly what those moments are meant to be, aren't they? Love the photo. :c)
Jayne…
Life is like a pointillist painting…a series of moments which seen through the perspective of time becomes our life.
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