Meetings with ourselves in the stillness of reflection can be some of the most healing moments experienced. I took this in the Drakensberg and it so reminded me of inner stillness and reflection, the seeing of ourselves in the clear light of truth.
Sorry about this change in theme again, but I’m having problems again with comments and likes. Being worked on. Thanks for your patience.
I wonder to what degree nature, apart from its human dimension, has a conscience, or is it all only instinctual? It’s a question that often plagues me.
I’ve always been drawn to the horizon and even as a child I remember standing on the beach and looking out across to where sea and sky came together in a blue and hazy distance. Nothing has changed. I still love doing this. This was a moment I caught on camera.
The horizon for me has been a constant reminder and symbol of “the more that is beyond,” the temporary boundary seeking at all times to give way to new spaces and new horizons, especially to the adventurous.
Both defining and beautifully flexible, this great outer horizon never stops beckoning and challenging those inner horizons that reside and dwell within us all. The question is, how best do we respond to this beckoning?
Apparently Frangipanis have worked their way in to the annals of mythology because, apart from their ability to withstand extreme temperatures without burning, they are also able to continue to produce leaves and flowers even after being lifted out of the soil. Now that’s quite a reference if you think about it.
I took this photo just up the road from our home and as I looked at it, I couldn’t help but see the beautiful way in which the colours in the petals simply and softly blended in to one another without any kind of fuss or effort.
My thoughts drifted off to the many transitions I’ve made throughout my life, and I suddenly found myself feeling deeply grateful for all those changes that came like the colours in those petals, softly and gently blending their way in to me, almost unconsciously at times. But then my thoughts also turned to those jolting and sharply contrasting transitions which are also so much part of my story and it took a while for the gratitude to build, but it came and in a strange way they where all brought together in a momentary celebration of life.
I felt good, not smug, just good.