Drops on a spider web, shot with 50mm lens
It is beautiful and fragile and I keep trying to grasp it.
The moment, that flicker of beauty, the taste of an apple. I keep trying to take it all in and not miss it. But I continue to stumble, falling short. Not knowing how to inhabit my life in such a complete way.
This was not taught in school, or at home, or at work.
This elusive thing is maybe, possibly, only taught by children, small enough to know this secret– that there is enough time to play, that life is full of small wonders and delights, that feelings can pass through you and over you like clouds, that to attach to one thing, anything, for too long is unnecessary and not useful.
The next moment has already arrived.
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The spider web is the perfect image for this post, to capture this longing, because you can see, experience the spiderweb, but you cannot hold it, because to hold it is to destroy it. I have spent my life grasping, clasping, clenching, clinging to every moment, or attempting to, holding some and rejecting others, and now I am simply trying to keep my heart open, to let it all wash over me, pass through me, to breath it in, to be with it, as I am and as it is. And this, my current mantra: May you find the strength to know that you are a part of something beautiful, (Alexi Murdoch).
Oh my. This post (and your comment, Jill) gave me goosebumps. That full body shiver of recognition that we’re all in this together.
Several times this week I’ve had moments of feeling total excitement, joy, anticipation… but they disappear so quickly. I want to hang on so bad, just to feel that good for a bit longer. I think though, even if we COULD hang on, those incredible feelings would soon lose their intensity. And when I look at my kids and how quickly they go from joy to fear to excitement to nervous to anger to delighted (and I would often sit there thinking “don’t try to cuddle me yet, I’m still cranky that you just emptied an entire 2kg of rice on the kitchen floor… give me more TIME”) I realise, it’s so much healthier not to hold on.
This post is perfection. Like you. Thank you for this precious present – this post. You are an inspiration…xoxo, Beth
There will always be beautiful, perfect moments, and we don’t need to hold tightly to them in order for them to touch our lives. In fact, we should let our tense grips unfold to open hands–once we experience those moments, they imprint themselves on us. Don’t ever worry that you will lose them; you won’t.
So true and beautiful.
Andrea — I truly love this photo. Something special happening there. I’m imagining it — giant — on the wall in front of me, adjacent to the old, black metal stencil that reads CHANGED & across from the big yellow road sign found at Urban Ore — the friendly & cautionary BUMP. It is all, at once, delicate and strong, fleeting and lasting. (Thank you, as ever.)
Perfect. Lovely. True. xo
This post made my heart ache in the best kind of way….
Fleeting moments of mercy are the reason for haiku. It’s a breath captured in words to reread and relive; just like your blog passage.
Welcome to the timeless state of being. You’ll like it here. 🙂