I look outside and see the incredible beauty of the light
on the trees and how the sky is nearly lavender – a periwinkle blue of an
unbelievable intensity with the rich dark green of blowing Doug fir boughs,
cones hanging thick on their high branches; and the catkins on the alders,
hanging in dark red-orange worms from the twigs. And as soon as I write it
down, the moment is gone. Nature is this blessing that unfolds itself over and
over, in seasons, repetitions of cycles, in beauty and death and rebirth. As
the bushes burst out in leaf buds, bright yellow greens (the tall trees a bit
more patient in their unfurling), I am reminded that the fearful insubstantial
thoughts that I allow to bloom into stories that my brain has woven into
far-fetched fiction tales is not the life I want. I desire, instead, to let
them come, the armies of thoughts, and to watch them pass by, not giving them
the attention they seem to feed upon, craving to take me over, into their
clutches. All I can do is remember, over and over and over, how precious this
one little life is and that if my thoughts spin out too much – too often or too
deeply – then I will miss the riches, the truly extraordinary nonfiction world
around me.
Journal entry: Friday 16th March 2012
All blog images created & photographed by Jennifer J. Wilhoit unless otherwise noted. Please circulate images with photo credit: "©2016 JenniferJWilhoit/TEALarbor stories. AllRightsReserved."
