Still Snow

I have been away from my blog for awhile. Busy, busy, busy. My daughter to school, my son on with life, work around the clock, holiday entertaining, business travel...all the stuff of life. However, taking the day off for our wedding anniversary (26 years) and reflecting on what life is really made of, I realized the universe has been gently but steadily slapping me with the message that this busy-ness is not all that life has to offer. A few hours of stillness reminded me that taking time to be still, planning to be present to the people you love, and making the space to be open to life as it flows and not as you wish to control it is the path to your best self.

And there's no better visual representation of the depth of stillness than winter snow on a frozen lake. So I took myself and my new camera out to our lake. If you've followed this blog, you know that I spent a year documenting lake-life on a log. That log had been there at least 10 years, but I caught the last year it was in that position, because a flood dislodged it and it's now gone.

Since there was no log, I went to the dog park to capture lake vistas. and the first photo above is from that point of view. Very Currier & Ives, and the sunlight was beautiful, but I found myself still attracted to my old spot, even though it was logless.

Once back in "my" place, the same scene that I've photographed so many times, still had a something new to offer. The familiar can offer intimacy and inspiration if approached with respect, an open frame of mind, and an awareness of attraction. And so taking the time to let thoughts flow on my anniversary brought that thought, which could just as well be describing marriage.

So my takeaway was that it is really a pleasure I've been missing to make time for my husband, my children, my family and my friendships. Not time that just fits between work and other obligations, or time that's multi-tasking with everything we need to accomplish, but committed time without distraction. And to discern what is distraction and what is me, I have to also spend time in stillness.

The third photo above represents the beauty, depth and wonder of leaving a space to be still.

Priorities

I have been on vacation this past week. We went to Boston, I went to a Cezanne exhibit with my mother, and we chose new carpet for our second floor. I really should be upstairs getting rid of all our junk so that the carpet can be installed cleanly and easily. The woodwork has to be scraped and painted, the closets emptied, excess furniture removed...and yet, I've been sitting here refining the photos I took this morning at the lake. My husband and our dog joined me and we took a different path with different views. It's a gorgeous day. I just had to work with those photos to catch the colors accurately and post them before cleaning, and before the other posts of Boston and Cezanne. The questions for the day are how do you make the distinction between procrastinations and priorities? And then, the follow up question, does that distinction matter? I'm going to go with a 'no' on that, but I'm open to alternative views, and I do believe that as this is my vacation, I don't have to make those decisions today.

Summer's End

I have been meaning to write about Pompton Day, but to be truthful, my pictures weren't that good. It's hard to capture that spirit in one photo. All along the lake there are booths and you can throw cream pies at people you know or dunk a teacher in a water tank or race a rubber duck off the dock. Mostly, you run into people you know and haven't seen for awhile, and for those of us who have raised our families here, there are a lot of memories. To me, summer ends on Pompton Day with our fair along the lake and our fireworks at night (they get better every year). So here, in tribute to the actual last day of summer are my photos from Pompton Day 09.

The dock above was inspired and partially paid for by an elementary school Earth Day project that my friend Theresa spearheaded. That might not be the same dock at this point, but I think about how it originally got there every time I see it. The plaque below commemorates the event and I had never noticed it until this Pompton Day, 9 years later. Memories run deep in this lake community, and so thank you to all the people who have improved that park over the years.














And finally, the last photo is not spectacular, but just the view of the back of the tents along the road from the lake. Goodbye to Summer!

Outstanding

I've recognized the idea that was struggling to come to the surface. Though the entire lake is often a breathtaking vista, there are seasons, cycles, occassions where some areas of it are not. While I have some obligation as a citizen of this town to make sure that we pay attention to maintenance, upkeep and improvement, I don't have to focus on the things that are wrong. I can acknowledge the condition, but spend more time with what is pleasing to me. Maybe it's a type of natural selection. What you pay attention to becomes your reality. Thoughts become things. It's OK to focus on the outstanding.

That sentence is a paraphrase of one of my father's favorite life lessons: "It's OK to be outstanding." He meant a lot of different things by that, and I thought I knew what he meant, but I was always uncomfortable because I wondered what happened if you weren't outstanding. The thing is, by definition, you can always be outstanding. He did not say be perfect, he did not say make sure others recognize you're outstanding, he said be outstanding. And that can be accomplished every day, and you can recognize it in others every day. So here are today's postings of what I found to be outstanding aspects of Pompton Lake on August 25, 2009. And thanks Dad.

Cycles

The lake is just cycling through the seasons. It was really unfair to call it less than beautiful in my last post. I just prefer less gunk at the edges, but that's a preference, not a fact. There is a very moist, green-lavender-brown-tinge of gold that reflects the weather we've had the past few months. The edges are trimmed back, but they're pruned not broken, and everything will be healthier and cleaner because of it. We're just cycling through another season together. And it has an overripe beauty of its own.

Edges

I don't like edges and I don't know why. They're sharp, and that seems dangerous. They define separation and I'm more comfortable with continuity. They are finite and I like to think about the infinite. And yet there they are, everywhere.

I've been focusing on the weeds that grow by the lake, first to think about the ground to stabilize my vertigo, and then to consider beauty in something that many find a nuisance. But now, the town has cut them all back. They are no longer a transitional wide sort of gradual entrance to the lake. They are now chopped and brown. They have edges. They are the edge. Even my stretches of imagination can't make them beautiful.

I can walk around to other parts of the lake and find frame-able, pretty scenes, but at the spot that I've been examining, there is just a brown edge. And it's been so rainy and hot that the lake also has overgrowth that's pretty ugly. I look back at earlier lake photos I've posted here, and really, they're prettier. So, I've found that when ideas like this nag at me, there's some message I need to hear, and usually through blogging here, I can find it.

Not this time though. I think I'd be forcing the issue if I take a guess right now, so I'm posting the concept and we'll see what develops in the followups.

Laws and Weeds

"Behind us, as we go, all things assume pleasing forms, as clouds do far off. not only things familiar and stale, but even the weed at the water-side, the old house, the foolish person, -- however neglected in the passing, -- have a grace in the past." (from Ralph Waldo Emerson's Spiritual Laws)

My father and I were discussing laws this morning. The definition of a scientific law is that it generalizes a body of observation. I'd say the same is true of Emerson's Spiritual Laws.

And that explains why humans are drawn to observe and draw conclusions. Maybe the calming feeling that comes from observing nature is an instinct that has developed in humans to point us to the richness of everyday life. Today's contribution from me is my latest collection of weed-by-the-water-side photos.

I like the idea that all things assume pleasing forms. I have always believed that, and so I can be distracted on occasion by anything, because it is all workable, all good, all a pleasing form.