Posted in Autumn, Blast From the Past, Earth, Eastern Shore, Exploring, Fire, From the Archives, Gifts, Gratitude, Maryland, Mindfulness, Nature, Photography, Portals & Pathways, Quotes, Sky, Spirit, Summer, Travel, Up North, Walking & Wandering, Wonder

A detour: Attracted to the light

In the Vayo Meditation Garden, Coastal Maine Botanical Gardens. (June 2017)

We are rag dolls made out of many ages and skins, changelings who have slept in wood nests or hissed in the uncouth guise of waddling amphibians. We have played such roles for infinitely longer ages than we have been men. Our identity is a dream. We are process, not reality, for reality is an illusion of the daylight — the light of our particular day.

~ Loren Eiseley

Reflections require light. (Coastal Maine Botanical Gardens. June 2017)

Yesterday I received a lovely comment on a photo I posted on Instagram and Facebook.  (Thank you, Dawn!)  It was, “You see the most beautiful things.”  I replied, “It’s the light.  I’m like one of those birds attracted to shiny objects.”  There was an “lol!” in there, too, because I sometimes laugh at my own truths before I realize they are my truths.

Chiseled Glass Orb by artist Henry Richardson. (Coastal Maine Botanical Gardens. June 2017.)

When I go out and about on my daily walks, when I’m carrying the big camera, it is usually light I am attracted to first.  Sometimes it’s the big light of the rising or setting sun or moon.  Sometimes it’s a sunbeam cutting through the fog or the dappled light in the woods or the light at the end of a tunnel of trees.  Sometimes it’s a rainbow, the bending or refraction of light, or light hitting the edge of a big cloud.  And sometimes it’s the small lights, sunlight perched on the top of a leaf, a flash of light against a wall, a delicate soft light shining through the wing of a butterfly.

Light through a window. (Fort William Henry, Pemaquid Beach, Maine. June 2017)

I don’t always capture (photograph) the light that calls me.  There are moments when I know that if I take my eyes off the beauty of the light, even for the few seconds it would take for me to adjust my camera settings, I will miss it.  Better to miss it with the camera than to miss it in the moment that has been gifted to me.

Just a rock and some light. (Bremen, Maine. June 2017)

The news cycle being what it is and has been since November 2016, I find myself more and more attracted to the light.  I’ve often wanted to share the light I’ve found, but then I become lazy or I think that no one has time for clicking on links.  I can do something about my own laziness.  I may be wrong about people clicking on links and even if I’m not, I’ll have tried to pass on some light.  Maybe that will balance out the soapbox posts I’m occasionally prone to posting.

I don’t know that I’ll make this a regular feature in my not-quite-regular blogging schedule, but here are a few lights to start with:

  • Reclaiming love as a revolutionary act.  A TED talk (about 15 minutes of your time) by Valarie Kaur.  She has a Facebook page with some beautiful posts.  Just look for Revolutionary Love.
  • Sometimes light isn’t the kind of light you think it is.  Light is a story, one that shines brightness on a story that needs to be told.  One of thousands of stories that need to be told.  Maybe, if enough stories are told, people will listen, learn, and change things.  Pearl by Merril D. Smith, creative non-fiction.
  • Sometimes light is sacred rage.  #BlackFridays
  • Tara Brach’s Smile Guided Meditation
  • Befriending a Tree (Emergence Magazine, Issue 1)
Dappled light on stairs.  (Bremen, Maine.  June 2017)

That’s enough for now.  Thank you so much for visiting and, if you had the chance, for checking out some of the links.  As you can tell from the captions, the photos are from some of the walks I took in Maine last year.  I still have many that I haven’t shared so they’ll pop up from time to time.

Sunset might be interesting this evening, given all the clouds floating around out there.  I’ll meet you at the Point.  Sunset is at 6:36 PM.  It’s warm, humid, and breezy.  The breeze ought to keep the biting insects away.

Be good, be kind, be loving.  Just Be.  🙂

Goodnight, Sun.  (A recent sunset at the Point.)

A few of the 10,000 reasons to be happy:  856)  Contrasts, especially between light and shadow.  857)  Those who are doing the work of love.  858)  Compliments from friends.  859)  Autumn’s bounty.  860)  Comfort food.

Receding light.

A Walktober reminder and update:  This year’s dates are October 14-28.  I hope you’ll find the time to walk and participate.  (If you need more time, all you have to do is let me know.  If you’re unfamiliar with Walktober, you’ll find a link to a post about it in the sidebar, over there to the right.  Or, if you’re using your phone, maybe it’s at the bottom somewhere.)  I will put up (publish) the official “link to this post” on the 14th. If anyone wants to walk earlier, all you have to do is wait for that post to put in your link or pingback.  I will probably do the round-up of the posts/walks on November 1.  That date depends on whether or not anyone needs and asks for more time.


Robin is... too many things to list, but here is a start: an artist and writer; a photographer and saunterer; a daughter and sister and granddaughter; a friend, a partner, a wife, a mother, and a grandmother; a gardener, a great and imaginative cook, and the creator of wonderful sandwiches.

16 thoughts on “A detour: Attracted to the light

  1. Thank you so much for sharing your light in your beautiful photos and in your thoughtful reflections. I always look forward to your posts, Robin.
    I always love sunrise and sunset photos, but I really like the window photo here. It’s not only the light, it’s the shadows, too.

    Thank you also very much for sharing my story about Pearl. I’ve been haunted by her story. My husband’s aunt said (on FB yesterday) that no one really talked about her, and she had thought Pearl’s lover was married.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. You’re welcome, Merril. And thank you. Your story about Pearl left me wondering if maybe that’s how these stories need to be told. One by one, in a creative non-fiction way, rather than dry and clinical in the way that testimony or newspaper stories come across. One by one, the stories of women murdered, beaten, raped, groped, abused in all kinds of ways. Not statistics. Stories.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. I have more time for links on the weekends, but do enjoy seeing what others find. I will definitely check them out then (earlier if I get a little down time at work 😉 ).

    The photo of the light through the window is my fave this time ’round.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I think light draws many of us, as it does millers and moths. I love the golden light of mornings and evenings, the lights of sunsets and sunrises, sometimes a surprise light that is just. There. How nice that you have shared your light with us.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. So glad that I ‘met’ you through our shared interest in ‘light.’ Your photos indicate we ‘see’ similarly, but I think you are much better at conveying it than I am. 🙂
    Thought of you today as I was driving home and saw a maple tree with most of its golden leaves gone, but the sun was shining through a scattering of ones still hanging on. They glowed like lanterns – one of those moments when a camera may have caught the scene. Instead, I just appreciated the ephemeral beauty.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Sometimes it’s better to take the time to appreciate a scene rather than capture it, Eliza. I think I’m doing that more these days. I don’t take the camera with me on most of my long walks anymore.

      Thank you. I’m glad I ‘met’ you, too. ❤

      Liked by 1 person

  5. As usual, your photographs are beautiful, your words are thoughtful and I had read Merril’s “Pearl” piece – splendid.
    I also clicked on the link “Befriending a Tree”… I am tempted…

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, so much, Dale. 🙂 Did you befriend a tree yet? I’ve been out trying to find a tree that seems interested in the idea. I thought of just picking a tree, but there are so many lovely ones out there that it was difficult.

      Liked by 1 person

Comments are delightful and always appreciated. I will respond when I can (life is keeping me busy!), and/or come around to visit you at your place soon. Thank you!

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