“Love the world as your self; then you can care for all things.” ― Byron Katie
It is easy to love the world when surrounded by the beautiful parts, and not so easy when we are faced with the darker side of humanity (or ourselves).
When I was in Greece, it struck me how long humans have been searching for the answers to the same questions.
Humankind’s greatest struggles start within each individual and are projected into our outer world.
Some of us seem to be wired to heal the world, and others seem to be wired to destroy the world. Most of us are a mixture of both. Lately I’ve been contemplating our collective movements, like ants, bees, wolves, or termites, all being driven by the goals of the pack. I am starting to think we are not much different than these creatures, other than some of us being ants, others bees, and so on. We may have free will, and I suppose ultimately we can choose to take a different path, but there is no denying that phantom drive lurking inside of us, leading us to do things we don’t understand or want.
Or is it the insatiable want that drives us to destroy what’s in our paths.
“Some of us are drawn to mountains the way the moon draws the tide. Both the great forests and the mountains live in my bones. They have taught me, humbled me, purified me and changed me.”
― Joan Halifax
I find that when the soul needs healing, the mountains and forests are there to embrace me.
I used to think a photo of a cardinal in the winter was so cliché
Now I understand the symbolism in this breathtaking image
Resilience in the midst of the coldest days and nights
This brightly colored bird atop the barren branches
Screeches defiantly into the cold air
You cannot stop me, cold
Those small moments in time when the world stands still (inside)
long enough to allow us to see (outside)…
Left-handed smudges moving across an empty sheet of paper
Tentative words emerging from the charcoal clouds of #2 lead
Unfiltered, unrehearsed thoughts forming on the page,
Un-beholden to rules that constrict and deprive free thought.
First drafts are like the brief moments after awakening
When dreams seem more real than reality
They are like peering through the clouds as the plane descends
And catching the first glimpse of land below
First drafts, like the colostrum from a mother’s breast
Are filled with nutrients that stimulate the budding soul.
By Amy Jones
Photo by JA
The parking lot
Where industry and nature meet