Monthly Archives: August 2016
It’s one of those attempted macro shots that I like. I used to grow American climbing roses in shades of red and pink. This reminds me of The Little Prince, that lovely book of Antoine de Saint-Exupery.
“Don’t believe what your eyes are telling you. All they show is limitation. Look with your understanding. Find out what you already know and you will see the way to fly.” – Richard Bach
A friend said that this is one of my best shots. And I thought the composition was not good, I was only trying to capture the clouds rapidly changing course while passing through my lens. Then came this bird gliding rapidly, making itself framed inside the tie wires which we used as trellis at the back of the house. This is a raw shot and it reminds me of how it is to be free, unhampered by any extra baggage, reaching one’s destination by sheer determination and grace. It is the art of flying.
What could be more inspiring than waking up to the morning seeing nature at its best? Then you wish life could be this simple – seeing the beauty of a water droplet and deeper thoughts come to mind. And there is silence all around.
I love the freshness of an early morning after the rain. Although I hate the heavy downpour, it is always amazing to see greens all around. The tears of heaven cleanse the soul and it wash away the pain of feeling sad and alone.
A few years ago, a photographer friend introduced me to another writer, Naomi Shihab Nye. She was born to a Palestinian father and an American mother.
Let me quote some of her poems that really touched me:
Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
How you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop,
the passengers eating maize and chicken
will stare out the window forever.
Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness,
you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho
lies dead by the side of the road.
You must see how this could be you,
how he too was someone
who journeyed through the night with plans
and the simple breath that kept him alive.
Before you know kindness as the deepest thing
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.
Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to mail letters and
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
It is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you everywhere
like a shadow or a friend. “
And here’s her thought on reading:
“I love the solitude of reading. I love the deep dive into someone else’s story, the delicious ache of a last page.”
I really could relate to her because when I read, I am transported to another world – a world of fantasy or make-belief, a world of triumph or defeat, a world of happiness or loneliness but despite all these, I am mesmerized, feeling as if I were there in one particular place, feeling as if the pain and hurts are my own and the triumphs are a joyous celebration of life.
And here’s another line I like:
“It is really hard to be lonely very long in a world of words. Even if you don’t have friends somewhere, you still have language, and it will find you and wrap its little syllables around you and suddenly there will be a story to live in. ”
A jumble of lovely thoughts that fills one’s mind and feeds one’s soul. Again I wish I could find some of her book of poems, one I could read again and again, one I could be friends with when I feel alone.
Sometimes you wish the day would be as beautiful and as colorful as this.
I love Hydrangeas. I actually tried planting them in pots years ago but the heat in such a tropical country like ours is a bane for these plants. They love partial shade and cool climate.
I always love taking photos of flowers, sometimes practicing on macro shots like this. I know, I know, you remember the place and you smile at the memory it evokes. You remember your delight in discovering such lovely blooms.
I miss you Caleruega. Someday, I am going back there to visit you again.