Thursday, July 26, 2012

"Just Breathe"

Just finished watching Buck. "Just Breathe" is part of the sound track.

This is the time of year that I might see a hummingbird or a Steller's Jay or an immature Red-Winged Blackbird on the railing.  This is the time of year that it might be 80 degrees on the porch, and the cattails might be moving in the breeze.  The sky might look white rather than blue because of the moisture in the air.  I might walk out in the early morning and think to myself, "There is a hint of fall in the air."

It's something about the change in the angle of the light.  Summer days are brief and sweet here in the Pacific Northwest.

Thanks to Whiskey River for this:

"People are frightened of themselves. It's like Freud saying that the best thing is to have no sensation at all, as if we're supposed to live painlessly and unconsciously in the world. I have a much different view. The ancients are right: the dear old human experience is a singular, difficult, shadowed, brilliant experience that does not resolve into being comfortable in the world. The valley of the shadow is part of that, and you are depriving yourself if you do not experience what humankind has experienced, including doubt and sorrow. We experience pain and difficulty as failure instead of saying, I will pass through this, everyone I have ever admired has passed through this, music has come out of this, literature has come out of it. We should think of our humanity as a privilege."
 - Marilynne Robinson
The Art of Fiction No. 198
the paris review
settled things strange


Anonymous said...

yes, great post, thanks. kjm

am said...

You're welcome, kjm. Thank you for continuing to stop by and comment.

Taradharma said...

that is such a beautiful and profound quote. I'm going to copy it for myself. I've been reading a lot lately about living authentically, feeling our feelings, and being brave enough to be vulnerable. This fits right in.

Lovely to see the summer from your porch.

Anonymous said...

I noticed a change in the light just last night. The subtle shift in the angle of the sun. Not a hint of fall yet, but a promise in the making.

bev said...

A couple of weeks ago, I moved my bed from thecold living room up to the little 7x7 foot tower room. The bed fills most of the room. There are two windows looking out into the tree tops. I feel like I am up in a crow's nest. One of the interesting things about being up here is that I am more aware of the trees. The ash are very tall and straight. The big Sugar Maple has broken off branches and is rather irregular. The Black Locusts are tall but with crazily grooved bark covered with lichen. I've been thinking that the ash are a bit boring, perhaps because they grow so straight and are undamaged. Meanwhile, the other trees seem very individual - real characters - largely because the have had to overcome damage and grow thick bark.

When I talk to some people, it s soon apparent that they have not dealt with some of the harder experiences of life. So often, they are a bit like the ash trees. Around this little hamlet, most of the neighbours are in their mid eighties. I am by far the youngest person around here. They are both physically and intellectually like the large Sugar Maple with thick bark growing over scars of broken branches. I may be younger, but some of my branches have been broken too. I will never be like the ash and that does not make me sad. I think perhaps I am a lichen covered Black Locust - and that seems just fine.