Monthly Archives: November 2013

Rainlight, Candlelight

I am walking on the estate again. It is windy and rainy. Everything is saturated. Black bark is blacker. Pale green lichen is brighter. Stones on the path glisten, winking their suddenly lustrous tones into the gray space. Tawny needles below the pines throb on the hillside, slowly casting off the half life of sun light.

It is a dreary, we say. It is dismal. But in the damp, in the grey rainlight, everything is softer and more vivid. It is like looking at the whole world by candlelight. Everything becomes more beautiful, more romantic, more clearly itself, by what’s absent. Beauty shines in the dark, because it is at home there.

Burdocks

Burdock bud
Think not, how many are there?, or will they be hard to pick out?, or well, this is irritating. These are common responses. Think instead, what path was I walking, that I brushed up against something so eager to be with me?

We are the perfect hosts for whatever work we need. It is not something to be sought. Look only for the irritation, poking through the layers you have put on. The work is not to dig out the hooks, or wear a slicker slicker, or to go another way, or to hack down the burdock. These are common solutions. The work is to ask, and then know, what path was I walking, that made me a good host? The work is to make peace with one’s carrier status, and then walk again, eyes open, and heart still.