“You can try to escape the story of your life. But you can’t. It happened. The baby died, the dog died. My heart broke. I knew you when you were young – your heart broke too.” Amy Jellicoe, the main character in Enlightened, to her now older estranged ex-husband.
“Telling our stories is not an end in itself, but an attempt to release ourselves from them, to evolve and grow beyond them. We tell our stories to transform ourselves; to learn about our history and tell our experiences to transcend them; to use our stories to make a difference in our world; to broaden our perspective to see further than normal; to act beyond a story that may have imprisoned or enslaved us; to live more of our spiritual and earthly potential.” Rachel Freed
I took this photograph of the “lowly” gazania. They border walkways and we may glance down and notice the splashes of color. But up close, their blossoms are a work of art.
“Thus came the lovely spring with a rush of blossoms and music, flooding the earth with flowers, and the air with melodies vernal.” Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Or as August Rush (Robin Williams) said in the movie, “Listen. Can you hear it? The music. I can hear it everywhere. In the wind . . . in the air . . . in the light. It’s all around us. All you have to do is open yourself up. All you have to do . . . is listen.”
“If you’re really listening, if you’re awake to the poignant beauty of the world, your heart breaks regularly. In fact, your heart is made to break; its purpose is to burst open again and again so that it can hold ever more wonders.” Andrew Henry
Every season holds its own beauty. This time of year we Californians get to behold the cloud formations that probably people in other areas take for granted? The vineyards here aren’t lush and green yet, but I love the rolling hills and the patterns made by the grapevines. Well, there are different types of heartbreak as well. Here speaks of the poignant kind that maybe takes your breath away or sways you with the majesty of the beauty of nature.
I took this photograph yesterday, April 25, 2015 near Rotta Winery in Templeton, Ca. as behind me waited my patient husband and our 3 best friends.
When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
“Adults follow paths. Children explore. Adults are content to walk the same way, hundreds of times, or thousands; perhaps it never occurs to adults to step off the paths, to creep beneath the rhododendrons, to find the spaces between the fences.” Neil Gaiman – The Ocean at the End of the Lane
Well, not all adults, thankfully. And I am fortunate to be acquainted with a number of them. Oh, and if you haven’t read The Ocean at the End of the Lane, I recommend it to you who like to find the spaces between the fences.
Photo taken at the Chapel on the Hill, east of Paso Robles, Ca.