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Thursday, August 16, 2012

a mathematical light


H O W   D I D    T H E    R O S E ?

~ HAFIZ

How
did the rose
ever open its heart
and give to this world all of its beauty?
It felt the encouragement of light against its being,
otherwise
we all remain too 
frightened.




Are you growing weary of seeing photographs of the same roses, the same zinnias, my backyard, over and over?  I thought I might, but they are new flowers every day.  And now mid-August, it is late, late summer, and everything has changed.

"Light never shows the same mountain twice. Only the blindness of habit convinces us that we continue to live in the same place, that we see the same landscape. In truth, no place ever remains the same because light has no mind for repetition; it adores difference. Through its illuminations, it strives to suggest the silent depths that hide in the dark."

~ John O'Donohue




And light never shows the same rose twice, either.




How silent the early morning light, how fragile.  Maybe it is in the morning, while most of the world is still in bed, or wandering in their houses in bathrobes not yet quite awake, that it's possible to enter into something like a state of grace.  What is a state of grace?  I suppose most of us have some sort of idea of what it might be.  


But this is how Clarice Lispector describes it in (again) her Cronicas:



"In a state of grace, one sometimes perceives the deep beauty, hitherto unattainable, of another person. And everything acquires a kind of halo which is not imaginary: it comes from the splendour of the almost mathematical light emanating from people and things. One starts to feel that everything in existence - whether people or things - breathes and exhales the subtle light of energy. The world's truth is impalpable."  





One cannot will a state of grace into being, says C.L.  "It is useless to desire: things only come when desired spontaneously."





 The above photograph, our back deck, all the plants looking leggy and unkempt and gone to seed; they are at the end of things, and they must know it.  But maybe it's my favourite garden photograph of this year.  It says something about my life that I cannot.




I've never enjoyed a pot of flowers more than I have these zinnias, so I hope someone will remind me to plant some again next year.  



It must be the mathematical light that emanates from them.....





1 comment:

  1. "Are you growing weary of seeing photographs of the same roses, the same zinnias, my backyard, over and over?" How could anyone get weary of this very specific beauty, so lovingly noticed and commemorated? Thank you for it.

    ReplyDelete

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