"Here life goes on, even and monotonous on the surface, full of lightning, of summits and of despair, in its depths. We have now arrived at a stage in life so rich in new perceptions that cannot be transmitted to those at another stage - one feels at the same time full of so much gentleness and so much despair - the enigma of this life grows, grows, drowns one and crushes one, then all of a sudden in a supreme moment of light one becomes aware of the sacred."
- May Sarton
For ruminations like those above, I return to May Sarton. Whose writing maybe could be thought of as lighter fare. I've long been drawn to her simple observations, her gentle tone. When one tries to write simply and clearly about everyday things, that's when one admires all over again Sarton, the difficulty of just saying what one sees and feels without clouding it up. What could be more difficult than writing about the enigma of life? The way our perceptions clarify and thicken, and the way we find ourselves, through this daily pursuit of attentiveness through time, suddenly in the presence of the sacred...
I felt a little thrill when I came upon this string of leaves a few days ago. I narrowed down the many photos to the following three.
This one with the dappled background and the focus on the greener, smaller leaves:
And this one with more bokeh in the background:
But in the end I think I like this one best, because of the clarity and focus on the one leaf:
Even as I took this dreamy shot, I knew I would be converting it to b/w.
The leaves are like hands, palm up, that gesture.
And some, in their falling, have found a place to rest on the way down.