I am so mindful of the things we are experiencing in the world as I write this. We are now seeing horrors in Europe that we had hoped we could relegate to the past. They have never stopped happening, of course. Mankind has a particular talent for inflicting misery on his fellow man and another spectacularly sad talent to be able to collectively look the other way.
Part of what I am seeking to do here is remind myself on a daily basis that the Earth is a boat. It is the only boat we have. We are all in it. We all need the boat to sustain us and save us from the deep oblivion that is space. Imagining that what we do at one end of the boat will not effect or affect the others up the other end of the boat is madness and we need to get over that notion pretty quick. I don’t expect that I can just sit in the boat for a nice ride. I expect to be handed an oar from time to time to help row. I am grateful for my place in the boat and hope that at least some of my actions can be turned to useful service for all as that is the only way that I can, in turn, be truly served.
I had forgotten about this photo. It was taken a couple of weeks ago as the morning light poured into the kitchen. I love the way that the light bounces off of different things in the kitchen, lighting up the front of the jug although the only light source is coming from behind. I don’t stage my photos as I really like the spontaneous beauty in realism that surrounds us all the time, if we look. Muck on the counter top, who cares? Really? Yes, they get wiped several times each day – we all have dirt but like to pretend we don’t. “Clean enough to be healthy, messy enough to be happy.” My Mom.
The little jug was bought in Collioure, in the south of France, and is pottery that is local to that place. It looks and feels as rough in texture as the mountains that tower up from the bay. That particular holiday, we had chased south, looking for sunshine that always seemed to be just that bit further down the road. We ran out of road in Collioure, but were enchanted by the church and lighthouse that jutted out into the Mediterranean Sea.
It was blazing sunshine and we booked into a little hotel right on the bay for three days. At last, the warm weather that we so desperately needed having come from soggy Britain in a very cold May.
The next morning, Rod flung back the curtains- we felt as though we had been suddenly transported to an oil rig in the middle of the North Sea. The howling wind and rain beat furiously against the picture window and we could see no bay, no church, no sunshine. Let’s draw a veil over the mood of the rest of that morning….
The jug and a plate from the same pottery were bought here though and we think back not only to that time but to other occasions we have been lucky enough to visit Collioure when the weather was splendid.
Hold on to the memories. Fight for a future to make new memories in.
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