Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Salutation to the dawn.

                                                A foggy dawn in Fulford Harbour.

I am part of all that I have met;

Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough

Gleams that untraveled world, whose margin fades

For ever and ever when I move.

From ‘Ulysses’ by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

It is the end of January and the days are already lengthening. As I drive Heather down to the 8am ferry in Fulford, for her regular day across the water of caring for a grandchild, it is early dawn and not still pitchy black as it was at Christmas. A foggy, grey dawn, but Spring cannot be far away. Already this morning, the snowdrops and aconites were flowering like bright stars on the dark earth as we walked down the garden path and out to the van. I take my camera along and stroll around the docks that are catching the first misty light of day.

On my way home up our winding and hilly country road I stop at two lakes to find more delicate moments as the mists rise. The calm waters reflect the clouds overhead and the overhanging leafless trees. I look for relationships among the elements of the landscape and hold my breath a moment as I click the shutter. It is a kind of communication I am feeling, something here that crosses from the landscape to myself without benefit of spoken language. This morning is all about relationship.

 Just the other day I listened to a radio discussion on a science program about brain and mind. Usually thought of as synonymous, the concept was up for review: our mind, it was said, extends out beyond ourselves, is part of all that we have met. That is exactly what I am experiencing this morning, a co-mingling of my deeper self with the breath of a new day.

Back home again, I see the watery sun rising into a narrow gap between land and cloud. A brief moment of lemony light. I raise my hand high to acknowledge our relationship. “ I see you, yes I see you, coming from afar.”

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