Memories

Old Memories

….become hazy and elusive. We think we remember events clearly but the time that has passed blurs recollection making it easier for us to tell ourselves the story of what we wished was true. 

Cleaning Our Windows

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We all have to do this occasionally don’t we? Step back, slow down and scrub off the misguided beliefs that cling to our psyches like barnacles. It becomes high time to get rid of the grime of outdated prejudices and cut back the creeping tentacles of self-doubt.

All this takes work and certainly doesn’t come easily. Usually some real pain or psychological trauma forces it upon us. 

Tough as cleaning our windows always is; once done, the sun shines brighter and we see people and events with more clarity.

All these improvements are good for a while but, sadly they never last and there will come a time when we will have to do it all over again.

That’s life. There’s no way around it.

New Thoughts In A New Place

As we settle in to our new place in Bocton, my thinking about what I post here is bound to change too. How? I’m not sure yet.

Probably I’ll write more and there will be fewer photos of pretty landscapes. More grit will creep in. It’s going to be a little scarey going forward but I look forward to the journey.

Portrait Of A Boston Patriot

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As we walked across the Boston Common today this man was giving a very engaging lecture to a bunch of schoolkids about how the Common came to be a public park. His costume and demeanor seemed perfect for the role he was playing.

Alone

MiseryThere’s nothing sadder than a sight like this on a lovely weekend afternoon.

Wabi Sabi Fire Hydrant

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A stoic standing by the fence near the sea. Rusting in salt air and sun.

Odd Out

A really fine combination of words and image. In addition to that I am fascinated by how Steve uses his iPad as his primary developing tool. Check his blog out. It is definitely worth a look.

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imageOdd Out, Woodbury, Connecticut © Steven Willard

How did you come to be here; so white and smooth in a forrest of rough dark brown? Were you left behind, the last of what was once a crowd of those just like you? Or, did you find your way here by accident, blown in by an ill considered wind, left to fend for yourself? It must have been difficult. I see you were nearly broken at one time, and yet you survived, bent but still standing, and standing without help from your neighbors. Do you feel them trying to crowd you out, blocking the light you need, their roots stealing the nutrients you need?

One day you will die, and in your body birds will find food for their young. They won’t ask  all these questions. They will just be thankful you were here at all. Until then stand tall, light…

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