Tired of the thinking, the planning, the profuse and diluted ‘what if’. ‘Nother pic I find, solitary leaf, just handing from its arm, branch, cane or whatever. Obvious clouds and seasonal indications. What this tells me I don’t know, and I don’t care what the metaphoric significance might be. I’m looking at it and thinking of autonomous, purpose— what our individual purposes are. Mine, yours… how do we wish ourselves defined and seen. This morning says a lot to me, but again, translation’s an issue. Recovering from a slight sickness from the last 30 or so hours, I see and appreciate the fragility of our moments, our time where and what we do to honor and effectuate our respective purposes and stories. The vineyards around us remind us of life, and what little of it we have. So, to excessively deliberate and meditate, plan and forecast goes against the point of purpose. Why not just jump in. Go meet what you think you’ll see, or what you DO see for yourself. With the image in front of me, nearly accosting my motions and types, my lesson this morning, I type further, knowing that I need to find more images, more notes, more intersections of lesson and character development for self.
Quiet in this office, here at the winery, getting here early and not, at first, really knowing what to write or brainstorm, but why not the moment I’m in, that you’re in. Everything you need is right around you, as I’ve said in class incalculable times. My sentences this morning, sacerdotal. The vineyards around me, there with their colors, their rest, their still in the rain. Extending canes and quiet with the bright green cover crops yelling and cheering for the vines’ performance this last growing season. I just watch with my camera, catch what I can. Life… Life… it’s all life. The vineyards have nothing to do with wine, but every in and about us. Strain, growth, trial, pain, test, yield, rest. You go out there and walk, and think about everything and nothing, concurrently. You just are.. there… with those tired canes. Speaking of.. 08:50, still have time, may try to fit in a vineyard walk.
Now sitting here, no thinking, just love and plenty merci for what I see everyday, driving to work. And to some this freed write may be a bit sluggish and humdrum, but to me it’s prayer, it’s meditation and Personhood collection. MY morning, my pictures of the rows and leaves, dirt and colors, no matter what time of season…. This shot, harvest workers working like the maddest of mad to get fruit into gondola, to get it safely in its new home, bed, to be translated and cared for. Their movements startled and educated me, on what real work and labor, love is. This shot I look at over and over with and addict’s sit, just injecting the pouring of grapes into my eyes over and over, and it’s a wonder of wonders that I can still type. If you find this form of impetus, let it never go.