Two months ago I said I want to notice where I have already or am currently ‘Recreating REMs‘.
And I thought of my bed.
How it and I have been in the same place for several years, and from mid fall to winter’s end I’ve loved that most mornings I can watch the sun rise.
At some point I started taking pictures and notice,
how our older neighbor replaced our shared falling-apart white mailboxes with ones that he said looked black in-store, but turned out to be this pretty brass/grey
I appreciate the trees responding and releasing to change
and the skies.
always changing – sometimes slow with morning inching up trees one branch at a time
other times a pastel river, my eyes following along shifting currents of light, cloud and air
The moments are comforting, and so are the pictures of the moments
Adding another layer, allowing me to revisit these simple moments and understand them again or differently.
How many layers are there in a moment? There are ones we’re aware of |inside the moment| and others discovered | | outside, beyond.
I picked up the dates of my pictures here and laid down with old journals wondering what layers might be waiting
How many layers do we need to know? Why go looking for more, and when does the looking overshadow the moment – bury and freeze us from moving at all?
In this case the entries I found, some from exact dates and others in the days surrounding them, helped remind me
I’ve changed. Am changing even now,
With the same tree, the same view
A paradox I’m identifying with more and more every season.