Thursday, February 23, 2012

Another Day Begins . . .

 Really, who needs words?  A slight turn of my head as I sat at the computer screen this morning, and I grabbed my camera and headed to the beach. . .
 IndigoAlison, here are landscape stripes for your painting pleasure . . .
We have a good friend and neighbour in palliative care right now, an unexpected sadness that's drawing community together in that almost uncomfortably redemptive way that these things do. His wife, also a very good friend and a truly wise woman, has started a blog on which she's collecting the many messages and memories of her husband's friends and relatives -- it's grown very quickly, testifying to his creative, generous, bold, exuberant, mock-cantankerous, forthright*, truly curious, perspicacious, and above all, as friends keep testifying, gleeful, spirit.  I think I'll send her these photos of the view from our shared beach. It doesn't erase life's sadness, but it was here, fleetingly, this morning, as another day began . . .

*He said once, of this blog, when prompted by his wife, who was praising it: Yeah, yeah, but why do you have to write about shoes? (and imagine eyebrows scrunching dramatically, a voice musically mixing playful scorn with genuine curiousity to stretch that word "shoes" as he pulled it several pitches upward)

21 comments:

  1. Thank you for sharing these breathtaking photos. I adore your part of the world.

    I am so sorry to hear about your friend. What a lovely idea to have a blog for his friends and family to post messages and comforting thoughts.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks Adrienne, and I'm glad you enjoyed the photos.

      Delete
  2. I have started my day with this post, and it elegantly covers the things that need to be important. I thank you.

    ReplyDelete
  3. A perfect set of images with which to pause and honour your friend.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Sometimes images serve better than words. . .

      Delete
  4. Beautiful photos, I'm sure your friend will appreciate them.

    ReplyDelete
  5. So sorry to hear about your friend's illness. That must be terribly difficult and I'm giving you all some positive vibes.

    And that view will definitely soothe the soul. Does your friend have access to a view like that right now? I wish for him to have the opportunity to see that kind of beauty now.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Quite frankly, I think he's deriving most comfort from opiates now, but his wife holds his hand, his dog sleeps on the bed in the Palliative unit. The view is perhaps more comforting for the rest of us . . . and we knows its limitations. Still . . .

      Delete
  6. Lovely seascape to start your morning. Your windows must be like picture frames for an ever changing vista.

    Sorry to hear about your ailing friend. The blog will be a source of comfort for his family. Support from the immediate community and beyond.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I'm actually so impressed that the family can maintain the blog as a comfort for the rest of us, a way of keeping us connected when visiting possibilities are limited.

      Delete
  7. And another day ends. "Uncomfortably redemptive..." perfect. Brilliant, actually. I know just what you mean.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Even just replying to these comments, I'm worried of doing too much tidying up, risking the trite . . . Glad you get it.

      Delete
  8. So sorry to hear about your cantankerous friend...

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks, Terri -- his cantankerousness was only ever a gleeful pose; he has a wonderfully big heart!

      Delete
  9. They ooze Monet especially in the glow of the rippled surfaces. Sorry to hear about your friend and neighbour. We were recently reflecting on illness in the department as a colleague is fighting cancer and I have just found out my father is back in London for treatment too. I have decided to offer an olive branch which appears to have been reciprocated. I am full of new feelings I am struggling to deal with on top of work, but it is astonishing how illness builds bridges.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. If you ever get to my front porch, I'll let you sit with your paints as long as you wish -- I'll bring you food and drinks and pots of tea and you can paint to your heart's content.
      I'm so glad you're taking advantage of your father's presence and hope you have time to build some bridges back to the childhood warmth I've glimpsed of your relationship. big hugs xoxo

      Delete
  10. Beautiful! "Uncomfortably redemptive" really struck me this morning, as well as the stunning photos. Words and pictures, such a brilliant collage of images and thoughts.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. The blog format invites yet blocks, offers vistas of space but tends to shape narratives. I'm so glad to have readers who see between and beyond the lines. Thank you.

      Delete
  11. I am very sorry to hear about your friend. Your words "uncomfortably redemptive" struck me as well, the process of remembering and honoring the immortal parts of a life drawing to a close. The blog idea sounds wonderful.

    Thank you for the beautiful photos.

    ReplyDelete

I'd love to hear your response to my post. Agree, disagree, even go off on a tangent, I love to know you're out there, readers. Let's chat, shall we? I apologize, though, for the temporary necessity of the Word Verification -- spam comments have been tiresomely numerous lately, and I'm hoping to break that pattern.

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...