Awe and wonder in the morning light.
The morning light is the awe and wonder. It invites one to see and savoir things seen yesterday from a different perspective, from a fresh awareness of other dimensions, added to by finding joy in doing so. There is a ‘multiplier effect’, as that memory prompts me to look differently at the same things on a cloudy day, seeing differently then also.
And realising that an element of all this, the joy of the morning and the awe and wonder found there, may, at least in part, result from how we choose to look at what we are seeing.
Important aspects of that are the relationships and the connections that add dimensions and perspective to each thing, each participant in each morning, a certain tree, a branch covered with flowers, a bird on a branch, another in flight, all part of that tapestry which is morning.
There is the familiar song of a bird not seen. Heard but not seen. Now a kookaburra, then a butcher bird. A friarbird and a couple of galahs, birdsong so familiar as to not need a visual clue.
The emergence of sunlight on a cloudy morning, in shafts that transform groups of trees in the garden, like a spot light, … translucency and transcendence as dimensions of that awe and wonder that is the morning light.
Sun catches the yellow of a sulphur crested cockatoo. As the clouds roll back, shadows appear and intensify, creating a magic of their own.
And if you sit for long enough, more delights, more surprises: Across my view, four friarbirds escorting a large black raven away from their nesting area, chasing may be a more accurate term.
Distant voices of five teenage young women, friends of about the same age, one of whom is a granddaughter, who have camped in our forest overnight, whose mothers have met ‘in circle’ since before they were born, and who have been friends since they were babies.
And like a heartbeat throughout, as a pulse which takes it forward, gratitude … and thankfulness.
Awe and wonder for what you see and hear, and relationships between them, but also from what you know about them and their connections, and the back-stories. And a camera at hand to capture vignettes.
How I love the morning light within the turpentines. Reminded of the friend who asks “How will you manage when you have to leave here.” Yes, how will I , I asked. I paused. I pondered. I realised with gratitude that it is all within me and wherever I go it comes with me. The spaces between the atoms and molecules of the trees and the grasses are share with the spaces between my atoms and molecules. We share the same spaces. We are connected infinitely. And this is but one dimension of the awe and wonder that is the morning light. ( added on 25 Jan 2021)
Now some pictures, amazed at what pictures one can capture from just here.
with best wishes from Bill Pigott on our veranda and in the garden, 18 October 2020 and 24 January 2021