It’s amazing what you’ll find on the golf course, and it’s easier when you’re just riding along and observing rather than playing. There’s beauty everywhere; you just have to look — generally with eyes that aren’t following a little white ball. Grateful for these mornings spent on the golf course with Charlie. They offer me a couple of hours to empty my mind and simply notice what’s around me.
Ah, you can feel it in the air. It’s a subtle difference in temperatures, a slight change in the quality of light, a gathering of intention from the denizens of sky and tree and ground. There’s a skiff of newfound maturity and wisdom in the air. Savor it. It’s the gift of the seasons, to remind us that life is a cycle — hibernation to anticipation to ripening to harvest. The more I consider it, however, the more i think it’s really a spiral — like a nautilus shell — and each circuit pushes, prods, and makes us grow. I’m grateful to see Autumn beckoning.
Isn’t it interesting how so many treasures look like, well, rocks. Plain things. Nondescript products of Mother Earth that we kick with our toes as we wander down an alley or skim across a pond with a practiced toss. You hold in your hand something special that, when polished or cracked open, reveals amazing treasures, like these crystals. I’m reminded of how each of us is a geode, of sorts. Inside, when we dare to crack open and reveal ourselves, we find amazing and valuable treasures not even hinted at by our rough exteriors. I’m grateful when I crack my hard shell, and grateful when others crack their shells to reveal the real person inside.
From the left is a citrine crystal point (hexagonal), a clear quartz crystal with occlusions (hexagonal), and a candle quartz crystal (hexagonal), so named because it’s reminiscent of the melted wax along the sides of a candle.
In New York City’s Battery Park stands a tortured symbol of hope and resilience. “The Sphere” stood for some 30 years in the plaza between the twin World Trade Center towers in Manhattan. Artist Fritz Koenig created it as a symbol of world peace. On September 11, 2001, it was severely damaged by the ravaged towers and the debris from the airliners that, as an act of terrorism, were deliberately crashed into the buildings.
Yet that act could not destroy this resilient spirit of peace; it was resurrected, although not restored, its damages bared for all to see.
Tonight, on the eve of the 13th anniversary of that terrible moment in history, I’m strangely comforted by the sight of that tortured symbol in my photo files. Who and what we are is formed by how we face the world and by how we live beyond what hand the world deals to us.
Here, there is surely hope, captured and held aloft by twisted metal that simply would not be destroyed. That is an awesome memorial.
Grateful for resilience, tonight. Yes, may we never forget, but, oh, may we always work for peace.
Even shuttered by clouds, the summer’s final Super Moon — the Harvest Moon, to boot — still lit the heavens. Grateful for the opportunity to see not just this one, but all of the Super Moons, over the summer.
By the way, do you know why it’s called the “Harvest Moon?” Its the full moon closest to the autumnal equinox (Sept. 22). Behind the name is this: the Harvest Moon’s bright light lit up the fields for farmers who worked late into the darkness to harvest crops.
You’ll have to wait another year to see another Super Moon. In 2015, lift your eyes to the skies on Sunday, Sept. 27. In 2016, it’ll be Monday, Nov. 14.