Old realities shattered, forgotten, May 2009
Things have been rough lately. I've been doing some reading that has simultaneously filled me with hope and fear. I've discovered a faith that my future will take care of itself and that it will contain everything that I could ever want or need. I've also come face to face with all that I do to keep myself stuck in my suffering, just the way I am. My mind and body want to stay the way they are and they are willing to fight to hold their ground.
My biggest task is to learn how to love myself even though (or because?) I want to change. It is on the razor edge of this paradox (desire for change and loving acceptance) that I rest. With great unease. I'm just not sure what to do.
I now understand my fascination with the old places that dot the country-side around my home city. These are the places that my ancestors built. This is where I was born (the bigger "I," the genetic and social "I"). My great-grandparents came to this country with nothing (except hope and fear) and started life in sod cabins. These original homes have dissolved back into the earth. They were replaced by more solid homes from which more generations were born and much prosperity was gained. But as you can see from my photos, even these once great homes are disintegrating, forgotten as we continue to reach for something better.
What is it in these ruins that has led me to think like I think, believe what I believe, and act the way I act?
It isn't all dark shadows and grief when I look into the past. If you look closely at the photos, you will see subtle colour and richness. There is joy in the past! And I'm not going down any roads of blame or pity either. I just want to accept and understand.
In a way I'm grateful for all this suffering--this storm that I keep locked in my cellar. The gift is that I know it's there and that I can, when I'm able, unlock the doors and let all the pain go. And then move on, continue going, going, going on beyond.
The long shot, May 2009
Approaching, listening, May 2009
The past welcomes me in, May 2009
Robin egg blue, May 2009
Rhubarb pies past, present, and future, May 2009
Dark mysteries wait for me within, May 2009
The weather is soon forgotten, May 2009
The windy side, May 2009
Green under the eaves, gold on the roof, May 2009
Resistance is a door without a handle; or is it a window?, May 2009
The colours of my past, May 2009
I love my home, I love myself, May 2009
Rich colours of the past, May 2009
Even padlocks give way over time, May 2009
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8 comments:
So much in this to get me thinking. The photos have a painting-like quality that fits wonderfully with the words.
Living sometimes requires so much trust. Trust, which differs from blind acceptance.
Kia kaha, e hoa. Be strong, my friend.
Really beautiful work here, Michael. The photos are arresting and yet gentle. The writing is plaintive yet accepting.
Sounds as though you're doing exactly what you need to be doing: hanging on, and deciding what your internal dialogue will be. Sometimes that's everything.
Much love,
Emma
It heartens me to know that others are on this path ... a good path, difficult though it might be, your words remind me that the journey is worth it. Namaste,
There are two schools of thought about finding oneself: there are the people who say you have to look internally to find out who you are, and those that say externally to how people react to you.
I guess you have to find a happy medium that you can live with. Not as easy as it sounds.
As usual your photos remind me of all the forgotten things that most people miss - fantastic
(o)
Pete: that is wise --> trust is not the same as blind acceptance. Thank you.
Emma, Roxanne, Zhoen, DFTP: I'm honoured by your comments. Thanks.
Emma's comment expresses perfectly what I felt reading your words and looking at the photographs.
I have a difficult time pondering the past. I do it frequently, but I yearn for my grandparents to be children again... even though I wasn't there. I can't reconcile things and I feel sad. I can't explain it.
I read this when you first posted it and have reserved commenting. It's almost too much for me.
Chris: "I can't reconcile things and I feel sad. I can't explain it." There's much in life we can't tidy up and "understand." Acceptance and faith that things are the way they are supposed to be is the answer (for me). I often need reminding though.
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