Tag: beautiful world
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All Around the Earth Cries: Grace Grace Grace
When rain falls soft but constant, when my heart has been in shreds for days, when words don’t fit the magnitude of all that is in my head, what can I do but step into the garden barefoot? The damp soft earth bends beneath my feet, carries my weight and the weight of all I…
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Beauty-Stalker
I have become a stalker of beauty, for moments of extravagance. My life has recently intensified in terms of busyness; my schedule tightened and became rigid. My remedy: leave my desk, take long winding walks, steal time for conversation. It’s counter-intuitive and seems frivolous, but these stolen moments of beauty, these soul-feeding moments, bring me…
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Streets of Gold
When the light is fading just behind the hills and slants in just right, the asphalt looks flecked with gold, like a river of night, shimmering star-studded, whispering ‘Follow, follow…’ So I followed, bare feet on baked asphalt, following the sun sparks round the corner past the cricket field to the mystery tree. The mystery…
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After Solstice
The days had lengthened. The sun had journeyed northward towards the point of convergence. There, briefly, the sun stood still, then subtly directed its path southward again. Solstice: a turning of the year, a turning of the light. Waypoint for our nomadic sun. A few hours later, already, daylight had shortened. The first day of…
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Patchwork Days
What is this mystery—the way time goes? Time goes, shuffling on its feet or shooting past like a comet, lighting up a little darkness. Time goes, creating distance, creating space. Memories crash and shift like kaleidoscope patterns. Days interweave. Where have you come from? Where are you going? Moments of time—-patches of color: deep purple…
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What A Life I Lead When The Wind It Breathes: The Necessity of Extravagance
A few days ago I went for a spontaneous walk in the last hours of the day when the light was tinged with gold and the colors of the sky were shifting. And it was the most wonderful, to stand alone on a shining golden hillside with the wind making patterns in the wild grass…
Kathryn Kong 