An online journal sharing my interests in photography, nature, coffee life, journaling, fountain pens, spirituality and asking deep questions.
Once a child has learned to read alone, and can pick up a book without illustrations, he must become a creator, imagining the setting of the story, visualizing the characters, seeing facial expressions, hearing the inflection of voices. The author and the reader ‘know’ each other; they meet on the bridge of words.
Madeleine L’Engleo
I, who live by words, am wordless when
Madeleine L’Engle, “Words”
I try my words in prayer. All language turns
To silence. Prayer will take my words and then
Reveal their emptiness. The stilled voice learns
To hold its peace, to listen with the heart
To silence that is joy, is adoration.
The self is shattered, all words torn apart
In this strange patterned time of contemplation
That, in time, breaks time, breaks words, breaks me,
And then, in silence, leaves me healed and mended.
I leave, returned to language, for I see
Through words, even when all words are ended.
I, who live by words, am wordless when
I turn me to the Word to pray. Amen.
Those prayers of my youth for help have evolved over time to become more about gratitude, listening and staying present. I like that. Prayer has become much more than the words I say and more about the words I hear, yet are unheard. I like that. I can also say the same thing with my journaling, blogging and my photography. Each is becoming what it is meant to be. I like that. My friend shared this poem with me. I found it to resonate with me so I wanted to share it with you. This is last night’s sunset along Overland Trail. Directly behind me is a pond with a wonderful chorus of croaking frogs. I like that. Moments like this have become prayer to me, no need for my words. Well, maybe “Thanks.”