For the late Zen master and renowned photographer, John Daido Loori, I suspect it was tide pools, beaches and heron spiced estuaries - they drew him like a magnet to faraway shorelines, carrying camera, tripod, lenses and diverse pockets of related peripherals. He loved the shapes and the colors, the contrasts where the sea meets the land, and he could stand for hours, watching the play of wind across waves and rock, rippled sand and tide pools, forests of seawashed kelp.
Not for me, at present anyway, the pacific bays and beaches near Point Lobos that Daido loved so much, the fog wrapped headlands and promontories graced by weathered stones. I've been there and loved those places, have photographed them and recall them at the drop of a frayed hat or the sway of my favorite windbells, but I live inland now and far from the earth's greater oceans. Far from Daido's salty shorelines though, I have eloquent expanses of my own, inland seas of foothills, gorges and quiet grassy coves, winding rivers and gnarled old trees, morning fogs, flowing frosty fens and dancing reeds.
Inland seas sing like the sirens of old, holding beauties beyond measure in every season. In November there are deep lake waters fringed with frosted grasses and tamarack reflections. There are wide hills and fields of blowing milkweed as far as one can see, entrancing the eye in sere and austere arrays, in perfect panoplies of cream and taupe and gray.This season draws one in like a magnet, and I dissolve in its midst like a contented and wind tossed leaf.
Thank you all so much for your kind words and wishes yesterday on the sixth anniversary of this place! It is a joy to consider us all pottering along together for another circling of the calendar in the Great Round of time.
5 comments:
I think these are your most poetic words yet! Oh, so lovely. I'm an inlander too. As much as I enjoy visiting the ocean, I'm more comfortable on the land. I like fields and mountains and woods surrounding me, rather than water.
My own love for looking out at the Pacific, for dwelling on her shores, is in great part, I think, because in such looking there is rarely any interruption of any manmade object, and the washing of the waves even obscures any sounds of humankind. The "inland oceans" you mention seem to be fewer and fewer, though I love them, too---the vast expanses of nature, whether in forest, mountains, prairies, or deserts. But through photographs, we can imaginatively extend such expanses beyond the photo's frame (whether they exist in reality or not).
Thank you for your poetic and welcoming pages. . .
I hope we'll be able to enjoy your rambles for many years yet to come. I so look forward to your posts to start my day.
"Eloquent expanses" indeed! I continue to be awed by these inland excursions that you take us on daily. Makes me more aware of *seeing* the splendor in my own "backyard." :)
Happy Anniversary--and I'm so glad for your wanderings, ponderings, and pictures.
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