Sam--Disturbing the Peace
Photo by Bgrace
"For nature and art are in this way twins:
they are both beautiful and dreadful, and in love with change."
Mary Oliver, Winter Hours
Snow was still settling onto the landscape as I set out for my morning walk. Sam paced despairingly, unable to fathom why he couldn't join me. "I'll come back for you soon," I promised with a scratch behind his ears. I silenced his whines with a firm close of the door. Sam and I have different ideas about capturing wildlife. Not that I was particularly set on photographing bird or beast. This day was for observing, listening, inhaling and embracing the sweet silence of cold peace undisturbed.
I made my way to the temple hill and faced the wooded slope, conflicted. The snow perfectly blanketed the hillside before me. A surge of satisfaction shot through my frame. I was about to go where none had traveled--at least not since the last snowfall. Magellan must have felt this times a million. What treasures would I be the first to find?
But there was a sadness too. My own boots would bear the guilt of crime; the untouched and untainted soon marred with my footprints. So it is with every step into the untraveled.
We embark on discovery and risk the uncertainty of the unknown,
anticipating the rewards of a virgin quest;
To gather up sites unseen and beauties unbeheld;
To bring home an armload of treasures or perhaps a lone, precious jewel.
Yet the greatest blessing can never be shared,
or carried back.
Once our path is carved along the unexplored,
it is no longer that.
I step forward, upward, without a glance behind.
The pleasure of discovering will exceed anything I find.
