#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Profile of a woman siting in meditation under a shawl on a blanket

“I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope
For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love
For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith
But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.
Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought:
So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing. . .”

~T.S. Eliot, Excerpt from “The Four Quartets”

All the snow, all the ice, washing away in the rain. It’s warmer, much warmer, and the ground is soggy, the sky lets out all the rain. It’s not entirely unpleasant, I’m happy to be out, but there is little to photograph that inspires. I find this one ice picture in the brook and what I see is this: a woman, in profile , her body looking left. She sits, in meditation, perhaps on a body of water, under a shawl and a blanket. Her hands are clasped in prayer, perhaps. She is formed from cracking layers of lce and an opening, to the brook water, in the center. I feel very satisfied that she called my attention this morning. She reminds me to let my mind be still and let my spirit be stronger than my ego. She reminds me that being in stillness is enough. Be here now, the wise woman shows, with her body, with her presence, with her senses. She will not last. Likely, she is gone, now that its dark and the rain has penetrated her. Now, she is only of the brook. She is water. I will not see her ever again in this shape. I worked on a poem. One I wrote months ago, workshopped once, put away. I went to a poetry master class in Brookline with the poet Alan Shapiro, sponsored by the Brookline Reading Series. I knew most of the other poets who came, and the poems shared were very good; and Alan’s presentation and facilitation were excellent. His comments about my poem, which he liked, were so clear, so precise, so on target. I am so happy this is the poem I brought, as I saw exactly what it needs. It’s a poem I wrote about a 10-day silent meditation retreat I went to some years ago. Interestingly, Did my meditation woman inspire me to bring this poem? Or, did my instinct to consider bringing this poem inspire my vision of her in the brook? In any case, I feel that I found an image that will have a lot of resonance for me. She has much to offer.