Image
of the Poet
“The
image of the poet's in the breeze.
Canadian
geese are flying above the trees.
A
mist is hanging gently on the lake.
My
house is very beautiful at [dawn].”
Lou
Reed (My House)
I
slept just past dawn this morning, and rose to a gorgeous golden
sunrise illuminating the mist “hanging gently on the lake.” What
a feast for the eyes and the thankful heart. Sometimes we are blessed
for no good reason.
There
is nothing quite like a beautiful morning to lift the spirits and set
the tone for the whole day. I understand Lou Reed's recognition of
the “image of the poet” because one is inspired to use poetic
words, like “serene,” (Jodi) and “magical” (me). Rebecca
points out that the sun has made it only half-way across, that
images reflect on one side and not the other, as though the lake is
waking up one inch at a time. The whole world outside is one
unnameable shade of blue. And inside, my friends and I have a fire
crackling in the hearth, and coffee in the cup. What could be better?
We,
who live in this world of contradictions and constant tragedy, must
take our blessings where we find them. One more reason to be here,
now—to appreciate deeply what is right before our eyes, especially
when what is right before our eyes is beautiful. Beauty is the
language of the soul. It speaks directly to our hearts. And beauty is
everywhere if we have eyes to see it.
In
the Spirit,
Jane
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