Friday, 7 April 2017

This Place of Giant Stones



Again, last night, I dreamt that I was falling – as I often have, throughout the slumbers of my life – though lately, such dreams, have lost their ability to bother me … much.  I suppose if you experience anything enough times, over a long period – and live – it losses some of the power it once had, to alarm.

In other aspects of my life, as well, I seem to be developing – in my senior years – a different relationship with fear.  As the panoramic vista of the valley of the shadow begins to come into view – albeit, off in the distance (though clearly there is no getting around it) a trepidatious acceptance has started to settle upon me.  Though I know (all too well) that, tragically, life can end at any age, the expectation is that human life spans will follow a predictable pattern.  Having had the good fortune to stick to that pattern, I am grateful that I have been blessed with (what my Mother used to refer to as) a ’good run’.  I like to think I’ve struck a pretty decent bargain for myself … a kind of ‘just-let-me-roll a fair way beyond my threescore years and ten – and I’ll be good to go.  I am curious to see, if that bargain holds.

This acceptance of the inevitable, may always have been a feature of deepening age … though, the scale of the turbulence and destruction of the times that we live in, probably makes coming to terms with our mortality, considerably harder, than it was for our ancestors.  They had planted their seeds (figuratively and/or literally) on a beautiful earth and those seeds would flourish, long after they had passed.  Today we – all of humankind – are leaving this planet with far less optimistic prospects.  And that – for most of us – is not a nice feeling – and not the way we would choose to leave it … if we had a choice.  In effect, we will go to our deaths, in fear … in fear, for our beautiful planet. … and all that lives upon it.

That is my – greatest – fear … and I know it is, a deeply felt concern that many of you share.  I fear for the children of this world.  What a world we are leaving to those innocent little souls.  I am afraid for their future, and I am afraid for the planet that we are in the process of destroying.

When I was a very young child, a shocking scene from a war torn country, came into our living room via the nightly news.  And when I asked my Mother, what was going to happen to the people that had been filmed, she said:  “Life finds a way”.

And so, I turn, again and again, to the sky and the sea and the forests and such places … that are life affirming, and to such people … who are active and engaged in initiatives to heal this earth.  I do what I can, to try and make a difference.  And I live in the hope that … life will find a way.  


this place of giant stones
that time and river transform –
in the vastness of this earth …
so many miracles
waiting to happen 


We have come to a place where, those of us, who love this earth … live … and die … in the hope … of miracles. 
 
 
note:  a tanka prose piece.

photo:  Lynn Headwaters Park in North Vancouver, BC – P.M. Bourke

© 2017 Wendy Bourke

19 comments:

  1. Miracles happen. I love this, especially that tanka close. Your reflections are always such good reads.

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  2. You are the miracle, as your thoughts beautifully show. You have taken that next step. Thank you for this.

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  3. Oh, I agree with you. We will leave this planet with less optimistic prospects than our ancestors did. They 'handed' us the planet with things looking better...but right now, as I think of the world I will give to my grandchildren I am fearful that they will not have clean water, clean air, even the freedom that those before us fought for. I do hope that life will find a way. And for that....I pray!

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  4. A good point, though I think the future, mortality and the earth are contemplated very differently by people in different parts of the world... particularly in war torn countries. Much to ponder here. Thank you.

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  5. Beautiful, if sad, reflection, and one I can relate to. I love the saying, 'Life will find a way'. Many thanks for it, to your mother and you!

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  6. That is all we can do, what we can--find a way to help life, the planet, and those who will have to find their own way after us.

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  7. I felt the honesty of your reflections, I often ponder life, my own mortality and of course our beautiful planet. I think "life will find a way" at least that is what I hope.

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  8. Your tanka prose is absorbing, and very much in sympatico, for that the exactly same way i view my scary dreams and your tanka is certainly a metaphor for a gracious and thankful life

    Happy Palm Sunday

    much love...

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  9. Well chosen words. Let us all hold fast to the hope that life will find a way.

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  10. Wendy, you know how I breathed in and felt every one of your words. Beautifully expressed. I love "Life finds a way". I love what you say about nature being so affirming. She bestows life on us even while we are bestowing death on her and her creatures. The wild ones cant figure out why humankind is too dense to receive their messages.

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  11. This is so beautiful...wise words, so profoundly expressed. It's a very contemplative time for all of us in this world.

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  12. Quite thought provoking, and enjoyable to read.

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  13. ...or pass the stream of life with a smile and a clear conscience.
    Interesting thoughts.
    ZQ

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  14. This acceptance of the inevitable, may always have been a feature of deepening age … though, the scale of the turbulence and destruction of the times that we live in, probably makes coming to terms with our mortality, considerably harder, than it was for our ancestors.

    This is so deep, so very touching..

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  15. Beautiful thoughts Wendy. I'm 70 also and loving this prelude of the inevitable but so saddened by my fears for my grandchildren. I must believe this world will be its own Spring and be reborn in a wonderful, miraculous way.

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  16. Miracles one would only hope for given the current situation. There seems to be no concerted efforts to render some hopes!

    Hank

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  17. Dealing with aging--after having had a good run and more to come (please God)--absolutely makes me identify more with the planet than before. And so I say with you the verse that ends this haibun, and feel the grandness of it and the possibility of miracles. We must save and nurture the children.

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  18. I feel sad for the children and grandchildren and hope that we learn to take care of this planet for them ~ Appreciate your reflections here Wendy ~ Happy Easter ~

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  19. Deeply reflective and relatable. Thank you for expressing how I feel!

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