The room small and tight; its contents so familiar they no longer speak. Outside, the distance waits with outstretched arms and enticing whispers. It’s hard to say goodbye.
There are certain spaces into which light cannot shine. These spaces are reserved for the dark only. To force light into them is destructive. Dark interiors are where most growth begins. We all started in the dark.
Yesterday I was engrossed in watching the shadow of a cloud slowly move across the slope of a small hill. It was a moment of sheer beauty. It got me thinking of the landscape and the intimate relationship it shares with light.
It has this wonderful gift of being able to receive the light into itself and to immediately begin to shape it in diverse textures of shadow and colour according to all the nooks and crannies and angles of the terrain. It’s as if the landscape becomes an artist using light as the paint to produce a portrait of itself. I’ve often seen what I can only call breathtaking creations flowing out of this sacred and intimate relationship.