Sometimes beauty is so stunning that it stops you in your tracks. I am always amazed when I walk Cape Cod with my Nikon and see what my body’s eyes see and yet there are times that I see with a completely different set of eyes. It is a rainy Sunday morning here in Osterville with a washout expected. Yet within that washout are so many things to be grateful for. Grateful people are happy people, those who aren’t, aren’t. If your not in a grateful mood, as I was not yesterday, that old quote that I quote here on Cape Cod all the time was actually from “Charlie Street” in Costa Mesa, California. The messages are more difficult to pick up on out in California because there are so many people. So many, that you can miss the real answers to problems right there under your nose. Here on the Cape, you see messages of hope wherever you look–assuming your eyes are open. Be it a sunset like this one, or a chance encounter with a Great Blue Heron, the result is the same–an opening, a ray of spirit that gets through all of the haze, confusion and endless chatter from all of the “communication devices” we human beings endure over the course of a day. The television being the biggest culprit. Literally screaming at us, especially the commercials, to buy into whatever it is they are selling. The awakening America is going through right now, the yearning question is, how much is enough? What is it that we really need? That hunger is what drives the sales at Macy’s and Bloomingdales, as the need to fill that hole becomes ever more urgent. What is worse are the strong minds of Madison Avenue in New York, taking advantage of young and old minds alike, who may not have all of the ammunition and thus fall prey to their suggestive selling. I recall moments out in California and Arizona, when I drove across the country with my father (for the first time), just the two of us, where those moments of clarity and pure peace rang through clear as a bell. Seeing the painted desert, with the pink and blue literally painting the desert’s seemingly lifeless brown landscape with something not of this world–seeing through the veil of doubt and cynicism and releasing the beauty that is within us all. I thank my father for that and for many things that he has tried to show me over the years. Sometimes my problems stemmed from my lack of gratitude and when I shed that attitude, things began to change. My Dad is in the desert as I write this from my little loft here on little Cape Cod–if you can see my smoke signal, I love you and miss you. You don’t need a painted desert or a sunset from Cape Cod to fill you up with God’s love, all you have to do is throw someone a smile, out of the blue, and tell them with your eyes that you love them–that is beauty. Peace M
March 29, 2009
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