“In a time of drastic change it is the learners who inherit the future. The learned usually find themselves equipped to live in a world that no longer exists.”
(Eric Hoffer)
On this post-presidential election morning, the juxtaposition of the natural world against the posturings and perceptions of the human animal is as clearly-defined as the decidedly bright and spring-like warmth melting softly through a slight mist amidst the golden leaves. It is one of those mornings that bursts forth with a rush of cheer and hopefulness; the birds and furred ones already out and about their business to take advantage of this brief, seasonal respite to find fattening forage and continue to build their stores for the winter ahead.
In other words, it is business as usual. Yet on the human front, the results of last night’s elections seem to have left the world in a somewhat bleary-eyed and befuddled state of comingled relief that all the campaigning and rhetoric is over and anxiousness about what might lie ahead. The pundits are continuing to expound on dangers real and imaginary while beginning the inevitable, excrutiatingly-detailed yet trivial-pursuit post-mortems on why one candidate was elected over another; mostly to reassure themselves, methinks.
While I certainly have political opinions, they are personal and when all is said and done mean nothing when compared to my actions and, rest assured, are certainly not the point of this piece. I have chosen to live a life that in Eastern terms is called “the path of selfless service” so this day is, for me, no different than any other day. It is that mindset, then, that causes a brief moment of pause; another moment in which this disparity between the perspectives of nature versus that of humans is apparent.
For a photographer, life is a never-ending series of observations captured through a lens. For a writer, life is a never-ending series of observations captured through words. On this markedly historical morning where the human experience is concerned, for this photographer and writer there was no choice but to look, to see, and to record.
It seems no small coincidence that what is being termed no small triumph for change comes on the heels of what is considered the start of the natural cycle. As the northern hemisphere enters that period in which our world digs in against the shortening daylight hours and goes down into the deep sleep of contemplative review in order to birth the seeds to be sown upon the Winter Solstice (return of the light), the crystaline brightness of this honey-hued morning is filled with small, portent images.
Dying leaves still cling to the maples in delicious shades of orange. Japanese maples and burning bushes positively glow with leaves of deepest crimson. The oaks display their rich and russet browns, the lindens and mulberries and rose of Sharon all transfuse the light with varying degrees of yellowish-green against grass, in contrast, that shines with dew like the brightest of emeralds. It is a veritable harvest feast for the eyes and each one a jewel to be tucked into memory as touchstones for the grey days ahead. Reminders that everything birthed holds potential for renewal, and that the very best go out in a blaze of glory.
Of late, it has been to the indestructible ivy that stubbornly invades the red brick of both my house and my next-door neighbor’s near-twin house that my eyes have turned. Waiting for just the right degrees of both sun-on-horizon and intensity of the early morning light to record its small yet colorful journey towards winter’s dreams.
The times, they are a’changing, and so in synchronous deference to a Higher wisdom it is today that this small, simple being becomes today’s daily photograph. Of the various shots taken, it is this mixture of ivy, brick and trellis that holds the symbolism of the dark times ahead, the stubbornness to persevere through them, and that opening through which all that is reborn must come.
Leave a Reply