Monday, July 02, 2012
Theatre at my Door
And not my door only. Everyone has a theatre at their doorways, whether city or country or in between. I only have to open my eyes to see it, to feel, or to hear it.
Back in the day, one of my running partners would always encourage this joint meditation:
Tell me what you see.
Tell me what you hear.
Tell me what you smell.
Tell me how you feel.
We would often run five or more miles, "telling" each other, and be so shocked we had covered such a distance.
Today is mauzy, now brightening as I write, the sun burning off the wannabe misty fog.
I see the boat chugging in and take out the zoom lens. I love playing with my camera. And I catch the shot, the mauze, the boat, the trees framing, the mauzy houses opposite.
I wonder if the captain caught enough crab or was (s)he laying mussel nets. I think about a living on the sea. How more meaningful it is to be a harvester, no matter what the catch, eggs, potatoes, fish.
I am a harvester of words. Of pictures. Of dreams.