We grow, sometimes in ways and directions that are unexpected. And if we are truly listening to our hearts, we may have no control over the shapes our lives take, or the colors used in their palettes. Usually, I think, letting go of that control is the most difficult part.
Who could have told me I'd be photographing blooming flowers in December? Who can tell me what I may be doing five months from now, that I cannot see from here? Who can anticipate whether a tree will grow straight and tall, whether it will bend and twist and wind its way only crookedly toward heaven, or whether it will become the casualty of some especially fierce season? How many branches will it have, what shape will its leaves be, and will they turn in the fall? Will bees and birds pollinate its flowers, will it live for decades or be cut down for development?
I have always had more questions than answers. But I believe that for every question, an answer already exists. The passion of our lives--however poignant, joyful, tender, bereft, triumphant or lonely--lies in undertaking that answer's discovery.
Sunday, February 3, 2008
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