It has been an odd week and I feel chopstick rattled. Certainly, the killings in Toulouse and the following aftermath are a large part of it.
My heart goes out to all that lost loved ones and friends in those horrendous acts.
Such destruction is a terrible counter to all of the life springing up around us.
Better then to escape for a few moments by returning to the Chapelle de St. Martin, or more precisely, to the sacred spring just down the hill behind it. I want to lower my brow into its crystalline waters to pull out this weeks violence like a sieve.
To slow down, to breathe longer and deeper. Certainly that is the state that I was in while gazed into the sacred source, one treasured for its offerings for at least a thousand years. Honored with offerings by civilization after civilization. I traipsed, one foot in front of the other, across the well-worn stones lining the pool to its far end. There, three steps lead down to a spout of the water, diving down into the ground to nourish the fields beyond.
Being at Remi's side during years of assignments and adventures, waiting with him as he finds the right light for his photography has at times been a true challenge for me. I fidget, I stamp, I sigh loudly. All to no avail. So finally, I give up, give in and sit down.
And then start to take a look around...
There can be great beauty in such moments. When I stop projecting myself forward to be right exactly where I am. Just as by getting infinitely small, we expand with a sigh of the skies. Nothing new in that.
Wherever you happen to be and no matter what your week has been, I am sending out all my best for the weekend ahead. Just in hopes that you may have a few minutes to take a good look around you and appreciate the very fine view.