perspective

The sensation of sunshine in my hair by daintydora

I love it when you have a day that starts of sunny and bright and things just go...right, well, unfolding perfectly, from the moment you open your eyes. It doesn't happen often but I find it's always the unplanned days that work out like this, or the days with only a very loose plan. Nothing fancy, no grand ideas, just spur of the moment thoughts anchored around a day out to a specific place or a meet up with a friend and a sense of putting the world to rights in your mind, in your world.

Sunshine halo

Some of my favourite feel-good things to do to (separate from life-enchancing creative pursuits), involve tidying up, decluttering, going for a walk.

The feelings of freedom and elation that these simple acts give opens out the day like a huge breath of air, like the breeze off the sea, like landing in a lush tropical island and getting a while new perspective on life.

(That's how mountains make me feel too.)

Yesterday was cold, brisk even, but with sunshiney pockets.

I felt alive with the sensation of sunshine in my hair and the wind blowing as a walked; refreshing and motivating. I wandered around some familiar places and the sun blocked my view in parts and it exploded out in front of me along the horizon like in a film where the camera shoots into the sun and it creates circles of light and colour in a haze of emotions and poignancy. It was kind of like that.

And I thought about other times in my life, both happy and sad, remembering how the same streets looked and felt to me 10 and 15 years ago. Places I don't live in anymore or find myself in very often. Places that have become hugely emotive in terms of conjuring memories of times gone by.

I think of it a bit as going back to your old school and walking the corridors after hours, empty corridors, feeling a sense of joy to no longer be confined to those stuffy classrooms of double maths and bad French and chemistry lessons gone wrong, but they're also tainted with a kind of sadness for a time that will never be again or come back because it's closed off, finished, gone except for in the recesses of your mind.

But I'm grateful that I'm in this time, my time, the only time I will ever know, and my life is where it is now. And I'm looking forward and ahead.

Hello to a brand new week of sunshine and the wonderful sensations that remind me I'm alive.

 

Midweek Moment: when thoughts crowd in by daintydora

I love this image that I snapped quickly, and to be honest, without much thought. I like the angles and the shapes. Not perfect. Not meticulous. But striking. View through the window

What appeals to me most is the stark cut-out shapes of bunting dangling from the window frame; cascading, caught in the bare branches of foraged dead wood from the garden.

These branches in turn point themselves like fingers into the frame, making the image seem more sinister than it really is - just an overcast winter's day.

The sky is washed out, busy processing clouds. This is not a black and white image, but in fact there is little colour so it looks that way.

It makes me think of Matisse - not for its lack of colour, but because each element looks to be cut out in paper - 'drawn with scissors' - then layered together to create this illusion of a crooked window with a tangled dark garden beyond. But there is light in the sky, slipping through gaps in the cloud. Light is always hope.

I like how the branches in the foreground intersect the trees in the background; the dimensions proving playful.

There is a simplicity too. Muted, focused priorities become clear. And that's what I need this week.

Thoughts come into my head, crowding in, more, more, more, and I need to make them line up like birds on a wire, the birds that sit on my washing line, observing the pecking order and waiting their turn. It happens in nature as a matter of life and death.

Know your place. Prioritise. Wait. Be patient.

So much can be learnt from the creatures around us. And windows are always synonymous with perspective.

Look through your window. Take a moment. Stop and pause. What can you see? Can you see the wood for the trees?

Find something beautiful and seek out the light.