Sunday, February 6, 2011

listen to the wind



my father would come here
to watch the sea

i see now
that towards the end of his life
his learning
came hard and fast
but also gently

and when he learned
what he needed
it was all he could do
to hold on to this place

he knew he had to turn around
the next arc of the helix
and so he prepared himself
as best he could

because
talking to the wind
gets you nothing
but answers
that ask questions of you

so
better to be silent

better to listen
to the wind

24 comments:

R. Burnett Baker said...

And this story also asks questions of us. It left me silent, with a knot in my throat.

Walking a beach, I've often had "profound" conversations with myself. Not sure if I ever found answers to the questions that prompted my soliloquy.

But you offer a comforting guide in listening to the wind. Sometimes that's the only sound that soothes the heart and mind.....

Rick

Dan Gurney said...

What a lovely bench to come to for contemplation. What a lovely contemplation to come to that bench. I sense your fondness for your dad, and comfort flows out from that.

Lorenzo — Alchemist's Pillow said...

Is there an emoticon for sitting silent and listening to answers and questions chasing other playfully in the wind?

~~~

We've sat on that bench before, haven't we? The reflective pieces you share with us of your continuing interaction with your father's life and memory, of conversations past and present, real and imagined, are consistently amongst your most poignant and memorable. I feel privileged and grateful to hear them.

Reya Mellicker said...

It's beautiful, and lonely. Love to you,

steven said...

hey rick i know that your own dad's flying away is still fresh in your mind and heart. it's good to create a space where you can release the thoughts whirling around and then also to listen. steven

steven said...

dan - the findness was a long time coming but it was mutual and that provides me with considerable comfort when i choose to review features of his life and our relationship. steven

steven said...

hi lorenzo! yes i've photographed that bench four times and each time i've shared it either here or over on "flow". his flying away left me with access to much that i had intuited, felt but not articulated. steven

steven said...

reya thankyou. steven

ellen abbott said...

a perfect bench for watching the sea and listening to the wind.

Dejemonos sorprender said...

Hi Steven.. beautuful picture, is full of stories, moments.. listen to the wind.. that i like.. is a really beautiful song :)

The Weaver of Grass said...

Beautiful thoughts Steven.

aguja said...

This is such a tender work and took me back to my own Dad who sat on benches by the sea, just like this one. I could almost see him there, watching, listening.

Thank you.

Valerianna said...

Nice. Someday I'll share the other side of me- my musician self. I have a CD.. one of the songs is called,
"Listen to the Wind". I completely agree!

Jo said...

The photo is beautiful in its simplicity, Steven.

The post is poignant. It actually harkens back to your previous one about "the voice of one man, sitting alone with the many."

I sense that there are many as yet unsaid things about your father. Maybe they will come in time.

Peace to you today.

Bee said...

So beautifully said . . .
and how I long for silence, (although too much wind makes me feel crazy, I confess).

There is something about looking out to sea that is so inherently calming . . . at least on a day like the one you portray here.

steven said...

ellen - that's been my experience! steven

steven said...

matias - that's it in a phrase - a beautiful song! steven

steven said...

thankyou weaver - i'm a mirror. steven

steven said...

aguja - there are such simple rich connections we can make with the people who have passed through our lives. steven

steven said...

valerianna - "sides" . . . we're wholes with facets in my cosmology! i would wish to hear your music! steven

steven said...

jo - little by little as the space has made itself available, i've shared what i can about my dad. it's not difficult. i just want to make the moment available as entirely as i can. steven

steven said...

bee - i am wishing to move past the terms and conditions i've placed on my experiencing of the natural world. it's really hard. the lack of light, the cold, the demands on me that draw me from my intended work, my better self. hoo boy!!! scenes like this are gifts in the purest most uncluttered sense. i am glad you were able to experience something of that yourself. steven

Kay said...

oh...that lovely bench...we have passed here before and listened to your beautiful words..i see a picture in my mind of us all gathered round listening to the wind being grateful that we found our way to it..xx

Dulce said...

Great this is... Love the sound and touch of this wind here!