Who can be sure that the future is a continuation of and a consequence of the now? Could it be that the future is arriving independently of all what has been and that is?
Isn’t every dawn a new fresh beginning and a new permission for a brand new future?
Do we decide our future or is it predestined?
Is the answer hidden in the future and any answer that we arrive at today is already condemned to be in the past?
And what about light? What lives in the ever changing light?
Today I took this iphone photo of a tree outside my parents in law’s home where we are gathered for Christmas and I showed it to my sister in law. The light had a haunting quality in that moment that made me stand still in utter awe.
She ran out to the window and said to me “you must have magicked your image, it does not look like that!”
The truth is it did look like that and so much more but light doesn’t wait. It moves and evolves and radiates differently with every passing moment. Light is alive that way.
Musing last from an enchanted Christmas Day in the German countryside.
Merry Christmas my friends
Somewhere magic lives on~ how can it not?
Day 84 of 365~
Image taken in magical Myanmar
Ireland is one of those places on earth where time plays by its own rules. It can not be confined to any human rules and it waxes and wanes as it sees fit. As soon as I set foot on this magical emerald Isle, my wonders about time, space, movement and change began brewing. It took me to untapped corners of my mind where life borders on the magical. From that I wondered about photography, the movement we capture, the change we try to portray as artists and the power inside the image when time can be portrayed.
If you have never been to Ireland, I just have one word to say:
It was 5:50 am, after a long flight from Shanghai to Beirut, 6 hours in Istanbul held 2 different promises: to sit in coffee shops staring at passing strangers, reading a book, watching my phone screen and drinking endless cups of coffee and tea; or getting a visa, finding my way into the old quarter and discovering a city I have always longed to see.
The answer was as vivid as the ornate roof of the Ayasofia. It was like stepping through a magic door into a world of wonder, domes, arches, well mannered people (it was early morning after all and too early for bad moods to reach anyone) and amazing foods and drinks to sample.
I love traveling so much and as far as photography goes, these lone journeys are moments of soul searching and discovery. So yes, I would take adventure and the unknown anytime over airport layovers.
There is a great magic to seeing a place at sunrise, before the rush of day clouds it. Early in the morning, there is a bliss that relaxes the faces of early risers, as though they are reminded that there is still magic in life, how can there not be? Light colors the sky as stars give way to the great sun, and stillness can still be heard over the water.
color lives here
how to think
peace starts from within
in love with life
a world of color
Quirky, friendly, magical, puzzling, odd, beautiful, colorful, breathtaking, inspiring, legendary, mystical, smiling faces, enchanting grasslands, buzzing bees, fluttering butterflies, overpowering cliffs over deep ocean waters, reflective beaches
tree in the sky
… Wales, a land that filled me with awe.
her fancy pink dress~ Yunnan
Every little girl is a princes in her own right, she dreams of castles, fairies and forests filled with magical spirits, and she in the middle of all that wonder shines brilliantly…
valley of the saints
“Kadisha”, the name given to this valley and to the river that runs in its belly. Kadisha is ancient Aramaic for ‘holy’. This gorge has been used for burials and shelter as far back as the Paleolithic time. In its walls are thousands of caves that house monasteries, churches, thousands of meters high up in the cliffs and extremely difficult to reach. These served as a place of hiding for early Christian communities like the Jacobites, Melchites, Maronites, Armenians, Nestorians and Ethiopans who were escaping campaigns aiming to persecute and destroy them in the 13th Century by the Mameluks and other Sultans. Later it even became a place of meditation to the Sufis, historians, artists and clergy who settled in the valley. On its shoulders lies the village of Gibran Khalil Gibran.
One of my favorite churches as a child was a in the middle of a cliff facing our village in the valley and I remember the excitement every time a pilgrimage was planned to the church with family members and friends. The journey involved a very long walk down one side of the valley, pausing to have a meal at the cold fresh river to then hike up the other side on a tiny, steep, red soil track with the occasional olive tree, all the way up to the church, now a monastery. We all believed as children that the church was a place of miracles and we swore to seeing lights, visions and all sorts of magical things along the way.
The valley was and still is an enchanting memory that has a special place in the archives of my heart. I try to pass this to my daughter by taking her there whenever we can and telling her stories of what was, hoping that the spirit of the holy valley will choose to live with her too.