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 Thoughts destined to be washed away by the tides of life. |
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I've been studying my cover photo for a while now, and it seems to me that it is more than just a photo of what is there that can be seen, more than just three white rocks stacked on a beach. It contains an important question about the future, about what happens long after the photographer has gone. What will happen to our pile of stones when the tide comes in? Will it topple or has the architect built this structure at a safe distance? I don't know what will happen to these words that I stack here on the sand. They may prove safely distant, or they may be swallowed up by a rush of self-doubt. They may be here for a season. They may lose their balance and be scattered by the shoreline, or be hidden away under shifting sands. Perhaps someday, the tides of life will reclaim them. Or maybe that's just a bunch of poetic, romantic nonsense. After all, this is just a blog. |
| It’s a grey morning. The clouds hang over the house like wet sheets, their bellies distended and low. They are pregnant with moisture and threaten to break open at any moment. There’s a current running between them, buzzing in the air, about to flash. I know a thunderstorm is due because the cat is skulking around the house, trying to maintain a low profile, getting her body as close to the floor as her legs will let her. She’s one of those animals who is afraid of thunder and hides in strange corners and overcrowded closets, trying to secrete herself where the danger cannot find her. My mother was nearly as cautious in thunderstorms as the cat. Having once been struck by lightning, she was apprehensive whenever a storm was near and as children, we were not allowed near doors or windows during a thunderstorm. No one could watch TV or talk on the phone. We were told to stay off the rug and forbidden to pet the dog. She saw everything in terms of its possible conductive qualities and warned us of hidden dangers. Which brings me to this little fact about June 10th. On this date in 1752, one crazy, inquisitive, Boston-born inventor decided to try to capture electricity in a jar during a wild thunder and lightning storm. My mother would never have allowed this. Benjamin Franklin’s mother obviously was never struck by lightning and so never warned Ben not to play outdoors in a storm. Of course, we all know that because of this, we eventually learned to create electricity and harness its power to illuminate our lives and charge our cell phones. The cat has no need of electricity and so is skulking off to the closet. |
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