Transitions challenge us.

From boat house to land, the path wobbles, especially if you run.

The places where elements meet — as in skylines, shores — present mystery.  Where is the beauty in arriving home from vacation?  Returning to an office after 15 years away?  A friend’s father dies today.

Day bleeds into night, the sill between is decorated with rust-colored and ruined objects.  A lost opportunity is what I saw this morning, watching the Iman in his white cap and a pastor dressed in a bloated defiance.  Speaking to reporters, but not so much to each other.  I would have liked palms to have met in fellowship.  Isn’t that what good Christians do?

The eve of anniversaries.

She stood against the night sky and painted with a glow stick – her pink heart captured by pixels, visible after the fact.

Intention, light, creativity, and witnessing — not a bad combination for a world rife with conflict.  I offer this heart of youth and of goodness to all of us on the eve of September 11.

5 thoughts on “Transitions

  1. deemallon

    Thanks Victoria, and Ginny, just came from “Life in Crab Meadow” and the city blog of yours, and I especially respect your thoughts on the day, being a native New Yorker as you are…


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