The news can weigh so heavy on the heart. As a result, we throw up our backs and do anything we can to protect ourselves from sorrow. I’m the type of person who considers restricting their movements and feels afraid as a result of what I’m being fed from the endless crawl of words, breaking updates and this just in. But I don’t want to be that person. I don’t want to be afraid of people, places and things. I want to stay open to seeing and feeling hope, love and goodness. I want to be blissfully naive to the ugliness of the universe.
Love – I want to find it, give it, and feel it always.
On my last jaunt around Connecticut on the 690, I had my GoPro clicking away, snapping photos of the places that I passed though. It was a gorgeous day – blue skies, not too hot, especially on those shady backroads.
Though I probably would’ve benefitted from moving the camera mount around for a different point of view – I’m still happy with sharing the way I saw things.
Sometimes I’m a little light on the words but that’s alright. I’m just going to let the pictures do most of the talking.
So New Englandy. Red barn, green grass rolling away to forever, fieldstone wall following suit.
Where the pavement ends doesn’t always mark the spot where the journey does. Sometimes if you continue, magical things can happen. For example – unicorns. When’s the last time you saw a unicorn on a two-lane highway or parked in front of a 7-11? Never, amiright? No, you only see those glitter-farting lovelies in out-of-the-way places where tar and asphalt don’t exist. Places such as a sun-dappled woodland glen; lush and green with dew. Or a volcano.
Recently I continued beyond the end of the blacktop. During that ride I came to the place where the trees hold hands. Just beyond that was where they kept the tall, yellow wildflowers tucked away in a meadow. Flowers taller than me, even. But I wouldn’t have known that if I’d just stuck the roads with the lines on them.
Explore. Tread beyond, breathe deeply and feel everything. Be small among the flowers.