I am feeling fragile at the moment, drawn and quartered by impossible demands, and find myself in need of beauty. I am inspired by this book, which I would love to tuck myself under the shabby chic coverlet to read, to draw up my own notes on that compelling, urgent need, as real as thirst or vitamin-deficiency.
And I find others' thoughts on beauty, on how it's won, often as not hard-won, from despair, clouds, windstorms—exactly those things I'm fighting.
drip with despair all afternoon and still,
on a green branch, its wings just lightly touched
by the passing foil of the water, the thrush,
puffing out its spotted breast, will sing
of the perfect, stone-hard beauty of everything.”
“Should you shield the canyons from the windstorms you would never see the true beauty of their carvings.” (Elisabeth Kubler-Ross)
image: Coeur de Lavande en Provence