Our world is a magical smoke screen

How should we interpret the happy song of the meadowlark? Or the robust flavor of a wild strawberry?  

[217truckdrivinman]

[flora-file]

Silver Sword, probably on Haleakala, Maui

[nightmarereverie]

Kirk’s Folly

[twixnmix]

Marilyn Monroe photographed at the Beverly Carlton Hotel in Beverly Hills, 1951.

[nixscriptum]

refuse to be sensible about being alive. wear the red dress to buy tomatoes. put cherries in your pockets for later. fall in love beneath inconvenient weather. mail postcards from towns twenty minutes away. give your friends bouquets with flowers chosen according to their personalities. keep emergency champagne in the refrigerator. name the neighborhood crow. become a regular somewhere tiny enough that they know your order. kiss beneath awnings while summer rains turn the pavement silver. collect seashells for people who have never seen the ocean. make wishes on eyelashes, birthday candles, green traffic lights, the first strawberry of june. there are worse things than being a little ridiculous with hope.

[random-brushstrokes]

Alexandre Cabanel (French, 1823-1889) - The Death of Icarus

[julesofnature]

The world awakens each day from its nightly slumber transformed by a sparkling layer of morning dew on the grass, on flower petals and leaves, on cars and car windows. These glistening droplets last only a little while, an integral part of what imbues the early morning with its aura of magic. If we sleep too late, we miss the magnificent display of sunlight playing on an infinite amount of tiny crystal-like drops. To step onto the dew-covered grass is to anoint our feet with a form of water that comes only once a day for a short time, a rarefied gift of the night air that will soon evaporate in the full light of the sun. If we inhale slowly and consciously enough, it is almost as if we are drinking in this magical elixir formed in the boundary between darkness and light.

In one myth, morning dew is believed to be tears from heaven, and in another, the droplets are poured from the vessel of the goddess of dawn. When we see the earth draped in these shimmering drops, it is easy to imagine fairies bathing in the water or a sky god weeping from longing to be closer to his beloved earth goddess. Seeing the sparkling beauty of the earth emerging from darkness, we may understand this longing in terms of our own gratitude, how blessed we are to be here.

Perhaps heaven really does long to be here on earth and perhaps that is why we are here, as conduits between the divine and the earthbound. As we drink the morning dew in with our eyes, our skin, our breath, it is easy to imagine that it really is a magical potion, a gift from heaven, a reminder of our true purpose, and a daily opportunity to be transformed.

Daily Om @primordialsoundmeditation

[nobrashfestivity]

Ansel Adams, Sundown, The Pacific, 1946

more

[darkmacademia]

+ st dunstan-in-the-east / london

[guy60660]

Robert Shackleton

[sunmystic]

[theycallmemarceline]

[floraflower]

[eflatminorseven]

thinking about edvard munch's "The Sun" (1911)

like yeah thats how it feels. thats what it feels like to exist sometimes. he gets it

[teddy2145]

Also very big! Takes up two stories!

[fallauween]

by fotokulinarnie

[many-moods]

apples

[artist-belsky]

Woodland Path, 1933, Nikolay Bogdanov-Belsky

[circusheart]

it's always some sort of day of the week

[vintage-every-day]

The first female gardeners employed at London's Kew Gardens. Eleanor Morland, Gertrude Cope and Alice Hutchings. Photographed in 1896.