Seeing with Passion

Often when I am out and about in the car, something catches my eye. More times than not, I keep going. Not this time. I quick pulled off the road and parked. Solitarily explored the outside of two historic buildings in Pelham MA.

There were numerous photos I could have chosen for a contemplative practice. I chose the stones of a church. The foundation. The beginning. Each rock brought forth to mind the essence of who I am and am becoming.

I ask these questions of self.
What and who is the basis of my life? Am I building life on shifting sand? Or on the cornerstone of truth? And I begin to imagine what labor it took to extract the rock to stand upon. The building up of self, the raising of rafters, can find our labor pursued in vain. How shall we rest in the bosom of the past? Stay still and reflect upon the shadows and the shining victories. Or march forward with empathy and grace. Perhaps both to ensure we do not repeat transgressions.

Certainly no one gets far without energy from community. From self. So we are reminded how fragile life is. How easily life can be crushed. What delicate balance of work and rest it takes to achieve history. And the future.

The buildings are open during the summer on Sundays. Perhaps I venture back and hear the stories.