My sister was with me when we saw this egg on the beach, I had forgotten about the photo. Besides my sister and wife (of course) this egg was the most beautiful thing I saw that day - more beautiful than the puffins roosting and making their funny noises, flying by with fish in their mouths as they beat their tiny wings like hummingbirds to keep their comically fat bodies aloft; more beautiful than the whale that went right by the beach and breached completely out of the water not more than 100 yards away. Their is something fundamentally perfect about an egg, a miracle of nature, even more so by virtue of its unbroken state on a hard gravel beach. There is nothing I could add or take away from the photo above that would make it better in my mind - it is a dichotomy of death and beauty, larger than a hens egg but smaller than a gooses . . . my sister looked away, no doubt mindful of the unfulfilled potential within yet even now as I post this, I scroll up and look at the egg again and yet again and try to decipher why it still thrills me to this day . . .
Hope. We all have it.
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Hope gives us the capacity to find a methodology or strategy for making it
to a point where we want to end up. Having hopes and dreams gives us an
optimist...
3 years ago
1 comment:
Once I clicked on the photo and enlarged it, it became even more wondrous.
BZ
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