Sorrowing, sighing

One of the advantages of making photographs over a long period of time and the discipline of maintaining a simple catalog is having -- and being able to find -- images to draw on to illustrate stories, concepts, thoughts.  This one, a bas-relief in old Montreal commemorating the first school in that city, isn't perfect for today, but nothing could be.

Likewise, one of the advantages of remembering phrases of songs and bits of poetry is that one doesn't have to come up with original words to express the inexpressable.  So, I offer two words put together by John Henry Hopkins (1820-1891) which he likely drew from biblical the prophet Isaiah or Jeremiah.  They appear together in the Christmas carol, "We Three Kings," in the fourth stanza about myrrh's significance in the Jesus story.   

Sorrowing and sighing is about all we can do in the face of this morning's events at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown CT.  The fabric of life has been torn top-to-bottom with "beautiful little kids" and adults who loved and nurtured them dead, and we know not why.  Sorrow and sigh we must.

Our last full day

I cannot believe it. Tal and I have looked forward to this adventure for months. This morning, though, we are packing our things here in the Best Western Lake Powell, will walk across Lake Powell Boulevard for a breakfast at the Glen Canyon Steak House just as we did yesterday (though later, thank goodness) and then board the coach to head back to St George, for one night in a room at the College Inn, our car, I-40 east. It's over.

But, of course, it isn't. We have today -- all day -- and many wonderful miles. On the itinerary are at least five notable places of interest: (1) Navajo Bridge (see the blog of 3 October for my first impression of that location as we travelled to St George), the North Rim of the Grand Canyon with (2) lunch in the dining room of the lodge and (3) a walk to Bright Angel Point, (4) the trading post at Jacob Lake, (5) the Le Fevre Overlook for a view of the Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument. So, what's the problem. Why am I -- as usual -- anticipating the negative rather than simply living what is before me?

I have taken up keeping a journal of favorite quotations. It's helpful in many ways. Today I have found a few words that may help keep me from anticipating too much what tomorrow is going to bring. These are words written by Thomas Transtromer, a Swedish writer, poet and translator, from a work "Sentry Duty," which he wrote after being taken into the Swedish army for several weeks:

Task: to be where I am.
Even when I’m in this solemn and absurd
role: I am still the place
where creation does some work on itself.

So, my task for today is to be where I am. That's it. After all, creation is at work. Thanks Mr Transtromer!