Tag: country life

Natural Lifestyle 

Back and White Photography, Thoughts and Musing

Nature doesn’t hurry, yet everything is accomplished. – Lao Tzu 

I have come to despise clocks.  It seems like every second of the day is regulated and choreographed according to the clock.  Our high tech society should be sophisticated enough by now to allow for a more organic life.  I  don’t need to go into the details of timecards and obligations or deadlines and expectations. Suffice it to say that that most people these days are so preoccupied with keeping life organized and running smoothly that the joy of living is missed.  When it comes right down to it, it seems that most of today’s problems stem from the desire to live in liberty vs the obligations of Society.  It’s important to take time out and find a balance. 

When I observe the patterns found in nature they are a blend of the highly structured and the organic.  And there’s always room for joy. 

The small snail shell was found on a trail at the Scenic Overlook of Hawks Nest State Park in Ansted West Virginia. The park is seated on the rim of the New River Gorge  above a flood control dam.  

As observe the shell I see the highly organized structure.  The spiral is formed by a natural process.  It doesn’t stress out about the calculations needed to form the symmetry. The snail didn’t consult with an engineer to know it’s shell needed ridges for strength in the structure.  It simply grows into what it was meant to be.  

Even though the surrounding environment seems random there’s a natural flow of the organic that is based on highly organized.  The texture of the stone us formed by complex and organized crystalline structures. The twisted and gnarly branches of the trees and bushes are based on the structure complex sugars and interlinking molecules that determine how much to twist and what part of the tree should be stiffer and where it needs to be flexible.  

All of it was accomplished by life growing into the details and patterns granted by God at creation.   

Am I suggesting that we need to give up all of civilization and return to the wilderness? Not exactly.  But as I stated earlier,  I do think that our society is out of balance.  And I also think that regaining that balance will depend upon the individual seeking out their own patterns and growing into the details. 

Wounded 

black and white photography, Thoughts and Musing

We seem to have a tendency to do one of two things when we encounter a person who has been wounded either physically or emotionally.  We either ignore the scar totally or we focus on it completely.  Old wounds ache with a dull throbbing pain as a constant reminder that we messed up somewhere along the way.  I  was a rough child. I seemed to collect scars like merit badges. The stitches in the palm of my hand from a broken jar of fireflies,  the scars on my knees from falling out of a moving pickup truck.  I  even have a  couple of scars from a sword. ( only superficial and skin deep) I have numerous scrapes and scratches from briars and brambles.  All of are a roadmap of my life.  But the only scars I feared to collect were the scars on my soul. Broken bones and torn flesh heals so much faster than a wound of heart. As I approach a half of a century of earthly experience I have observed that to some people it’s the emotional scar that carries the badge of honor. Where I have lived life to it’s fullest and carry the physical marks of my adventures others have loved life and bear the honor of those adventures.  

The image used in this post is a chestnut tree on my old home place. Years ago the metal fencepost was leaned against the trunk temporarily and then we got busy. The wound to the tree was one of neglect.  When I think about the emotional wounds and scars of this world I have to believe that the majority are caused by neglect.  We simply forget to go back and relieve a burden. The person wounded carries that burden until it works it’s way into the soul and becomes a part of them.  It’s okay to remind a person of the burden that they left behind. It’s okay to simply cast off something that’s not supposed to be a part of your life.  It’s wise to avoid the wound.  But if you carry no scars have you really lived? One day this tree will be cut down.  All that will remain will be the wood.  As is a tradition in many rural areas someone will use the wood and the inclusion of  scars will make for a beautiful end product.  So it is with the scars we carry  in the soul. They say that beauty is only skin deep but they are wrong. Beauty comes up from the very depth of the soul. It’s the scars and inclusions that make that beauty unique.  

Sunday 

black and white photography, Church, Sunday, Uncategorized
  • Growing up in the Bible belt I’ve been blessed to have the opportunity to visit a lot of small churches.  In the days before the mega church and when there was nobody selling religion.  The churches of small communities were places where families gathered to hear the word of God and not just what the preacher said.  We knew good and well that nobody can buy a ticket to heaven with money or goid works.   Vain obligations were just that. We resisted judging each other because we were justified by the blood of Christ and not by works or money.  Church is a place for bonding not bondage.  
  • The architecture of small community churches is something special.  Everything from little cabins to scaled down cathedrals can be found tucked into Appalachian landscape.  Bells and spires are sometimes  topped with crosses and sometimes not. 
  • The ringing of the church bell was a special privilege.  Young people (mostly boys) would like up and take turns tugging on the rope. In trutruth we just liked making noise.  
  • After church service extended family would get together at the home place for a large meal. The cooks would all gather in the kitchen and soon the house was full of wonderful smells the sounds of laughter.  During the warm weather the children be outside trying to have fun without getting dirty. That’s a very difficult skill to master for a 10 year old boy.  I can still smell my grandmother’s homemade bread when I think about it.