Rome is the city of curves…
Stairs down from Saint Peters Dome
Tempietto del Bramante
Saint Peters Dome Looking Up
Saint Peters Dome Looking down
One of many Churches
Happiness cannot be traveled to, owned, earned, or worn. It is the spiritual experience of living every minute with love, grace & gratitude.” - Denis Waitley
“Don’t say you don’t have enough time. You have exactly the same number of hours per day that were given to Helen Keller, Pasteur, Michaelangelo, Mother Teresea, Leonardo da Vinci, Thomas Jefferson, and Albert Einstein.” – Life’s Little Instruction Book, compiled by H. Jackson Brown, Jr.
Posted in Floral Fridays, flower photography, Flowers, Inspirational, macro photography, Photography, postaday
Tagged Floral Friday, Flowers, inspirational, photography, postaday
Having spent a few days of the last week scuba diving (it would have been the whole week had it not been for a rather violent illness that knocked me out on Wednesday) several creatures come to mind when thinking of Lost in the Details. The first is called a Toad Fish. He looks similar to a scorpion fish, highly camouflaged to protect him from predators. All these “details” make it very difficult to see his features.
Many other creatures find hiding places in the details, like this eel:
Here is the cropped version:
Those who do not weep, do not see. Victor Hugo, Les Miserables
So many thoughts, and no words to say them with. I’ve been befuddled, perplexed and even fearful. I don’t know if it is right to share publicly what is personal family trauma. If it happened to me and I want to write about it, do I have an obligation to others involved to keep my trap shut?
I’ve been struggling with this for weeks now. I’ve started several posts that I have discarded. I have theories up the yingyang, philosophies that would astound Sophocles, and ideas that would curl most people’s hair. But knowing if I have the right to tell what I think is as illusive as the fairy basslet fish I’ve been trying to photograph all week.
This conundrum has silenced my writing wit for the past several weeks. It has broken my heart and left me on my knees begging God to wave a magic wand over the individual who has me in such straights. No, it is not hubs nor my children. It is my brother.
I’ve written letters to him I will probably never send. I believe, rightly or wrongly I don’t know, that something happened to him when he was very young. And it was irreparable. A brilliant mind was shattered, and the soul that was left was plunged into a life of unimaginable misery. I don’t know the complete truth, but would dearly love to hear it. Maybe I’m being a simpleton. Maybe I’m the one with the problem, unable to believe that someone could stray so far down a horrific path without just cause. I don’t know what to believe, and I am extremely short on answers and wisdom. I only know that it is so painful to watch him suffer, even if it is his own doing. It’s even more difficult to acknowledge that not only is it not up to me to save him, but understanding that even if it were, I could not.
And that leaves me with prayer. For whatever happens, the answer will be in prayer.