While reorganizing an endless flow of paper, I came across old files I had saved. As you might guess, I stopped cleaning and looked through them. I found a file of poems I wrote in college in a dog-eared manila folder. I barely recognized my handwriting from that long ago. Who was that young woman? Believe me when I tell you those poems will stay in that folder!
Several poems described specific moments in nature that I tried to capture in words. Then I became acquainted with the poetry of Mary Oliver. She was such an astute observer of nature and its wonders. I gladly left to her the task of describing them in verse.
At that age, I was already fascinated by the interplay of light and shadow. My interest continues. That’s why I included a photo I took with my phone with this commentary. Here’s the backstory:
My friend was driving, taking me to the 11th of 17 targeted immunotherapy injection appointments in Jacksonville. We were crossing the Shave Bridge. I was struck by the contrast between the dark rain clouds to the north over St. Marys and the spot of sunlight that lit up the marshes in vibrant green. I never tire of this scene. I quickly put the window down and focused my camera as best I could.
For just a moment, I breathed in awe and could forget that I was on the way to a medical appointment. This scene illuminated what this past year has been like for me.
A little over a year ago, I had the first of several questionable mammogram results. The clouds rolled in over me. I was not expecting this! I had just celebrated a landmark birthday and was hoping to spend the year celebrating. I know many of you have had similar experiences with yourself or with loved ones. It’s hard to adjust one’s mind around the reality of it.
There have been times of bright, clarifying light. I have had the support of family and friends. I received cards and hugs and food. I have become better at asking for and receiving help. I received excellent medical advice and treatment from skilled and caring professionals. I did my own research, and I felt heard by those of whom I asked questions. Lots of questions! I wanted to be a fully informed participant in the healing process. I am very fortunate to have had my cancer caught at a very early stage with the promise of good outcomes.
There’s also the welcomed light of a kind and gentle touch of a nurse, an unexpected smile of another patient, a person holding the door or a cup of fresh hot coffee in the waiting room.
Small kindnesses make a big impact.
A postcard-worthy photo of a bright sunny day is nice but not that interesting. Photographers of sunrises and sunsets hope for an interplay of clouds and sun. What caught my eye in that moment on the Shave Bridge was how the dark blue-gray rain clouds to the north made the green of the marshes stand out.
The separation of light and darkness is the first act of creation in the opening verses in the Hebrew Bible. We live in a world of contrasts. Nothing is all light or all darkness.
We should guard against being told which is which. We are meant to observe and appreciate them both. We could use fancy words to describe them like “dialectical tension” or “polarity management.” Or we can say more simply that we are to hold open our lens and take them both in.
As you see and experience the light and the darkness in and around you, know that I see you and appreciate the beauty in both.