02 October 2007

Tinker Creek

Mark got me a wonderful book for Mother's Day called "Pilgrim at Tinker Creek".

It was just before Mother's Day that our world began to be "shaken , not stirred" with all the impending change... so, I am still reading the book. Actually, reading may not be the best way of describing how I am enjoying this book. I can only take in a page or so at a time. Her writing is very different from anything I have ever read. If you have you read this book I would love to hear your thoughts...

Currently, I am in this section about...well... beauty, scandalous extravagance... I am mulling it over... feasting on it, and others like it...celebrating...

"Why so many forms? (referring to created things) ... The creator goes off on one wild, specific tangent after another, or millions simultaneously, with an exuberance that would seem to be unwarranted, and with an abandoned energy sprung from an unfathomable font. What is going on here?... Freedom is the world's water and weather, the world's nourishment freely given, its soul and sap: and the creator loves pizazz."

"What do I make of all this texture? What does it mean about the kind of world in which I have been set down? The texture of the world, its filigree and scroll work, means that there is the possibility for beauty here, a beauty inexhaustible in its complexity, which opens to my knock, which answers in me a call I do not remember calling, and which trains me to the wild and extravagant nature of the spirit I seek."

" 'Nature,' said Thoreau in his journal, 'is mythical and mystical always, and spends her whole genius on the least work.' The creator...churns out the intricate texture of least works that is the world with a spendthrift genius and an extravagance of care. This is the point."

Alberta Falls - RMNP 9/22/07

PS - Thanks to Wes for the extravagant and lovely use of the "..." Using it frees me to blog with the grace of a slow thought, formed over time with plenty of pause.



Blogger Toni said...

I love Thoreau, especially in the spring.

October 11, 2007 at 10:19 AM  

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