peace and light

IT’S HARD to get into the holiday spirit in these uncertain times. Last night, Juan and I attended Atlanta’s lighting of Macy’s Great Tree to try to nudge ourselves into the season. I’m not sure it worked so well. Soon after we got there we saw a brutish police officer hold a guy by his coat in front of him and manhandle him through, and out of the crowd. Everyone looked stunned and I heard nothing said about it. So strange. I wonder what the guy did, who he was and whether he was a victim of racial profiling. 

THIS HAPPENED before the festivities started. And this was on a night when all the local news reports were highlighting the warning from the hacker group called Anonymous that there could be a terrorist attack at a big wrestling event downtown. There was also a football game downtown with tightened security. The Christmas tree lighting event we attended was on the other side of the city and also attracted a large crowd.

P is for P E A C E in this beaded letter.

ONE HAS TO wonder whether all this fear and hysteria (nothing happened at any of the events) is warranted. It is certainly no wonder that everyone is on edge worldwide after the worst terror attack in French history, the Russian airliner that was exploded with a terrorist’s bomb, a double-suicide bombing in Lebanon, and a series of other deadly strikes that are happening one after the other on a weekly basis.

An evergreen wreath has long been a symbol of renewal and everlasting life.

THIS PAST Thursday (November 19th), Pope Francis said “Christmas festivities will seem empty in a world which has chosen ‘war and hate.’” In his sermon, he said “Christmas is approaching: there will be lights, parties, Christmas trees and nativity scenes . . . it’s all a charade. The world continues to go to war. The world has not chosen a peaceful path.” This sermon signaled the start of the holiday season at the Vatican, where a giant Christmas tree was unveiled. 

I’VE ONLY BEEN to the City of Light (Paris) one time in my life. It was a much different world back in 1979, when I visited. I was much younger, more optimistic and full of excitement for the life ahead of me. Not that life has been bad at all—it hasn’t. It just that the human race hasn’t evolved as much as I would have hoped and our effect on our own environment has exponentially grown in such a way that our future is at peril, even without war and hate.

Shiny baubles always brighten the winter holidays.

THE TABLEAU I’ve set for this post is symbolic of the peace, hope and love that I’ve always thought the holiday season brings to all of us, no matter how we celebrate the season. The Eiffel Tower, the symbol of Paris (the City of Light) and a symbol for all the world, is laid with an evergreen wreath to mourn the innocent lives lost to terrorism. The lights at the base represent a gathering of lights from around the world. The banner with the letters forming the word PEACE is prominent in the background. And the presence of glittery baubles in the scene all point to a pause for HOPE that our country and humankind will do right by each other. But none of this will ever truly happen without the LOVE we share through something beyond any of our tiny marks on the world.

GOD is LOVE, no matter what religion is represented. Terrorism is not a religion—it is hate. This holiday season, more than ever, is a time for us to renew our spirits and to find our way forward. This holiday is celebrated worldwide, so now, maybe for once, we can find the grace and humility in understanding that we’re all in this together. Nothing can squander our better selves when we remind ourselves of that.

War of the Gods:

http://m.huffpost.com/us/entry/8578368

©2015 DARRYL MOLAND | ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

collecting, photography and styling by Darryl Moland

hearts and arrows

CUPID CAN BE quite a trickster. One need look no further than his choice of weapon to know that something is amiss. Arrows? Aimed at the heart? Sounds like a dangerous proposition. 

LOVE IS most certainly the finely-drawn target that we are all after, but unless the correct balance of grace, light, and levity are found in just the right proportions, it's easy to fool ourselves into thinking that we've found the love worthy of our noblest aims.

IF WE DARE open our hearts again after having them shattered, we had better be sure this time around that our little buddy cupid hasn't been off flying in the clouds for far too long. Being a romantic fool, I'm often right there with him, flitting around looking for suspects without planting my feet firmly on the ground.

LOVE IS quite a heady affair, but only becomes substantive once our arrows are sharpened and our aim is sure. It's not an easy sport at all. And it's certainly not for the faint of heart.

BUT WE KEEP getting up, brushing ourselves off and finding a way, lessons learned, to move in that direction again. A sure-fire direction of love. Because nothing else compares, and nothing else will do. After all—true love, if you've ever had it . . . well, you know the drill. And our hearts know the way.

©2014 DARRYL MOLAND | ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

collecting, photography and styling by Darryl Moland.

Luci in the sky

Until one has loved an animal, a part of one's soul remains unawakened. —Anatole France

IF THERE WAS ever a reason to relate the unique bond that sometimes humans are lucky enough to be able to share with animals, then there would be no words to describe such a profound and wordless expression of love. Poetry could possibly come close, but true-to-form, the love (and bond) I shared with my Calico cat Luci was indescribable in words, except to say that I've never had a more amazing connection with an animal. She brought such pure love and light into my life, I wonder sometimes if I could have made it through some of the losses and trials I've been through in the past few years without her. Now that she is gone from this plane of existence, I'll have to find my way back to her with all the good memories she left with me.

BARELY ABLE to write the Saint Patrick's post I had already prepared the photos for last week, I was at a loss, but did it to take my mind off of my grief, if only temporarily. It was written last Tuesday on the evening of the day I had to let Luci go "run with the Gods." I titled that post "faith, hope, love and luck." And I had in mind a double meaning when that title was decided, as that was a set of words that could also describe the reasons for the angst I felt in my loss. It was almost impossible to make the decision to have her euthanized because she wasn't letting go of this life very willingly and I wasn't letting go of her because I was able to care for her well in those last days without her being too uncomfortable. But I know she was hanging on for me as much as anything, and that awful decision finally had to be made for her sake. For this week's post, I add the word "light" to that list of words . . . in honor of Luci.

THIS FIRST day of spring was a rainy one here, but last Tuesday, when I had to let her go, it was a beautiful, sunny and warm day that felt more like the first day of spring than today. Being an indoor cat with only minimal time outside during her life, I took her outside that day. She bathed in the sun, breathed in the fresh springlike air and even attempted to nibble a few fresh grass blades. Coming home this evening, after the rain had let up, I looked up into the sky and saw the stars more clearly than usual (with all the ambient light a city like Atlanta creates). Maybe it was only Luci looking back at me and allowing me to see more stars in the sky than I thought possible. There's something about the days of mourning after a great loss that makes one more cognizant of the profound things the universe holds—so easily missed—in our busy lives. I'm paying close attention to that and I'm trying my best to remember that through the tears I've shed after loosing my constant and beautiful companion. She's just with me in a different way now and it will take some adjustment.

LUCI WAS a magical cat if there ever was one. Her name Luci (short for Lucifur) quickly became one that held the meaning "light-bearer" instead of what one would commonly think of as a name for Satan (Lucifer) in English. Lucern ferre in Latin literally means light-bearer—the morning star or dawn appearance of the Planet Venus that heralds daylight. The name Lucifur stuck for the wrong reasons when she was a kitten, as she was so active and mischievous, but was quickly shortened to "Luci." The Gods must have known then that it would have a deeper and more resonant meaning as the years spent with her came and went. Over sixteen years later, growing from a kitten to a beautiful diva, she makes her exit to the stars. I can only hope her becoming part of the collective consciousness of souls creates more of the light and love needed for this existence in larger quantities than ever before.

I DEARLY LOVED Luci. She left a big void and my heart aches in her absence. It will never be the same without her, but I know her light will continue to illuminate the way. I must keep my eyes open to it and become as watchful to the unseen as a cat.

MEMORIAL | (Top) For some reason, the color red became suddenly significant after loosing Luci. I found this stone cat that was carved in Kenya on the day Luci died.This weekend, I picked red camellia flowers and red-berried holly (both evergreens) from a friend's yard to make a memorial arrangement (composed in a milk glass fish bowl vase). A terra cotta bird Jon gave me this Valentine's day sits atop a tiled bone box bought to hold Luci's ashes. A Christmas bell ornament that Lowell gave me this past season with the word "dream" written on it sits next to the red stone cat carving. Jon and Lowell are two very important men in my life that have realized and shared the incredible love bond with Luci that I did. Lowell was there for the formative years of Luci's comfortable life and I thank him for giving his own brand of magical love to Luci. Jon has been with me the whole time through Luci's illness and death (and a while in health) and I thank him for his incredible love, grace and recognition. Luci thanked them both in in her amazing way of bonding with them.

YOUNGER YEARS | (Above, bottom) This black-and-white photo of Luci taken by Lowell about mid-way through her life has always been one of my favorites. The magical beam of light in her eyes is evident.

©2010 DARRYL MOLAND | ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

 memorial photograph and styling by Darryl Moland
photograph of Luci by Lowell Hylden