Walking in the light of his presence

I occasionally dip my toe into the identity of "writer".... and pray no one asks, "Have I read your work?"
"Probably not."
End of conversation.

So why is it that the Muse that often comes and smacks me in the head, holds a camera, not pen and paper?  I don't introduce myself as "photographer".

But when I wake and the South Dakota light is moody, overcast and sullen, I'm overcome by the urge to capture it. Perhaps because the sun is such a constant here, although I do jump in my car and chase sunset light of summer.  Whatever the cause, my Muse caused me to miss church and head for Pe Sla or Reynolds Prairie or the "place in between".

Many First Nations peoples consider the Black Hills to be the spiritual center of the universe. Various spiritual traditions reflect the belief that certain phenomena in the world, such as mist – which is neither air nor rain; dreams – which are not waking or sleeping; and mistletoe -which is neither tree nor plant, have special spiritual meaning. These are the "in between things" that are worthy of special reflection. 

http://www.borderlandsranch.org/about.htm

So I go to the place between sunshine and dark, between moody and reflective, between God and me. And I take photos.   I return home with freezing fingers and the hunger of creative anxiety; make a fire and warm oatmeal. It may be April but three inches of fresh moisture lays on the ground.

And I find a bookmark, given by a friend:

"Happy are those who hear the joyful call to worship,

for they will walk in the light of your presence, Lord."

Psalm 89:15

I drove around the lake....

By the cattails. Frozen in place, waiting for spring. 

The road to worship isn't always the super highway. 

An the journey isn't desired to be traveled alone.
This is Linda's place.

She lives on the edge of Pe Sla and fights to protect it from development. 

 I leave her home, snug in a small valley, and climb into the wind.

Timeless

Empty; and full of peace. 

Here a lone tree is noticed. 

My drive took me past the lake and Linda's house, then across the edge of the place in between.  Now the road follows a stream as it twists through a canyon.



Trees are abundant here.  The camera is unable to distinguish the fragile from the background. Do we see what is truly there in our images?

Then I am back on the smaller prairie on the other side of the canyon.  Here man has tamed the land and guards his own. But even a cattle guard is soft and thoughtful in white. 

I'm home. Refreshed and inspired to write, work on some poems, express myself. pray, worship. It doesn't always look like this but worship doesn't have to be what I always thought. What I expect and search for.  Somedays, it's enough to follow my heart and walk in his presence.  Or drive somewhere and imagine; capture images and ponder.

 Now a warmer wind softly brings promise of spring;  snow melts in a gurgle.  It is a sweet Sabbath.

Prairie art.

And this is just for fun!