There are calendars printed on paper stock that you hang on your wall. Then there are calendars that stand majestically in the distance recording--minute by minute, day by day--every nuanced change of the passing year on their stony face.
I have neglected to photograph this calendar for awhile, to my detriment. But I have checked it every day. I don't look for a number. I seek the more important distinctions of the day: how the sky and earth, the light and shadows, are configured in this present moment, and what that says about the season of the year, the season of my life, and the season of the cosmos.
This calendar tells me inerrantly that time passes. But it also tells me undoubtedly that change is but a fleeting shadow on the face of the infinite.
|June 13, 2011|
|November 8, 2011|