Thank you, always, for your faithful reading, Neil. Rumi's poetry is truly without time constraints. Written around the middle of the 13th century, it is evergreen. 🌲
So glad you like the image & the idea of gemels, Ralph. Where I hike, there are numerous pairs I've noticed. Everyday miracles. I think these two are especially beautiful. And stay tuned . . . I have a video of them, too. :-)
I’m fascinated by this meeting of two different dimensions of time - the ephemeral nature of human life and the longer’ more ancient essence of trees. It’s clearly relative as much as that of a mayfly to a sturgeon, a child to an old man.
Your weaving of nature, photography, Rumi and observations on love creates a tapestry I want to be enfolded in. This is gorgeous; and the turn, the invitation, is exciting.
Thank you for your support of this small project, Kim. Now in the center of this story, having a reader like *you* who keeps lighting a candle, who keeps showing me the next part of the pathway . . . truly, it helps me see where I'm going. 💛
I’m falling deeper and deeper into the enigmatic, reverent trance of your story. Oh how I hope Annu joins the lineage of the forest’s deepest roots. “To return would be to die.” I will never look at two trees growing alongside each other the same.🙏
Kimberly, the ordinary world is just waiting to show us something new every day. Once we see it, it's ours forever. I love that you really get that. And live it. Thank you for your presence here. 💛
I sat down this evening and read chapters 4, 5, and 6. The richness you share here Ann feels like something from the old world - that is not actually old, but underneath - the seeming noise that these times can hold. I love the feeling-path you create with the photos woven in with the flow of the story. Very much something to savor.
Emma, it's an honor that you would savor this story. Thank you for your deep listening to the undercurrent that I'm hoping to navigate. Fairytales seem to move in a quiet way that's not time-bound. Thank you for feeling--along with me--the way stories are free to loop and circle back to us, as many times as we wish. What joy and sadness we try to share.
Oh Ben, I love hearing you say that. Super encouraging. An impossible choice is something for a writer to savor--as you well know. I have changed my mind about the ending. Twice.
Dearest Ann, I have missed that you are writing and publishing chapters of a story! I only realized it when I got to the end of this one, which in and of itself was pure, sweet magic. I loved every word, every feeling. I was wrapped up in the dream of your story. And now I know that I have five previous chapters to read! And more to come! Thank you ever so deeply for sharing your gift. Peace washes over me whenever I read any of your words. xo ❤️
There is a giant sycamore growing on the creekbank of a park near me, and I always lean my heart against it. Ten feet overhead, an entirely different tree has grown out of it. A heart-leafed catalpa, that scattered its spring blooms all around the roots of the trunk that holds it. It is such a living picture of love, and your story is too.
Again so beautiful, Ann. And here we see more from both sides and are left aching for Annu's decision.
I love the insight we get from Olli and his new experience. "To return would be to die." I find I can interpret this in two ways: to be unable to return, quite literally, and to die in soul upon returning due to the majesty of experience he has found in his new form and how the human form pales in comparison, and hence his request of Annu at the end.
More lines I love:
"The mature oak’s gesture reminded her of muscular curves—the same curves Olli’s shoulders and back made whenever he swung his axe to split logs for their woodpile." -- the parallels of muscle and oak are wonderful.
"In her dream now, winter covered them both in snow, and spring forgot their names." The end here, how spring forgot their names, is perfect.
Oh my gosh Nathan, thank you for this! If I'm being honest, zero darlings were killed in the making of this chapter! haha! I never get tired of romantic nature analogies. But you readers have forgiven me, so I guess it's ok. I just gave myself permission to tell this story in the most loving way I could imagine, and it felt really good to do it! Thank you so much for your kind support. :-)
I like this chapter, Ann and that last photo with the two trees growing close together. I like these lines from that second poem by Rumi:
"Be empty of worrying.
Move outside the tangle of fear-thinking
Live in silence."
Thank you for sharing and I am looking forward to reading the next chapter.
Thank you, always, for your faithful reading, Neil. Rumi's poetry is truly without time constraints. Written around the middle of the 13th century, it is evergreen. 🌲
Photo no5 - how fitting for this touching story. I've even learned a new word today - gemel. Thank you for sharing.
So glad you like the image & the idea of gemels, Ralph. Where I hike, there are numerous pairs I've noticed. Everyday miracles. I think these two are especially beautiful. And stay tuned . . . I have a video of them, too. :-)
I’m fascinated by this meeting of two different dimensions of time - the ephemeral nature of human life and the longer’ more ancient essence of trees. It’s clearly relative as much as that of a mayfly to a sturgeon, a child to an old man.
Ohhh Thomas, I love those parallels. Beautiful.
Lovely. The Rumi and the photos are perfect with the story. What will Annu decide?
Aw thank you, Julie! I've changed my mind about the ending several times . . .
Your weaving of nature, photography, Rumi and observations on love creates a tapestry I want to be enfolded in. This is gorgeous; and the turn, the invitation, is exciting.
Thank you for your support of this small project, Kim. Now in the center of this story, having a reader like *you* who keeps lighting a candle, who keeps showing me the next part of the pathway . . . truly, it helps me see where I'm going. 💛
I’m falling deeper and deeper into the enigmatic, reverent trance of your story. Oh how I hope Annu joins the lineage of the forest’s deepest roots. “To return would be to die.” I will never look at two trees growing alongside each other the same.🙏
Kimberly, the ordinary world is just waiting to show us something new every day. Once we see it, it's ours forever. I love that you really get that. And live it. Thank you for your presence here. 💛
I sat down this evening and read chapters 4, 5, and 6. The richness you share here Ann feels like something from the old world - that is not actually old, but underneath - the seeming noise that these times can hold. I love the feeling-path you create with the photos woven in with the flow of the story. Very much something to savor.
Emma, it's an honor that you would savor this story. Thank you for your deep listening to the undercurrent that I'm hoping to navigate. Fairytales seem to move in a quiet way that's not time-bound. Thank you for feeling--along with me--the way stories are free to loop and circle back to us, as many times as we wish. What joy and sadness we try to share.
Ann, I love Annu's ability to love Olli in his changed form, even though she misses him. It's so inspiring!
Conny, this constant change, this shifting sand. Always looking for the new way forward, aren't we? I love that you're here for it.
This story is filled with such powerful visuals, I can see every scene so clearly as I read. What will Annu do? Such an impossible choice.
Oh Ben, I love hearing you say that. Super encouraging. An impossible choice is something for a writer to savor--as you well know. I have changed my mind about the ending. Twice.
Dearest Ann, I have missed that you are writing and publishing chapters of a story! I only realized it when I got to the end of this one, which in and of itself was pure, sweet magic. I loved every word, every feeling. I was wrapped up in the dream of your story. And now I know that I have five previous chapters to read! And more to come! Thank you ever so deeply for sharing your gift. Peace washes over me whenever I read any of your words. xo ❤️
Liz! My deepest gratitude for your reading with such an open heart! I’m blessed by your kindness this morning. ☺️💛💛💛
There is a giant sycamore growing on the creekbank of a park near me, and I always lean my heart against it. Ten feet overhead, an entirely different tree has grown out of it. A heart-leafed catalpa, that scattered its spring blooms all around the roots of the trunk that holds it. It is such a living picture of love, and your story is too.
Oh, Esther--the beauty of that! The way you describe it . . . you have a poetic eye. 💛
Again so beautiful, Ann. And here we see more from both sides and are left aching for Annu's decision.
I love the insight we get from Olli and his new experience. "To return would be to die." I find I can interpret this in two ways: to be unable to return, quite literally, and to die in soul upon returning due to the majesty of experience he has found in his new form and how the human form pales in comparison, and hence his request of Annu at the end.
More lines I love:
"The mature oak’s gesture reminded her of muscular curves—the same curves Olli’s shoulders and back made whenever he swung his axe to split logs for their woodpile." -- the parallels of muscle and oak are wonderful.
"In her dream now, winter covered them both in snow, and spring forgot their names." The end here, how spring forgot their names, is perfect.
Oh my gosh Nathan, thank you for this! If I'm being honest, zero darlings were killed in the making of this chapter! haha! I never get tired of romantic nature analogies. But you readers have forgiven me, so I guess it's ok. I just gave myself permission to tell this story in the most loving way I could imagine, and it felt really good to do it! Thank you so much for your kind support. :-)
That's amazing. I'm so glad you gave yourself that permission. 🤗