Only after you sit long on a rock besides the river, things begin to happen: a fish shows off his strong dark back in vigorous jumps; a turtle floats to the water surface, his little funny head moves with a light heart; a dragonfly, handsome-looking, flashes his black-blue wings around you (maybe he thinks you are one of his kind in pink color); and a gray bird, body so tiny, dashes by. Nothing comes easily as it seems. To take a good photograph that captures the essence and spirit of things, one must immerse himself in things till he becomes part of them, feel them and understand them. To write a few lines of poetry that are worth reading, one needs to visit plenty of places (villages, towns, cities, deserts, oceans, mountains and small hills...) and talk to many kinds of people (farmers, workers, small town folks, metropolitan dwellers, the ancient and the dead...) to know perhaps a bit of life. To see something new or true, one has to read myriad books to learn the old and even the irrelevant and walk thousands of miles alone including side paths and wrong turns. Aren't gemstones born from minerals crushed and transformed again and again? And pearls the embodiment of tears? A fresh air is blowing on the water. This summer seems to have been good to you: its cool temperament feeds your calm mood relaxing and loosening the interconnected neurons in your brain. Something begins to self-emerge from within...
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