Sometimes it’s the fragile things that make life beautiful, like the swath of sunlight that pours through the windows in the morning. In the living room, its distended patches illuminate rungs on the stairwell and extend onto the floor. I know it will be gone soon, but for a single instant the shadow of tree branches wavers on the gray carpet. When the wind shivers their branches, the incalescent patch of sunlight moves, too. The odd part about fragile things is that they often have no word in English. The Galician language calls the line that sunlight draws on the floor raxeira. This profound sense of beauty can’t be translated into a single word. Raxeira must be explained to be understood. Even then we still can’t know the true meaning without being a part of the culture that produced it. Like the word kawaakari, which is Japanese for the gleam of light on a river’s surface at the end of the day. Or mangara, Swedish for the path-like reflection of the moon on water. What about that nostalgia and mourning for a past we can never return to? We understand this as homesickness, but the Welsh language conceives of hiraeth, which can’t be translated into any language. Each language has its own beauty, but they all have spaces where emotions don’t match the words we have to express them. But it doesn’t matter when you answer the call to embrace the beauty of your life, understanding that the most meaningful moments of living resist paraphrase. ~Kayla Dean
when the moment seems to slip away like rain and there are no words for the empty and earth-cracking-open beauty, then you know you’ve touched on a soul moment….
inquiry for today~ how can you allow a little moment to shift into the next today with wide-awake eyes and that dropping-down-deep feeling?
It was sunsets that taught me that beauty sometimes only lasts for a couple of moments, and it was sunrises that showed me that all it takes is patience to experience it all over again. ~A.J. Lawless