Tuesday, April 15, 2014

Words . . .

Words . . . ?  Who needs them!

I've some beautiful and evocative photos to share with you this week, photos that speak more eloquently than any words.

So, if you agree, let's keep words to a minimum and feast on the nourishment of the pictures.

True, words have their place, but it's equally true that they can, at times, get in the way of our understanding and appreciation.

Wouldn't you agree that, at many of the most important moments in our lives, words are totally inadequate . . . and often unnecessary?

It would seem that whereas touch, sight and sound travel direct to the heart, words are routed via the analytical brain.

Words can leave us wondering . . .
"What did she really mean . . .?"
"What did he really say . . . ?"

For instance, just think of the countless  interpretations that can be put on a simple phrase, one such as . . .

"Of course I like your new hat . . . "

Surely a time when an admiring smile would be a much wiser option!

Words, as we know to our cost, can all too easily be misunderstood.

This would appear to come about in one or other of two ways.  Either as  the underlying thoughts of the speaker are picked up in the tone of the voice, or by the distorted judgement of the listener.

A compatible silence, on the other hand, can be both resonant and unifying.

As John O'Donohue puts it so tellingly:

"Let the words you speak be worthy of the silence you've broken."

So . . . may I suggest we sit back, relax, and allow our eyes to take their time exploring these pictures.

I can't offer us the birdsong, the scented air, or the touch of the burgeoning earth.

But we can absorb Spring's visual beauty . . . and share Chloe's joy as she explores the wonders on offer in the wood.

As you can see . . . there's not the slightest need for words!


A few hours after writing that final sentence I was walking along the pavement in the Spring sunshine.  A friend was making his way towards me and we stopped for a chat.
"Beautiful morning," I said.
My friend, who is slowly losing his sight and can no longer discern detail or colour, looked upwards, "Tell me," he said, "what's the colour of that blossom?"
Words were my only option.  Selecting them as carefully as I could, I did my very best to describe the beauty of the flowering cherry tree overhead.

Words . . . ?  It seems that we do need them after all!