Late afternoon, lily of the Incas, heavenly bamboo, Nana’s jardinière, memories
facing west, twilight on its way
‘The night is for stillness.
…….
It is night after a long day.
What has been done has been done;
what has not been done has not been done;
let it be.’
from © A New Zealand Prayer Book He Karakia Mihinare o Aotearoa 1989 p.185
Light departs, shadows, soapstone sisters
twilight on dining table, end of day
As light departs to let the earth be one with night,
Silence deepens in the mind, and thoughts grow slow;
The basket of twilight brims over with colors
Gathered from within the sacred meadows of the day
And offered like blessings to the gathering Tenebrae.
from Vespers, by John O’Donohue, To Bless the Space Between Us
Twilight, or the crepuscular hours, can be beautiful. The twilight of a warm summer’s evening, the twilight of a desert dawn, or the brief twilight following a tropical sunset, are especial favourites with me. But twilight that starts around eight in the morning, before a sunrise that barely happens, and then seems to go on for the entire day, as it did today, is altogether a case of glum crepusculum. Today was the fourth day of winter; assuming that winter’s official start was 1st June. It was wet, dreary, cold, grey and sunless. I am already over winter. And it’s only just begun.
What to do? Glumness is too dull to bear. Well, I made a hearty, spicy lentil soup! That was a bit cheering. But not quite cheering enough. So I made a golden, creamy custard which we ate for afternoon tea with homemade apple sauce and whipped cream. Not my usual ‘cuppa’ for afternoon sustenance but I figured that, if I was living in a twilight zone, a dessert, in place of tea, was neither here nor there. And it was delicious. One helping wasn’t enough. We had seconds.
Then what? Having fed my body, I decided to feed my mind, which is when I googled ‘twilight’. ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crepuscular and http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Twilight). And I discovered that cats exhibit crepuscular behaviour which explains that cat you always see sitting at the gate, watching the world go by, shortly after sunset. That crepuscular activity is vespertine which I think is a lovely, languid, slinky word that perfectly describes that cat that sits and waits as the evening draws in.
Back in the realm of the ‘twilight zone’, I was amused to learn that another meaning for twilight zone is an “area of a city or town, usually surrounding the central business district, where houses have become dilapidated’. That meaning aptly describes the state of the centre of our city, post earthquakes.
But glum and gloomy as the day was, I have to admit the obvious, which is that twilight is never completely dark; it cannot be, because in every twilight there are always degrees of light. That is the essence of twilight. So to lighten the mood, and feed the soul, here are some photos.
The first series features my beloved Tibetan carpets. They are a riot of colour and joy and light up my life every time my eyes alight on them. And strange to think that such vibrancy came from the hands and hearts of Tibetan refugees, who had moved from one twilight zone to live in another in their temporary home in Nepal.
The big picture:
These second photos were taken last week to celebrate the birthday and enlightenment of The Buddha.
Now, as I end this post, the true dark of night is here, and we again await the next twilight hour. It will be a matutinal twilight and, perhaps, will hold the promise of sunlight.
© silkannthreades
silkannthreades 