We’ve returned from vacation to Monday, and a difficult one at that. We had company last night (and may still have them? I never know), and neither of us slept well. But here I am, in my shared office after a day spent on the ins and outs of teaching. And there Michael is, at the divisional office, being an HR Guy. I should be grading and responding to blogs, but I had the urge to write one of my own.
Reflection is a word I use a lot in my classes. “Reflect on your reading.” “Write a three-page reflection on your experience.” I’ve written and read more reflections than I care to count. I’ve even written papers on mirrors, real ones as well as reflective surfaces conjured up in lyric. Writing, you see, is all about reflection.
This weekend Michael and I took the long way home from Balsam, as is our wont, and we came upon a couple of waterfalls. The first was Moore’s Cove, also known as Dry Falls, a pretty little slip of a waterfall about three quarters of a mile off the road. We hiked there together, my broken phone and shin splints and all. It was worth it.
This one, though, the one pictured here, is Looking Glass Falls. It’s the most photographed set of falls along Highway 276 because it’s visible from the road. You needn’t hike. You needn’t even leave your car. Just look, and man, there it is. I like that about it. There’s something about the ease of looking versus the difficulty of reflection that I appreciate.
Today, this photo of the falls made me think about this blog. What does it do? What is its purpose? I’m not sure I’ve made that clear, partially because it’s not yet clear to me or to Michael. I wonder about it, though. I figure, for now, it’s a little like the streams and rivers and falls we saw this weekend. I could say something here about the same river twice and change and all, but mostly, it’s about movement. It’s about stillness. It’s about a record over time, memories, and meandering.