Welcome to Catching Light

The whole of life is just like watching a film. Only it's as though you always get in ten minutes after the big picture has started, and no-one will tell you the plot, so you have to work it out all yourself from the clues.

Terry Pratchett (Moving Pictures)

The first time I saw this quote, I thought, "Yes!" I've spent a lot of time looking for clues, often in the wrong places, and been lost more times than I can count. There are days when the fog of uncertainty and confusion seems to lift, and days when I feel like I've walked a million pointless circles. I know I'm not alone, and find this an encouraging thought as I allow myself to be more open and vulnerable in conversation and relationship.

I used to get so frustrated with myself when I took "wrong" turns. I had this idea that most other people were moving along with so much more grace and confidence than I, that somehow they had unlocked secrets which remained closed to my clumsy understanding. It's been a relief to discover that the secrets are mostly open ones, and that I have lived my way through many of their open doors. I've learned too that being lost is often a gift. In losing one thing I've often found something else unexpected and treasured.

What has never changed, however, is the deep connection I feel to trees, mountains, the ocean, birds, stars - all the things we think of as nature. These are for me the most powerful clues to the plot, and the ones I turn to most often to orient or anchor myself when I feel overwhelmed. In recent years, as I've become more conscious of the climate crisis, I have experienced much grief and anguish. After my father died, and the pandemic began, I returned to an appreciation of small things - flowers, raindrops, dragonflies. And I realized that in spite of all the breaking happening around me, I was surrounded by simple, everyday beauty that could hold me, fill me with delight.

Sometimes when it rains, or just afterwards, a beam of sunlight pierces the cloud, and a shaft of light falls on a piece of ground, illuminating the branches of a tree, a raindrop-laden reed, the tip of a koppie some distance away. The brightness shimmers for a moment, caught and visible briefly before subdued light returns. This is what I hope to do, as I walk into the uncertain future. I want to catch the light, even if it's just for a moment. And I'd love to hear from you - where do you find light, and reminders of goodness? Catching Light is a space I hope will become a community, a place to share stories, an opportunity to look together for clues.