Remembering the Weir

I was reminded recently of the natural rush to complete the harvest at this time of year.  The fact that very few people weed and hoe, pick and process to secure adequate harvest for the Winter months does little to change this pattern of millenniums.  Back to school, back to work after vacation, back inside after a Summer spent outside all trigger a similar instinctual response:  "Am I ready?  Have I gathered up enough to see me through?".  The rush of time passing, the hectic flow of friends and neighbors all reacting to the change of season can feel inescapable.

Molly Hiatt for Power Yoga Company's Summer photo contest 2012

I love this picture of my friend Kathy's daughter Molly.  Posing for a yoga studio sponsored contest, she embodies the peace of someone who has looked inside and answered, "Yes, I have what I need."  The photo was taken in the middle of Shibuya Crossing in Tokyo - one of the busiest intersections in the world. When the lights turn red at this busy junction, traffic stops completely and pedestrians surge into the intersection from all sides.  Many, many times each day.  Every day.  

I am fascinated by the blur of human intention:  only one of those pedestrians looks back at Molly.  What is he thinking?  What about everybody else?  I wonder how that one moment in their day impacted them.  Were they so focused on the flow that Molly's lovely pose slid right past them?

I wonder how many Molly's I miss.  The energy of the weir is about more than simply slowing the rate of flow.  In the slower, calmer, eddying liquid, solid objects precipitate out.  Resources that have been gathered up and carried along separate and settle.  Without weir zones, all manner of tresures are swept out to sea, a space so vast the likelihood of a single resource being found and recognized is slim.

What I love best about Molly's photo is that the necessary resources - her flexibility, strength, and balance - are already within her, hard won and polished.  Seeing those skills juxtaposed against the visual opposite makes them easy to recognize as treasures.  My favorite photos of harvest are just like that; pieces of sustaining nutrition against a backdrop of Autumn's dying vegetation. 

Me in the completely empty intersection in a parade-ready downtown Walla Walla

Now the days are growing noticeably shorter.  The alarm clock calls me to get busy before it's even light outside.  I feel the pull to go slowly, to catch those treasures that may have drifted close to the shore before I rejoin the crazy collective rush.  The new routine is starting to catch hold and old dreams are becoming real again.  It's certainly the best time to be alive.