Tag: fractured Grace

  • Black-Winged Hush

    Black-Winged Hush

    entry seven — scattered light, fractured grace: a quiet archive of light, loss, and what remains.

    Black Bee (Melissodes bimaculatus). Lumix GX7 + Panasonic Leica DG Macro-Elmarit 45mm f/2.8 ASPH. MEGA O.I.S., VSCO (A8 PRO), Lightroom Mobile (watermark only).

    Even the smallest life—

    black-winged, humble, and intent on its task—

    carries beauty enough to hush the noise of the world.

    We rush past so many moments like this.

    Moments where grace is not loud, not dramatic, not grand or sweeping.

    Just… present. Quiet. Steady.

    Doing the sacred work of being alive.

    To sit still long enough to witness it is to remember.

    Not some distant, complicated truth, but a very simple one:

    The miracle is not in the event.

    It’s in the noticing.

    Grace doesn’t need permission to land.

    It only asks that we pay attention.

    💜✨

  • Seeing Red.

    Seeing Red.

    entry four — scattered light, fractured grace: a quiet archive of light, loss, and what remains.

    I used to think “seeing red” meant I was losing it.

    Rage. Shame. Fury so old it felt eternal—like I was born with it burning.

    I have learned that is not always true. I have witnessed that sometimes, it blooms.

    Recipe below. Watermarked in Lightroom.

    Not in fists. Not in voice. Not in overwhelming memories.

    In the woods, on a soft stem I almost missed.

    No thunder. No soundtrack. Just the quiet permission to stop and look again.

    Recipe below. Watermarked in Lightroom.

    It didn’t demand to be captured. It didn’t beg to be picked. It just was.

    This star-shaped wound of a flower, humming its red into the green—not angry, not hiding, not burning just to survive.

    Just be-ing.

    Recipe below. Watermarked in Lightroom.

    I thought, “maybe that’s all any of us need now.”

    Not vengeance. Not closure. Just the knowing that beauty still rises where no one’s watching.

    That peace can wear red and still be holy.


    “Seeing Red” Recipe (same for each photo in this series)

    Be mindful.

    Observe.

    You might catch a glimpse of the peace behind the red you see, too.

    xo,

    c.