Fields of gold, memories, inspiration

and a beauty emergency.

Oct 28, 2023

A young woman in a gray knit cap with long blond hair looks sits on the bank looking out across the shore with lake grass in the forefront and the sun light shining in the muted colors of the lake — Fields of Gold, Winchcombe, England © Kathryn LeRoy

Hello friends,

Emergency…the hair on the back of my neck stands up. My stomach struggles to contain the well of emotion building to a crescendo. My heart races.

I’ve had my share of those emergency moments. The daily news depicts more than most of us can handle in a lifetime, much less a single day. But this week, the word, emergency, formed a new meaning.

The poet, teacher, and editor Maggie Smith, shared what she calls a beauty emergency: a term for something you have to stop and pay attention to right at that moment, because it’s fleeting. My mind flew back to scenes captured with my camera or words. Still, other beauty emergencies live silently in my memory.

My descriptive muscles found a gentle task master in Evelyn Krieger who challenged the group of writers to describe a sunset we remember. Her goal was to teach us how to see the world with our third eye, a way of seeing more deeply into the scene. I wrote:

Colors sweep across the sky, painting memories, weaving dreams of tomorrow, but I stop—caressing this single moment.

Then, I found a beauty emergency in my photo archives from a trip to Colorado.

When all the hatred, distrust, and inhumanity circle around us, we hunker down like the covered wagons of the old West seeking protection. I may not have the power to change the course of history, or do I?

The universe must have known I needed a reminder of the importance of creativity, art, music, poetry, prose, and our imagination in the dark times. I’m certain Maggie Smith conspired with the cosmos when she asked this week, “What can a poem do?”

A poem is a not a tourniquet when you’re bleeding. It’s not water when you’re thirsty or food when you’re hungry. A poem can’t protect you from an airstrike, or from abduction, or from hate. It’s hard to write when our words feel like they’re not enough—they can’t do the real, tangible work of saving lives, or making people safer.
But can they remind us of our humanity? I think they can, and I think we desperately need a reminder.

Finally, I’m not a big TV watcher, but one movie this week manifested the power of belief in the potential within all of us. In “The Magic of Belle Isle,” Morgan Freeman gives nine-year-old Finnegan her first writing lesson on imagination.

Never stop looking, for what's not there.

I must spend some time searching for more beauty emergencies and looking beyond what my two eyes see.

I put words to one of my hidden memories in the boy in the green shirt.

Lisa Bolin, writer, creative, and fellow beauty emergency looker, wrote about choosing to see beauty in the ordinary.

Whether you listen to Sting, the violin of Stefan Krznaricor, or Eva Cassidy, “Fields of Gold” is always worth a listen.

Emergency…the hair on the back of my neck stands up. My stomach struggles to contain the well of emotion suddenly building to a crescendo. My heart races. I’ve had my share of those emergency moments, and the daily news depicts more than most of us can handle in a lifetime much less a single day. But this week the word formed a new meaning. The poet, teacher, and editor, Maggie Smith, shared what she calls a beauty emergency: a term for something you have to stop and pay attention to right at that moment, because it’s fleeting. My mind flew back to the scenes I’ve captured with my camera or words. Still other beauty emergencies live silently in my memory. My descriptive muscles found a gentle task master in Evelyn Krieger who challenged the group of writers to describe a sunset we remember. Her goal was to teach us how to see the world with our third eye, a way of seeing deeper into the scene. I wrote: Colors sweep across the sky painting memories, weaving dreams of tomorrow, but I stop—caressing this one moment. Then I found this beauty emergency in my photo archives from a trip to Colorado. When all the hatred, distrust, and inhumanity circles around us, we hunker down like the covered wagons of the old west seeking protection. I may not have the power to change the course of history, or do I? The universe must have known I needed a reminder of the importance of creativity, art, music, poetry, prose, and our imagination in the dark times. I’m certain Maggie Smith conspired with the cosmos when she asked, “What can a poem do?” A poem is a not a tourniquet when you’re bleeding. It’s not water when you’re thirsty or food when you’re hungry. A poem can’t protect you from an airstrike, or from abduction, or from hate. It’s hard to write when our words feel like they’re not enough—they can’t do the real, tangible work of saving lives, or making people safer. But can they remind us of our humanity? I think they can, and I think we desperately need a reminder. Finally, I’m not a big TV watcher, but one movie this week manifested the power of belief in the potential within all of us. In “The Magic of Belle Isle,” Morgan Freeman gives nine-year old Finnigan her first writing lesson on imagination. Never stop looking, for what's not there. I think I will spend some time searching for more beauty emergencies and looking beyond what my two eyes see. — Safflower fields through the bus window drving across France © Kathryn LeRoy

“The message behind the words
is the voice of the heart.”
—Rūmī

Find a little wonder this week in all the beauty emergencies you choose to see.

With gratitude,

Kathryn

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Inspiring Your Best

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