July 8, 2022

**New Perspective** | *Inky Cap Mushrooms at April Joy Farm*

Fresh Eyes

After a decade and a half of springs, of sowings and harvests, of walking this same narrow gravel lane, and packed earth footpaths, it’s too easy to become insulated from the beauty and vision of one’s home. The familiar becomes comfortable and, in that comfort, the necessity of seeing is dampened. Your feet know the dips in the path, your mind knows which route to take without much awareness or conscious decision making. You become the landscape.

Just as we stop seeing the curves of the field and fill our mind with the chores of life, we too, stop seeing our truest selves and only look at our sleepy faces in the mirror. We look to wash the soap off our hands, we look to rinse the dishes or to untie our shoes.

But we do not see. We don’t see the miraculous dexterity of the hand, we lose touch with the magic of each fingertip, the pulse of vibrancy in each heartbeat.

Until an interloper, a visitor, fresh eyes, reminds us to look again. To re-see.

Lauren’s photographs this week help me re-see the beauty of the farm in ways that remind me of the beauty of myself. The beauty that is beyond the work, beyond the rough patches of weedy ground, beyond the overgrown hedges and unending task list.

Her photographs, like all good art, remind me that reality is a kaleidoscope of perspectives.

The ladybug larva shedding her skin, the potato seed, the kitten, the old hen, each other...

We are nestled closer to the ground on the knees, lifted skyward on the wings of all those who help us truly see.

Who then in our daily circle of care, can we hold up a mirror for, so they may see reflected back their own intrinsic, wild beauty? ~AJ