38 FOUR SEASONS BREEZE | JULY 2022
Writers' Club
Quiet Vigils
Ricardo Suárez-Gärtner
The restless flames of a wood fire at dusk easily mesmerize me. Add
the smell of the smoke, the crackling logs, and an occasional spark to
the comforting flavor of a slowly-sipped liqueur, and it all becomes a
potent concoction –a magical brew.
The spell gains strength as a soothing silence overtakes the evening.
In medieval times, folks quit laboring, said their prayers, and retired to
sleep at an hour the church called Compline. Today there are no rituals,
yet the nightly silence still happens. And it still feels like a blessing from
heaven.
My reverie takes me back to olden times – before cars, airplanes,
or electricity. I get a glimpse of what the world looked like when our
already-forgotten ancestors walked on this earth. In a sense, the book
I wrote about my forebears records a journey undertaken in a time
machine – a device that I stumbled upon, for I certainly did not invent
it.
Likewise, the sights and sounds of water often become pathways for
introspection: be it a sunset over a quiet lake, the surf rhythms, raindrops
pelting a tin roof, or the roaring fury of a waterfall. Contemplation
brings to mind myriad feelings: bittersweet memories, hopes, regrets,
challenges, gratitude… And, perhaps all-too-often nowadays, it also
induces an otherwise elusive sleep. So, through solitude or dreams,
water morphs into a wizard's wand that rekindles the soul.
Sometimes, while absorbed in nocturnal musings, I have lost track of
time. On occasion – and fortuitously – I got to witness a sunrise, one
of nature's great wonders. It is a rebirth from darkness to light, from
the frigid umbra to the warmth of day. And the colorful display of the
clouds on the horizon is unsurpassed by the best of human efforts. As
the sun rises, the gods of Olympus seem to greet us with a now silent
reveille. Sadly, the roosters that yesterday heralded the event are long
gone.
I confess that I have become addicted to sunrises. Lately, I often
forego the warmth of my blankets and the comfort of my pillows to
behold that mystical daybreak spectacle. Then, humbly, I give thanks
for the precious gift of one more dawn!
Come and share your writings in the Writer's Club at 1 pm on
the second Tuesday of the month. We meet in the RCN Conference
Room. Contact Marylynn Archibald at mlarchibald@mac.com. ~
Ricardo Suarez-Gartner
