We call it treelight, we always have. The Japanese have a word for it, “komorebi,” the way light scatters through trees, the way it streams, dances, puzzle pieces on the floor of the earth. For us, this is peace, it’s the origin of Chasers of the Light, it’s why we named our self this, and this photo, above, is the day it happened. I wrote that poem, Typewriter Series #268, after driving down this old dirt road near Glacier National Park. We stood there, in the soft failing light, after running straight into the trees trying to chase that light, and felt the awe, the peace, the overwhelming connection to something so much bigger than ourselves. I think this is where the heart of life lives, this pursuit for light, this whisper of peace, this stillness that pours through treetops and leave, pine needles and bark. We must aim at what we can chase, we must run until breathless, we must stand when we realize we cannot ever catch it, breathe, and feel the glory.
Light like a promise,
still pouring through the treetops,
whispering of peace.
Haiku on Life by Tyler Knott Gregson
Song of the Day
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