Perhaps life is NOT full of sweet spots. Perhaps I misrepresented the truth when I named my book—Life Is Full of Sweet Spots.
I thought this as my soul chattered and wept in the wake of yesterday’s anything but sweet attack at the Boston Marathon, barely four months following the shootings at Sandy Hook. How could I possibly have named a book pronouncing that joy may be found all around us, in places as simple as the earth, the sea and sky?
Is there really joy to be found in a rose? In the woods, the sea, a sunflower? Just listen to Barbara Parsons, for one—one with a far from joyful life—who reflected in the book’s opening chapter on the question of whether or not there is joy to be found in flowers. Yes, she tells us, there is: “They bring me a peace and contentment. They allow me to find joy.”
Yes, there ARE sweet spots. And, yes, life IS absolutely full of them!
In memory of all victims of terror
Did you see the sunlight tremble
as it touched that pale and spent petal—
fallen just now to the ground?
How is it that a blossom so delicate,
so softly pink and flushed, can be
counted on to fill some mortal void
with comfort as sure as the heavens
are filled with stars, offering
its fragrant petals, pure and without blemish,
pouring consolation from the open cup
of its huge beauty.
Photo and poem, The Rose, by Mary O’Connor, Dreams of a Wingless Child. © 2007