i am darkness and death
light and breath
i am the bark as i lean into it’s roughness
and the earth that i grip between my toes
i am the stars and the night that holds them
like so many lovers
i am the sky and the wind that presses into my body
with it’s many sighs..
i am the soft open fields and the hardness of the mountains
i am time that walks through tunnels and timelessness
that floats on warm summer days between the wings of fireflies
i am hunger and the fruit
i am the solace and the pain
i am the ocean and the drowning
i am all this…
and i am nothing…
This is how I wish to live;
within the light.
…rain, and my happy, thirsty feet…
I love the wildness of rain.
How everything turns dark and moody. The bark and the leaves. Everything deepens. Becomes bolder, truer.
It’s not a sullen moodiness. though. Rather, I imagine everything turning inward.
To that quiet space of nourishment, and contemplation,
where we all must go in order to grow.
A plane flew by overhead.
I wondered if they could see me, us,
floating on the water,
weightless under the sun;
if they could imagine the soft hush
of my breath
as it filled my body
Again, and again, and again…
“Come,” said the stork, “climb upon my shoulder and I will take you across the land and sea.”
..to be planted..
Mint chutney, mint tea, mint in salads, and with berries, mint that grows like wild fire..
It is really true, I think, that if you wish it hard enough, the Universe has a way of listening, and responding, of opening doors, of handing you tools.
We really got serious about gardening this year. We haven’t planted anything yet but cleared out spaces and planted our intentions. A good beginning.
That seemed to open up a flood gate. A dear friend gifted us 5 small plants for our garden. Another, a huge clump of mint.
But the best was from nature itself. I peeled a grapefruit to find a budding seed inside. I wish I had the wherewithal to take a photograph. When I saw the seedling, I felt this rush of white heat flow through me. I have always had a fascination for citrus trees. On our trip through California and Morocco, I could not stop looking at them, for them. I have always always wanted to plant one in my garden. And now here it is. Growing. In my garden.
If that isn’t a sign, I don’t know what is.
Acrylics on Canvas, 30″ x 40″
Painting this one was an intense experience. The expansiveness of the painting gestures was so gorgeous, I could not stop. The energy was all consuming. I had to paint on another canvas just to work it all off. I love painting this way when it takes over your mind and body and all you feel is this tremendous energy flowing through you. There is only the paint, the canvas, and your hands.
Acrylics on canvas, 30″ x 40″
This is a strange little departure for me. I am used to the more dark, awkward elements in my paintings. This one is almost pleasing. I love all the stuff going on around her hair. All that energy.
She seems to be waiting, very patiently, for her afternoon tea and crumpets.
Nothing, no matter how small, or fleeting, or fragile is insignificant if it brings you joy.
So look, feel, walk, observe, breathe, be grateful…
Collect these moments like the bright stars that they are.
Let them shine like bright beacons through the mundane and the rote.