small snippets of truth spaces of enormous birth reside within us
Do you paint? What keeps you from moving into that space?
I love the feeling that rises within after I prepare a canvas, select brushes, choose color, and find mood music. The swaying starts small and gradually grows to an elemental storm. Some storms are rather peaceful. Others are torrential downpours. The volume of song can descend until it is barely audible. Or rise to the sky with thunderous echo.
What volume are you currently inhabiting? Will you dare enter that space?
The layers of a painting resemble what is unseen to the eye. This is why one must dive deep into a painting to discover the secrets and mysteries. This painting appears to be unfinished. There very well could be a friendship ii.
My first time painting in a long while. It felt really good. Soul refreshing. I had to pack up my paints as the sun was setting and the mosquitoes were biting. Tomorrow perhaps. I won’t wait two years again. Praying for rain here in Massachusetts.
Sometimes life expects us to make confessionals. My list happens to be growing as I recollect events that I am sorry for. For instance, in the midst of my grief, shortly after learning my brother John had taken his life, I stole a plant. A flowering plant at a local grocery store. The reasoning being I had always walked the straight and narrow and while my anger was bubbling up, I lashed out in order to inflict hurt on the world I once loved. I struck back at the heart of existence.
Oh! to find relaxation. Get lost amidst the Monhegan sea air.
I once honored the rapt attention of the island’s evening. Witnessed the homeward gulls, floating above. Shhhh! i warned them. I desired the whispered stories unfolding below the ocean waves.
I witnessed their goodbyes descend upon my eyes. Their limelight emitted farewell and invited the lesser stars to partake in the feast. Satisfied, i bid farewell, in hopes my soul would once again return.