Ran out to the car to grab up the camera. The light was streaming into the studio in a most bright and cheerful way; hurry. Took the photo. Things in the studio are changing. There is no hanging back, no hesitating. Time is of the essence. There isn't even anything to let go of, if you can imagine that. Cliche run amuck. Everything ever said has been said already. In a thousand languages.
Download the photos, to find a charming group of images. I stare at things. Hungry, I guess, for the essence of whatever. Like the pigeons: I was putting gas in my car and was staring at the insulators and wires and the height of the pole and the blue sky. White. White round pigeon breasts. Life on the wires. Notice how pigeons always land just the right distance from one another? No one is crowded or knocked off. That I know of, at any rate. Reminds me of Starlings zooming en masse and not crashing. Around here humans run over one another, well the ones in cars run over the ones in shoes, or on bicycles. Sorry. There I went.
There are many ways to God. At this time, my way is staring at things. At color. Negative space. Line. Whisper. Clouds way so high I can't really see them, so the blue serves the purpose. Stare. Quiet. Notice that God has not gone anywhere.
Winter cold day, with rain approaching. What holds me back? Away from taking on the difficult? Writing this morning and yesterday, too, the question haunts me. I do not like not-knowing the answer or the outcome. My early training was to keep it to myself, which turned into a weird timidness in adulthood. The writing has exposed the fable of early-childhood, how those beliefs which took hold and morphed into fact aren't, really. Today's writing opened the door to more "true circumstance." I hold back out of some fear, some consideration of others, some more fear. I hold back so that those damn fears don't come true, or turn into frustrating tears.
Life is a prayer. Underlying the "true circumstance" is the True Circumstance. Purpose comes with the gift of life. Listening to birdsong,wind or the coyote howl thrills me. Packing in the wood, hauling out the compost and ashes keep me focused. Feeling sorrow, love, gratitude remind me that I am human, and alive.
And this is some of what's happening from the light shining into the studio.
Thank you for your love and steady presence.