Yes, here in N. Calif., we are experiencing one of our weird winters. And, yes. I am loving it, for I chafe under the discomforts of cold, wet winters, much preferring "strangely warm" days in January! I notice that Manzanita blooms mid winter, to remind us that Spring is gathering herself together, and will burst forth in poppy orange, lupine purple, and a multitude of colors within the spectrum. Recently I saw a whole flock of Western Bluebirds, flashing a blue more pure than sky.
I love these lantern shaped little pinks. They make me maudlin. Did you ever read The Little People books? I love that they live behind the reality of the big people, their homes accessible through the cracks in the baseboards. When I see these flowers in the spring, I am sure that the little people illuminate their cozy little homes with them.
In a sacred manner they have sent voices.
Half the universe has sent voices.
In a sacred manner they have sent voices to you.
heyoka from Black Elk Speaks
What I have not understood has to do with the Nature of Things. How life is. How my tears and sorrow are part of the fabric of things. How even discomfort is sacred.
Sometimes I think that I spend an inordinate amount of time staring at Things. Yes, this is the way of an artist, this one anyways. Like I am memorizing a moment, a sense, even a silhouette or shadow breath movement. Recognising plants, birds and animals from my past, most likely from my past's past. Like Raven, looking down at me looking up at her. She knows, like Manzanita knows.
And there is nothing to do about it.
Love,
LPC
4 comments:
I love all this staring and description. And there is much to think about with the phrase "how even discomfort is sacred."
Oh, manzanita blossoms and having to water seeds planted in January. Scary at times as are other life events at the moment. All we can do is keep working through it every day and giving every moment our attention. Sending love. x0 N2
Beautiful blossoms and stark black raven- they are all worth our attention, aren't they? Isn't that our job, to see, to note, to register?
What lovely understanding and imagery. You are the translator of what you observe, dear painter, and show me the depths.
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