When the Violin (paintbrush, pen)

When

The violin

Can forgive the past

It starts singing.

When the violin can stop worrying

About the future

You will become

Such a drunk laughing nuisance

That God

Will then lean down

And start combing you into

His

Hair.

When the violin can forgive

Every wound caused by

Others

The heart starts

Singing.

Hafiz

*****

This is why my paintings look like they do!  Pattern, color, surprise, shadow, depth, layer upon layer of hue and shape.  By following these elements, the work is infused with spiritual gratification for me, and hopefully for the viewer as well.Maybe I need to pick myself up and take me to the Photo Store, and just pick out the lens and purchase it(them?) and bring them home.  There is one Osprey in the tree,  #2 had just flown. They had been sitting on these branches discussing things.  I was able to walk up so close, yet the photo does not show what I wanted to see!  I want to see the words they speak.  I want to see the expressions on their faces. 
They're both here.  Imagine this as your living room, piled with clouds and all that new greenery, complete with a lake full of fish for breakfastlunchandsnackanddinner.

I know these two are sisters ;-)

Starting "Walking in This World," by Julia Cameron today: adding a walk to my creative spiritual practice.  I love this work!  Our "task" this week: "What the Hell, You Might As Well"

oh goodie... I get to fill in the blank!  #6. on the list:  Send my sister the fudge recipe..., #7. Send my sister fudge.   Yes, this is going to be fun.

Creative life shows up everywhere.  Not just on the perfect canvas, or great novel, or even the whole completely crafted king-sized quilt!  Creativity is in our thoughts, and our sigh.  It is in the sounds we hear, what we make up, the smile in the car next to us at the stop light.  It is in saying, "Yes!" and moving on to chapter 5.  I am here to explore this paradise.

Yes.  Grateful.  Yes.

xoxoLC

Messenger

Messenger

by Mary Oliver

My work is loving the world.

Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird---

equal seekers of sweetness.

Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums.

Here the clam deep in the speckled sand.

Are my boots old?  Is my coat torn?

Am I no longer young, and still not half-perfect?  Let me

keep my mind on what matters,

which is my work,

which is mostly standing still and learning to be

astonished.

The phoebe, the delphinium.

The sheep in the pasture, and the pasture.

Which is mostly rejoicing, since all ingredients are here,

which is gratitude, to be given a mind and a heart

and these body-clothes,

a mouth with which to give shouts of joy

to the moth and the wren, to the sleepy dug-up clam,

telling them all, over and over, how it is

that we live forever.

Listening to mine messenger, that's the quest.  Listening to Mary Oliver last night was inspiring, hilarious, and deeply moving.  She made a joke about commas being inserted into lines by poets wanting some definitive way to highlight a particularly fabulous phrase,  "...that's why you find them in my poetry, and dashes, lots of dashes!"  I just loved how she let us all know that we all have precious phrases and lines IN us, and of course we are going to search for ways to make them obvious!  Why wouldn't we?

Listening to a program about Roy Orbison as I am working today:  I loved him when I got my first Personal Stereo (not to share with Mom, or brothers, or somebody turning it off right in the middle of "Leah!").  I played his records many times every day.  Oh Lordy, now I hear him in rehersal with the Boss.  Now, HOW am I supposed to concentrate?  Oh, Sweet Dreams, Bay-beh!

Oh, and MO writes dog poems!  Hee hee hee!  Look out, Literary World!!!

What is your personal Messenger whispering today?

xoxoLC