Buttering the Sky

I am still learning.    MichelangeloFrom Walking In This World, by Julia Cameron:  When we make a piece of art about something we don't understand, we come to understand it, or, at least, our relationship to it through our own experience---which is more full-bodied than merely cerebral.  In this sense, art "works" therapeutically whether we understand it or not.

Another "aha" from Cameron, "Freud complained, Whenever I get somewhere, a poet has been there first."  Of course."  This I believe, is why my friend Hafiz has such a grip on me.

It seems that I cannot remember the name of the plant in the photo.  It is now about 8 feet tall, and still dancing skyward.  Its symmetrical, first to the left, then to the right movement is see-sawing its way up and up and up.  This morning it was full of medium sized yellow finches waiting their turn in the Birdie Diner.  The colorful Evening Grosbeak was in there, and he was not in the mood to share.

It is overcast today, with currents of cool air stirring around.  I have been pulling weeds and staking tomatoes, planted dill and cucumbers, ate some arugula and basil, planted pink zinnias and blue lobelia at the end of the pepper and tomatilla row, gave the volunteer Morning Glories a tomato cage all to themselves, turned on the water.  At some point it occurred to me, a renegade of habit, "You should be doing something useful..."   

"WHAT???"  I jerked up and a flock of Goldfinches fluttered yellow into the Redwood tree, Luna jumped, and in my hand was a bunch of Pigweed, fat and glossy enough for the soup pot, even if it is a weed.

Buttering the Sky

Slipping

On my shoes,

Boiling water,

Toasting bread,

Buttering the sky:

That should be enough contact

With God in one day

To make anyone

Crazy.

***

Hafiz

***

xoxoxoxox

love you buckets!

LC