how do we become that

detail of new piece:  she defies dot dot dot

once upon a time, in a not-so-faraway land, there was a kingdom of acorns, nestled at the foot of a grand old oak tree. since the citizens of this kingdom were modern, fully westernized acorns, they went about their business with purposeful energy; and since they were midlife, baby-boomer acorns, they engaged in a lot of self-help courses.t here were seminars called “getting all you can out of your shell.” There were wounded-ness and recovery groups for acorns who had been bruised in their original fall from the tree. there were spas for oiling and polishing those shells and various acornopathic therapies to enhance longevity and well-being.
one day in the midst of this kingdom there suddenly appeared a knotty little stranger, apparently dropped “but of the blue” by a passing bird. he was capless and dirty, making an immediate negative impression on his fellow acorns. and crouched beneath the oak tree, he stammered out a wild tale. pointing upward at the tree, he said, “we … are … that!”
delusional thinking, obviously, the other acorns concluded, but one of them continued to engage him in conversation: “so tell us, how would we become that tree?” “well,” said he, pointing downward, “it has something to do with going into the ground … and cracking open the shell.” “insane,” they responded. “totally morbid! why, then we wouldn’t be acorns anymore.”

cynthia bourgeault. 'the wisdom way of knowing: reclaiming an ancient tradition to awaken the heart', as shared by my sister-friend elizabeth

there is
hope.

renovations: inside and out

it will always be a work in progress.

as am i.

so i procrastinate.

i get fired up.

i cry and laugh

perhaps at the same time.

i cry some more.

 

i sand plastered walls

until 3 in the morning

i stare at the canvas

until i forget my name.

i mix up my verbs:

my to dos

my to bes

i ravish time

when it offers himself up to me.

and not in a sexy way.

 i beat against his chest

with bleeding knuckles

dreading his sweet breath

on my bare shoulder

because it reminds me

of his existence.

i forget things.

to be kind.

the keys.

the sound of my own voice.

i remember

to take off my shoes

when i step on holy ground.

to weep with joy

over so reckless an abundance

of grace:

our old doors and beams

finding new life

in a bench for the studio.

whiskey and cigars on our patio.

warm breeze through

the flung open doors.

a favorite professor

as my new neighbor.

friends stopping by 

unannounced.

a lovely housewarming gift

arrived in the mail

from the dearest of souls.

the relentless tenderness

of time,

who keeps on loving me,

bloody knuckles

and all.

 

 

finding poetry in demolition

'simplicity is about subtracting the obvious, and adding the meaningful.'

john maeda

'and above all watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. those who don’t believe in magic will never find it.'

roald dahl

bits of visual poetry

found 

amongst the debris.

rich layers

of history

revealed

by scraping through

the dust

and the paint.

may your eyes
uncover

the magic

in humble places

today.

deconstruction. construction.

work in progress. home in progress.

deconstruction. construction. painting. broken pipes. debris everywhere. packing paintings. designing promotional cards. sore muscles. taxes. chinese take-out. dust everywhere. planning weekend trip. loads of laundry. date nights at home depot. passing out on the couch. 

getting dirty.  always tea.  finding poetry in the little moments. finding the little moments. 

breathing.  

wisdom for dreamers

'you are so young; you stand for beginnings. i would like to beg of you, dear friend, as well as i can, to have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart. try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books written in a foreign language. do not now look for the answers. they cannot now be given to you because you could not live them. it is a question of experiencing everything. at present you need to live the question. perhaps you will, gradually, without even noticing it, find yourself experiencing the answer, some distant day. perhaps you are indeed carrying within yourself the potential to visualize, to design, and to create for yourself an utterly satisfying, joyful, and pure lifestyle. discipline yourself to attain it, but accept that which comes to you with deep trust, and as long as it comes from your own will, from your own inner need.'      

- rainer maria rilke, letters to a young poet 

resolutions.  goals.  forming habits.  plans.  to do lists.

i am constantly trying to recreate myself into a better version of what i am.  to build my perfect creative lifestyle.  to live the best possible life.

it isn't just me, is it?

what if...

perhaps life is perfect just the way it is.

i get to embrace the journey.  to stay curious and hungry. to find my real self in the waiting, the knocking, the seeking, and love it for the rascal that it is.

to accept grace, as well as freely offering it to others.

to stay alert and open to finding the magic in unexpected places. 

to live poetry.