The Garden

 

Featured image: I Come to the Garden Alone

When I lived in England, my home was a row house in the middle of a bunch of other row houses, with the saddest little plot of grass—at most 10x10—in the front and a brick-paved space in the back, allowing for a tiny backyard or front yard to play in.

But I was fortunate. There was a huge English garden right across the street from our house, so when I was home from an English girls' boarding school, I could wander the very cultivated paths. There were places to play cricket, tennis, soccer, or simply sit and read.

My favorite spot was two sitting benches, and in between them stood a large stone monument with a poem written in 1913 by Dorothy Frances Gurney, called God's Garden. I have always loved this poem. I used to sit on those benches and find peace there. I even have a plaque with this poem written on it in my own garden.

“The kiss of the sun for pardon,
The song of the birds for mirth,
One is closer to God’s Heart in a garden
Than anywhere else on earth.”

A Day Later

Featured image: Sun, Tree, Water

Even a day later, I can feel the rhythm of the water running through my body, making it one with the water, the earth, and the sky. Moving with all that is—this is the "isness" that I always talk about.

A day later, reflecting on the wonderful experiences we had, I look at my hands and see, I still have the earth of the Northwest Territories under my nails. This earth, this tiny bit of earth and its totalness, represents the silence as the day ended far off on the horizon; the songs the wind and the trees sang; and the waves as they came crashing on the shore. The song of the line of forever, drawn between the water and the sky. The song of wholeness. The song of yes, yes, yes that I always talk about.

The song of life, of connectedness, of naturalness, of possibilities—and the song of just being alive.

Just Back from Canada

 

I’ve just returned from an incredible trip to the Northwest Territories in Canada, and my heart is full. One of the highlights? Catching a massive 37-pound lake trout—all by myself! (Though in the photo it looks like Brad is helping me, I only asked him to hold it so we could safely release it. The lake is catch-and-release, and I didn’t want to risk harming such a beautiful fish.)

It was a thrilling fight—the trout was deep, and it took a long time to bring it in on a jig. The moment I finally landed it, I was elated! Beyond that, we also caught grayling and pike, making it a full and unforgettable fishing adventure.

Ten days of wild beauty, big fish, and endless wonder. Truly, my heart is filled.

Possibility

 

Featured image: What Lies Beneath

Possibility is far more frightening, far more terrifying than any impossibility.

Think about that one.

Silver Streaks

 

Featured image: Flowing River

Silver streaks
  dancing
   with the water,
glorious—glorious—
  movement.

Tones and Textures

 

Featured image: Arizona Landscape

Landscapes quietly absorb the tones, textures and rhythms of our living.

The Rules to Our Journeys

 

Featured 3D Sculpture: Fish

There are no rules for our creative journeys. If there were, we would all be wind-up toys heading in the same directions—or no direction—and never knowing what that direction is.

I have been collecting wind-up toys for a piece in my new 3-D series (I have enough ideas for my 3-D series to last a year or more, honestly). I told folks during the tour that when I first moved most of the 3-D collection out to its new spot, I just started assembling all my ideas. Finally, I had to say to myself – stop, just stop, you can’t do this – so I am limiting myself to three at a time. I will photo a couple of them that are pretty well along so you can see where I am heading with this.

One is a hand-carved fish. It came with a letter about who carved the fish. Beautiful history. It is mounted on a turned-upside-down fruit bowl. Hand-turned. Beautiful wood. Some huge cracks in it that had to be fixed. I had no idea these things would take so much time to work on.

You may be saying to yourself – why is she destroying history like that – but I am not. I am just bringing history forward, imagining what it might be like, what it could be like, giving others ideas, and perhaps an idea that might possibly trigger something else, and then something else—sort of like science fiction in the arts. The key here is to imagine, to think outside the box, and not be some wind-up toy just playing follow the leader.

Well, perhaps I will only share one with you all—and share them with you slowly—not to overwhelm you with too much creative thinking.

Love to all of you.
C

P.S. Note: the big fish has a smaller fish in his mouth—the lure is a vintage lure—the key is an old clock key