Rain

 

Featured image: Coffee in the Rain

Soaking up

raindrops

allowing the energy 

of the rain

Immerse my 

Soul

I take a deep breath

Art Must Be Fertile

 

Featured image: Sisyphus II

"The painting must be fertile. It has to give birth to a world… yours and mine… It doesn’t matter if you see a flower, figures, or horses, as long as it reveals a world—something living." – Miro

When I read this quote, I thought, "This is the foundation of what many people, including art teachers, often say: Art can be anything you want." However, Miro defines his understanding of art when he states, "Art must be fertile."

Miro uses organic, biomorphic forms that reflect his fascination with the natural world, celebrating growth and transformation in dynamic, interlocking arrangements."

Love, Love, Love

 

Featured image: Straight from the Heart

I find myself more than ever before filled with what I’m calling a bubble of love. I’m surrounding myself with it, and I’m not going to let it pop, no matter what. No one is going to pop it—no one.

I went into one of my favorite stores the other day, overflowing with my bubble of love, and I was talking to someone there about it. She said, "I wish you had been here a little while ago." I asked why, and she said that someone had just shared that her husband, after 40 years of marriage, had asked for a divorce.

My response? There is love in everything. While this is a terrible time for her, she needs to smile and realize that if he wants a divorce, she doesn’t want to live with him anyway. She now has her freedom—she is free. That should make her smile, and she can now fill her own life with love.

Love yourself first. Love yourself—that is what matters most. Don’t let him deflate her love balloon.

Love, love, love—because all you need is love.

So…

I wrote a poem about what I have always believed but somehow let slip away. I felt its loss for over a year. I’m going to make it into a Valentine’s card, my calling card, and hand it out freely to anyone who will take it.

And—I’ve stocked up on heart-covered sweaters and t-shirts, which I’ll wear every Valentine’s Day and beyond—to boldly declare: I am the LOVE lady.

I hope this bubble never, ever wears off.

Buried Treasure

 

Featured image: The Key II

There is a treasure
buried here.
There is a presence here—
unnamable,
indescribable,
ancient,
older.

There is the excitement of
discovery here.
I begin exploring, as an
overture
stirs in the breeze.

Its energy soothes me.
Unnamable presence
is present.

Supreme Earth

 

Featured image: Earth IV

earth

supreme

extreme

remote

enchanting

History

 

Featured image: Charting Pathways

With history, everything blends

into the delicacy of a curve—there are no straight lines.

With history, there are signs of life moving on.

With history, there is always a sense of renewal,

a sense of reflection,

a sense of play,

a sense of movement,

a sense of communion with the past,

the present, and the future.

With history, there is renewal, birth, creation.

With history, there is everything an artist needs

to be alive and create.

There is everything an artist needs to

tell stories about yesterday, today, and tomorrow’s possibilities.

History is all about storytelling, and

art is all about storytelling.

Starbucks

 

Featured image: Blackbird

Each morning, I walk into the woods and put seed out for the finches, blackbirds, and blue jays. Everything else disappears in the winter. Oh, some people get cardinals, but I don’t seem to. I’ve tried everything—their favorite food, calling them—but nothing seems to work.

Anyway, each morning, I walk into the woods and put seed out. About 50 finches gather at the table. Later, around 20 blackbirds arrive to eat the peanuts. I always marvel at the majestic beauty of their regal black, blue, and purple feathers—such a marvelous mix of colors.

Many confuse ravens with blackbirds, and both are often associated with Edgar Allan Poe’s poem The Raven. This haunting poem tells the story of a mysterious raven that visits a grieving narrator, repeating the word Nevermore.

Plot:
A distraught young man is visited by a raven that perches on a bust above his chamber door. The bird, named Nevermore, antagonizes the narrator by endlessly repeating its name.

Style:
The poem is known for its musicality, stylized language, and supernatural atmosphere. Poe incorporates references to folklore, mythology, religion, and classical literature, enhancing the eerie mood.

It is a beautiful poem about a beautiful bird.

But I digress.

I’ve been thinking—when those 20 or so blackbirds arrive at the platform feeder, I should put up a sign that says Starbucks. After all, this is where they gather for their morning coffee! It’s a hoot watching them. Some come early, bobbing around and waiting for the others. The rest meander in, and when they all gather, they honestly seem to share.