When I was young I tried to order my life around. I thought if I played by the rules, everything would work out. But the rules wouldn’t play back. Once I gave in to the inevitability of life’s whims, what was happening to me became a lot more interesting. Not easier. Never smooth. But sometimes I found wonder and enchantment. And even sometimes grace. I just needed to leave a space without expectations to be filled.
I walk through valleys
behind a path that opens–
my cup overflows.
I know, there’s a lot going on here. Frank at dVerse asked us to consider in haibun an occasion when we were pleasantly surprised. It was difficult for me to focus on that idea because every day I’m surprised (albeit some days more pleasantly than others). The haibun explains why.
I was also working on a collage for the painting Jane Dougherty challenged us with, above, by Hugo Simberg. It doesn’t have much pleasantness about it, and my collage also looked somewhat apocalyptic to me. But the Collage Box Oracle had its own ideas about the images. And, somehow, it fits.
made of light
Does chaos reflect
the meaning of
The Inner Cosmology?–
on the unexpected.
…and, well, you know…owls.
“…till the morning break
And the white hush end all but the loud beat
Of their long wings, the flash of their white feet.”
–W.B. Yeats, from ‘To some I have talked with by the fire’
Once again I dipped into Jane Dougherty’s Month of Yeats for some inspiration. The Oracle seems to have caught a mood circling around the earth which is definitely Yeatsian.
Above is the view out back last night, which also somehow feels right for the Oracle’s (and Yeat’s) words…
bird wings like
cloudlight caught between
frost and wind
covering winter with paths
which grow cold shining
silences of white–
stillness digs deeper, rooted,
Sue Vincent’s photo prompt this week, above, echoed perfectly the image I was working on for winter. It’s not winter weather here yet, but experience tells me its arrival can be sudden and swift. And the trees always do look magical when they are wearing snow.
Also linking to Open Link Night on dVerse.
‘We know their dream; enough
To know they dreamed and are dead;’
–W.B. Yeats from ‘Easter, 1916’
layered grey on grey–
This mourning has no ending–
uniforms of dust.
My next door neighbor has been growing her chocolate business and she asked me to design a Montclair related piece she could use on her chocolate boxes. I haven’t picked up a paintbrush in a while but I wanted to do this for her.
She wanted some scenes of our town Montclair. The Presby Iris Gardens are iconic.
I had to include my town’s very own Montclair Art Museum.
Edgemont Park with its war memorial and pond with fountains is also a landmark here.
And to make no mistake about it the State of New Jersey which just elected a Democratic governor. Bye bye Mr Christie.
I’m happy to be posting today as I miss this. Things have been hectic and I need to make time for painting. It felt really good to do this and I hope it helps my neighbor sell a lot of chocolates.