On the eve of newness

This is a time when clearing out the build up of "stuff" is a prelude to a time of intense creativity. There is the strongest sense of "get ready" because there is coming a flood of intense art making, writing and the building of relationships (new and old). It is not easy to make these kinds of changes, it requires making the mess so much bigger in the process of reorganizing. But the satisfaction of reusing materials to complete the preparation and sending unwanted things to a new home clears both the studio and the mind. So, it is with great anticipation thatIi prepare for the newness that is coming.

Endurance

It is not easy living with pain. Many of us find ways to go on when we would rather just stop and hope someone will take care of us. It is not something I indulge myself in very often. It is most apparent on days when the pain lessens so much that I am filled with energy and find myself accomplishing so many things that were left undone. I am so thankful for my life, but there are days that I do wish for a break form the nerves that speak so loud.

Long time gone

How can six months have gone by? It is as if I was typing in my last entry a couple of weeks ago. Time is this strange thing that moves without us marking it or rather the earth revolves and the the moon spins around us and these things seem to create something we call time. Maybe it would be better served if we called it "life." Life is what moves though these exchanges of light and dark, seasons and experiences. The rich interaction of people and the evening light as it glows on the upper edges of the last thunder clouds as they rest over the distant mountains. The last six months have been overflowing with living fully with family and teaching and creating in the studio. Not so much writing, I have missed that, so here I am pecking out a few lines at the end of a Friday. It is good to be back.

Three were rising

As I returned from walking our little dog, I looked up between the palm trees and saw the vertical line of three stars that announce the coming of winter. They are called the belt of Orion. This group of stars have been my favorite since childhood. I miss seeing them each evening during late spring, summer and fall, only visible in the very early hours of pre-dawn mornings. They are part of Orion the hunter, not the killer or murderer or dominating male, but the symbol of the man who hunts for food and the lively-hood of his family. This mythological figure is fierce, active, energy filled, radiant, fur covered and rich with nutrients for the male identity. He is part of a vast dialogue that reaches back through human history in stories told around the evening fires, to teach children the lessons of adult responsibilities for family and communities. Stories we have forgotten to tell to our children, so that our nation is filled with adolescent/adults who have not been brought through a healthy initiation into maturity. The fierce male, like Orion, is not aggressive, but intensely motivated by an internalized moral compass and a genuine love of people. So with the onset of winter and the birth of the Christ-child, let us remember the fierce, radiant power that comes from being more fully human. Thank you Orion for rising again this year and reminding me of living out my identity with vigor and sensitivity.

As it should be

Branches move with the early evening cooling breeze. The quiet is punctuated by crows squawking on their way back to the river. Seeing them fly allows for thoughts that travel back through days and years seeking landmarks of definitive change or a continuum of building with "sameness." Now that would be a relief-to be content with life built upon the issues of character that reappear at each junction of trials and demands from the "outer" pressures of life. To accept that what I am made of will not change, but, peace with that reality will bring what seems to be change, but rather it is just hearing the birds and feeling the breeze and knowing all is as it should be.

advent of hope

This morning we met in the "Place of Prayer" and read some scripture, sat in silence, listened to the noise around us and the quiet whisperings of God. A story was shared in rememberence of hope found in the love of God for us and during one of the times of silence, I realized how fast the pace I have been living at. It was good to stop and listen and feel the cool breeze on my face, the rough stone beneath me and the renewed sense of anticipation that the Christ will be born. Peace and justice and restoration and hope come with the birth of the messiah, the one who sets us free from our schedules, the unending lists of activities that fill our time. The "to do's" can rob us of the joy of immersing ourselves in this season, this time of celebration, this period of preparation for winter, for gifts given and received, for evenings with family, for taking care of those less fortunate than ourselves. Let us begin this advent season listening to the quiet murmurings of a loving God amidst the noise that often surrounds us.

The space in between

There is a distance between us, a gap that is invisible to the casual observer. The space between two people and the space between two buildings and the space between an artwork and a viewer and the space between an artist and their materials and the space between the physical and the divine and the space between the sensuous stuff of life and the rational intellect of our minds. It is in this place that great questions are formed, philosophy has its way, art of all kinds is birthed and religion finds a home. When we expect an answer that ends the questions we leave the gap and move on. So many do not even know that the gap is waiting for them to be enriched by the struggle for meaning, challenged by the transcendent nature of meeting the other in the space that lies in between.