What did it mean to write and to try to draw and notice and observe? I wasn’t sure. I found a bench in the garden, and let my eyes fall on the limetrees and the chestnuts, the prim pink roses and clipped triangular yews, then turned back to gaze at the house itself, its pale yellow walls and gray roof, its arched windows with their creamy frames, hoping to paint in words what I could not paint on the page. I came upon a book that helped me understand what I was doing. “A Life of One’s Own” outlines, in gentle unpretentious language, that same “apprenticeship in looking” I’d been trying to pursue, something Milner achieved in part, by keeping a diary. Milner had always been drawn to pictures, in a general way. But she had felt uncomfortable too, because so often she could not explain what she admired. Then one day, she happened to stop in front of a Cezanne painting: green apples, a white plate, a rumpled cloth. Because she was tired and restless, and distracted by the crowds of Sunday gatherers, she simply sat and looked at it, without bothering to interrogate her own response. “Slowly then I became aware that something was pulling me out of my vacant start and the colors were coming alive, gripping my gaze till I was soaking myself in their vitality. Gradually a great delight filled me, dispelling all boredom and doubts about what I ought to like. Yet it had all happened by just sitting still and waiting. If I had merely given a cursory glance, said, “Isn’t that a nice Cezanne,” and drifted on with the crowd, I would have missed it all.” ~Christian McEwen
maybe to be inspired by this world is more about really seeing it, really engaged with it, really meshing with the breath of the day……how can we see a little more clearly?
I dip gratefully into the sunshine and sip dew from the grass. I befriend nature and listen to the messages. I fly to the tops of branches and feel the hum of a hummer fluttering in my heart. In the speed of light, I see the patches of shade and dance lightly. I catch a wisp of a spider’s web and dangle between the echo and the silence. It is here I find a moment to fill my heart with joy. ~Carolyn Riker
To be lost is to be fully present.
To know we are fully lost… There are places I recall being lost in the moment, where the sunlight rose into a new day and was quickly swallowed by clouds. There is a weather to my thinking, a sunset and moonrise to my day.
I can see a thousand moments washed through the sky…..a million lines of poetry crossing through the heart…..