Art & words
That celebrate the beauty and mystery of creation
And the creative journey.
i thank You God for most this amazing
day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes
(i who have died am alive again today
and this is the sun's birthday; this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings; and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)
how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any—lifted from the no
of all nothing—human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?
(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)
- E. E. Cummings
. . .
Goose music from above
Sun filtering through hemlock trees,
Peepers, red-winged blackbirds and marsh hawks.
A simple life, creating simple work
Deep in a forest.
There’s wild nature within
Imagination.
There’s wild nature out there
The woods.
Wildernesses worth retreating into
Living in, creating out of.
At my best
I live deep
In those wild places.
Quiet, thoughtful, receptive.
- Journal Notes
. . .
What is the private meaning of your life, to you? What in your life is trying to unfold?
Perhaps it goes without saying that a human life functions better when it has a purpose, a meaning.
Life assembles itself out of randomness – atoms, cells, an energy force brought together for a brief while, for reasons we can’t know for sure – and then, before too long, the components of a life disintegrate back into the ether, into the primordial soup.
Are we given the gift of life, for a reason, a purpose? Maybe. Or maybe we come from randomness and then disappear back into it for no reason, for random reasons. But I think there is a reason – we are randomness brought together briefly for a purpose – to manifest our own interior beauty. Without a purpose, life floats along, responding to events and stimulus rather than creating something new, and beautiful.
Our purpose lives deep down, in our unconscious, like the seed of an oak tree, waiting to manifest.
Life without meaning is destiny denied. Without a purpose, a life is less than the sum of its parts.
That purpose doesn’t have to be justifiable. It just has to have meaning to you.
. . .
Access other recent Art Journal posts, and books, poetry diary etc. from the prior twenty years of Heron Dance here.